Misfit Island, DC style

Very few things about politics makes me laugh (outside of the people who get elected to office), but this was one of the funniest stories I have read in a while.  The Island of Misfit Politicians.  Thanks to Liz and Fox news for sharing this one.

Fox News.com: Departing Lawmakers

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Reporter's Notebook: Departing Lawmakers Enter Congressional Purgatory

For those congressional lawmakers who won't be returning next year, the pageantry of the office has been stripped down considerably. 

By Chad Pergram

If you've ever watched the "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" Christmas special, you know about the Island of Misfit Toys. 

The island is a sanctum for mutant toys no one wants. There's a Charlie-in-the-Box (not a Jack-in-the-Box), a toy bird that swims and can't fly and a train with square wheels. 

Capitol Hill has misfits too: lawmakers who are still members of Congress, but were either defeated for re-election or retired. But the problem is, they're still in office until January. And Congress is meeting in a lame-duck session. The lawmakers still have to vote, do constituent work and attend hearings. But they've been stripped of their opulent, high-ceilinged offices to make room for the freshman class. 

It's like congressional purgatory. Or as an aide to one retiring lawmaker called it, "a holding cell." 

So where do the lawmakers go? Capitol Hill's version of the Island of Misfit Toys. 

It's room B339 of the Rayburn House Office Building, described euphemistically on the room's nameplate as the "Departing Member Service Center." 

The new quarters is really a banquet room that's been converted into something resembling an Indian call center. It features a series of nondescript, tiny cubicles, wedged together between two fireplaces at either end. One member per cubicle. And each cubicle is stocked with one phone, one computer, one chair. 

The cubicles aren't advertised by lawmaker and state. But by number. 

Rep. Chris Cannon, R-Utah, is in cubby No. 1 -- perhaps assigned No. 1 because he lost his primary in late June to Rep.-elect Jason Chaffetz, R-Utah, a full four months before other members of Congress were defeated in November. 

Seniority is everything on Capitol Hill. Even in defeat. 

"I haven't been over there," Cannon said, referring to the Island of Misfit Toys. 

And sure enough, it doesn't appear he has. A yellow, legal pad sits squarely on top of his computer in cubby No. 1. An unopened ink pen rests atop that. 

Cannon toted a briefcase with him as he walked over to vote Wednesday night. 

"This is how you can tell if a member lost," Cannon told me, holding up a briefcase as he walked into the Speaker's Lobby. "We all carry briefcases. Without an office, I'm now a member of the 'Briefcase Caucus.'" 

Who knew that Samsonite was the congressional equivalent of the Scarlet Letter? 

The accoutrements of each cubicle vary. Some have a stockpile of paper clips. Others, a stapler. I noticed that a cup in the cubicle of Rep. Duncan Hunter, R-Calif., contained two highlighters. Meantime, a similar cup for a defeated freshman member only held one. Hunter was elected in 1980. Again, the perks of seniority. 

Even in their exits, lawmakers execute tiny but discernible power grabs. 

Rep. Kenny Hulshof, R-Mo., was assigned cubicle No. 33. But congressional stationery and envelopes bearing Hulshof's signature are filed away in cubby No. 35, assigned to Rep. Robin Hayes, R-N.C. Like Cannon's, Hayes' cubicle didn't look like it had ever been visited by its assigned occupant. So perhaps Hulshof took advantage of the under-utilized real estate. 

A few aides mill about the room. 

A phone rings. A woman hunkered down behind a cubicle wall answers. 

"Jim Ramstad's office," she says, referring to retiring Rep. Jim Ramstad, R-Minn.
Somehow saying "Jim Ramstad's cubicle" doesn't hold the same congressional presence. 

I traverse the room. The cubicle belonging to Rep. Barbara Cubin, R-Wyo., bears a Post-It note that reads "Pick up mail." 

An envelope from the White House rests on the desk in the cubicle of Rep. Chip Pickering, R-Miss. 

Meantime, a smaller envelope from Rep. Cliff Stearns, R-Fla., sits idly in the cubicle of Rep. Jon Porter, R-Nev. 

It's so simple. A lawmaker and his or her desk. 

This is how it used to be more than 100 years ago on Capitol Hill. Lawmakers didn't have staff. And they didn't have offices. Their desk on the House floor was their office. Kind of like it is here in Rayburn B339. 

I find a memo lying on the floor. It indicates that the Departing Member Service Center closes each day at 5 p.m. unless there are votes. 

There are no votes this day. And a few minutes later, the lights start to flicker out. 

Perhaps a metaphor in more ways than one for the departing members of the 110th Congress.

Chad Pergram covers Congress for FOX News. He's won an Edward R. Murrow Award and the Joan Barone Award for his reporting on Capitol Hill.

Fifth branch of comedy

I have maintained there are four things which are sure fire, never miss, laugh generators.  These things have no apparent connection to each other, aside from the fact they always seem to produce a good chuckle, no matter what the situation is or context (or lack of either).  These four things are:

1.  Ducks

2.  Midgets

3.  Short Bus

4.  Cartoon Characters for cereal (e.g. Trix Rabbit, Lucky, etc)

These four items form the basis of most all of my comedy and comedy attempts.  It can be both the actual item, or just the word or concept.  You don't actually need a midget to create a laugh.  In fact, I think midgets can be scary; but the word and concept of midget is in itself quite funny.  Same holds true with Boo Berry.  

There is no scientific proof why any of these are funny, aside from the first one, ducks.  A few years ago, I was told a story about a group of researches who tried to figure out what animal was considered the funniest.   This was supposedly a real, funded project.  The researches would tell a joke to a group of subjects along the lines of "a priest, a rabbi, and an animal go into a bar...".  For each group, they would change the animal, and then have the subjects rate which joke they thought was funniest.  The animal choice that came out as the funniest: ducks.  I was told this story after I had shared my list with a friend; I don't know if his research story is true or not, but all I know is that ducks are a comedy treasure trove. 

The beauty of this list is you don't have to work these items into a joke.  You can just say them, and they are bound to get laughs.  Next time you are at a party, and there is a lull in the action, just say "short bus" and I guarantee you will get a laugh.  Works every time.  Or start talking about midgets - always gets a laugh.  It was at this same friends house, and he had a double magnum wine of wine.  As ridiculously oversized as the wine bottle was, I thought it would be even funnier if the wine was being served by a midget.  Dress him up in a jester's outfit, and make him talk in a British accent all night, and you would be rolling ("more wine for you mum?"  ha-ha-ha!!  I'm laughing just thinking about it!).

So why am I sharing this list?  Saturday night, I found a fifth item to add to the list.  I got invited to a bad sweater party.  I have slowly weeded out most of my really bad sweaters over the years, so to get into the spirit of the party I made a trip to the thrift store.  There I found a particularly horrible holiday sweater vest (see photo).  As bad looking as it was, what put this items over the top, was item #5:

5.  Bells for buttons

This sweater had holiday Christmas bells for buttons.  Whenever you moved, they jingled.  All night.  Any movement.  It was non-stop comedy.  People came up to me all night just to ring the bell buttons.  If there was a ever a pause in the conversation, all you had to do was wiggle, and laughter ensued.  It was non-stop entertainment.

The next day was kind of a downer.  The weather got really cold, there was no party to go to, and my clothes are o' so quiet.  Thinking ahead, I know tomorrow will be the same - another day of quiet clothes.  I don't see bell buttons making a comeback; I think they will be destine for the fashion sidelines.  I guess they are one of those things that only come out now, and why this is a special, magical season.

Good jingling

PS - short bus

Pizza man's cheesy weapon foils a stickup

From the you can't make this up, pizza delivery man fights back.  Thanks to Robert and our good friends at AP for this one:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081213/ap_on_re_us/odd_pizza_protection

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MIRAMAR, Fla. – Police say a pizza delivery man fought back with the one weapon he had handy when a gun was pulled on him in a stickup: A large, hot pepperoni pizza.

Delivery man Eric Lopez Devictoria, 40, flung the steaming pie at the gunman, buying time as he ran for safety, police said.

At least one shot was fired as Devictoria fled, but the deliveryman wasn't hurt and was able to quickly call police, according to authorities.

Three teenage suspects were nabbed soon after Wednesday's run-in with the cheesy weapon, police said, adding they were charged with armed robbery.

Body Language for dummies

I wish a contest existed whereby I could challenge anyone to produce a group of coworkers more clueless in the field of body language than the people I work with.  I would win every time.  

Anyplace, anytime, every time.

I do not consider myself an expert in this field.  I bought the book pictured to the left, halfway as a joke, halfway seriously.  I know there are deficiencies I posses in this field, but it is nothing compared to some of the people I work with and must coexist with for a good 8 hours a day. My thin patience gets even thinner when I get hungry - I know this - but honestly these people can drive a sane man crazy.  Let me share with you three examples that have occurred just this week:

I have Hawaii:

Tuesday morning I come into work for an 8am meeting.  I have my laptop and notebook under my arm, head down, rushing to start the conference call for my boss, who is stuck in traffic.  It is 7:58am.  As I am walking quickly down the hall, I pass a coworker, B, who is talking to someone else (whom I don't know).  I make eye contact with B, give a low wave and continue walking past him.  I get about 3 steps beyond him, when he says "I have Hawaii.  Jim, I have Hawaii."

I have no clue what he is talking about, so I turn, as I continue to walk and say "pardon?".  He again says, "I have Hawaii"; I can't squeeze out a "pardon" this time, but I figure I have to stop, as this must obviously be important. "I have Hawaii.  Two of them.  Do you want one?"  I tell him I don't know what he is talking about, leaving out use of the f-word (it was tough to suppress), when he finally says "I have the Hawaii quarter", as in the last of the regrettable state designs (see earlier rants for my opinions on this one).  By now it is almost 8am, and I need to start a conference call between four groups of attorneys and Canadians; I don't have time to start talking about quarters.

Previously, B and I have talked about the state quarters, and his offering of it to me was a very nice gesture.  But people at work generally recognize that people generally have meetings starting on the hour, and when people are walking quickly, with laptops and files, they are probably heading to one.  And as it was 8am, and everyone at work knows Jimbo don't show up at 8am except for events that are (a) fun or (b) important (I have trained everyone at work very well).   I could have let this one go, except that B came by my desk later that day and asked if I wanted to go to lunch with him, or if I was going to be a jerk again.  I chose option (b).

The leaderless:

Wednesday morning I had another conference call with the attorneys.  This time there were only three groups of them, plus one Canadian, but he worked for us, so he was alright.  The call starts at 10am, and goes on till 1pm (yes, painful.  I would rather have watched "High School Musical #3").  During this time, I get phone calls, eMails and visits from L - the one who will not leave me alone.  

L and I are working on a project together; he is a good guy, but he needs direction.  Lots of it.  During the call, I am away from my computer, focusing on a contract (have I mentioned that I am glad I decided not to be a lawyer?). During the call, L calls.  Twice.  He comes by my desk.  Twice.  The second time, he waves through the window to get my attention.  I look up, acknowledge his presence, give the short, stop-hand wave, and then turn my attention back to the document in front of me.  I hoped that would be the end of it.  It wasn't.

L then knocks.  I ignore him.  He knocks again.  I look up, shake my head "no" and turn my attention back to the phone and lawyer group #2 who is arguing with the Canadian.  He then opens the door saying, "hey, did you see my eMail?".  Before I can say "no", he says it is about a meeting he had scheduled this afternoon at 3pm for the two of us and can I make it?  If my schedule is free, I tell him, I can make it.  It was.  He left.

Now, that would be the fun end of the story, except it gets better.  At about 1:02pm, the call is over, I turn to my desk to make sure I don't have anything for a little bit, so I can get some lunch.  L comes by again, doesn't knock, but comes in and says "hey, you hadn't responded to my calls or eMail, and I wanted to make sure you could come to the meeting?"  I am thinking to myself, you mean the meeting that you already interrupted me about an hour or so ago, but before I could say anything, he said "you hadn't accepted the invitation and I wanted to make sure you could make it."  Sorry L, I tell him, but I have been on a call all morning.  "Yeah, it looked like you were busy".  

So why the f-ing hell did you keep disturbing me?  

The really sad part is the "meeting" between us was a rehash of what happened the day before.  We want to start calling some potential customers, but we can't do it till we have our review with technical service.  That is scheduled for Monday.  So until then we are on hold with calls.  But can't we do something now, L asks?  Not that I know of.  If there is some new idea we can come up with that we didn't come up with yesterday afternoon, please let me know, but we beat this to a pulp not 24 hours ago, and nothing has changed.  F-ing waste of time.

The annoyance:

K holds a special place in my heart for cluelessness.  He uses my office fridge for his beverages, and I think he feels compelled to make conversation with me every time he comes in to retrieve one.  He is a nice guy, and the conversations can be funny.  But there are times when he can come in and go without having to drag me into a conversation.  Say, when I am working.  To K, someone looking and typing on the computer, who does not acknowledge their presence, is an open invitation to chat.  In situations like this, most people would wait for a pause or an acknowledgement before speaking, and typically they would start with a hello.  Not K.  He dives in - paying attention or not, typing or not, no matter what.  Or not.

So Wednesday, right after the 3 hour call and visit from L, but before my meeting with L, I run down to get some lunch.  I get a cold, prepackaged sandwich one step above gas station quality and go back to my desk to figure out what in the heck L really wants to meet about.  My door is 90% closed and I am eating - these are generally accepted signs that you should only be disturbed for very important reasons.  This does not stop K.

He opens up the door, with a box in hand and starts talking.  I have a sandwich in one of mine and I am typing with the other.  He starts opening the box and talking about a meeting we had with a distributor a few years ago.  I do not acknowledge his presence, nor do I say hi.  I continue to type.  This proves to be an ineffective technique in dealing with him.  

He starts retelling the story of "Shovel-man", an alternate superhero identity I created when we were out to dinner with this distributor (it is a long story - lets just there was a lot of wine and I was on a roll).   The distributor was entertained and decided to send me a present for the holidays - a t-shirt and cape with a Shovel-man logo.

It was an extremely nice and funny gift; that is not at question.  I question the timing.  My door is basically closed and I am trying to eat.  My enthusiasm level may not be where it needs to be at this point.  I am not a parent, and K is not my kid; I can't fake it for him.  I make polite comments and jokes about that night, never turning my body from facing the computer and the work I was trying to do.  K takes the t-shirt and proceeds to put it in front of the shirt I am wearing.  He then takes the cape and ties it around my neck, while I am eating and typing.  He then wants to get a photo.

Call me stupid, but when someone does not acknowledge your presence, continues to eat and work when you come in, uninvited, I think that is a fairly clear sign that you do not want someone to put a t-shirt and cape on you with the "Shovel-man" logo and get your picture taken.  Call me old fashioned, but that is the way I was raised.

In conclusion, this is only a (male) subset of the people I work with.  This is not the case with all of them, either.  Most are extremely nice and very perceptive; the people I wrote about are all-stars in the world of annoyance.  This has nothing to do with being Minnesotans, either.  Unlike their problems with basic manners, cluelessness with body language is not a results of their lupine-based rearing system.  

No, the clueleness comes as a result of the company who employees them (and me).  And no, these three people mentioned are not scientists or engineers; those people are quite fun!  These come from people on the business side.  Doesn't figure.  I have to deal with them, as they slowly suck away my will to live.  I think I need to get rid of my fridge, lock the door and build a moat outside my office to get some privacy.  

Sounds like a job for Shovel-man!

Happy Feet

So as many of you know, I have had some ankle issues over the years.  I had sprained both ankles throughout college, one of them being a particularly violent one during my first (and only) rugby game.  In the last five years, I have had  arthroscopic surgery on the right one twice and I sprained the left one earlier this summer (from being a dum-@ss).  Yes, I sometimes feel like that horse, Eight Bells, who got put down at the end of the Kentucky Derby.

Anyway, as I get older, I pay more attention to what I need to do to heal properly.  The left has been healing nicely, mostly due to the work of the substitute Physical Therapist who saw me.  Five visits with the first PT did nothing.  One visit with the sub, and I was ready for the one legged long jump (never underestimate the importance of second opinions).  I track the guy down to see about the other foot, and he has been great.  The right is coming along nicely, but one thing he wants me to do is get a new pair of running shoes.  He doesn't think the ones I have are good for me.  He is also concerned with the lift that one of the docs gave me for my shoes after one of my surgeries... I forget which one.

I guy I work with told me about someone he saw for new running shoes.  The woman was a gait specialist.  She will analyze how you stand, walk and run and find the right shoes for you.  He raved about the results and how far and fast he was able to run, pain free, after seeing her.  I figured I would give it a shot.  I used to work at Nike and I volunteered at the lab to test shoes.  I was familiar with the technology and design behind shoes, and I knew it could make a difference.  Maybe this was what was holding me back from progressing.  It was that or I was getting older.

I met with her last week.  I liked her instantly.  She was the embodiment of why I like Minnesotans:  she listed closely, she was very thoughtful in her manner, and she was a perfectionist.  She had me trying different inserts at first, to get the feet right.  Apparently, I pronate badly, which puts a lot of pressure on the ankles; she thought I would be susceptible to sprained ankles (good guess!).  Then we worked on shoes.  She had me try on different pairs and run up and down the track.  I am not sure what she was looking for, but I did a lot of running back and forth.

When we found a winner, she explained my problems (at least with running) and the solution.  She picked out a lot of problems with my stride.  First, she ditched the lift.  Then she found a shoe that would help me engage all my running muscles.  Apparently, my right hip was not fully moving, which prevented my right gluteus maximus muscle from engaging.  Gluteus maximus - as in the butt.  It was not contributing to my exercise.  Or in other words, all my running for the last few years has been half-assed.  

She examined my dress shoes, and unfortunately, they were wrong shape for me.  I checked at home, and basically, every pair I own is not good.  They all look nice but they will cause pain and problems if I continue to wear them (time to help the economy with some shopping!).  

I left with my new shoes and my feet have not been happier.  I hit the treadmill Sunday morning and cranked out a few miles.  It was the best run I have had in years.  Of course, today, the only part of me that is sore is the right cheek (atrophy of the butt, I suppose).   I went to the gym tonight for a speed and agility class.  Tonight we added a new exercise.  One footed jumps from one inflated half-ball to the next.  I got through jump #4, when I landed funny and rolled my left ankle (the most recently injured one - not the surgery one).   It hurt bad for a moment, but I laid down for a few minutes and then walked it off.  Soon, I was back to the workout.  The new shoes did the trick.  

Yep, I got happy feet.

Don "Soul Train" Cornelius

Sad news for Mr. Soul Train himself. For some reason, I didn't think he was alive. Who knew? Thanks to Robert and our good friends at OMG for this one:

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Former 'Soul Train' host charged in Los Angeles

LOS ANGELES - The Los Angeles city attorney has charged Don Cornelius, former host of "Soul Train," in connection with two domestic incidents involving his wife last month.

Cornelius was charged with spousal battery, assault with a deadly weapon and dissuading a witness from making a police report, all misdemeanors, city attorney spokesman Frank Mateljan said Friday.

The married 72-year-old producer was taken to jail last month after police were called to his Hollywood Hills home following a report of domestic dispute.

Cornelius was released on $50,000 bail. He could face up to one year in prison for each of the five misdemeanor charges.

Manners 102: You're welcome

So this morning on was on the treadmill, trying to work of some of the wine from last night (tasty, tasty, wine).  Some woman gets on the treadmill directly next to mine, and proceeds to make phone calls and blather on the whole time I was there.  I could be out of date on this one, and maybe it is socially acceptable to do this on the East coast where personal space is at a premium, but here in the Midwest I thought it particularly rude to disturb the peace and quiet, especially where there were other machines open further away from me and everyone else who was trying to redeem themselves for their misdeeds of last night.

That is not, however, the subject of my rudeness rant today, though.  No, it is a topic which has been bothering me for a long time, and one which I am afraid is too late to do anything about.  Because of the direness of the situation, this posting will be bereft of any pretense of decorum and kindness.   I'll start with a basic lesson in rudimentary manners for all the ignorant masses out there:

The correct response when someone says "thank you" is "you're welcome"

"Yep", "Uh-hun", "Yeah", or "Hunn" are not acceptable responses.  They are rude, disrespectful vocal ejaculations to an offering of kindness and respect.  This problem has reached epic proportions, so much so, that I am beginning to appreciate silence rather than a mock-backhanded insult.  I don't know when and where people started forgetting this most basic rule, but to me this signals the total downfall of society.

Growing up in the South, manners are beaten into you.  I remember thinking what a pain this is as a kid, but as an adult (sorta) I have come to recognize their importance in a functioning society.   Apparently, these rules have never made it to the midwest.  I am continuously shocked an appalled at the lack of manners both from adults and the lack of discipline for their children.  Maybe all the Scandinavians here are not used to anyone behaving nicely to them, or having their children act like they were raised by wolves is part of their culture.  Whatever it is, this is by far the worst behaved, worst mannered part of the world I have ever spent time, and to me it starts with a basic rules of politeness, which is obviously beyond everyone in the 32nd state.  About the best I can hope for when I say "thank you" is when someone says "thank you" in response.  It takes all my self control not to snap back and say "what for? for not pointing out what a rude jack@ss you are?"  I don't know whether I should be mad at them for such rudeness or pity them for being such ignorant morons they don't know the basics of engaging with another human being.

I knew a fellow, Jeff P, who lived in Minneapolis.  Like me, he was not from here, but he moved here for a job.  Jeff P, in my opinion, was the best looking, most suave and charming man in the state of Minnesota (yes, I have a non-sexual crush on him).  Never one to be settled with the status quo, Jeff P always had a new and charming way to respond to "thank you".  Some of my favorites included "my pleasure", "charmed", "anytime" and "no thanks are needed".  He always said them with eye contact and a smile on his face.  

Sadly, Jeff P moved from Minneapolis onto bigger and better things; we missed him when he left and we still feel his loss today.

Thank you for your attention.

My election streak

Although the final results are not yet in, I have declared that Barack Obama will be the 44th President of the United States.  I have not seen any of the election results yet; I base this on my own personal streak.  I voted for McCain.

I have never voted for the Presidential winner, ever, and I suspect the same will happen again tonight.  Once I voted for a candidate that actually won my state, but that was as close as I have ever been.  So based on this history, I predict we will be inaugurating President Obama in January.

To those I have spoken to about the election, I have tried to be clear in my choice.  I think McCain is the better qualified candidate with better instincts and a history of sticking to his principles, wether or not they fit the party line.  The Democratic Party did a great job of deflating his accomplishments and moderate stances (remember:  Pro-Abortion, Pro-Immigration), and linking him to Bush 43.  McCain has faults; his selection of Palin was and is tough to stomach, but ultimately, I thought he was the better choice.

I will have no problem with President Obama.  In terms of foreign relationships, he will do much to repair the damage caused by his predecessor.  I like his speeches and I feel good about myself when I hear him talk.  His inexperience scares me, however.  To quote "The Economist" (Nov 1st, 2008), "Most of the hoopla about him [Obama] has been about what he is, rather than what he would do."  His policies are often naive, which wouldn't bother me except that the current leaders of the Democratic Party frighten me even more.  The performance of Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, and Howard Dean disappoints to say the least; calling that trio "not bright" is an insult to stupidity, and I don't see Obama standing up against them.  That scares me.  I hope I am wrong.  

Until 2012, my streak will remain intact.  Good night and good democracy to us all.

Frequent Driver Lane

I hate driving to St. Paul on the weekend.

I drive through St. Paul, twice a day, on the way to work and the way back. I have been making this drive for years, usually only at these times. Most people at work are amazed that I make this drive, thinking it is like going to the other side of the world, but it honestly not that bad. It takes about 20-25 minutes to get to work in the morning, a bit longer going home (depending on when you go). Compared to the 10-15 minutes drive to get to Woodbury and the dreaded burbs, it is a small price to pay.

The reason I hate driving to St. Paul on the weekends is that the roads are filled with the classic Sunday drivers. It is filled with really big, slow moving cars, that have no compression that slower traffic should stay in the right hand lanes. They don't know when the turns are coming up, where the traffic merges or when a lane ends. The drive aimlessly, like blindfolded lemmings.

As you have guessed, I have no patience for this behavior. I tend to drive too fast and aggressively. On weekday mornings and nights, this is not a problem. Everyone else is driving like me, too. The slower drivers have the good sense to get into the right lane. Those of us who travel this road every day know what they are doing and how to get through the twist, turns and merges as quickly as possible. It is like the security lines at the airport; experienced travelers know the drill, they know what to do, and how to get through the line as fast as possible. They are the frequent travelers, and they have been given a special lane to reflect this.

This is what I think we need for I-94 on the weekend: a frequent driver lane. A special lane for those of us who travel down this road every day, who know the routine (the twists, turns and exits). I don't think there will be a need to segregate the level of service, like (former) Northwest Airline does with Silver, Gold and Platinum status, but some designation I think would be appropriate so I could get to my destination quicker. I think that would be fair.

And yes, someday I will share my tips for getting through airport security. I have learned and watched from the best.

Men's Restroom Etiquette: locking the door

So the other day I am having lunch at a local joint, and I go to the men's room. It is a small place with a small restroom, but with a big problem for me. It has both a urinal and a stall, but no division between the two. The problem is, what is protocol in this situation:

Do I lock the door or not?

To clarify, there are separate men's and women's rooms. The men's room was square and big enough got two people but there would be no privacy between the two. I only had to use the urinal, so do I lock the door and hog the bathroom to myself?  Why should I take all the spoils, just because I was first on the scene (or the guy with the smaller bladder)?

If there were dividers, it is a no brainer; you leave it unlocked. Call it courtesy among guys. You should not hoard and leave others with none. But, this was not the case. Granted, I only had to go #1, and there is the space and outlet if someone else needed to do the same, so I should leave it unlocked. But what if that wasn't the case? What if the person who joins me has more, um, serious work to do? I don't think I want then in here with me; if the roles were reversed, I know I wouldn't want to join them.

But do I preemptively lock the door, just to prevent others from taking this unlikely unsocial behavior? There is no joke to this post.  Just looking for opinions and  clarification.

And yes, I did lock the door. 

Stalkin' the suburbs

Last week Ben Folds, of Ben Folds Five fame came to the Twin Cities. In his previous concerts here, he had played at First Ave, where Prince got his start. This time, true to Ben's persona, he played at the Myth, out in the Suburbs. There are only a few places to get food out by Myth, and most of them are chains. We went to the least chain-line of the places, and whom is there having dinner, Mr. Ben Folds himself!

We wanted to get his photo, but we didn't want to bug when he was eating. My friend Anne had the good idea to make a deal. We would pick up the bill, if he would come by so we could meet him and get his photo. It was all arranged by the wait staff, and came out without a hitch. His bill was very modest, but the rest of us at the table didn't even pick it up. Anne took charge. We could get in the photo, but there was no way we were going to be paying for the bill.

When Ben came by, he could not have been nicer or more appreciative for such a simple gesture. Despite his sarcastic songs and persona, he was very polite and appreciative. We got a few photos of him, thanked him for coming to town and said goodbye. Joe asked if he was going to play "Kate" tonight. It was fairly obvious from his reaction, that he was not, although he did not say so in so many words.

We got to Myth (my first time there - it was really nice!), and the show was good. He played a lot of newer songs that I had not heard, but he told the audience not to worry, and that he would be playing older songs later. As the show went on, he took a pause, talked to the band and said, "I met some nice folks tonight and they asked for this song. Thanks again" and he busts into Kate.

Five people squeezed into a spot on the floor went wild.

Scotch Tape

For those of us who play with tape to much, this is really disturbing news. I gotta start worrying about cancer of the fingers. From the New York times:

------------------------------------------------
From a Strip of Scotch Tape, X-Rays
By KENNETH CHANG
Published: October 23, 2008

In a tour de force of office supply physics, researchers at the University of California, Los Angeles, have shown that it is possible to produce X-rays by simply unrolling Scotch tape.

Next step: nuclear fusion.

“We’re going to do that,” said Seth J. Putterman, a professor of physics at U.C.L.A. “I think it will work.”

But first, X-rays.

In the current issue of the journal Nature, Dr. Putterman and his colleagues report that surprisingly fierce flows of electrons were unleashed as the tape was unpeeled and its gooey adhesive snapped free of the surface. The electrical currents, in turn, generated strong, short bursts of X-rays — each burst, about a billionth of a second long, contained about 300,000 X-ray photons.

“Some kind of microscopic lightning effect,” Dr. Putterman said.

The scientists even demonstrated that the X-rays were bright enough to take an X-ray of a finger.

That does not mean that tape dispensers on office desks are mini X-ray machines. So far, the phenomenon has been observed only when the tape is unpeeled in a vacuum. Something about air — perhaps moisture — short-circuits the X-rays.

The work is not unprecedented. In 1939, scientists demonstrated that peeling tape emits visible light – an easy experiment anyone can conduct in a closet. But visible light photons have only about one-10,000th the energy of an X-ray photon.

Russian scientists reported as far back as 1953 that they had detected X-rays from tape. “But as far as I can tell, no one ever believed them,” Dr. Putterman said. “It was a big surprise to discover this deep dark corner of past research.”

All of the experiments were conducted with Scotch tape, manufactured by 3M. The details of what is occurring on the molecular scale to generate high-energy photons are not known, the scientists said, in part because the Scotch tape adhesive remains a trade secret.

Other brands of clear adhesive tapes also gave off X-rays, but with a different spectrum of energies. Duct tape did not produce any X-rays, Dr. Putterman said. The scientists have not yet tested masking tape.

The research opens up the possibility of looking for similar X-ray emissions from composite materials as they fatigue. Such materials, increasingly used in airplanes and automobiles, are stronger and lighter than many metals, but they do not show the visible weaknesses that metals do before breaking.

The tape phenomenon could also lead to simple medical devices using bursts of electrons to destroy tumors. The scientists are looking to patent their ideas.

And finally, there’s the possibility of nuclear fusion. If the energy from the breaking adhesive could be directed away from the electrons to heavy hydrogen ions implanted in modified tape, the ions would accelerate fast enough so that when they collided, they could fuse together and give off energy — the same process that lights the sun.

Let Carol Anne Rest in Peace

I am going to make it a personal quest to rid the TV world of the Direct TV advertisement that parodies the movie "Poltergeist". You know the one, where little Carol Anne is in front of the TV, says "they're here!" and then Craig T. Nelson goes into his pitch for Direct TV. This ad should be banned and the creative talent bound, gagged, stripped, tar and feathered and possibly hung.

It is not because of this now acceptable practice of refashioning popular movies and personalities to shlock crap on TV. It was bad enough having Fred Astaire dance with a vacuum cleaner, but I could live with that (just barely). No, the reason I hate this one is the use of Heather O'Rourke, better known for her movie role as the little blond girl, Carol Anne Freeling.

Heather O'Rourke began acting at a young age, getting discovered for her first role at age 6. After appearing in TV, she was cast as the youngest daughter in the first "Poltergeist" movie, which made her an instant hit. She went on to star in "Poltergeist II" and was filming "Poltergeist III" when she developed what doctor's thought was flu like symptoms. According to her Bio on IMDB, On Feb 1, 1988, she fainted on the floor. When the paramedics arrived, she insisted she was okay, and tried to convince everyone she was okay for school. On the way to the hospital she suffered cardiac arrest; she died later that day at the age of 12.

When stars get older, and their prospects start drying up, they can be excused for cashing in on their popularity (like Craig T. Nelson - when was the last time he did anything that wasn't a voice over?). But not Heather O'Rourke. I find it tough to watch the movies now, knowing what happened to her (and the older sister from the first movie, Dominique Dunne. Remember her? She wasn't in the second movie. Murdered by her boyfriend).

In the movie, "Crimes and Misdemeanors", Alan Arkin plays a scum-bag producer whose main saying is that comedy is "Pain + Time". "You couldn't make fun of Oedipus right away.... it took centuries for it to become funny." As unscrupulous as his character in that movie was, he has a point. It will be a long time before I think resurrecting Carol Anne will ever be considered funny.

Anatomy of a Rumor

Week zero: 

It all started on a Friday afternoon.  D had stopped by my desk to chat.  I was walking to the cafeteria with her, when she leans in and asks, "have you heard the latest?"

No, I had not heard any rumors, but without her saying another word, I already knew who the rumors would be about.

There is a senior executive at the company where we work, who is, shall we say, not popular.  For this story, we will call this person V.  I have not had any meaningful direct contact with V, but from the contact I have had, I do not have a high opinion of V and I look forward to the day he or she will either (a) leave or (b) retire.

My opinions are shared by many others, too, which is why I guessed that "the latest" had to do with V.  Rumors of V's demise have been gossip fodder for years.  They have come and gone, with no substance behind them.  The first time I heard the rumor, I was excited by the prospect and the promise of a better day.  After the third or fourth time the rumors had made the rounds, I became like one of the townsfolk in "The boy who cried wolf", numb to their veracity.

  

As it turns out, "the latest" was on V, and like the rumors of the past, V would be leaving soon.  I didn't ask for D's source.  In the rumor spreading world, you don't ask.  Call it professional  courtesy.  Bob Woodword kept the identity of Deep Throat from Ben Bradley and Katherine Graham.  Besides, D has high credibility in my book. 

Week 1: Monday

I had mentioned the rumor to a friend, G, over the weekend.  G is working at my employer as a contract employee, on a project whose funding is dependent on V's support.  I felt I had to give him a heads up on the rumor, so that he might be able to find another assignment just in case the rumors were true.  On Monday, G used the internal instant messaging program, Sametime, to send me a note, to see if there was any more on the rumors.  I had almost forgotten about it, until his note.  I forgot that G, being new to the organization, was not immune to the rumor spreading.  No, I told him, nothing more had been said.

Week 1: Friday

I had lunch with K, a coworker in the division and a notorious rumor spreader.  Friday is a good day to catch up on news and the latest happenings, so I figured this would be a good chance to see what he knows.  K had spread a rumor of V's departure earlier in the year, claiming that V was being kicked out in a special board meeting.  There was in fact a special board meeting going on, but it was not to kick out V.  It was to change our retirement benefits, a far worse outcome than V's removal.

I asked K if he had heard any new rumors.  No he had not heard any rumors, and I could tell he was hurt, as there was a rumor circulating and he was not the source (or the cause).  This was slightly disturbing.  As I said, K spreads lots of rumors; most of the time he is just fishing for info.  Had he known about this particular rumor, it would have been easy to dismiss.  But as he looked at me with stunned silence, I began to think that maybe there was some truth to it.  I did not share with him what the rumor was; I consider myself a master of deflection, and I was able to change the topic quickly to something else.

Week 2:  Wednesday

I am in a Fantasy Football league with a lot of friends from the old corporate marketing group.  A funny consequence of my new job is that there are a lot of private calls I have to make.  Before, my office used to be wide open with people coming in and out; now, it is often closed.  Everyone assumes it is because of a deal I am working on.  In effect, yes this is true, but my deals lately have involved moving Steven Jackson off my roster for a quarterback.  Today my door was closed for another reason.  

I got a call from a friend in another division, we will call him F.  F also knows D, and is similarly well connected.  We had been trying to work out a fantasy deal over Sametime, but we were getting nowhere.  Still, we wanted to keep the conversation going so we might be able to reach an agreement. F pings me a note asking if I have "heard anything."  

Being paranoid over the monitoring systems at work, F gives me a call. What have I heard?  Same thing as you - V is on their way out.  I ask him what has he heard and who is his source. Courtesy be damned, I need to see if this is coming from D, or if this is a new source.  F heard V was being removed, the reason being a HR violation.  His source was someone from a division where neither D nor I work.  I share with him that I had heard the same rumor, but I didn't have a reason.  I also shared with him the division where my source originated, but not their name.  We promised to keep each other informed of any new developments.  An alliance was struck, at least in the rumor department.  As far as football, we were no where closer to making a deal (Steven Smith for Philip Rivers?  Pfft - forget it!)

Week 2: Friday

The rumor mill is in full effect today.  The rumblings of this week have gone into overdrive.  A coworker, O, came by to talk and hear if I have heard anything.  Yes, I have. He has heard the same rumor, but from two different people.  

One is from someone in a corporate staff function that heard the HR violation rumor, but with a new twist.  It had something to due with V's divorce.  Apparently, V's house was for sale.  We had all heard the stories that V had gotten a divorce, and that he or she was active on the on-line dating circuit.  

The on-line dating rumor for V was another rumor we had heard earlier in the year.  I had never seen it, but apparently, V had a profile up on-line for a while, until someone from corporate had advised them to take it down.  I had not seen this profile, but I was told it was open for the public to see.  Some of V's turn ons included erotica and an Asian fetish. I never believed this rumor, and when pressed, none of the rumor spreaders had actually seen it either.  But, they reassured me, they had good friends at work who had.

O's second source was a call from one of our sales managers in Chicago.  They heard the rumor from one of our distributors and customers.  It wasn't internal anymore; folks outside the company heard it too, so the rumor must be true!  Or so the thinking went this Friday.

Week 3:  Tuesday

I have lunch with J, a good friend who works in a division different from me or any of my fellow other rumor spreaders.  J and I usually have so much to talk about, that work never comes up, until today.  Tis the power of the rumors.  

She had heard the same rumors, and J in fact had a run in with V on the elevator not too long ago.  A creepy run in, too.  Without going into details, you could see why V is a target.  I don't think V is a bad person, but their mannerisms are such that it can lead you to thinking that they could participate in unsavory behavior.  Like the Richard Gere rumors, there is something about him which makes you think, maybe it is true...

J says that the rumor she heard was that V's contract would not be renewed when it expired, whenever that might be. 

Week 3: Wednesday

F calls with an update on the HR violation.  Apparently, V is being fired for downloading massive amounts of pornography on their work computer.  A few years ago, a sting operation at work fired six people, who had a massive porno file swapping operation going on.  This story I know is true; I know one of the people who got fired and several of the people who were hired to replace them.  The company takes this matter very seriously; almost every website is blocked by the "blue screen" of death which lets know when you hit something with racy content.  And it keeps count, too.

Suddenly, the rumor is now coming into focus.  It all added up:  The divorce, the online dating where V admitted a fondness for erotica, the previous terminations for pornography.... it was all making sense now.  We were through the looking glass, people.  How could we have been so blind for so long?  Everyone was convinced that it was only a matter of time before V was let go.  The question was when.  All the signs pointed to Friday.

Week 3: Thursday

Work in our area is suffering as the rumors are the hot topic of conversation.  The "porno rumor" was by far the most popular, which evoked the response of "why didn't V download it on their home computer, like any decent person would?"  

Still, there were proponents of the "contract not being renewed" theory.  This would fit the Minnesota mold better; rather than taking direct action or causing a disturbance, we just wait it out and then let them go without an explanation.  

Week 3:  Friday

This was D-day, the day it was all supposed to go down.  Depending on whose rumor you heard or believed, V would be let go today.  Plans were underway within the division for a celebratory happy hour, which might start at noon. 

12 noon had been the popular consensus of when the termination would take place, though others insisted it would not be till end of day.  Some rumor spreaders said it would be earlier in the day, like at 10 am.  And according to one report, V had in fact been escorted out of the building already, after being given 5 minutes to clean our his or her desk.  

In any event, this was to be the day.

Yet nothing happened.  The day passed by without incident.  Not a peep.  Calls were made to contacts, but nothing happened.  V was still here.  No escorting occurred.

Week 4: Monday

Inquiries began and the news wires were being checked to see if something had been released externally before it hit the internal employees.  This has happened before.  I have received eMails from friends outside the company who ask me about major personnel changes that they have read about on news sites, which had not yet been released on the internal systems.  But nothing was discovered.  

Reliable contacts were in short supply. Questions were being asked, but no answers were forthcoming.

Week 4: Wednesday

People were still asking questions; how could V still be here?   Was everyone wrong?  How could this have happened?  All the evidence was there and it all made sense? Did we get the wrong week?  Would it be this Friday, not last?  

Week 4: Friday

No termination for V this week.  We rumor spreaders were still despondent.  How could we have been so wrong?  It was like a challenge to our faith, like we had been worshiping the wrong god.

Supporters of the "contract theory" were still holding out.  Apparently, V's contract ran through the end of the year, so he or she would not be released until then.  For the rest who believed the other theories, the reality set in that V would be here a bit longer.  The celebration had been premature.  The boy had falsely cried wolf again.

Week 5:

Everyone's attention moved from the rumors to the company's falling stock price, which was mirroring the overall crash on Wall Street.  At this point, it was still early in the crisis, so we would not realize how bad the situation would be (or has yet to become).  We went back to work as normal.  Even if V had been fired, the work we had been avoiding still had to be done.

Some time this week we get a company wide eMail from V regarding the crisis on Wall Street and our company's financial position.  You could tell from the size of the file that this would be a very long eMail.  I read through it to see if there would be any hint which indicated they would be leaving.  But no, no hint, nor any inkling of a hint that V was going anywhere.  Just like the company where we work, both of them had taken hits, but nobody was going anywhere.

The eMail was a bit confusing, though.  A lot of discussion on a lot of topics that were not very well structured.  I discussed it with a former manager, L, who also had trouble grasping the note the first time through.  L and I are on a friendly basis, though because he was my manager in the past, we have never moved completely into a casual friendship.  Our relationship is still businesslike.  I never spoke with him about the rumors and stories; our talk is more about the issues facing the division.  

After much discussion of the eMail, we agreed that a lot of it could have been cut out and trimmed down.  As we were wrapping up,  L leaned over and said, "you know, when I saw the size of the file, I figured V must have included some of the porn they had downloaded.  You know, if you believe all the rumors."

Manners 101: Retail Checkout

Lately I have been noticing a sharp decline in overall manners.  No matter what the scene or situation, behavior I would not have imagined passing 20 years ago is becoming more and more acceptable today.  This is probably an inevitable consequence of me getting older and possibly crankier, but I am not longer going to hold back on this topic.  Good manners allow for a functioning society, and I aim to be keep that society functioning.

This will be the first in what will inevitably be a long series of rants about bad behavior as I see it existing in the world today.  This latest incident happened the other day when I was checking out of a retail store.  

I had stopped into a card store on Thursday night.  It was at the Mall of America, on a slow night, in a store that specializes in cards - and only cards.  This wasn't a Hallmark, but one of those fancy shamsy places, that annoy me with their prices but that do have good nice cards.  

I am the only person in the store, aside from the woman behind the register who was on the phone.  She didn't welcome me, which is fine  and I can live with; I tend to find that can be annoying, especially if you know where you are going in the store (don't get in my way and slow me down).  I pick out the cards I want and head to the register.  The woman has been on the phone the whole time.  

I get to the register and she rings up the cards, without ever getting off the phone.  While talking, she points to the screen to let me know the price.  I give her the cash, which she rings up, sets the change on the counter and cards in a bag, never once saying anything to me, even a thank you or have a nice day.  No apology for being on the phone was given.  

Some clarifications on this situation.  This was not a work call the woman was taking, but a personal call.  From the details I picked out, it involved where she, the other person on the phone, and a group of friends would be having dinner on Saturday night.  Apparently, there was a dispute on eating establishments.  The pro-Italian camp was winning.  Second, this was not a young kid.  This woman was in her late 40's or 50's.  In other words, she should know better.  She grew up in a world where you didn't have instant access to a phone.  Messages and retuned calls were commonplace in her youth.  Could she not have at least put down the phone tell me the three cards I was buying would cost me $10.25 (yeah, expensive cards store).

This goes both ways, now.  I find it equally rude when people who are checking out of a store do the same to cashiers.  It shows contempt for the other person; they are not worthy of being acknowledged or recognized as people.  Exceptions exists to this broad statement, but accommodations can be made.  Once I received an emergency call as I was checking out at the grocery store.  I was clearly distracted when I took the call, and I didn't put the phone down, but I silently mouthed an apology to the cashier.  She could tell from my tone that something had just seriously gone wrong, and she did not take offense to this behavior. Parents with kids can also be given a break, too.  From what little I know on the subject, it is a tough job and one I could not imagine how they are able to juggle it all, and I think societty rightly gives them a pass in these situations, too.  In most situations however, I think a pause in the call is acceptable.  

Technology is a wonderful thing, and has made our lives easier than in any other time in human history.  It also has an insulating effect separating us from contact with other human beings.  It allows us to perform myriad of activities with no other contact, which is not the nature of people.  Whether you believe in evolution or intelligent design, both camps would acknowledge that humans survived because we were social creatures, who worked together and coexisted in order to survive the harshness of the world around us.

Once I got a call about a social event that night.  I was in line at a nice store, buying clothes.  I kept my conversation private, but when it came time for me to check out, I apologized to the person on the phone, and asked to call them back in a moment.  I then apologized the clerk, who politely thanked me and said not to worry about it.  Out of curiosity I asked, with the astronomical increase in mobile phone usage, if people still hung up calls when checking out.  He smiled, looked at me thoughtfully and said, not as much as they used to do.  I finished my transaction and called my friend back.  It amounted to less than a 5 minute pause in the evenings planning; to show a little kindness, respect and acknowledgement of our fellow human beings, I think it was worth the wait.

Good night and good manners.

A grey area in rules of society in the grocery store

So at what point is one committed to buying produce at the grocery store?

Tonight I was shopping.  I was buying apples.  I was about to drop one in my bag, when I felt an ugly spot on the apple.  I had missed this on my visual inspection; somehow my grip changed when I was putting it in the bag and I felt it, and realized, I have a bad apple.  My question is, am I committed to buying it at this point.

I don't know the rules of society for this situation.  My hand was still on the apple; so just like checkers, I figure the move isn't done - my hand is still on the piece.  But my hand was inside the bag, which I think may constitute an ownership situation.  It was within a container I would take home.  Had my hand still been outside the bag, I wouldn't have taken it.  But because I was about to release in the bag, I felt like I had crossed a line, and I had to buy.

I think my decision was influenced because this was a perishable item I was handling.  I don't feel this way with cereal or other dry goods.  I take those in an out of my bag all the time; I am like a hermit crab spreading my booty throughout the store.  But perishable items - fruits, vegetables, anything coming from behind the counter.... I feel an implied sense of ownership.  I don't know why.  Maybe because there is less protective packaging, so I can't tell if anyone has tampered or touched it, which they invariably have.

Now that is a disquieting thought.... how many other people have touched this apple before it got to me?  5?  10?  100?  I figured at least 5 people - one who picked it, one who sorted and shipped it, one person at the wholesaler who shipped it to this store, one person at the store who put the tag on it, and me.  Could be lots more.  And is it just me, or does the job of putting the individual sticker on each fruit or vegetable item seem like the job only filled by boys who go to Catholic High Schools?  Something about it seems like penance to me.   Your own slice of hell on earth.

Anyway, I took home my apple with the bad spot and cut around it, happy in the knowledge that I prevented the unnecessary touching of fruit by another human being.

Happy shopping

Rude behavior at 32,000 feet

I am on a flight to California, and it sounds like someone behind me
is cutting their finger nails. Yeeewwww gross!

I haven't seen them doing it, but it sounds like it - and it sounds
like it is the person right behind me. That sound is so distinctive,
and the timing between clicks is just right... I don't know what else
it could be. I'm in a middle seat, so I am going to use the twisting
"I'm not spying on you I'm only streatching move" to catch them in the
act. Hold on.

Nope, couldn't catch them in the backhand or forehand twist, nor with
the extra backhand for good measure.

How did they get clippers on the plane anyway? I thought they were
banned, and that you couldn't buy them in airport stores? Okay, that
was more than 10 clips for the fingers and some bonus ones for the
thumbs. Either that sound is something else or he is working on his
toes. Did the TSA change their policies and I don't know it?

It feels like something hit my hair. Do you think a stray nail can be
launched that far? Uggh. I want to get it out but I don't want to
touch my hair doing it. Maybe I should take an electric razor and
shave my head bald just to be safe. It will grow back. Looking like a
doofus for a few months would be a small price to pay compared to
touching someones cruddy, discarded clippings.

Okay, they've stopped. I can't think of what else it could be. When
the plane lands, I'm checking this guy's nails. If they look trimed,
he owes me a pair of clippers and a wig.

Sent from my iPhone

My moral quandry

I got a voice mail from D, a good friend of mine at work. She works in a division which is undergoing layoffs, or "job eliminations" as
we are politely calling them. Her job is safe, but a lot of talented people are not so lucky.

She has called me before in the past to see if I can help some of her friends. I think very highly of her and if she says they are good, then that is good enough for me. Like I said, she called and the message started with her asking for my help. My fear was that something happened to her, but that was not the case. It was for another coworker of hers, we will call P, whose job was eliminated. Unlike the others I have helped, I know this person.

To say I find this person a lecherous scum sucking gutter whore I think would be a kind assessment. Ego maniacal d#@k head would be another. In short I don't like him, and based on the 5 years and half dozen or so encounters I have had with him, I don't see my opinion
changing. D, my very dear friend, was asking if I could help him.

This is raising several moral quandaries for me. First and foremost why would she be friends with him? How could she like this guy? Even stranger, how could she and I, who have so much in common have such wildly differing opinions of the same person? D and I agree on
everything, sans P. It just doesn't make sense; it almost makes me question my friendship with her.

Second, what do I tell her about my willingness to help him? I had talked to friends of hers before, and just last week I offered to do the same, although I warned her that my division doesn't have many openings. Do I tell her that now I am not available to talk? If I do,
what is the reason? Did I suddenly get too busy or do I tell her the truth? I don't want to offend her, but at the same time I don't wish to assist someone whom I think personifies some of the worst qualities a person can possess.

I admit I am experiencing some "shameful joy" at P's misfortune. I am trying to keep it check by focusing on this new dynamic in my friendship with D. If anyone has some advice or an opinion on the Grown Up thing to do, please let me know.  I think the correct course of action is to tell D I can not help P because of my past history with him (without getting into details or calling him a rectal wart on the face of humanity). Obviously she did not know the history of how I felt; to just not answer without a reason would be rude.

But if anyone else has another opinion (preferably one where I tell P off!) let me know.

Malicious in Minneapolis

Arrgh! It be International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Today be Sept 19th, also known as International Talk Like a Pirate Day (Arrggghhh!). In honor of this most glorious of holidays, I present to ye, the top-20 songs about Pirating (brought to us by our good friends at Top-5).

Enjoy mateys!

The Top 20 Songs to Play on International Talk Like a Pirate Day

20. I Feel Piratey

19. Paint It, Blackbeard

18. Some Kind of Plunderful

17. No Wench, No Cry

16. Arrrr-E-S-P-E-C-T

15. This Plank Was Made for Walkin'

14. Fight for Your Right to Pillage

13. Me Hearties Will Go On

12. 50 Ways to Cleave Yer Lubber

11. Aye Will Survive

10. Arrrr! You're Lonesome Tonight!

9. Tainted Rum

8. You Arrrr So Booty-ful

7. Who Poured the Grog Out?

6. Hot Pegs

5. Planks for the Enemies

4. Can't Take My Eye Off of You

3. I Guess That's Why They Call 'Em Doubloons

2. Mateys, I'm Amazed

and the Number 1 Song to Play on International Talk Like a Pirate Day...

1. I Still Haven't Found What This Hook Is For

Palin Baby Name Generator

New link on the side: A name generator is Sarah Palin was your mother:

Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator

Thanks Liz for forwarding this one on.

Enjoy
Jim

The Fratellis

This has been a good week for concerts for me. Last night I got to see Journey at the Target Center, with their new lead singer Arnel "the Thriller from Manila" Pineda.

I had read the stories about how they discovered him on YouTube from his concerts in the Philippines. I read that he was good, and could almost perfectly imitate the vocals of former Journey front man Steve Perry. After seeing him live, I think he is better. When he sang, I thought it was Steve Perry - aside from the fact Arnel looked to be about 4' 10", he didn't have a mullet, and that he is from the Philippines. But beyond that, he was spot on. What really set him apart is this guy put on a show. I have never been to a night club in Manila, but I imagine you better be entertaining, fast, or you will not last long.

Whenever I think of Journey, and specifically the song "Lovin, Touchin, Feelin" I think back to the time I tried to sing along in the car on the way to work. It was somewhere about the point when I tried to hit the really high notes, that a noticed the car next to me. It was filled with four women with whom I worked. They were watching me. And cheering. It was embarrassing. I was leaving that job in a few weeks to go to grad school. I never said goodbye to them or anyone else on that side of the floor.

It was fun going to a show where I was younger than the average age of the audience. It was a total MILF-fest last night, with drunken suburbanites everywhere. At least they used lighters instead of their cell phones to light up the arena. Never liked that change - back in my day, you burned your fingers to show your appreciation for the band (dadgumit!). The average age also had an unintended benefit. I got carded - sorta. I was asked for my ID when I got a beer. I asked if he was carding everybody; he said "basically, but you have a young face." I am not sure if that counts or not. I think it will.

But for me, the real concert hit was the week before, when I saw The Fratellis at First Ave. Thanks to Minnesota's Public Radio station, The Current, I first heard this band play. Based on one song I bought the album. Then their second release. They have quickly become my new favorite band.

The Fratellis are a Scottish trio, who started playing together just a few years ago. They quickly got signed by a label, put out an album that went to #2 in the UK in 3 weeks, won the award for Best British Breakthrough band. They have been very successful in a very short time together. In terms of sound, they have a sound which is not extremely different than any other alternative bands. I think what makes them great is they understand music is supposed to be fun.

To paraphrase the B52's, Rock and Roll is not supposed to be depressing; it is supposed to be entertaining, a bit silly and always fun. In comparison, practically every Journey song was a long slow ballad, very sappy and pulling at the emotions. All their songs, while memorable and crowd favorites, could all be classified as cheesy and are open for ridicule. We like the Journey songs, but we hate to admit it. We live in fear that someone will see us singing along (or run and hide after we have been caught).

The Fratellis have no slow, sad ballads, no angst ridden songs, no anger, just songs you want to hear again and again. Plus, they have fun when they play. I encourage everyone who hasn't seen a good show in a while, check them out. For any of my good friends, go see them, and if you don't enjoy yourself, I will personally refund the price of admission. You will not be disappointed.

Enjoy

www.thefratellis.com

Second helping of cool-aid

So I got an iPhone, and it has been fun. I am just starting to play
around with it and I can see that it will be at black hole for free
time.

I am posting this from my phone, so hopefully this will work. I don't
have too much to say and nothing of even
mild interest, except that I think the most obnoxious letter combo for
a license plate is "ULQ". Saw that one last night driving home.

Sent from my iPhone

Under the microscope

Last night I went to downtown St. Paul to catch some of the activity surround the RNC and all the foolishness of the anarchists. Sadly (?) it was disappointing. I have easy access to gas masks, so I was kinda hoping something might happen - I think it would have made for a fun posting for the blog. Instead, all I saw there was a ton of cops and some silly protesters, and not much else. I think they were mainly locals. They were all very respectful and nice.

The biggest incident almost was caused by me. In the crowd behind the CNN outdoor stage, a woman was holding a sign saying "9/11 was an inside job". I wanted to punch her in the mouth, really hard. I have never thought of hitting a woman, but at the time, I thought it was a really good idea for my friend Dan McNeal and all the other people who died that day. I didn't though. I walked off all my anger by going the long, LONG, way around the Xcel center to meet Liz for a beer (or two).

I got home to watch Sarah Palin's speech. I thought she did a good job - better than I expected. I though she was a token female pick at first. But after hearing her story - mother of a pregnant teen, a son who is going to Iraq, and a child with health problems - I realized she has more in common with middle America and a better understanding of their problems then either of the presidential picks.

When she was talking about her kids, I was trying to figure out who the dude was sitting next to her daughter. After she introduced her son who is going to Iraq, I (slowly) realized that the other guy must be her daughters baby-daddy. Yep, Levi Johnston himself. I don't know that I would have wanted him on stage. I don't know whose call that was, but I can not think of it as a "good idea". Last week this was a minor scandal in a minor state; now he is on display for America to see.

I thought back to when I was in high school and picking up dates and having to meet their father. Nothing in a young man's life is more terrifying or character building. All men dread and fear the punks who ask out their daughters because they know they know these young men have only one thing on their mind. I have been warning my niece since the time she was born that outside of daddy, all boys are bad and should be avoided. They can't be trusted, I tell her, but does she listen. No. She smiles and laughs. My hair turns grey.

To Barack Obama's credit, he has said this subject is off limits. Still, everyone knows. With all of America watching I had to think to myself "Yeah, in comparison, I didn't have to put up with jack s#it as a teen."

Aug 22, 2008

Aug 22nd, I got IDed again. I am fairly certain this will be the last time, ever. I was about to get the "wave in" but I was with younger looking friends, so I was guilty by association. Thank goodness.

Anyway, I was feeling good about getting IDed until the next bar we went to that night. Somehow we got into a discussion about "New Coke". The 24 year old bartender didn't know what is was. Honestly. She had never heard of it. The cola wars to her were something you read about in the history books. That momentarily washed away my earlier euphoria for being carded.

Eh, c'est la vie. I still got carded.