Have you been keeping up with the trials and tribulation of a single lesbian student in a small town in Oklahoma, denied her ability to attend her school prom because she wanted to bring her girlfriend?
To quickly recap, said lesbo wants to dance with her girlfriend at said prom. Done.
School board denies and cancels the whole thing. ACLU sues on lesbian behalf. ACLU wins, but school says no prom this year. A group of families decide to put on their own prom, sans lesbians.
All I can say is who cares about lesbians? No, that's not what I meant to say.
A quick bit of my own lesbian history. Last year my children and I were living in a rural farming community, so small that grades 1-12 all attended the same school. If the area was any more rural I would have had to marry my sister, that is how rural it was. My son was a senior in high school and his girlfriend from the West Coast flew out for the prom. Both his sisters were asked on dates for the prom. My youngest attended with an adorable young man who was sweet and nice. My older daughter attended with a beautiful woman.
I know, what? I was in lesbian heaven, my brilliant daughter attending a rural schools prom with her "girlfriend". These are the same children who refused to stand and recite the Pledge of Allegiance.
So, what happened? Did my daughter and her date get disqualified? Did they get shunned by their friends and other classmates? Did the school board step in, cancel the prom and make sure the hummersexuals never enjoy an event thatmay cast them in thelight of typical teen looking for friends, love, lovers? No.
They did not. The prom went off without a hitch. The kids had fun, danced till all hours of the morning, what else they did I am not privy too. It is none of my business. But what did not happen is a bunch of conservative dickhead parents did not try and stop a tradition because of their own stupidity, hatred and fear. The prom went off, pictures were taken, life continued without some sort of Christian crazy event.
Oh well.
So I say to the parents in Oklahoma, go for it. Invite the lesbian and the gays and the trannies (especially the trannies) and have yourself a prom. Seriously, what is it you fear about two girls dancing? Have you ever been to a high school dance of any sort? Girls dance together all the time because boys have yet to figure out that if you dance with girls, you might get kissed or something.
Let kids be kids and that means let gay kids be just as kid-like as straight kids. Being gay is not a disease, not a problem to be dealt with or something to be ashamed of. Canceling a prom makes adults look like fools, which in the case of thisparticular Oklahoma school board, is correct. Congratulations for publically outing yourselves.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Debating health
I can not be the only one who has noticed that the people who seem to protest at abortion clinics and planned parenthood offices are almost always older white men, dressed badly in polyester.
I have never stopped to speak to these people, mostly because I tend to think of them as hypocrites and idiots. It's just a personal thing, since I don't bother to engage them, it is just an impression.
When these sorts do show their true colors, it is never enlightening, just reaffirming. During the lead up to the recent health care vote a congressman from Michigan named Stupak wanted to make sure that no government money would be spent to help a woman get an abortion. Not surprising to people who pay attention, Stupak is an older white guy wearing polyester. What is a slight bit interesting is that Congressman Stupak ended up supporting the health care law.
This sort of hypocrisy is so common in congress that no one really paid much attention. Well, some people, the other lowly educated, polyester wearing older white men (and their, umm, wives) paid attention, and being the sort who scream and yell, they called the congressmans office.
Watch CBS News Videos Online
I have never stopped to speak to these people, mostly because I tend to think of them as hypocrites and idiots. It's just a personal thing, since I don't bother to engage them, it is just an impression.
When these sorts do show their true colors, it is never enlightening, just reaffirming. During the lead up to the recent health care vote a congressman from Michigan named Stupak wanted to make sure that no government money would be spent to help a woman get an abortion. Not surprising to people who pay attention, Stupak is an older white guy wearing polyester. What is a slight bit interesting is that Congressman Stupak ended up supporting the health care law.
This sort of hypocrisy is so common in congress that no one really paid much attention. Well, some people, the other lowly educated, polyester wearing older white men (and their, umm, wives) paid attention, and being the sort who scream and yell, they called the congressmans office.
Watch CBS News Videos Online
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
The decline of everything
I like Sarah Palin, she is hot (for an older woman) she is from Alaska (favorite state) she likes to hunt and fish (fun things to do in my favorite state) and she is dumb as a brick (just the way I like them).
What I don't get about her is how she can fail so often and in such amazing ways and still people want to know what she has to say. Wait, why is this surprising, most of my adult life Paris Hilton has been featured in millions of news stories and feature reporting, detailing her every trick and turn of tricks. Why not Sarah?
OK, so she quit her first term as governor. She is obviously mentally challenged and she, did I mention the hotness? She is hot. She seems to have married a Ken Doll, her virgin daughter already had a child, her almost son in law poses in gay magazines. Jesus, she is fun.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Shaving parts
Modern man has so much more work to do on their bodies than their parents did.
I am at the same age as my father was when he just up and decided to grow a fu-manchu mustache. It was not pretty, but then, neither were the eyebrows that seemed to be reaching out for the skies and the chest hair, long gray, now everywhere. He did not care, or could not have cared less.
So men of my generation, the men who are very close to becoming women, care about these things and the hair growing out of their ears, nose hair and grooming. The term manscaping is acceptable now. Men shave their balls. Well, I think everyone should do that, women too, but the women I know already shave their balls.
A couple of years ago I was in a hospital for one test or another and they had to shave two strips down my chest. In my life no one had ever removed hair from my chest, but there I was landing strips where my nipples once stood deep within a hair forest. Whatever the test was, I passed. I went home and took a clipped and chopped off all the hair on my chest because with just the landing strips, I looked stupid, even if the look was really only one I could enjoy.
I had not had a clean chest since early childhood, possibly even before. Having no hair was kind of fun, but then it grew back and my fragile ego is such that I could not see wasting the time keeping the look alive.
Which brings me to tonight. I was just sitting downstairs with time on my hands and wondered what it would be like to be completely hairless, or as hairless as a Jew could be. The answer, not bad, not bad at all.
I am at the same age as my father was when he just up and decided to grow a fu-manchu mustache. It was not pretty, but then, neither were the eyebrows that seemed to be reaching out for the skies and the chest hair, long gray, now everywhere. He did not care, or could not have cared less.
So men of my generation, the men who are very close to becoming women, care about these things and the hair growing out of their ears, nose hair and grooming. The term manscaping is acceptable now. Men shave their balls. Well, I think everyone should do that, women too, but the women I know already shave their balls.
A couple of years ago I was in a hospital for one test or another and they had to shave two strips down my chest. In my life no one had ever removed hair from my chest, but there I was landing strips where my nipples once stood deep within a hair forest. Whatever the test was, I passed. I went home and took a clipped and chopped off all the hair on my chest because with just the landing strips, I looked stupid, even if the look was really only one I could enjoy.
I had not had a clean chest since early childhood, possibly even before. Having no hair was kind of fun, but then it grew back and my fragile ego is such that I could not see wasting the time keeping the look alive.
Which brings me to tonight. I was just sitting downstairs with time on my hands and wondered what it would be like to be completely hairless, or as hairless as a Jew could be. The answer, not bad, not bad at all.
Licking County
This just in:
A music producer and co-founder of KC and the Sunshine Band responsible for such hits as "Shake Your Booty" and "Keep It Comin' Love" has acknowledged having sex with teenage boys, police said Wednesday.
Richard R. Finch, 56, was arrested Tuesday after a boy told authorities he'd had sexual contact with him at Finch's home in Newark, the Licking County sheriff's office said. The boy made the revelation last week.
Finch, while being interviewed at the sheriff's office, admitted he'd had sex with that boy and others ranging in age from 13 to 17, police said.
Finch, a former bass player for the band and a seven-time Grammy Award winner, was being held at the sheriff's office on $250,000 bond.
A message posted on the Web site of Richard Finch Productions Inc. said the allegations against the producer and song arranger were baseless.
"We will let due process happen through the legal system," it said, "and through that, we are sure Mr. Finch will be vindicated from these unfounded allegations."
No date had been set for Finch's arraignment, said Sgt. Kevin Biller, who wouldn't disclose the evidence that led to Finch's arrest or the possible charges against him.
Finch started KC and the Sunshine Band in the 1970s with Harry "KC" Casey, who was a record company stockroom clerk when they met. Their collaboration produced a slew of disco and funk hits including "Get Down Tonight," "That's the Way (I Like It)" and "I'm Your Boogie Man."
I am just not sure which is better, KC is a sunshine pedophile, or this happened in Licking County, which I guess, should be expected.
A music producer and co-founder of KC and the Sunshine Band responsible for such hits as "Shake Your Booty" and "Keep It Comin' Love" has acknowledged having sex with teenage boys, police said Wednesday.
Richard R. Finch, 56, was arrested Tuesday after a boy told authorities he'd had sexual contact with him at Finch's home in Newark, the Licking County sheriff's office said. The boy made the revelation last week.
Finch, while being interviewed at the sheriff's office, admitted he'd had sex with that boy and others ranging in age from 13 to 17, police said.
Finch, a former bass player for the band and a seven-time Grammy Award winner, was being held at the sheriff's office on $250,000 bond.
A message posted on the Web site of Richard Finch Productions Inc. said the allegations against the producer and song arranger were baseless.
"We will let due process happen through the legal system," it said, "and through that, we are sure Mr. Finch will be vindicated from these unfounded allegations."
No date had been set for Finch's arraignment, said Sgt. Kevin Biller, who wouldn't disclose the evidence that led to Finch's arrest or the possible charges against him.
Finch started KC and the Sunshine Band in the 1970s with Harry "KC" Casey, who was a record company stockroom clerk when they met. Their collaboration produced a slew of disco and funk hits including "Get Down Tonight," "That's the Way (I Like It)" and "I'm Your Boogie Man."
I am just not sure which is better, KC is a sunshine pedophile, or this happened in Licking County, which I guess, should be expected.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The dying man
I spent the better part of my day yesterday feeling sorry for an old man.
Here is part of his story. For over 50 years he has worked as en electrician and engineer. During the first 12 years of his career he worked for a major bakery in Philadelphia, making sure the ovens worked correctly. When they did not, he was the guy who fixed the electrical connections, replaced burned out parts and got them back on line within hours.
The only problem is that at the time,the ovens used a lot of Asbestos as insulation, and when he went to do repairs, dust was everywhere, not all of it Asbestos, but enough to invade this guys body and give me a hell of a lot of cancer.
He is in constant pain and the day before he had the full Chemo affect, so his brain was not nearly as connected as it normally would have been. He served in World War Two. He is smart, has an engaging and warm smile and can sit for about 90 seconds without shifting to avoid the pain in his spine.
This is not the first man I have seen in the last few months in this condition. The last one, another engineer who had found Asbestos in the workplace was also smart and skilled and had worked his way up from the guy who did menial stuff around the plant to the guy in charge of the plant. I sat in a room with him for two days as he talked about his family, his cancer, the available treatments and his plans. He died a few weeks after.
The man from yesterday is in so much pain, I am guessing that his mind, when focused, thinks about the relief that death will bring. While I think it is tough to think about dying, it is also part of our process, one which we have been told not to focus on and if we do, think about god or something.
I think about death enough to know it is around the corner, maybe not the next corner, but a corner that is probably at this point within view. Hearing men who have led honorable lives, men who have fathered and raised children, who have remained married and faithful, have climbed from not much to something, these men in pain are living proof that no one gets out of this place without scars.
One of the things I take away from these encounters is this. When it is on the line, when life is winding down and the writing is on the wall, there is honor in acceptance. There is honor is being strong, fighting the good fight and smiling. Over the past six months or so I have met a few of these men, always men, because when they started working in industrial settings, all the workers were men. These men are all of a certain age, have all worked in mills and factories and all of them look at the beautiful women who always seem to be in the same room and smile.
Pain, death and smiling. I like these men.
Here is part of his story. For over 50 years he has worked as en electrician and engineer. During the first 12 years of his career he worked for a major bakery in Philadelphia, making sure the ovens worked correctly. When they did not, he was the guy who fixed the electrical connections, replaced burned out parts and got them back on line within hours.
The only problem is that at the time,the ovens used a lot of Asbestos as insulation, and when he went to do repairs, dust was everywhere, not all of it Asbestos, but enough to invade this guys body and give me a hell of a lot of cancer.
He is in constant pain and the day before he had the full Chemo affect, so his brain was not nearly as connected as it normally would have been. He served in World War Two. He is smart, has an engaging and warm smile and can sit for about 90 seconds without shifting to avoid the pain in his spine.
This is not the first man I have seen in the last few months in this condition. The last one, another engineer who had found Asbestos in the workplace was also smart and skilled and had worked his way up from the guy who did menial stuff around the plant to the guy in charge of the plant. I sat in a room with him for two days as he talked about his family, his cancer, the available treatments and his plans. He died a few weeks after.
The man from yesterday is in so much pain, I am guessing that his mind, when focused, thinks about the relief that death will bring. While I think it is tough to think about dying, it is also part of our process, one which we have been told not to focus on and if we do, think about god or something.
I think about death enough to know it is around the corner, maybe not the next corner, but a corner that is probably at this point within view. Hearing men who have led honorable lives, men who have fathered and raised children, who have remained married and faithful, have climbed from not much to something, these men in pain are living proof that no one gets out of this place without scars.
One of the things I take away from these encounters is this. When it is on the line, when life is winding down and the writing is on the wall, there is honor in acceptance. There is honor is being strong, fighting the good fight and smiling. Over the past six months or so I have met a few of these men, always men, because when they started working in industrial settings, all the workers were men. These men are all of a certain age, have all worked in mills and factories and all of them look at the beautiful women who always seem to be in the same room and smile.
Pain, death and smiling. I like these men.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Poll results
Here is some results from a recent poll:
• 67 percent of Republicans (and 40 percent of Americans overall) believe that Obama is a socialist.
• 57 percent of Republicans (32 percent overall) believe that Obama is a Muslim
• 45 percent of Republicans (25 percent overall) agree with the Birthers in their belief that Obama was "not born in the United States and so is not eligible to be president"
• 38 percent of Republicans (20 percent overall) say that Obama is "doing many of the things that Hitler did"
• Scariest of all, 24 percent of Republicans (14 percent overall) say that Obama "may be the Antichrist."
Let me see now. A vast majority of the Republican party are crazy and stupid. That was not surprising. What bothers me the most is how stupid the rest of Americans are. Questions like, is the president the Antichrist? should be about 99 percent no. First, it is shocking that 14 percent of Americans believe there could be an antichrist.
I think I may start drinking.
• 67 percent of Republicans (and 40 percent of Americans overall) believe that Obama is a socialist.
• 57 percent of Republicans (32 percent overall) believe that Obama is a Muslim
• 45 percent of Republicans (25 percent overall) agree with the Birthers in their belief that Obama was "not born in the United States and so is not eligible to be president"
• 38 percent of Republicans (20 percent overall) say that Obama is "doing many of the things that Hitler did"
• Scariest of all, 24 percent of Republicans (14 percent overall) say that Obama "may be the Antichrist."
Let me see now. A vast majority of the Republican party are crazy and stupid. That was not surprising. What bothers me the most is how stupid the rest of Americans are. Questions like, is the president the Antichrist? should be about 99 percent no. First, it is shocking that 14 percent of Americans believe there could be an antichrist.
I think I may start drinking.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Brain damage
Many years ago I was living in Los Angeles and taking some classes, film, acting and art in general. In one class we had a professional Los Angeles film actor who was there to teach us the secrets of improv. In the end, I am not sure if there were actually secrets involved, or just the willingness to get on a stage and go for it.
That is not the story.
The actor was a large man who had done a lot of work in both TV and Film. One of the first things I learned was that all the people you see in scenes in TV or in films are all professional actors. At the time I had not been on a set and watched people work. In my mind, if you just had a line or two, that was not really acting, it was more play, say the line seriously and go home. I did learn that many of these bit players were professionally trained and highly skilled actors.
Again, not the story.
This actor fella would come to class and what he really wanted to do was laugh. He would set up situations for us to improv and after a week or so, he had his favorites, the people in the class who could make him laugh. I was one of those people. For many weeks the class was a complete joy, because basically, whatever the situation, I would just find some absurd aspect of it, enlarge it beyond all reason and basically riff on the concept until he was laughing hysterically. We became friends outside of class, but my sense was that he was a terribly depressed man and found my humor something that took him away from his daily bout of fighting off what he called the blues.
Now we get to the story.
After many weeks of fairly continuous laughfests he started to try and turn the class into more serious directions. I basically refused. I was having so much more fun being silly that the idea of taking a concept and trying to find the serious side of it did not appeal to me at all. I knew then I was never going to be a "serious" actor, that if anything, my joy was hearing people laugh. My lack of intent was upsetting to the professor, but he persisted in calling me up for his various skits. At one point, out of frustration, he sat down and announced that he would be the doctor in this inprov, and when he delivered the news to us, his patients, we would act accordingly.
One by one my fellow students were called on stage, and the doctor would describe to them that the tests were back and things did not look promising. Most choked up, some cried, a few started to ask more questions, how much time they had, what were the treatment options. It was all very serious, not a single laugh in the whole group. For whatever reason I was last. He called my name, I walked up to the stage, sat at the small table, and he looked at me, seriously, and told me I had cancer and had 6 weeks to live. Almost immediately I asked if tha was a guarantee of 6 weeks, or might it be longer or shorter? He asked why, I told him I recently subscribed to a series of magazines and wanted to know if I should cancel. I think he smiled.
Then he sent me out and demanded we try again. My mind was racing, I knew then this was a battle. I was not going to give it, to react sadly, or predictably was not in my portfolio. He called my name, I was up, sat at the table, he looked at me seriously again, but before he could say a word, I interrupted and said, "is this going to take long? I only have 6 weeks to live and the last thing I want to do is spend it talking to people with small desks." Again, his eyes betrayed his serious look, but he sent me back and wanted to try again.
I sat in the audience, he called my name, I again walked to the table and sat down. Again, in all seriousness, he said that he had some bad news for me. Again I interrupted and said, "define sad news, cause if my dog got hit by a car, that would be sad, but if my magazine subscriptions were cancelled, that would be OK."
Sent to the audience again, he called my name again. The game was in full bloom. I was having the time of my life. He was by all manner serious as could be, but I too think he was enjoying the moment, because all the other students had gone with what should be expected in a serious setting and I was refusing. I think he admired my stamina.
He sat me down, told me I had a just a few weeks more of life. I looked at him, not saying anything, my eyes must have widened a bit, because his did too and then he started laughing hysterically. I am not sure why, maybe he was anticipating something outrageous, maybe something else, but his laughter was infectious and soon everyone was laughing. For about 5 minutes he would reset, call me into his office, tell me I had a few months to live and start laughing. Game over.
I remember that moment often, because I always want to think about that when I am sitting in a doctors office with the expectation of some sort of bad news.
Remind me to share with you the visit I had this morning with a neurologist.
That is not the story.
The actor was a large man who had done a lot of work in both TV and Film. One of the first things I learned was that all the people you see in scenes in TV or in films are all professional actors. At the time I had not been on a set and watched people work. In my mind, if you just had a line or two, that was not really acting, it was more play, say the line seriously and go home. I did learn that many of these bit players were professionally trained and highly skilled actors.
Again, not the story.
This actor fella would come to class and what he really wanted to do was laugh. He would set up situations for us to improv and after a week or so, he had his favorites, the people in the class who could make him laugh. I was one of those people. For many weeks the class was a complete joy, because basically, whatever the situation, I would just find some absurd aspect of it, enlarge it beyond all reason and basically riff on the concept until he was laughing hysterically. We became friends outside of class, but my sense was that he was a terribly depressed man and found my humor something that took him away from his daily bout of fighting off what he called the blues.
Now we get to the story.
After many weeks of fairly continuous laughfests he started to try and turn the class into more serious directions. I basically refused. I was having so much more fun being silly that the idea of taking a concept and trying to find the serious side of it did not appeal to me at all. I knew then I was never going to be a "serious" actor, that if anything, my joy was hearing people laugh. My lack of intent was upsetting to the professor, but he persisted in calling me up for his various skits. At one point, out of frustration, he sat down and announced that he would be the doctor in this inprov, and when he delivered the news to us, his patients, we would act accordingly.
One by one my fellow students were called on stage, and the doctor would describe to them that the tests were back and things did not look promising. Most choked up, some cried, a few started to ask more questions, how much time they had, what were the treatment options. It was all very serious, not a single laugh in the whole group. For whatever reason I was last. He called my name, I walked up to the stage, sat at the small table, and he looked at me, seriously, and told me I had cancer and had 6 weeks to live. Almost immediately I asked if tha was a guarantee of 6 weeks, or might it be longer or shorter? He asked why, I told him I recently subscribed to a series of magazines and wanted to know if I should cancel. I think he smiled.
Then he sent me out and demanded we try again. My mind was racing, I knew then this was a battle. I was not going to give it, to react sadly, or predictably was not in my portfolio. He called my name, I was up, sat at the table, he looked at me seriously again, but before he could say a word, I interrupted and said, "is this going to take long? I only have 6 weeks to live and the last thing I want to do is spend it talking to people with small desks." Again, his eyes betrayed his serious look, but he sent me back and wanted to try again.
I sat in the audience, he called my name, I again walked to the table and sat down. Again, in all seriousness, he said that he had some bad news for me. Again I interrupted and said, "define sad news, cause if my dog got hit by a car, that would be sad, but if my magazine subscriptions were cancelled, that would be OK."
Sent to the audience again, he called my name again. The game was in full bloom. I was having the time of my life. He was by all manner serious as could be, but I too think he was enjoying the moment, because all the other students had gone with what should be expected in a serious setting and I was refusing. I think he admired my stamina.
He sat me down, told me I had a just a few weeks more of life. I looked at him, not saying anything, my eyes must have widened a bit, because his did too and then he started laughing hysterically. I am not sure why, maybe he was anticipating something outrageous, maybe something else, but his laughter was infectious and soon everyone was laughing. For about 5 minutes he would reset, call me into his office, tell me I had a few months to live and start laughing. Game over.
I remember that moment often, because I always want to think about that when I am sitting in a doctors office with the expectation of some sort of bad news.
Remind me to share with you the visit I had this morning with a neurologist.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Why does Best Buy hate me
Earlier this week I brought a badly performing external hard drive to Best Buy and met with a "geek Squad" member who looked it over, plugged it in, was confident in appraising the problem and made sure I understood that he would be able to remove the important date from my drive and transfer it to the new drive.
Perfect.
So I got a phone message from a robot today that said my drive was ready to be picked up. I went to pick it up, as ordered by my computer robotic over lord.
Imagine my surprise when another geek squad member handed me a baggy with the remains of my hard drive, all torn up and ruined and told me they could not get the files from the drive. I was a little shocked. Just a little. Mostly because the other geek was so damn confident that the drive could be repaired, or the files removed. This guy was a bit more smug, and tried to weave his way out of any responsibility.
Ahh, the old bait and switch. I was not just promised something, I was easily assured that there would be no issue. Not a problem, since the drive was working, it must have something to do with the connection. It is these little sorts of lies that drive people absolutely crazy. Not that I am crazy, I am just upset. The nice thing about losing a bunch of important data is you realize how easily it is to lose data and not care about it.
I mean, I care about the films that have disappeared, I do. But in the end, you have to be understanding about loss. There are always greater forces at work and this is one of those times.
Sprung
Some interesting things in the Pittsburgh region as it appears spring is here. First, three people shot last night in a Hill neighborhood. I am still not sure where this neighborhood is, but I am always bothered by shootings. Pittsburgh seems, like many other cities, to have a racial problem.
I was talking to a friend in Seattle this week and I was remarking how Pittsburgh often reminds me of Seattle when I first moved their, pre-grunge, Amazon, Microsoft. Housing was cheap, the city was a weird mix of Boeing workers and office drones and a bunch of young artists who found the area inspiring. One of the things my friend and I both noted from that time was the self imposed segregation. The blacks lived in the Central District of Seattle. A hillside near downtown, with elegant older homes and property values held down by drugs and crime.
Within a few years Amazon.com would flourish and base their corporate offices nearby and the yuppies rich from stock would begin buying some of the homes in the Central District, upending poor families, who happily took the cash and ran to other rundown neighborhoods. The white people wrote the history of the time as coming in to save this neighborhood and maybe, in some ways, they were right. Most just rebuilt the older homes, some tore them down and build McMansions and tried to bring their upwardly mobile lifestyle to the ghetto.
My wife and I bought our first home near that very ghetto, for 45 thousand dollars. A couple of years later, having sold the small house, we bought another, in another ghetto, for about 70 thousand. At the time that was a lot of money, especially for us, and the 70 thousand dollar home needed a lot of repair, most of which friends and I did to save cash. We sold that house after police mistakenly showed up one day with guns drawn, looking for a home that had an alarm going off. That and the almost nightly sound of gunfire kept us on edge, and we had a beautiful baby boy to raise.
We hightailed it to an almost all white suburb and put down roots. I never felt comfortable surrounded by boring white people all proud that they had escaped the jungles of Seattle, where their Volvos and potted plants could now be safe from all crime. It took me a decade, but I got myself and my children out of there and we ran off.
It took us a couple of years to find Pittsburgh, but here we are. It is a beautiful city, trying to rebuild itself and its reputation as that of a polluted old industrial city. There are universities and old buildings being rebuilt and wonderful museums and out door stadiums for teams that play well. I have met some creative and interesting people and I keep looking around and thinking how much this place reminds me of Seattle. This area seems on the verge of something big, if only the economy would offer just a little bright light.
Then there are the gunshots and racism. If you go to a place like Craigslist and look at Rants and Raves (do this in any major city and you might be shocked at the out and out racism and anger) you will find some serious backward thinking and overt hatred. The "N" word is tossed around like a hot potato. It seems about 2-3 decades behind the times I usually live in, but people post these things to share their innermost beliefs on a board where no one knows their identity. Then the gunshots. One of the other things that Pittsburgh shares with the Seattle I knew two decades ago is the separation of races. The blacks live over there, the whites out in the suburbs and everyone else can find their own place somewhere else.
Much like the homes my wife and I purchased long ago, the kids and I have settled in a sketchy ghetto type area. We did this for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that I was ripped off big time by a business partner and I did not have the money to spend on a house in the Whites Only area. The other reason was we could buy this place for cash and have a home that we owned, that we did not have to pay monthly for the right to call it our home.
So the sun is out, the birds are nesting outside my bedroom window, some people got shot, the neighbors who party till 4AM are back with passion and it is kind of nice to be living in a neighborhood with real people. Of course, my Volvo is in fear of its window being busted and we have yet to fill the planters with flowers, but we will get there.
I was talking to a friend in Seattle this week and I was remarking how Pittsburgh often reminds me of Seattle when I first moved their, pre-grunge, Amazon, Microsoft. Housing was cheap, the city was a weird mix of Boeing workers and office drones and a bunch of young artists who found the area inspiring. One of the things my friend and I both noted from that time was the self imposed segregation. The blacks lived in the Central District of Seattle. A hillside near downtown, with elegant older homes and property values held down by drugs and crime.
Within a few years Amazon.com would flourish and base their corporate offices nearby and the yuppies rich from stock would begin buying some of the homes in the Central District, upending poor families, who happily took the cash and ran to other rundown neighborhoods. The white people wrote the history of the time as coming in to save this neighborhood and maybe, in some ways, they were right. Most just rebuilt the older homes, some tore them down and build McMansions and tried to bring their upwardly mobile lifestyle to the ghetto.
My wife and I bought our first home near that very ghetto, for 45 thousand dollars. A couple of years later, having sold the small house, we bought another, in another ghetto, for about 70 thousand. At the time that was a lot of money, especially for us, and the 70 thousand dollar home needed a lot of repair, most of which friends and I did to save cash. We sold that house after police mistakenly showed up one day with guns drawn, looking for a home that had an alarm going off. That and the almost nightly sound of gunfire kept us on edge, and we had a beautiful baby boy to raise.
We hightailed it to an almost all white suburb and put down roots. I never felt comfortable surrounded by boring white people all proud that they had escaped the jungles of Seattle, where their Volvos and potted plants could now be safe from all crime. It took me a decade, but I got myself and my children out of there and we ran off.
It took us a couple of years to find Pittsburgh, but here we are. It is a beautiful city, trying to rebuild itself and its reputation as that of a polluted old industrial city. There are universities and old buildings being rebuilt and wonderful museums and out door stadiums for teams that play well. I have met some creative and interesting people and I keep looking around and thinking how much this place reminds me of Seattle. This area seems on the verge of something big, if only the economy would offer just a little bright light.
Then there are the gunshots and racism. If you go to a place like Craigslist and look at Rants and Raves (do this in any major city and you might be shocked at the out and out racism and anger) you will find some serious backward thinking and overt hatred. The "N" word is tossed around like a hot potato. It seems about 2-3 decades behind the times I usually live in, but people post these things to share their innermost beliefs on a board where no one knows their identity. Then the gunshots. One of the other things that Pittsburgh shares with the Seattle I knew two decades ago is the separation of races. The blacks live over there, the whites out in the suburbs and everyone else can find their own place somewhere else.
Much like the homes my wife and I purchased long ago, the kids and I have settled in a sketchy ghetto type area. We did this for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that I was ripped off big time by a business partner and I did not have the money to spend on a house in the Whites Only area. The other reason was we could buy this place for cash and have a home that we owned, that we did not have to pay monthly for the right to call it our home.
So the sun is out, the birds are nesting outside my bedroom window, some people got shot, the neighbors who party till 4AM are back with passion and it is kind of nice to be living in a neighborhood with real people. Of course, my Volvo is in fear of its window being busted and we have yet to fill the planters with flowers, but we will get there.
Friday, March 19, 2010
A film
I have had to re-work my website and in that process I am uploading films onto YouTube and then linking them to the site. This blog is also linked to the site, www.mergatroidfilms.com, and so some of you may be doing some sort of digital circle, here, there, back, forth.
Oh well.
Anyway, in going over the films, I am enjoying them all over again. Here is one I just posted and I do think it is kind of magical.
Enjoy.
Oh well.
Anyway, in going over the films, I am enjoying them all over again. Here is one I just posted and I do think it is kind of magical.
Enjoy.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
In the tube
Last night I had my brain scanned by an MRI machine. This is not the first time I have subjected my brain to visual inspection. In 2005 I crashed a cycle after hitting a patch of black ice. One thing led to another and I was inside a tube in no time. Doctors then found a "black mass" inside my head, which, after months and months of various drug treatments, was found to be nothing more than a mystery black mass.
The damage done from that crash, or at least, the damage unleashed by the crash, has lasted. Migraine headaches and memory loss are the real problems and they continue and haunt me on a daily basis. People around me notice the memory loss, because quite honestly I just do not remember much.
The tube last night was ordered by a neurologist I saw this week. She wanted updated images of brain function. What was great about last nights tubing incident was the friendly woman who took the time to show me my brain. I know not what to look for, so this is not a note on a new black mass or any other structure inside my head. First, an ode to technology. Imagine just a few years ago when doctors did not have access to such machines. I asked the technologist last night how they could diagnose disease, damage and the like before MRI machines were developed. Surgery was the answer, which is always scary. Then imagine someone with a knife looking around your frontal lobes, not sure what they might be looking for.
The MRI is a monster of a machine, all gleaming and clean. I laid down on a thin board, covered by a blanket, and had a Hannibal Lector face mask placed over my head to keep me from moving. The machine fires up, you slide into a very tight space and the pounding of technology takes over. It really is not a big deal. The noise is an issue for some, the claustrophobia can be cumbersome, but in the end, you get to see the brain.
The images, for me at least, of my brain were refreshing. It's good to see the old thing still intact and functioning. It looks kind of happy there, inside my skull, happily doing all the things I require and forgetting the things I do not. It is heartening and awe inspiring to see inside our bodies, and even more so to see the control center. Brains are cool and mine remains inside my head. Nice.
The damage done from that crash, or at least, the damage unleashed by the crash, has lasted. Migraine headaches and memory loss are the real problems and they continue and haunt me on a daily basis. People around me notice the memory loss, because quite honestly I just do not remember much.
The tube last night was ordered by a neurologist I saw this week. She wanted updated images of brain function. What was great about last nights tubing incident was the friendly woman who took the time to show me my brain. I know not what to look for, so this is not a note on a new black mass or any other structure inside my head. First, an ode to technology. Imagine just a few years ago when doctors did not have access to such machines. I asked the technologist last night how they could diagnose disease, damage and the like before MRI machines were developed. Surgery was the answer, which is always scary. Then imagine someone with a knife looking around your frontal lobes, not sure what they might be looking for.
The MRI is a monster of a machine, all gleaming and clean. I laid down on a thin board, covered by a blanket, and had a Hannibal Lector face mask placed over my head to keep me from moving. The machine fires up, you slide into a very tight space and the pounding of technology takes over. It really is not a big deal. The noise is an issue for some, the claustrophobia can be cumbersome, but in the end, you get to see the brain.
The images, for me at least, of my brain were refreshing. It's good to see the old thing still intact and functioning. It looks kind of happy there, inside my skull, happily doing all the things I require and forgetting the things I do not. It is heartening and awe inspiring to see inside our bodies, and even more so to see the control center. Brains are cool and mine remains inside my head. Nice.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Idiot/Conservative
Out in Arizona, where John McCain is flailing to the right to try and beat a republican challenger, we find that this candidate who wants to beat a war veteran, former presidential candidate and Sarah Palin buddy into the ground, is something of an ass.
Here is one thing, among many, that I just do not get about the current republican people. They always cry about big government, how this awful Big Government thing is trying to steal our taxes, and brainwash our children and give every woman an abortion whether she wants one or not. Then, the first chance they get, the start talking about the homosexuals, or homersexuals in the language of the republicans.
Once you get these morons to talk about gays and rights and marriage, you can almost bet the house they will say something so stupid it will make cells in your brain laugh out load.
Take McCains challenger, an engaging and well spoken man named J.D. Hayworth. I could put words into the mouth of this banal idiot, but he speaks with his own mouth, thank you very much. J.D. - take it away. ""You see, the Massachusetts Supreme Court, when it started this move toward same-sex marriage, actually defined marriage -- now get this -- it defined marriage as simply, 'the establishment of intimacy,'" Hayworth said. "Now how dangerous is that? I mean, I don't mean to be absurd about it, but I guess I can make the point of absurdity with an absurd point -- I guess that would mean if you really had affection for your horse, I guess you could marry your horse. It's just the wrong way to go, and the only way to protect the institution of marriage is with that federal marriage amendment that I support."
Scary and what is even more so, he may beat McCain.
Here is one thing, among many, that I just do not get about the current republican people. They always cry about big government, how this awful Big Government thing is trying to steal our taxes, and brainwash our children and give every woman an abortion whether she wants one or not. Then, the first chance they get, the start talking about the homosexuals, or homersexuals in the language of the republicans.
Once you get these morons to talk about gays and rights and marriage, you can almost bet the house they will say something so stupid it will make cells in your brain laugh out load.
Take McCains challenger, an engaging and well spoken man named J.D. Hayworth. I could put words into the mouth of this banal idiot, but he speaks with his own mouth, thank you very much. J.D. - take it away. ""You see, the Massachusetts Supreme Court, when it started this move toward same-sex marriage, actually defined marriage -- now get this -- it defined marriage as simply, 'the establishment of intimacy,'" Hayworth said. "Now how dangerous is that? I mean, I don't mean to be absurd about it, but I guess I can make the point of absurdity with an absurd point -- I guess that would mean if you really had affection for your horse, I guess you could marry your horse. It's just the wrong way to go, and the only way to protect the institution of marriage is with that federal marriage amendment that I support."
Scary and what is even more so, he may beat McCain.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Various addictions
I admit it, over the years I have had a variety of addictions. I will not break out the list, but it is extensive and in some ways, impressive.
I was going to share something important, but my mind is a complete blank.
Quite busy
First I want to say I am sorry. Not just because I have not been updating as I promised, although in all honesty, that promise was made inside my head, so no one else heard it, except for the voices in my head, but for the most part, many agreed with the promise.
I am undertaking something of geometric dimensions, so I am quite busy. Some things are in the works, so I tend to discount them until contracts are signed, some things are in the process, but I tend to wait until editing is done and somethings are up in the air, which is another way of saying it is talk right now.
I am sure some will end up being discussed on this lonesome little blog, but not yet. Jesus, I can't quite say what I want to say. Suffice to say, things change and 100 percent of them are for the better.
A quick anniversary. About a year ago I purchased this house. You have to understand, we were renting a run down farm house in New York last year, the owner of the house was actually forbidden by law to call us anymore, after threatening to kill me in a big giant gay fit of insanity. So, while we were constantly on edge and actually fearful we purchased this house and I started to make weekend trips here to install plumbing, a kitchen, electrical wiring, toilets and rip up old carpet. The house has come together nicely and it now feels more like a home than any place I have lived in my adult life. We are convinced we will keep this house for ever.
One year ago the fear subsided, the future began to look bright and plans were laid for a new life.
I don't think I ever mentioned the move here, but recently my fiance and I were talking about that hectic day. A childs graduation, a run in with my diabolical ex-wife and the loading of a moving van, all in about 6 hours, and then, the next morning, we were gone. We wanted to avoid not only a run in with the ex-wife, but also the possibility of running into, or around, the violent gay home owner, who was intent of drama. In a 24 hour period, we went from home, to graduation, to the road and back to our real home. Just like that.
It was swell. It was also the end of a cycle of idiocy and strangeness that has been behind all of us for about a year and I have to say, it feels kind of nice.
I am undertaking something of geometric dimensions, so I am quite busy. Some things are in the works, so I tend to discount them until contracts are signed, some things are in the process, but I tend to wait until editing is done and somethings are up in the air, which is another way of saying it is talk right now.
I am sure some will end up being discussed on this lonesome little blog, but not yet. Jesus, I can't quite say what I want to say. Suffice to say, things change and 100 percent of them are for the better.
A quick anniversary. About a year ago I purchased this house. You have to understand, we were renting a run down farm house in New York last year, the owner of the house was actually forbidden by law to call us anymore, after threatening to kill me in a big giant gay fit of insanity. So, while we were constantly on edge and actually fearful we purchased this house and I started to make weekend trips here to install plumbing, a kitchen, electrical wiring, toilets and rip up old carpet. The house has come together nicely and it now feels more like a home than any place I have lived in my adult life. We are convinced we will keep this house for ever.
One year ago the fear subsided, the future began to look bright and plans were laid for a new life.
I don't think I ever mentioned the move here, but recently my fiance and I were talking about that hectic day. A childs graduation, a run in with my diabolical ex-wife and the loading of a moving van, all in about 6 hours, and then, the next morning, we were gone. We wanted to avoid not only a run in with the ex-wife, but also the possibility of running into, or around, the violent gay home owner, who was intent of drama. In a 24 hour period, we went from home, to graduation, to the road and back to our real home. Just like that.
It was swell. It was also the end of a cycle of idiocy and strangeness that has been behind all of us for about a year and I have to say, it feels kind of nice.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Linked
This blog is now officially linked to the Mergatroid Films new website. If you go there and then click on BLOG you will be redirected back here, a vicious circle if ever there was one.
I will be explaining some of the changes to that site here, since so much of that site remains under development. First, if you scroll down on this blog you will find that recently my all controlling laptop died recently, so I am rebuilding much of my digital life. Even before its untimely death, I knew some changes needed to be made on the business site I have.
Over the years, with a couple of other businesses, I have created sites that served their purpose. This new site should offer clients and others the chance to see some of the films I have created and discuss what can be be expected if I am hired to work on press, marketing and informational campaigns for them.
Did any of that make sense?
I will be explaining some of the changes to that site here, since so much of that site remains under development. First, if you scroll down on this blog you will find that recently my all controlling laptop died recently, so I am rebuilding much of my digital life. Even before its untimely death, I knew some changes needed to be made on the business site I have.
Over the years, with a couple of other businesses, I have created sites that served their purpose. This new site should offer clients and others the chance to see some of the films I have created and discuss what can be be expected if I am hired to work on press, marketing and informational campaigns for them.
Did any of that make sense?
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Exciting boring website
In order to rebuild what has been lost when my laptop died, I am also redesigning my company website. Here is something interesting. About 10 years ago I created a site to sell some of my paintings and other work on. It was a crazy and hard to navigate mess, but I sold a bunch of paintings. Friends would often give me advice on making the site more professional.
I am never quite sure what this word professional is supposed to mean. I think my friends wanted the site toned down and less obnoxiously hectic. That site fit what I was doing at the time. After I sold the vast majority of my paintings and I moved on to other ventures I stayed away from site building. At some point I was dragged back in and built another site to show some of the films I was creating. I often heard from a bozo friend, the type who always has uninformed opinions but expresses then with such conviction that you think they are informed, and his vast knowledge of nothing was what led him to constantly offer tips on creating the new site.
Here is something interesting. People who have never done something often appear in your life as experts. This happens to me all the time. Recently I was talking to a friend about a screenplay and I was reminded of a time when I was writing scripts for a pilot television show in Los Angeles. The show had been picked up for production and the producer was scouting for writers. My friend had been contacted, but his skills lay elsewhere, but mine were needed. I was asked to write a half hour script. I followed the format, created a situation and went with it. The producer loved the script and paid me handsomely for it. She asked for another, which I created. At this point, my friend, who was the connection to the producer did everything in his power to destroy this opportunity. He was an uncreative moron, but he was the connection to the producer. If memory serves me, I ran from that scene as fast as my chubby legs would take me.
Very soon after I was in an emergency room and a nurse asked me what I did for a living. I mentioned that I had sold a couple of scripts for a new TV show and immediately the nurse took me aside and began to share with me all the funny and strange things that happen in emergency rooms and pitched me a concept of a show based in, you guessed it, an emergency room. It quickly dawned on me that everyone thinks their life is worthy of a book deal, a production contract or at the very least, a TV sitcom. I think at that point I never again mentioned that I had written for a TV show.
A few years ago I was adding content to the site I was creating for showcasing my film work and almost daily I would get these semi-retarded calls from a corpulent post modern bonehead who would share with me concepts for making the site cleaner and more professional. He even tried to edit some of the films because at some point he began to believe he had a vision. What was remarkable about this is that mutual friends had warned me of his egocentric attitudes, coupled with his complete lack of creativity, original thought or understanding of process. Having been warned, I paid little attention to his diatribes. What was interesting then, as now, is how often people not involved in a project seem to think they know how to make it better. I would imagine people from architects to garbage collectors get this same treatment, everyone else is an expert with a better understanding of what the other person is doing.
That said, I am about to load a new website for the film business, which seems to be kind of on fire right now, so that too is another reason for the randomness of posts. That and I keep getting calls from bozo-friends who have brilliant ideas on the new site.
I am never quite sure what this word professional is supposed to mean. I think my friends wanted the site toned down and less obnoxiously hectic. That site fit what I was doing at the time. After I sold the vast majority of my paintings and I moved on to other ventures I stayed away from site building. At some point I was dragged back in and built another site to show some of the films I was creating. I often heard from a bozo friend, the type who always has uninformed opinions but expresses then with such conviction that you think they are informed, and his vast knowledge of nothing was what led him to constantly offer tips on creating the new site.
Here is something interesting. People who have never done something often appear in your life as experts. This happens to me all the time. Recently I was talking to a friend about a screenplay and I was reminded of a time when I was writing scripts for a pilot television show in Los Angeles. The show had been picked up for production and the producer was scouting for writers. My friend had been contacted, but his skills lay elsewhere, but mine were needed. I was asked to write a half hour script. I followed the format, created a situation and went with it. The producer loved the script and paid me handsomely for it. She asked for another, which I created. At this point, my friend, who was the connection to the producer did everything in his power to destroy this opportunity. He was an uncreative moron, but he was the connection to the producer. If memory serves me, I ran from that scene as fast as my chubby legs would take me.
Very soon after I was in an emergency room and a nurse asked me what I did for a living. I mentioned that I had sold a couple of scripts for a new TV show and immediately the nurse took me aside and began to share with me all the funny and strange things that happen in emergency rooms and pitched me a concept of a show based in, you guessed it, an emergency room. It quickly dawned on me that everyone thinks their life is worthy of a book deal, a production contract or at the very least, a TV sitcom. I think at that point I never again mentioned that I had written for a TV show.
A few years ago I was adding content to the site I was creating for showcasing my film work and almost daily I would get these semi-retarded calls from a corpulent post modern bonehead who would share with me concepts for making the site cleaner and more professional. He even tried to edit some of the films because at some point he began to believe he had a vision. What was remarkable about this is that mutual friends had warned me of his egocentric attitudes, coupled with his complete lack of creativity, original thought or understanding of process. Having been warned, I paid little attention to his diatribes. What was interesting then, as now, is how often people not involved in a project seem to think they know how to make it better. I would imagine people from architects to garbage collectors get this same treatment, everyone else is an expert with a better understanding of what the other person is doing.
That said, I am about to load a new website for the film business, which seems to be kind of on fire right now, so that too is another reason for the randomness of posts. That and I keep getting calls from bozo-friends who have brilliant ideas on the new site.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The crash of 2010
As anyone who has bookmarked this blog knows, there are updates galore so often, it must seem like I do nothing else.
So, what has been happening that I could not be bothered to even post a picture of my gassy lesbian dog? My laptop supremo, with information about anything and everything, has died. It was not pretty, but then death hardly ever is.
I ran dear lappy to the lappy hospital two days ago. They did miracle healthcare that is always unavailable to humans in America and amazingly, dear sweet powerful lappy made a recovery, well, kind of. Everything was back, but it was back to what a new laptop would be like, no information that had once been buried in the lappy memory. No images, no movies, no documents, no music.
I could rebuild, in fact, I started. I was able to do work and I had other projects, so I was too busy to nurse lappy back to normal and when lappy began to feel left out, it committed suicide. Lappy is gone.
Along with the loss of all my digital life, including websites, I am now waiting for the angels of Apple to replace the memory. I will have a new laptop, but again, with nothing that made the former machine sing.
So, the blog is on hiatus, which is a tonic for everything that ills. I like hiatus. We will return, probably next week. Lots more memory, lots more good times.
So, what has been happening that I could not be bothered to even post a picture of my gassy lesbian dog? My laptop supremo, with information about anything and everything, has died. It was not pretty, but then death hardly ever is.
I ran dear lappy to the lappy hospital two days ago. They did miracle healthcare that is always unavailable to humans in America and amazingly, dear sweet powerful lappy made a recovery, well, kind of. Everything was back, but it was back to what a new laptop would be like, no information that had once been buried in the lappy memory. No images, no movies, no documents, no music.
I could rebuild, in fact, I started. I was able to do work and I had other projects, so I was too busy to nurse lappy back to normal and when lappy began to feel left out, it committed suicide. Lappy is gone.
Along with the loss of all my digital life, including websites, I am now waiting for the angels of Apple to replace the memory. I will have a new laptop, but again, with nothing that made the former machine sing.
So, the blog is on hiatus, which is a tonic for everything that ills. I like hiatus. We will return, probably next week. Lots more memory, lots more good times.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Missing Bush
Oh my, first a couple of weeks ago some whacko erected a giant sign somewhere in Minnesota with a picture of former president Bush and a little script that said "miss me yet?" To many, the answer was obvious, no.
Today, in the New York Times, Stanley Fish writes about missing George Bush.
A couple of years ago I interviewed sculptor Mark diSuvero in Chicago, a city that has a mixed history for the artist. During the 68 democratic convention diSuvero was beaten by police and he famously erected a peace sculpture. While we were talking in Chicago as he was installing some beautiful pieces in the Millenium Park, he said at the time that one of the things he wanted people to remember is that George Bush was a war criminal. In the film I created about him I kept that moment in the film because, first he asked me to and second, he was right.
He still is.
Do I miss George Bush? Under Obama things are not that different, so in some ways, what is there to miss? Obama is trying to get troops out of Iraq, but has not yet succeeded. He continues to run up debt just like Bush, he continues using some of the crazier justifications for invading citizens privacy. Of course, former vice president Cheney is gone, but certainly not quiet. He almost seems to be bragging about his war criminal deeds, to no avail. No one in the Obama administration seems to have the balls to do what almost any thinking human knows, a trial for war criminals right about now would suffice.
Do I miss Bush? This is the stupidest question ever. All presidents do good things and bad things, things we support and things we hate. George Bush was a modern president, representing the decline of this country on so many levels. Corrupt, stupid and possible insane and his followers loved him for it. He was one of us, shallow and proud. His presidency will always be remembered for an amazing ability to lie. Hate big government, but grow big government. Talk about individual rights, but erode individual rights. Pretend to be a world leader, end up having the vast majority of world leaders not trusting us. Brilliant.
Do I miss George Bush? You can not be serious.
Today, in the New York Times, Stanley Fish writes about missing George Bush.
A couple of years ago I interviewed sculptor Mark diSuvero in Chicago, a city that has a mixed history for the artist. During the 68 democratic convention diSuvero was beaten by police and he famously erected a peace sculpture. While we were talking in Chicago as he was installing some beautiful pieces in the Millenium Park, he said at the time that one of the things he wanted people to remember is that George Bush was a war criminal. In the film I created about him I kept that moment in the film because, first he asked me to and second, he was right.
He still is.
Do I miss George Bush? Under Obama things are not that different, so in some ways, what is there to miss? Obama is trying to get troops out of Iraq, but has not yet succeeded. He continues to run up debt just like Bush, he continues using some of the crazier justifications for invading citizens privacy. Of course, former vice president Cheney is gone, but certainly not quiet. He almost seems to be bragging about his war criminal deeds, to no avail. No one in the Obama administration seems to have the balls to do what almost any thinking human knows, a trial for war criminals right about now would suffice.
Do I miss Bush? This is the stupidest question ever. All presidents do good things and bad things, things we support and things we hate. George Bush was a modern president, representing the decline of this country on so many levels. Corrupt, stupid and possible insane and his followers loved him for it. He was one of us, shallow and proud. His presidency will always be remembered for an amazing ability to lie. Hate big government, but grow big government. Talk about individual rights, but erode individual rights. Pretend to be a world leader, end up having the vast majority of world leaders not trusting us. Brilliant.
Do I miss George Bush? You can not be serious.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Kind of like Mad Men
Because I get to go to all sorts of offices, sometimes I discover some amazing things. Today I was in the US Steel offices in Pittsburgh. You have to understand something about Pittsburgh and US Steel. I think Pittsburgh as a city is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever lived in. When you come through the tunnel and you are dropped downtown, it is inspiring. Pittsburgh is in the midst of change. For many many years it was the steel capitol of the country, if not the world. Now there are huge empty buildings that once housed an old school industry now sit alone, falling apart, a dying part of what built America.
US Steel still exists, but it hard for me to understand exactly how. I am often in some of the largest law firms in the country and these offices are always modern, sleek and high tech. You need wireless, it's always there. You need great coffee, done. Whatever you need in these offices, it can be had. US Steel has offices in Pittsburgh that were apparently built in the late 60's and have not been updated at all. It is like walking onto the set of Mad Men. I joked with a friend that I wanted a cigarette and scotch and I may even have sex with my (non-existant) secretary.
It is the little things that set designers do that make sets kind of amazing. The same is true for the US Steel offices, the carpeting, the beige walls and the cheap/bad artwork that was both kind of sweet and kind of scary. The office chairs are bulky and do not have rollers, so to move them, you have to stand and push back and because these are 40 year old chairs, they weigh close to a hundred million pounds.
What kind of blew my mind was the attire of the people working in the offices. I swear the men, it's winter here, were wearing short sleeved dress shirts. First, I can not remember ever seeing men wearing short sleeved dress shirts, except ironically. The women all looked like they could use a lot of sleep and maybe a few makeovers. Of course, the men were no healthier, I just did not get past their shirts.
My favorite part? Well, favorite and saddest. The mens room. Old time, 60's style mens room. In fact, the sinks had these old fashioned faucets that did not allow you to regulate hot or cold water, but you just pulled on a switch and out came luke warm water. Fantastic I thought. Then the saddest thing, because in these retro bathrooms, the only modern thing was the towel dispensers, which were not blowing hot air, but dispensing paper towels. That is fine, towels are OK, but here I was in the US Steel offices, pulling paper towels from a gleaming new steel dispenser and because I found that kind of cool, I checked it out and found the ironic aspect of the entire visit, gleaming new steel towel dispensers at US Steel are made in China. Of course.
I think I will have that scotch now.
Has anyone seen my secretary?
US Steel still exists, but it hard for me to understand exactly how. I am often in some of the largest law firms in the country and these offices are always modern, sleek and high tech. You need wireless, it's always there. You need great coffee, done. Whatever you need in these offices, it can be had. US Steel has offices in Pittsburgh that were apparently built in the late 60's and have not been updated at all. It is like walking onto the set of Mad Men. I joked with a friend that I wanted a cigarette and scotch and I may even have sex with my (non-existant) secretary.
It is the little things that set designers do that make sets kind of amazing. The same is true for the US Steel offices, the carpeting, the beige walls and the cheap/bad artwork that was both kind of sweet and kind of scary. The office chairs are bulky and do not have rollers, so to move them, you have to stand and push back and because these are 40 year old chairs, they weigh close to a hundred million pounds.
What kind of blew my mind was the attire of the people working in the offices. I swear the men, it's winter here, were wearing short sleeved dress shirts. First, I can not remember ever seeing men wearing short sleeved dress shirts, except ironically. The women all looked like they could use a lot of sleep and maybe a few makeovers. Of course, the men were no healthier, I just did not get past their shirts.
My favorite part? Well, favorite and saddest. The mens room. Old time, 60's style mens room. In fact, the sinks had these old fashioned faucets that did not allow you to regulate hot or cold water, but you just pulled on a switch and out came luke warm water. Fantastic I thought. Then the saddest thing, because in these retro bathrooms, the only modern thing was the towel dispensers, which were not blowing hot air, but dispensing paper towels. That is fine, towels are OK, but here I was in the US Steel offices, pulling paper towels from a gleaming new steel dispenser and because I found that kind of cool, I checked it out and found the ironic aspect of the entire visit, gleaming new steel towel dispensers at US Steel are made in China. Of course.
I think I will have that scotch now.
Has anyone seen my secretary?
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