Monday, February 12, 2007

Another Try

I keep meaning to bring this site up to date and I am just way too fucking busy. Oh well, maybe if I stopped worrying about putting actual content up here it might be easier. I'll try just bs-ing for a change.

Thought for the day?


"Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present."

Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (121 AD - 180 AD), Meditations, 200 A.D.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Adventures in the North

Brief Introduction:

This is will, in some garbled and inconstant way, be the log of my adventures in the North Country. I have accepted a position in a County Prosecution Office and have moved up here for the summer. For those of you uninitiated, I am a law student and this job is definitely the second-best thing that’s happened to me since I walked through those accursed gates. Yeah, I know the sign said “School of Law” but looking back on it now, I would have been far more prepared had they accurately stated…

“Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate”

Oh well. On to the good stuff. I’ve already fallen behind but will try to get back up to speed. Its been very busy here and my internet access is sporadic. This bottom message seems like gibberish but its all I have at the moment. So bear with me as I catch up with my notes.

Basically, I moved three hours from the metro area to a beleaguered county attorney's office to work for the summer. The country is beautiful and lakes surround me on all sides. There is no doubting why this has become a playground for the rich in the summer. However, the specter of poverty hangs overhead. We have several distinct groups up here as the police inform me... the rich Citians, the Native Americans, the townies and the Jack Piners. (I had no idea what that meant either, but I'm going to make you sweat before I tell you.)

I'm living in a small hunting cabin which was a treasure to find. My landlord is a great guy and I'm slowly getting into the lances of sunlight that penetrate my curtains each morning. Yeah, they tell the stars are brighter but no one warned me of the morning sun.

Either way, I need to get out of here. So I'll leave you with some notes from two weeks ago.


May 23, 2006 Tuesday

Recap of the First Day:
Best.First.Day.Of.Work.Ever.

Today:
Well, my concerns about waking up were groundless. True to nature, I am up decently with the sun. Okay, I admit it… it took two alarms to wake me up. But that was because of a wicked strange dream where Dustin came to my cabin and pointed out that my pipes had burst in the middle of the night. So I woke up around 5am, really needing to go to the bathroom. So that might have accounted for me being late to get up.

Once again, I am struck by the wonderful mornings here and think waking up here all summer is really going to be something. The sun is just excellent.

So I’m sitting in the CAO’s main office lounge because I don’t have a desk or anything. Not that I’ll need one for quite some time so no worries. The office actually opens around 7:30ish, so I need to start scheduling for that. Although the Boss was the first one here this morning.

Thinking back on last night, I can’t help but be amazed at the disparities in wealth. The stark differences between the casino and the projects is something that needs to be looked into even further.

That and the fact that the “Native Mob” is just about the lamest, most unoriginal name that I can imagine for a Native American gang. I mean, did they come up with it in less than 20 minutes? You’d think that gangs would at least put the minimal effort into naming their fearsome band of armed thugs and criminal masterminds. Sheesh, the worst band in America likely goes through several names before finding one that resonates with their suckiness.

Thursday, January 13, 2005


This is Banda Aceh, Indonesia after the tsunami. Posted by Hello

This is Banda Aceh, Indonesia before the tsunami. Posted by Hello

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Captain Capitalism and Me

This will be the first of many installments where I run a counter, parallel, perpendicular or skewed argument to my esteemed colleague Captain Capitalism. It should be stated beforehand that the Captain is Irish and therefore is always at least a little right. Besides, he's got real nice pretty graphs.

So here would be my addition to his statements accusing the Baby Boomer generation for making him into a sissy until he met a cool guy like me. Naturally, life has become dramatically better for him ever since. But I digress... My main point would be that the Captain has several good points that need a bit more fleshing out and some of his background information could use some color.

#1, Bad Boy Syndrome

First of all, he bemoans the fact that he had to act like a "bad guy" to keep girls interested in him. Now on some levels he is no doubt correct. Everyone falls for the bad one at least a few times. Reminds me of Vaughn,

"I don't want you to be the cute boy in the PG movie, the one that everyone's hoping things will work out for. No, I want you to be the guy in the PG-13 movie, the one you haven't quite decided whether you like or not."

There is no doubt that a propensity of attraction to exotic, dangerous or even immoral people is a fact. Especially at the ages that my colleague is referencing. However, it should be plainly stated that the age range of which he is so infuriated fall between 16-23 years old. Now once I hit my 20's I was pretty sure of what I was doing but come on... 16? You used every tactic, every scheme, swindle, and artifice to get a girl to go out with you.

And then, once you actually got them to go out with you it turned out that they were an uber-wench from Hades. What a surprise!!! You pursued a good-looking girl in high school or college! What in Samhain did you think you were going to get? They're surrounded by hormone intoxicated men/boys (present company included) at all hours of the day and night. It's there first real brush with absolute power. It's like a toddler in a sandbox. Lets step on this, we'll throw this one... Mayhem! Those girls were responsible for more devastation than a rampaging horde of New Kids On The Block fans. Unfortunately, the vast majority of us sucked it up and got back in line.

There was no whining and bitching about the nice girl that you just couldn't find... you weren't even looking for her! Remember all those people who got married right after college and we just could not believe it? Yeah... they figured it out a bit earlier than us. They found the good ones and watched as we flopped around like lake trout on a summer highway trying to get our hands on the "Mean Girls" of the year.

No Captain, I'm not going to buy that. You ran into problems for the same reason every other guy did back then:

We were all after the same damn women.

And they knew it.

#2 Addressing the "Swing Renaissance"

Unfortunately, I must differ again from my colleague on this analysis. Having experienced the swing dance scene, during its decline, I can agree with some of his statements. There was no doubt that a unique social scene was created by this movement. It was quite plucky. Instead of having to grind your way over to some girl and squeeze between three other guys so you could rub your pheremones on her... you got to ask her to dance.

What a concept.

Now how in the blue blazes of Odin's tit did that whole tradition get kicked? I mean, that was one hell of a coup. For the past 3000 years, man has been forced to risk humiliation and possible thrown drinks by prostrating themselves before women asking permission to dance. (Yes, 3000 years... look it up. No, I don't know where. What the frack do you think Google is for?) So at some point in the mid-60's, some dopehead was sitting around and simply lacked all motivation to make himself presentable and muster up the courage to ask that nice nude girl over there if she'd like to dance. Nope, that wasn't gonna happen. So instead he crawled himself to his feet and stumbled over to her. At this point, the nude girl was happily oblivious to the approach of said man. In fact, she would have been oblivious if he had been a clown car with a cow catcher. This dropping of her natural defenses, not a big deal since she had already dropped her clothes, allowed the man to get right up next to her. Now once he had achieved his position, it was readily apparent that he had no clue how to go about asking her out. Well aware of the eyes of his friends burning into his back, the guy quickly covered for it and began to dance next to her. Well, she was delighted to be dancing with a purple flamingo and the ensuing dance-off was a success. Unfortunately, that man had friends and those friends had friends and word soon got out... "Just dance next to them until they HAVE to notice you".

Blim, blam--end of civilization.

Now you're thinking this isn't so bad. I mean, who wants to risk being turned down by formally asking a woman to dance? Next time you're in the club and you find a young woman worthy of some quality time, pay attention to the fact that those four guys surrounding her are not exactly going to let you walk in and start busting a move. Not only that, but have you ever noticed that the music in that club never frigging stops? So the only chance you're going to get to talk to her is if you follow her off the floor at which point she's going to the bathroom to wash off the damn pheremones.

But when you ask a girl to dance, guess what? She dances with YOU. Only you. Not the three other guys, not the bartender, not the skinny little economist from Minneapolis who likes capitalist blogs... for the entirety of that song, she's dancing with you. A side-benefit to that is due to the one-on-one situation, you can generally tell if you want to continue pursuing them! Try to figure that out on a techno dance floor, playing C-Bers with three other guys.

Another bonus to this whole formal dancing etiquette scallywag was that there were individual songs and asking a girl to dance was far less intimidating than you would have expected. The end result being that, if you found a nice girl (or a Mean Girl, if you were still in that phase) but she was already dancing with someone all you had to do was wait for the song to end. Sure enough, they'll come off the dance floor and you have a prime opportunity. There was a definite lack of intimidation also. Lets face it, we're not born with groove. We needed to learn it. Swing-Dancing allowed even the most inept dancer the chance to enjoy whirling around the floor with cute girls. In addition, it wasn't exactly a chore to ask the girls out. You gotta remember those girls were THERE to dance.

That's a win-win situation, savvy?
So, the swing scene brought back several things. One of the more important things, in concurrence with my colleague, was the reestablishment of etiquette. What the hell? Where does a guy get off not opening doors? Harassing women?

That just ain't right. Someone oughta put a cat in your ass. (Yes, I said c-a-t)

Now I must diverge from my colleague. So please stay tuned for the next epsiode where I point out the ridiculous notion of calling it a "renaissance, the dumb ass clothes, the idiots with the black hair and the why it in fact died out.

Then we'll move onto the far heavier topic of my colleague's distaste for bars.

I will refrain from shooting him until I state my case.

What a way to start the day. I get this horrible tragedy in my Inbox. Won't somebody please think of the children?  Posted by Hello

Tuesday, January 11, 2005


It's me against the world, baby. Posted by Hello