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.