Season Opener for Stupidity

I hate stupidity and I hate waste.  The only thing I hate more are stupid decisions which will become wasteful.  Today, we in Minnesota saw a vision of our own very stupid, wasteful future.

Today was opening day for the Twins, who currently play in the (regrettable) Hubert H Humphrey Metrodome, universally despised by fans and players since it opened in 1982.  It is a puffy top dome, with not particularly good site lines, seating, or amenities.  It looks like it was designed by ex-Soviet central planners.  Minor league ballparks today have more appeal that the dome.

In 2005 the owner of the Twins, Carl Pohlad, argued that the lack of a good stadium was holding the team back. He threatened to move the team to - well, anywhere actually - unless a new stadium is built for him with public funds.  The state caved and he will get his new stadium.  Cost:  $522 million.  

I could write for days on the stupidity for using public funds for building a stadium (especially when our bridges are collapsing), or the foolishness of this deal since there is no guarantee the team will stay once the stadium is build, or how it is the Metrodome's fault that we are uncompetitive (even though the Twins won the world series in 1987 and 1991 while playing in the dome), or the fact that the reason we might not win the big games is because Pohland is too cheap to pay his players once they get good (Exhibit A: Johan Santana, Exhibit B: Torii Hunter).  No, the reason I am writing is about the new stadium design and its one very apparent flaw:  it doesn't have a roof.

Now, I hate going to the dome in summertime.  We don't get that many days with good weather and when the do occur, I would like to be outside.  But, the baseball season is long, starting in late March/early April and ending in October, or possibly November (if you have a good team).  Today is opening day for the Twins.  It is also snowing.  Lots.  We will have between 5-8" of very wet snow by the end of today.  Tomorrow is probably the same.   This is not unexpected.  It begs the question, why, why on earth would we build a new stadium where it is expected that games will be played in cold, snowy conditions without a retractable roof?

The estimated cost to add a retractable roof is $100 million.  This is not an insignificant sum.  But consider the chain of events that will occur if a retractable dome is not added:  the new stadium will be build.  We will probably get snow or extremely cold weather both at the beginning and end of the season.  Fans will not attend the games because they are absolutely miserable (not to mention the team).  Pohland will complain and say that this market is not big enough to bring in enough fans, so he either (a) demands we spend MORE money to build a stadium with a retractable roof or (b) he moves the team, and the city is stuck with a $500 million albatross.  

This will go down as the crowning moment in stupidity and waste for any state legislature, ever.  This will make Alaska's famed "Bridge to Nowhere" look like a minor transgression in comparison - a bridge is still useful even if your baseball team is gone.  The city should have either not agreed to build the stadium or built it correctly (with a retractable roof and a contract for the team to stay, say, 25 years).  Any other option is wishful, juvenile, thinking, and every state legislator who voted for it should be ashamed (along with Gov. Pawlenty).

There is no need to subsidize stupidity; it will survive just fine on its own.

So you think you know Dive Bars?

"Isn't this a great dive bar" Heather said as we entered "Mum's".   It was a dark, narrow, bar, with PBR in cans at $1.75 a pop.  Plus we had to avoid a scary looking female patron who had just been ejected for smoking crack at the bar.  So yes, the place was not without its charms. But did it qualify as a Dive Bar?

The term Dive Bar gets thrown around a lot, but I don't think a good definition of what qualifies has ever been established.  There are wanna be dive bars and then their are dive bars - the places your parents would disown you if they ever knew you spent time there, although they probably spent time there themselves in their youth (and possibly met there, too.  My parents "officially" met at a Church Conference, but they really got to know each other over drinks in a somewhat suspect establishment here in Minneapolis of all places).  

Dive bars are different than other bars for a reason.  Sometimes all you want is a drink, and not to be seen.  Society places a premium on image and being a part of the scene.  That requires work and planning.  Sometimes the payoff is not worth the effort.  Sometimes all you want is to relax and have a refreshing beverage with friends, without being bothered or feeling the need to have your A-Game on.  You just want to chill in private.

Enter the dive bar:  a place completely devoid of style and refinement.  A place where you can have cheap domestic brew in a can and nobody looks at you funny.  A place where you can engage in bar games, loud arguments on the most mundane topics, and socialize with the underclass of America without anybody getting bent out of joint.

So what does it take to be a dive bar?  This was the question up for debate.  There was only one way to decide it - by hanging out in a bar drinking beer.  Call it research.  After much discussion and consumption, we came up with a list of attributes you must meet to be considered a dive bar.  In true dive bar fashion, this was written while in a bar on a napkin, so this is all going to be a bit fuzzy (the writing, not my memory j@ck@ss).  

Exterior:  

Dive bars are never on a main street. You have to go off the beaten path to get to a real dive bar.  Crowds are not their friends.  Outside signage should be minimal (bonus points if no sign exists)  Dive bars don't advertise.  The best ones are on a need to know basis.

Dive bars are typically very long, narrow establishments, but that is often based on geography (East Coast cities and San Fran).  Typically they are brick buildings and very old.  Bonus points if the building where they are located is or has been condemned.

Interior:

The key word is "dark".  Sunlight is not a dive bar's friend.  From the inside of a dive bar, it should appear to be 2am, no matter what time of day it is in the outside world. The floor should be wood or cracked linoleum.  Possibly exception is moldy, worn out carpet.  Ceilings are solid surface with possibly exposed duct work.  Ceiling fans are common features. Bonus Points if the air-conditioner is a window unit, cut into a wall and not into a window.

The bar surface should be made of wood.  Only wood.  Nothing else.  Preferably, the wood will have nicks, dents, scrapes and dents.  Walls are always dirty.  There should be at least one beer sign from a off-brand domestic beer manufacturer that is at least 10 years old.  Acceptable brands include PBR, Schlitz, National Bohemian, Rolling Rock, Hamm's, Olympia, and Miller High Life (not Miller Lite, but the High Life is okay.  Basically anybody domestic is okay except Budweiser, Coors, Michalob, Sam Adams or any Microbrew).

Bathroom:  

Against my better judgement, we need to cover this point.  Dive bar bathrooms are one step advanced from an Industrial Revolutionary era outhouse.  Yes, the toilets generally flush, but that is the extent they have in common with modern facilities.  A couple of tell tale characteristics include the brown paper towels (no electric hand dryers) and a mirror which is either cracked and/or off-centered from the sink.  Bonus Points - if the woman's room has a perfume machine or the men's room has a condom machine.  No more is needed on this topic.

The Staff:  

Everyone who works at a dive bar is a bouncer, including the bar maids.  It is part of the job.  If you are greeted at all, they don't do so with your name.  "Buddy", "pal", "hey you" is your new designation, except the regulars.  They have a different nickname.

Dive bars often have an animal inhabitant, like a dog or cat. They are as much a part of the scene as the regulars.  Bonus points if the animal has its designated place at the bar, which patrons know to avoid.  Double Bonus points if the animal has some deformity, disease or it is missing a limb or eye.

Patrons:  

The population of a dive bar is 75% male and 99% heterosexual.  Dive establishments all seem to have one, old toothless patron at the bar.  No matter what time of day or what day of the week, you can count on this person being present, with beverage in hand.  On a Friday or Saturday night, there is almost a 100% chance of a fight breaking out or someone being forcibly ejected from the establishment at some point of the evening.  Bonus Points if they advertise a "Ladies Night!"  Double Bonus Points if "Ladies Night" actually has a positive effect on the male-female ratio!

Smoking:  

Even if you live in a state with a smoking ban, dive bars seem to be exempt from this requirement.  Bonus points if they have an old cigarette machine in the establishment.

Food and Beverages:

The aforementioned domestics are a must.  in a can. Also they should have some regional beer, named after a city, that you have never heard of outside of this part of the country.   There is no prepared food in a dive bar. Only pre-packaged food or food-substitutes allowed.  Wine List:  none - take a hike Frenchy.  

Dive bars always have a happy hour, but not at the normal times.  Dive bars have happy hours that start at 9pm or later (or 3pm and earlier).  Bonus points if it is a 2-for-1 happy hour.  Also, there is no question if you are going to start a tab; it is assumed.  When it comes time to settle up, they tell you what you owe.  There is no itemized list.

Entertainment:

TV's are expected, but only certain types.  Any place with a plasma, flat screen, high-def is not a dive bar.  Dive bars have old, small, picture tube TV's, bolted to the wall or ceiling.  This may change over time when the world goes hi-def, but the truly great dive bars will still be using a coat hanger antenna to bring in the games.

For games, dive bars have real free darts.  None of that safety electronic crap.  Real darts that can cause real pain in the hands of a drunk patron making there way to the scary bathroom.  Pinball qualifies, but not the ones with electronic games built into them.  Golden Tee is a disqualifier.  Too mainstream and modern.

These are the main qualifiers for a dive bar.  I hope this guide will help you in your selection of this overlooked class of establishments.  I know it will help me the next time I need to find a place to play darts and drink some cheap PBR.  In fact.... what am I doing here?  There is beer to be drunk, pinball to be played and scary looking patrons to avoid.  

Cheers!

Lunch without the Boss

I wanted to give a quick update on work situation.  I had not written about it in a while.  Up to a few months ago, work was still horrid and it was driving me to the door.  Quickly.  Then out of the blue, some changes have occurred and I might end up working for my old boss again, but in a much better job.  If the job comes through as he has sold it, my new position would be better than I could have hoped to find outside of the company.  

My relationship with my employer has not been smooth.  I have been threatened with termination twice if I did not accept a move, plus there are other "issues" that have come up which I will not get into detail here on a public page, but in summary, they caused massive disbelief among friends and a few choice profanity tirades by me.  The only reason I stayed was because of my old boss, who wants to rehire me again.  I have every reason to trust him, and he is someone who can make this happen.  

So right now I am waiting to see if this position materializes.  Should know something in a month or so.  This has caused a lot of consternation for me.  I wasn't one foot out the door; I was one foot in the door.  Maybe not a foot, but my big toe.  The only reason I was staying was to bide my time while waiting for something else.  It would have been tougher for me to do this, except that I had told both the Director and HR to fire me because I was not doing anything.  They didn't so I felt okay staying in my job.  I still have doubts if this new job will come through, but for now I will wait and see.

What triggered all of this was today lunch.  I had picked up some food at the cafeteria.  I did not have plans with anyone so I was going to sit at a table with some of the regulars.  It is a fun group of people in the division - friends whom I would not normally interact with - but good lunch company.  I was about to go to our table when I noticed among the crowd of regulars the VP was sitting there.  Yes - the big, BIG boss.  

She is very nice and approachable, and I have great respect for her.  But what am I going to say?  I figured I could probably ask enough questions of her, although I am scheduled for a group lunch with her this coming Friday (don't want to use my A-material too soon).  My fear is what if she asks me "how is it going?"  (a very likely question).

I am afraid of one of two things happening - either I tell the truth, or I don't.  Either way I don't see a good outcome.  My happiness is not her concern - its mine. Complaining to her is not an option. But by not saying anything, am I just blowing smoke so she gets a distorted view of the division and the overall moral (very low - for everyone).  I know I should feel a responsibility to tell her about moral, but she probably knows its bad and if I do tell her, I would have to censor myself so as not to potentially say something inappropriate.  She is very good at asking questions and I am afraid if she starts probing, I might really open up about how I feel.  That is a bad thing.

So based on this, I decided quickly to chose a third option - I ate lunch at my desk.  A friend got her lunch and joined me and I got to vent in private, behind the door.  Probably a good thing.  

Always be looking for other options.  I think it saved me today.  In the meantime, I hope to hold it in and see if the job materializes.  If it does, I may stay longer - I will put in a six month contract with myself to see how it turns out.  

Options:  they are a good thing.

UNC over Mount St. Mary's

I was going to try to refrain from all NCAA basketball postings, as usually, it turns out badly for me (both in terms of sanity and the greying of the hair), but this was too funny not to share.  "Highlights" of UNC vs the "small, very cute and fluffy Mount St. Mary's" team.

 Make sure you click on the video portion.

UNC vs. Mount Puppet Show

You gotta love the local sports anchors!

Go Heels!

Winter Sucks

It is snowing here today.  Again. I am tired of winter.  Winter sucks.

I am tired of being cold.  Tired of wearing a coat every time I go out.  I am tired of wearing a coat when I am inside.   I am sick of my sweaters.  I can't wear them anymore.  I am tired of wearing warm but ugly clothing that makes me look like a homeless eskimo.

I am tired of having cold feet.  Tired of cold hands.  Tired of wool socks and gloves.  Tired of having chapped and cracked skin.  Tired of cracked and bleeding knuckles caused by cold dry air.

I am tired of salt stains on my clothes, especially my shoes.  I am tired of a two tone blue and white salt stained car.  I am tried of getting my car washed in winter to prevent rust.  I am tired of scraping ice of my windshield.  Tired of my ridiculously large ice scrapper.  I am tired of having to know the freezing point of my windshield washer fluid (can't use that stuff rated to -20; you need the -40 stuff to be sure).

I am tired of walking like a penguin.  Tired of watching for ice.  Tired of not being able to wear lightweight comfortable shoes. Tired of having to be cautious when I walk down the sidewalk.  I want to be reckless and run.

I am tired of frozen hair in the morning.  Tired of wearing a stocking cap to prevent frozen head.  I am tired of having stocking cap head every day.  I am tired of windburn on a freshly shaven face.  I am tired of cold gusts of air down my back or ice in my face.  I am tired of winter flab (aka insulation).

I am tired of having to drive slowly.  Tired of merging at 3 mph.  Tired of watching out for ice.  Tired of watching for black ice.  Tired of trying to figure out what black ice really is.  I am tired of being cautious when I cross bridges.  I am tired of having to watch out for spinouts.  I am tired of snowy mornings which take an hour to get into work.  I am tired of snowy afternoons where it takes two hours to get home.  I am tired of filling up my car in sub-zero temperatures.

I am tired of the color white.  I am tired of grey.  

I miss the color green. 

WNTRSUX 

Mystery for the ages

This weekend we were at the auto show.  I was not in the market, but it is fun to check out cars.  They serve beer there too, so it is kinda fun to sit behind the wheel of a Porsche, with a beer in the cup holder (I am big on cup holders - that is a make or break point for me on cars!).  I was there with my friends, a very well educated, highly intelligent group, whom I posed the following question.  

For automobile manufacturers, why is there no standardization on which side the gas tank opening is placed.

How many times have you gone to fill up your car and you get blocked in by someone, or you can't get to a pump, because your tank opening is on the wrong side?  Happens to me all the time, and for the life of me, I can not figure out why there is no agreement on a standard side for the opening.

Car makes create models of their cars for right hand and left hand drive countries.  Technically, cutting a hole in the side and attaching a pipe to the tank seems much easier than switching which side a steering wheel would sit.  So why not?  This is the type of inefficiency that drives me crazy.

This one has kept me up a nights (at least for a few minutes).  I can't see any benefit to being different, and there seems to be no advantage to either side.  So lets just pick one side and go with it.  With all the problems at the pump today, why do we need to cause a new one with a bunch of misaligned gas tanks.  

Sadly, we did not have an answer.  Speaking as a drive or a car with a backwards tank (passenger side), I would gladly make the change.  This may weigh more heavily on my next car decision than my fondness for cup holders.  Maybe.

fried chicken

I have no idea why, but everything today smelled like Fried Chicken.  Indoors or outdoors, every new room I went into had that fried chicken smell.  Not the good home cooking version, but the smell from the dumpster of KFC smell.  Yeah - really bad.

About the only place I got any relief was a friend's office, but that smelled like liquorish to me.  Apparently, I was the only one who thought it smelled like that, too.  

There is no joke behind this posting.  It was just a very odd day having one of your five senses "off" for the day.  I have had trouble with hearing before, but not mis-smelling stuff.  It seems like this a bad sign for your body when you lose one of the big 5, even temporarily.  I guess this would be the best one to have off for a day, if you had to chose between smell, sight, hearing, taste and touch.  

By the way, last Friday night we went out for pizza after work.  I ate entirely too much, and when I was walking back to my car, I realized I could not hear very well.  This raised another questions - if you eat too much, can that cause your ear canal to close up so you can't hear?  I wouldn't think so, but I couldn't think of any other good explanation.    Again - no joke.  This really happened.

Now that I am home writing this, and smelling normally, I will be back on the mend.  

Good Smelling.

Worst marketing idea, ever

I have written about work often, usually the more bizarre and ridiculous parts of my job. There are, however, a lot of people I truly like, respect and admire here. This division also does have elements of a family - a bit of a warped family, but hey, whose family isn't. Where this is most evident is when people at work lose family members, which has happened quite a bit here lately.

Over the past two years, I can not even begin to count the number of people who have lost someone close to them. I would say over half the division has lost someone close to them. It started with this one woman I work with, whose husband lost a battle with cancer after suffering for many years. He was in his early 40's. Then the flood gates have opened to the point at which it seems like there is a new notice of someone's loss every week.

This past Tuesday, we got notice that two people had both lost their father. The division donated flowers and cards, but these were two of my favorites in the division, so I wanted to write a personal note to each of them. I went to the sympathy card section at Target (an area I know all too well lately), and I could not believe what I saw: A six pack of sympathy cards. Advertised as a "Great Value", I think the idea was to have inventory on hand, you know, just to be prepared.

Call me old fashioned, but I think there are certain situations that you want to be stocked up with supplies, and this is not one of them. I hope no shopper was swayed by this tempting appeal. I can see it now, "yeah, I only needed a card for Aunt Barb, but Uncle Bob hasn't been looking to good lately..."

Even worse, where would you keep something like that? In my little home, I know where my bulk package of Toilet Paper is located, and where I keep the extra Paper Towels and Kleenex. For the life of me, I don't know where I would keep my bulk pack of sympathy cards, and even worse, I would hate to have to remember where I put them (yes, lets see, Sympathy cards, sympathy cards.... I think I put them somewhere near the toilet paper, or possibly by the rat poison.)

It is my old fashioned nature again, but times like this, for people you care about, I think is worth an unscheduled trip to the card shop. I would rather spend a little extra money to get something a bit more personalized, and not worry about the fact I missed the chance to save a few cents with the value pack option.

Let 'em fly!

It was just brought to my attention today from a reader that they could not make comments on Besmirching Squirrels, as they were not a registered user.  I didn't even know I could make that setting happen, but I think I figured out what to change.  Now, anyone can make a comment, so let 'em fly!

Rebellion Update!

Greetings Comrades!

Tragedy has struck the glorious Mailbox Rebellion!  Some imperialist pig/conformist has moved my name tag back to the right side of my mail slot today.  Surely this was a challenge to our ideals and principals as a free thinking left-sider was made by some bitter conformist.   This act of tyranny was dealt with quickly and decisively (basically I moved my name tag back over to the left side of my designated slot, but I did so decisively!) 

No word yet on who made the change, though I have my list of suspects.  Resources are limited but we he have the strength of our ideals.  There is concern this was the act of an insider - perhaps a loyal reader of "Besmirching Squirrels" who may be acting as a double agent.  Inquiries have begun and we will not stop until we purge all infidels from our ranks.  We need names.

In the meantime the glorious left-sided revolution continues.  

Viva la Mailbox Rebellion!