Many thanks to my mother for this find.
As a person who enjoys mathematics, I thought this an interesting glimpse into the realm of geometry. Not to mention the philosophical commentary associated with actualization of freedom within known limitations. Or something.
I give to you Chuck Jones' The Dot and the Line narrated by Robert Morley.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
It's Personal: Teeth
RIP Art in All Its Forms. I tried it for a couple months. But the topic didn't excite me. Yes, I reviewed a few movies. And I even tried to breach the realm of painting a few times. In the end, it felt - for the most part - too forced.
I have taken a step back. In the glimpse I've taken of the blog, I realize that I have backed away from the personal aspect of this life in days. I will therefore re-inject the personal on Mondays. Tidbits about me, past and present.
Tonight, I give you teeth. My teeth. As you've probably guessed, I'll 'splain.
I was six. I visited some overly friendly dentist on the Wallingford - Meriden line. He found a cavity. I was too young to understand what that meant. What my parents - and the dentist - did pound into my brain was that it was the result of the junk food I ate.
Based on the medieval three-day - it seemed like it to a young kid - procedure that included multiple metal tools used in ancient torture, the dentist filled my first cavity. I still have nightmares. But I also have a particularly short memory. And so I kept eating junk food.
I also learned to avoid the dentist at virtually all costs. It got so bad during my childhood that the dentist would no longer allow my brother and me to come on Saturdays because we canceled so often.
Fast forward to middle school. A certain Dr. Paul Rigali had my parents come in with the 'specimens', namely my brother and me. My brother with his underbite and I with some of my crooked teeth were optimal mouths for bracing. Metal wires used in countless machines used in factories around the world were wrapped in and around brackets that were super-glued to each one of my teeth. Honestly? And then we'd have to go back every so often to ensure that they were tight enough. Because they had to pull those teeth together.
I challenge any one of you to have your braces tightened right before a football practice during which you are hit in the head at least 476 times.
Not to mention the Old Man - prior to the procedure that neither my brother nor I really wanted - claimed that each of us could claim the rest of our body after the age of 18 but that the teeth were his until we respectively turned 99 years of age. I suppose that's because he almost had to take a second mortgage out of his house to ensure that the orthodontist yanked on the scrap metal in our teeth as hard as he could.
During that unbelievably painful episode, the orthodontist suggested that I get my wisdom teeth extracted. He said it was better to do it when I was young. And however much I agreed, I was tired of the whole 'metal instruments of death in my mouth' thing. Not to mention that the extraction was rather expensive.
During my sophomore year of high school, the orthodontist removed the braces. Thank God. But, he had one parting gift for me as he removed them. Clink, clink, clink came off the scrap metal. Utter relief. And then he started sanding. SANDING! Had to get the superglue off, after all. There he was with his tiny piece of sandpaper attached to a tiny sander buzzing away at each tooth in my mouth. I tasted tooth dust for a month. Not to mention the fact that he hit nerves. Literally.
I wore a retainer. And yet, my teeth began to move back to their original positions. So, I wore the retainer more. And it began to hurt. So, I stopped. And I was annoyed. And I cursed all orthodontists.
Again, I spent time avoiding dentists. One of my last visits for a long, long time came during my senior year of high school. They found a cavity.
I can't honestly remember another dentist visit between that last visit and my journey out to Seattle. Whether because I just put it out of my head or because it just didn't happen, I can't tell for certain.
I finally went to my first appointment in Seattle. The Medical Dental Building. Some guy who was trying to get me to donate monies to Howard Dean for said Democrat's presidential run. I wasn't interested. And I didn't really like the dentist either. They found a cavity that go-round. Surprise, surprise. Then they told me I should get my wisdom teeth out. He referred me to an oral surgeon in the building. I walked into the oral surgeon's office, saw that there was no one at the front desk, and never returned.
Joseph found another dentist for us. A Dr. Stark also in the Medical Dental Building. He reminded me a little of Egon. AKA Harold Ramis. A good demeanor. And seemingly knew what he was doing. During my first visit, he told me I needed to have my wisdom teeth extracted. That I needed to have work on my receding gums. And that I had a cavity. Duh.
I returned to get the cavity filled. Then, Dr. Stark pulled a fast one. He said he could remove the wisdom teeth; he was more than just a dentist. I didn't have a good excuse. They scheduled the appointment.
I canceled that appointment and waited in utter horror.
I went back for a cleaning. He told me I needed to get my wisdom teeth pulled. Damn. Why couldn't they just fall out? Like my hair...
I made an appointment and kept it. My stomach tied itself into knots. In fact, I think there might have been an entire group of new knot-learning midshipmen in my stomach. I arrived that morning and laid in the chair. The needle first. Then I went into shock as my headphones played absurd music into my ears. He started drilling. He said oops a few times. And oh man. And a few other things you NEVER want a dentist to say while working in your mouth. Why? Because my wisdom teeth were so badly impacted that he had to break them in their respective sockets and pull each piece one at a time. The happy drugs lasted about four hours. Unfortunately, the surgery lasted just a tad longer. And thus I felt him - I mean felt, felt - drill and extract the final pieces of the final tooth.
Suffice it to say I had vicodin for just about a month after that. I had to request two refills. I think I can take pain rather well. I've broken limbs - not like my brother, broken but broken nonetheless. And I've been hit in the head 476 times after getting my braces tightened. I've even bit hit in the head by a golf club. But nothing compared to the pain I felt from having my wisdom teeth extracted. If you happen to know anyone in his / her teens who needs to have his / her wisdom teeth pulled, please tell him / her to make the appointment immediately. He / She will thank me.
For whatever reason, I went back for my scheduled cleaning six months later. Still a receding gum problem. But no wisdom teeth to pull. And no cavities. I felt as though I had gained a victory, even if Pyrrhic.
Almost two years later - no cavities - and I finally agreed to be tortured once again by the dentist. In said procedure, he ripped flesh from the roof of my mouth and sewed it to the remains of the gums that no longer covered the exposed roots of my teeth. As bad as that might sound, I needed vicodin only for two days after the procedure (as compared to 32 for the wisdom teeth). Granted, I can't eat much more than yogurt, scrambled eggs, and ice cream. But for anyone who knows me, an ice cream diet ain't all that bad.
Yeah, I'll go back to the dentist. I know it's in my best interest. I like my teeth, and I'd rather keep them a while longer.
Not to mention my father's still paying that second mortgage...
I have taken a step back. In the glimpse I've taken of the blog, I realize that I have backed away from the personal aspect of this life in days. I will therefore re-inject the personal on Mondays. Tidbits about me, past and present.
Tonight, I give you teeth. My teeth. As you've probably guessed, I'll 'splain.
I was six. I visited some overly friendly dentist on the Wallingford - Meriden line. He found a cavity. I was too young to understand what that meant. What my parents - and the dentist - did pound into my brain was that it was the result of the junk food I ate.
Based on the medieval three-day - it seemed like it to a young kid - procedure that included multiple metal tools used in ancient torture, the dentist filled my first cavity. I still have nightmares. But I also have a particularly short memory. And so I kept eating junk food.
I also learned to avoid the dentist at virtually all costs. It got so bad during my childhood that the dentist would no longer allow my brother and me to come on Saturdays because we canceled so often.
Fast forward to middle school. A certain Dr. Paul Rigali had my parents come in with the 'specimens', namely my brother and me. My brother with his underbite and I with some of my crooked teeth were optimal mouths for bracing. Metal wires used in countless machines used in factories around the world were wrapped in and around brackets that were super-glued to each one of my teeth. Honestly? And then we'd have to go back every so often to ensure that they were tight enough. Because they had to pull those teeth together.
I challenge any one of you to have your braces tightened right before a football practice during which you are hit in the head at least 476 times.
Not to mention the Old Man - prior to the procedure that neither my brother nor I really wanted - claimed that each of us could claim the rest of our body after the age of 18 but that the teeth were his until we respectively turned 99 years of age. I suppose that's because he almost had to take a second mortgage out of his house to ensure that the orthodontist yanked on the scrap metal in our teeth as hard as he could.
During that unbelievably painful episode, the orthodontist suggested that I get my wisdom teeth extracted. He said it was better to do it when I was young. And however much I agreed, I was tired of the whole 'metal instruments of death in my mouth' thing. Not to mention that the extraction was rather expensive.
During my sophomore year of high school, the orthodontist removed the braces. Thank God. But, he had one parting gift for me as he removed them. Clink, clink, clink came off the scrap metal. Utter relief. And then he started sanding. SANDING! Had to get the superglue off, after all. There he was with his tiny piece of sandpaper attached to a tiny sander buzzing away at each tooth in my mouth. I tasted tooth dust for a month. Not to mention the fact that he hit nerves. Literally.
I wore a retainer. And yet, my teeth began to move back to their original positions. So, I wore the retainer more. And it began to hurt. So, I stopped. And I was annoyed. And I cursed all orthodontists.
Again, I spent time avoiding dentists. One of my last visits for a long, long time came during my senior year of high school. They found a cavity.
I can't honestly remember another dentist visit between that last visit and my journey out to Seattle. Whether because I just put it out of my head or because it just didn't happen, I can't tell for certain.
I finally went to my first appointment in Seattle. The Medical Dental Building. Some guy who was trying to get me to donate monies to Howard Dean for said Democrat's presidential run. I wasn't interested. And I didn't really like the dentist either. They found a cavity that go-round. Surprise, surprise. Then they told me I should get my wisdom teeth out. He referred me to an oral surgeon in the building. I walked into the oral surgeon's office, saw that there was no one at the front desk, and never returned.
Joseph found another dentist for us. A Dr. Stark also in the Medical Dental Building. He reminded me a little of Egon. AKA Harold Ramis. A good demeanor. And seemingly knew what he was doing. During my first visit, he told me I needed to have my wisdom teeth extracted. That I needed to have work on my receding gums. And that I had a cavity. Duh.
I returned to get the cavity filled. Then, Dr. Stark pulled a fast one. He said he could remove the wisdom teeth; he was more than just a dentist. I didn't have a good excuse. They scheduled the appointment.
I canceled that appointment and waited in utter horror.
I went back for a cleaning. He told me I needed to get my wisdom teeth pulled. Damn. Why couldn't they just fall out? Like my hair...
I made an appointment and kept it. My stomach tied itself into knots. In fact, I think there might have been an entire group of new knot-learning midshipmen in my stomach. I arrived that morning and laid in the chair. The needle first. Then I went into shock as my headphones played absurd music into my ears. He started drilling. He said oops a few times. And oh man. And a few other things you NEVER want a dentist to say while working in your mouth. Why? Because my wisdom teeth were so badly impacted that he had to break them in their respective sockets and pull each piece one at a time. The happy drugs lasted about four hours. Unfortunately, the surgery lasted just a tad longer. And thus I felt him - I mean felt, felt - drill and extract the final pieces of the final tooth.
Suffice it to say I had vicodin for just about a month after that. I had to request two refills. I think I can take pain rather well. I've broken limbs - not like my brother, broken but broken nonetheless. And I've been hit in the head 476 times after getting my braces tightened. I've even bit hit in the head by a golf club. But nothing compared to the pain I felt from having my wisdom teeth extracted. If you happen to know anyone in his / her teens who needs to have his / her wisdom teeth pulled, please tell him / her to make the appointment immediately. He / She will thank me.
For whatever reason, I went back for my scheduled cleaning six months later. Still a receding gum problem. But no wisdom teeth to pull. And no cavities. I felt as though I had gained a victory, even if Pyrrhic.
Almost two years later - no cavities - and I finally agreed to be tortured once again by the dentist. In said procedure, he ripped flesh from the roof of my mouth and sewed it to the remains of the gums that no longer covered the exposed roots of my teeth. As bad as that might sound, I needed vicodin only for two days after the procedure (as compared to 32 for the wisdom teeth). Granted, I can't eat much more than yogurt, scrambled eggs, and ice cream. But for anyone who knows me, an ice cream diet ain't all that bad.
Yeah, I'll go back to the dentist. I know it's in my best interest. I like my teeth, and I'd rather keep them a while longer.
Not to mention my father's still paying that second mortgage...
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Sunday Scribblings: An Odd Case of Aging
I will celebrate my 67th birthday tomorrow. My mother will attend. And my grandparents. No friends, though. I haven’t kept any during the short time I’ve been alive.
I don’t have any wants, per se. With my body the way it is, wants are too expensive. I gave up trying to be current years ago.
I worked my last job at age 60. A lead in the stockroom at Walmart. My boss told me I would have made a good manager if I could have worked longer than 10 years.
It’s funny that there were no other side effects from my birth. The doctors said they couldn’t predict the outcome but offered my mother gobs of money for trying the experiment. I still have no idea why she agreed. But I have my opinions.
I never made it through school; I just couldn’t learn all they wanted me to learn in the time I had. Not to mention the fact that the kids insulted me incessantly. I studied at home instead. My grandmother helped me. Taught me to read and write. I can’t much help that the majority of my reading comes from books about saints. I once thought that God put me here for a reason, like he did those people with the halos. Then, I realized that I was just a science experiment. Gone wrong.
The experiment that begot me was not even the most remarkable happening on the day I was born. No, half way across the world, Dolly the Sheep was cloned. An experiment that meant something to the greater world of science. I did no such good in the scientific community.
The best day of my life had to be the turn of the millennium. I was to turn 30 just a day later. And so, I spent the remainder of my 20s living it up in New York City. Danced. Drank. Ended up in some woman’s bed.
I only have one night stands. For their sake and mine. It doesn’t make sense to get close to anyone. I have no idea if this is genetic. And if it is, then I sure as hell am not going to pass it on. And even if it wasn’t, I just don’t have the time to learn someone. It just isn’t worth it.
I believe in love at first sight. It’s the only way it can work for me. But it doesn’t believe in me.
I only expect to live a few more years. Doctors tell me about three. I find it funny that I might outlive my grandparents. I’ve heard my grandmother call it unnatural when talking to my mother. I am unnatural, after all.
As short as they seem, however, these 13 years have constituted a long life. I’m amazed at what I’ve accomplished; so much more than the average person. Out of necessity. I have no regrets as it were. None for which I’m responsible, that is. If I could change anything, I’d ask my mother not to involve herself in the experiment that mixed her egg and a dog’s sperm.
I don’t have any wants, per se. With my body the way it is, wants are too expensive. I gave up trying to be current years ago.
I worked my last job at age 60. A lead in the stockroom at Walmart. My boss told me I would have made a good manager if I could have worked longer than 10 years.
It’s funny that there were no other side effects from my birth. The doctors said they couldn’t predict the outcome but offered my mother gobs of money for trying the experiment. I still have no idea why she agreed. But I have my opinions.
I never made it through school; I just couldn’t learn all they wanted me to learn in the time I had. Not to mention the fact that the kids insulted me incessantly. I studied at home instead. My grandmother helped me. Taught me to read and write. I can’t much help that the majority of my reading comes from books about saints. I once thought that God put me here for a reason, like he did those people with the halos. Then, I realized that I was just a science experiment. Gone wrong.
The experiment that begot me was not even the most remarkable happening on the day I was born. No, half way across the world, Dolly the Sheep was cloned. An experiment that meant something to the greater world of science. I did no such good in the scientific community.
The best day of my life had to be the turn of the millennium. I was to turn 30 just a day later. And so, I spent the remainder of my 20s living it up in New York City. Danced. Drank. Ended up in some woman’s bed.
I only have one night stands. For their sake and mine. It doesn’t make sense to get close to anyone. I have no idea if this is genetic. And if it is, then I sure as hell am not going to pass it on. And even if it wasn’t, I just don’t have the time to learn someone. It just isn’t worth it.
I believe in love at first sight. It’s the only way it can work for me. But it doesn’t believe in me.
I only expect to live a few more years. Doctors tell me about three. I find it funny that I might outlive my grandparents. I’ve heard my grandmother call it unnatural when talking to my mother. I am unnatural, after all.
As short as they seem, however, these 13 years have constituted a long life. I’m amazed at what I’ve accomplished; so much more than the average person. Out of necessity. I have no regrets as it were. None for which I’m responsible, that is. If I could change anything, I’d ask my mother not to involve herself in the experiment that mixed her egg and a dog’s sperm.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Sporting Rants and Raves: March 28, 2009
Happy 35th birthday to professional snooker player Mark King. One of the more colorful players on the circuit, King has not yet won a championship mainly because he tends to lose control of the cue ball during the break. Snooker? A pocket billiards game originated by British officers in India during the 19th century. Mainly played in Britain, the game's name seems to have come from a common slang reference to inexperienced personnel in the British army. For all of you in the states who want to play, there is an 'Official Website of the Governing Body of Snooker in the United States' at snookerusa.com.
Earlier this year, I spoke about the fact that I had no idea the Columbus Blue Jackets were actually a professional hockey team in the NHL. Today, I read that a Calgary Flames fan decided to threaten the Blue Jackets goalie during a 5-0 shellacking that Columbus put on Calgary. The Flames are on the verge of winning their division and need the stars to align NOT to reach the playoffs. The Blue Jackets, on the other hand, are on the verge of making their first ever appearance in the NHL playoffs. My advice to the fan? Take a long walk off a short pier.
The brackets. I'm mediocre at best. In the work league, I had a final four of Wake Forest, Memphis, UNC, and Pitt. With UNC winning. Things ain't lookin good in that one. With my west coast friends, I had Louisville, UCONN, UNC, and Pitt. All number ones, which I think somewhat blah. But this is also the league in which I have the best shot at winning. With my east coast friends, I had the same final four as in the work league. And thus, ick. Such is life... Still fun.
I opened the NFL front page on yahoo just a moment ago and saw none other than Jeff George. As much as he wants to claim that he's ready to come back because he still has the arm for the NFL, does anyone else really think that the rest of his body can take the beating that these ridiculously large and fast defensive linemen will deliver? UFL for you, Jeff.
Trivia of the Week (Multiple Questions): Jeff George was the first pick in the 1990 draft. His active career - up to this point - lasted 11 years and included 5 different teams. For which team was he drafted? On which team did he play when he made his first playoff appearance? On which team did he play when he won his first playoff game? George also had an 'inactive' career with 3 teams after the 2001 season. Name them.
One week and two days until opening day. The smell of leather and newly cut grass. The feel of the cool breeze. Peanuts and beer. A box of crackerjack to boot. Wooden bats thudding thunderously against a speeding ball. Ah, baseball.
How is it that the Lakers have a 10-game lead over the next closest team in the West (Spurs)? And, again, how is it that the East has so many teams with greater than .700 winning percentage? Seems strange to me.
What do you think of miking caddies? It seems the PGA is considering broadcasting the conversations to give golf fans an ear into the decision making for professional golfers. At issue? The caddies are concerned that they will need to monitor what they're saying at all times during the match - both during playing time and down time. My take? I think there are places where microphones don't need to be. I believe in making the broadcasts better, but imposing a microphone might just make the play worse. I vote no mikes.
The vicodin is causing my eyes to droop ever so slowly... Oh yes, I had a minor dental surgery this past Friday. The dentist - a rather talented one at that - cut a swath of skin from the roof of my mouth and applied it to the gums on the upper right side of my mouth to help slow receding gums and cover exposed teeth roots. Perhaps that qualifies as TMI, but it seems to have worked with the extra side effect that it hurts - not as much as four extracted wisdom teeth - until I down a pill that subsequently makes me sleepy.
That said, I will ask this week's question of the week. I'm not here to talk about the alleged NCAA recruiting violations made by the University of Connecticut; UCONN and the NCAA can figure that one out. I'd rather ask why UCONN wanted to recruit Mr. Nate Miles in the first place. Calhoun didn't need Miles; look at the team he had, after all. And Miles had a checkered past to boot. Five high schools in four years because of behavior problems. And later expelled from UCONN because he violated a restraining order after having been accused of attempting to force a woman - according to sources, his girlfriend at the time - to have sex. If nothing else, I think the entire recruitment proves that Calhoun - and others who recruited Miles - showed bad judgment off the court. I've said this before, and I'll say it again. Trying to win at all costs sends the worst possible message to those looking for heroes and mentors. For that reason, I think UCONN's basketball program should reevaluate itself and figure out its true vision and mission.
Trivia of the Week (Multiple Questions): Jeff George was the first pick in the 1990 draft. His active career - up to this point - lasted 11 years and included 5 different teams.
For which team was he drafted? Indianapolis Colts
On which team did he play when he made his first playoff appearance? Atlanta Falcons
On which team did he play when he won his first playoff game? Minnesota Vikings
George also had an 'inactive' career with 3 teams after the 2001 season. Name them. Seattle Seahawks, Chicago Bears, Oakland Raiders.
Earlier this year, I spoke about the fact that I had no idea the Columbus Blue Jackets were actually a professional hockey team in the NHL. Today, I read that a Calgary Flames fan decided to threaten the Blue Jackets goalie during a 5-0 shellacking that Columbus put on Calgary. The Flames are on the verge of winning their division and need the stars to align NOT to reach the playoffs. The Blue Jackets, on the other hand, are on the verge of making their first ever appearance in the NHL playoffs. My advice to the fan? Take a long walk off a short pier.
The brackets. I'm mediocre at best. In the work league, I had a final four of Wake Forest, Memphis, UNC, and Pitt. With UNC winning. Things ain't lookin good in that one. With my west coast friends, I had Louisville, UCONN, UNC, and Pitt. All number ones, which I think somewhat blah. But this is also the league in which I have the best shot at winning. With my east coast friends, I had the same final four as in the work league. And thus, ick. Such is life... Still fun.
I opened the NFL front page on yahoo just a moment ago and saw none other than Jeff George. As much as he wants to claim that he's ready to come back because he still has the arm for the NFL, does anyone else really think that the rest of his body can take the beating that these ridiculously large and fast defensive linemen will deliver? UFL for you, Jeff.
Trivia of the Week (Multiple Questions): Jeff George was the first pick in the 1990 draft. His active career - up to this point - lasted 11 years and included 5 different teams. For which team was he drafted? On which team did he play when he made his first playoff appearance? On which team did he play when he won his first playoff game? George also had an 'inactive' career with 3 teams after the 2001 season. Name them.
One week and two days until opening day. The smell of leather and newly cut grass. The feel of the cool breeze. Peanuts and beer. A box of crackerjack to boot. Wooden bats thudding thunderously against a speeding ball. Ah, baseball.
How is it that the Lakers have a 10-game lead over the next closest team in the West (Spurs)? And, again, how is it that the East has so many teams with greater than .700 winning percentage? Seems strange to me.
What do you think of miking caddies? It seems the PGA is considering broadcasting the conversations to give golf fans an ear into the decision making for professional golfers. At issue? The caddies are concerned that they will need to monitor what they're saying at all times during the match - both during playing time and down time. My take? I think there are places where microphones don't need to be. I believe in making the broadcasts better, but imposing a microphone might just make the play worse. I vote no mikes.
The vicodin is causing my eyes to droop ever so slowly... Oh yes, I had a minor dental surgery this past Friday. The dentist - a rather talented one at that - cut a swath of skin from the roof of my mouth and applied it to the gums on the upper right side of my mouth to help slow receding gums and cover exposed teeth roots. Perhaps that qualifies as TMI, but it seems to have worked with the extra side effect that it hurts - not as much as four extracted wisdom teeth - until I down a pill that subsequently makes me sleepy.
That said, I will ask this week's question of the week. I'm not here to talk about the alleged NCAA recruiting violations made by the University of Connecticut; UCONN and the NCAA can figure that one out. I'd rather ask why UCONN wanted to recruit Mr. Nate Miles in the first place. Calhoun didn't need Miles; look at the team he had, after all. And Miles had a checkered past to boot. Five high schools in four years because of behavior problems. And later expelled from UCONN because he violated a restraining order after having been accused of attempting to force a woman - according to sources, his girlfriend at the time - to have sex. If nothing else, I think the entire recruitment proves that Calhoun - and others who recruited Miles - showed bad judgment off the court. I've said this before, and I'll say it again. Trying to win at all costs sends the worst possible message to those looking for heroes and mentors. For that reason, I think UCONN's basketball program should reevaluate itself and figure out its true vision and mission.
Trivia of the Week (Multiple Questions): Jeff George was the first pick in the 1990 draft. His active career - up to this point - lasted 11 years and included 5 different teams.
For which team was he drafted? Indianapolis Colts
On which team did he play when he made his first playoff appearance? Atlanta Falcons
On which team did he play when he won his first playoff game? Minnesota Vikings
George also had an 'inactive' career with 3 teams after the 2001 season. Name them. Seattle Seahawks, Chicago Bears, Oakland Raiders.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Potluck: Parking
It was a Thursday. March 12, 2009 to be exact. I had traveled to the Dahlia Lounge to purchase expensive cookies for the development team deploying the Previous Debt Discharge Status; don't ask. Meanwhile, I had no idea that the UCONN - Syracuse game was about to begin. I arrived back at my office and sat in my chair to do some work. It would be another 2.5 hours before I left.
What does this have to do with parking? Absolutely nothing. Because this story isn't about me...
Joseph fed the pups at about the time I was visiting Dahlia lounge - or so I'd surmise - and readied to depart the house. He started up the Subaru Forester and traveled to Capitol Hill for a drink at Purr.
As is common on Thursdays, Capitol Hill was rather busy. That means little to no parking. And, in fact, it took Joseph a number of circles around the neighborhood to find a spot. He found a spot almost directly in front of the bar and made the motion to pull in, when he noticed a young woman on her cell phone standing in the spot. Joseph rolled down the window and said 'Excuse me' somewhat loudly. But the young woman did not move. Again, he tried - a bit more loudly - to convince the woman to move. But he got no response.
For those of you who don't know Joseph as well as I, let's just say that he doesn't mind a confrontation, especially when there's principle involved. And so, Joseph commenced pulling into the spot. The young woman, taken aback by the fact that someone would do this, stared with malice into the Forester at Joseph. But she didn't move. Instead, she let fly a fist - all the while spewing a plethora of four-letter words - and came down on the hood with a thud. Joseph stopped the car. The woman then leaned on the hood of the Forester, essentially daring Joseph to do anything more.
Not a good idea.
Joseph suggested vehemently that the woman move. She didn't. So, he moved her. Ever so slowly - and gently - he inched the car forward. And in the end, she was no match for a multi-ton Subaru. Joseph successfully parked.
But that wasn't the end. Oh no...
Instead of leaving it at that, the woman called the police.
Joseph relates that a number of other parking spots opened in the time that it took for the police to arrive. And the woman's friend still hadn't arrived.
The police arrived and approached Joseph. They asked who called and what the problem was. Joseph intelligently decided to allow the woman to do the talking. The cops listened as the woman spoke. And when she finished her rant, they offered some advice. 'Ma'am, it's not a good idea to stand in front of a moving car.' As you can imagine, she did not want to hear that advice. She therefore decided to speak to the cops in a language she thought they might understand. 'What RCW states that I can't stand in the road and save the spot for my friend?'
Bad move, lady. For those of you who don't know, RCW stands for Revised Code of Washington. It is the compilation of all permanent laws now in force in the state of Washington. Yes, she was trying to tell them how to do their job.
The cops quickly grew tired of this young woman and asked, 'Ma'am, are you hurt?' 'No' she whined. They turned to Joseph and asked him if there was any damage to the car. He responded that there wasn't. The cops said it was a wash and were ready to have Joseph and the young woman go their respective ways.
But Joseph had one more question. 'Can I get this lady's name and number? I'm concerned that something might be wrong with my car when I come out of Purr.' The young woman responded that she wasn't that type of person. And the cops chimed in saying that they didn't think she would do such a thing. Joseph responded that he didn't think she would stand in front of a moving car either.
With that, the young woman stalked away - her friend having finally arrived - and left Joseph and the cops to depart the scene.
As it turned out, there was no damage to the car when we drove home that night. But a crazy lady had left her mark.
What does this have to do with parking? Absolutely nothing. Because this story isn't about me...
Joseph fed the pups at about the time I was visiting Dahlia lounge - or so I'd surmise - and readied to depart the house. He started up the Subaru Forester and traveled to Capitol Hill for a drink at Purr.
As is common on Thursdays, Capitol Hill was rather busy. That means little to no parking. And, in fact, it took Joseph a number of circles around the neighborhood to find a spot. He found a spot almost directly in front of the bar and made the motion to pull in, when he noticed a young woman on her cell phone standing in the spot. Joseph rolled down the window and said 'Excuse me' somewhat loudly. But the young woman did not move. Again, he tried - a bit more loudly - to convince the woman to move. But he got no response.
For those of you who don't know Joseph as well as I, let's just say that he doesn't mind a confrontation, especially when there's principle involved. And so, Joseph commenced pulling into the spot. The young woman, taken aback by the fact that someone would do this, stared with malice into the Forester at Joseph. But she didn't move. Instead, she let fly a fist - all the while spewing a plethora of four-letter words - and came down on the hood with a thud. Joseph stopped the car. The woman then leaned on the hood of the Forester, essentially daring Joseph to do anything more.
Not a good idea.
Joseph suggested vehemently that the woman move. She didn't. So, he moved her. Ever so slowly - and gently - he inched the car forward. And in the end, she was no match for a multi-ton Subaru. Joseph successfully parked.
But that wasn't the end. Oh no...
Instead of leaving it at that, the woman called the police.
Joseph relates that a number of other parking spots opened in the time that it took for the police to arrive. And the woman's friend still hadn't arrived.
The police arrived and approached Joseph. They asked who called and what the problem was. Joseph intelligently decided to allow the woman to do the talking. The cops listened as the woman spoke. And when she finished her rant, they offered some advice. 'Ma'am, it's not a good idea to stand in front of a moving car.' As you can imagine, she did not want to hear that advice. She therefore decided to speak to the cops in a language she thought they might understand. 'What RCW states that I can't stand in the road and save the spot for my friend?'
Bad move, lady. For those of you who don't know, RCW stands for Revised Code of Washington. It is the compilation of all permanent laws now in force in the state of Washington. Yes, she was trying to tell them how to do their job.
The cops quickly grew tired of this young woman and asked, 'Ma'am, are you hurt?' 'No' she whined. They turned to Joseph and asked him if there was any damage to the car. He responded that there wasn't. The cops said it was a wash and were ready to have Joseph and the young woman go their respective ways.
But Joseph had one more question. 'Can I get this lady's name and number? I'm concerned that something might be wrong with my car when I come out of Purr.' The young woman responded that she wasn't that type of person. And the cops chimed in saying that they didn't think she would do such a thing. Joseph responded that he didn't think she would stand in front of a moving car either.
With that, the young woman stalked away - her friend having finally arrived - and left Joseph and the cops to depart the scene.
As it turned out, there was no damage to the car when we drove home that night. But a crazy lady had left her mark.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
3WW (Reactive, Earnest, Layer): Worthwhile
The bug-eyed doctor stepped from my grandmother’s room; he smelled of bleach and hot water.
‘She’s not reactive to touch or smell,’ he said in his best attempt at a compassionate voice. ‘I’m sorry.’ With that, he clopped down the stairs and out the front door.
I opened her bedroom door expecting to see some grotesque dead woman with splayed legs and open vacant eyes. Instead, I saw my grandmother with her salt and pepper hair resting comfortably against her too white pillows. On the night table sat wilting lilies and a picture of my dead grandfather with her two dead children. I ran my hand across the bureau where she kept her perfume and a statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe; an odd layer of dust stuck to my dirty fingers.
I turned to spy her peaceful countenance and saw her earnest eyes staring at me. ‘I’m dying, Michael. And I just don’t know if it was worth it.’ Her eyes closed, and she was gone.
‘She’s not reactive to touch or smell,’ he said in his best attempt at a compassionate voice. ‘I’m sorry.’ With that, he clopped down the stairs and out the front door.
I opened her bedroom door expecting to see some grotesque dead woman with splayed legs and open vacant eyes. Instead, I saw my grandmother with her salt and pepper hair resting comfortably against her too white pillows. On the night table sat wilting lilies and a picture of my dead grandfather with her two dead children. I ran my hand across the bureau where she kept her perfume and a statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe; an odd layer of dust stuck to my dirty fingers.
I turned to spy her peaceful countenance and saw her earnest eyes staring at me. ‘I’m dying, Michael. And I just don’t know if it was worth it.’ Her eyes closed, and she was gone.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Videos of the Week: Fail
I give to you videos associated with a site named failblog.org. Let's see what lessons we can learn from each...
In this first video, we see the importance of focus and persistence.
In this second video, we have a lesson in physics. Although I cannot claim to be well-versed, I do know a thing that pulls a large object in the same direction as itself will never be in the best position in the end.
In this third video, we learn that Love and Basketball don't always mix.
In this fourth video, we learn how NOT to drive in the snow. These are Seattle drivers, by the way.
And finally, we learn in this fifth video that you just don't piss off old ladies. They're stronger than you think.
Ah yes, and the answer to yesterday's question?
Deeded
In this first video, we see the importance of focus and persistence.
In this second video, we have a lesson in physics. Although I cannot claim to be well-versed, I do know a thing that pulls a large object in the same direction as itself will never be in the best position in the end.
In this third video, we learn that Love and Basketball don't always mix.
In this fourth video, we learn how NOT to drive in the snow. These are Seattle drivers, by the way.
And finally, we learn in this fifth video that you just don't piss off old ladies. They're stronger than you think.
Ah yes, and the answer to yesterday's question?
Deeded
Monday, March 23, 2009
Art in All Its Forms: Words Part I
I warned you all that I love words. How letters play together - or don't - and form these soundly conglomerations. I love English especially, with its multitudinous exceptions and ghastly oddities.
For the sake of time, I can discuss but one type of word oddity - or wordity as I like to call them.
An isogram is a logological term for a word or phrase without a repeating letter. It is also used by some to mean a word or phrase in which each letter appears the same number of times, not necessarily just once.
The longest common isogram in the English language: Uncopyrightables
The longest common pair isogram (each letter is used twice and only twice in the word): Intestines
How about the longest common trio isogram (each letter is used thrice and only thrice in the word)?
I'll give you a hint... 'To have transferred a document sealed as an instrument of bond, contract, or conveyance, especially relating to property'
Check back tomorrow for the answer...
For the sake of time, I can discuss but one type of word oddity - or wordity as I like to call them.
An isogram is a logological term for a word or phrase without a repeating letter. It is also used by some to mean a word or phrase in which each letter appears the same number of times, not necessarily just once.
The longest common isogram in the English language: Uncopyrightables
The longest common pair isogram (each letter is used twice and only twice in the word): Intestines
How about the longest common trio isogram (each letter is used thrice and only thrice in the word)?
I'll give you a hint... 'To have transferred a document sealed as an instrument of bond, contract, or conveyance, especially relating to property'
Check back tomorrow for the answer...
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Sunday Scribblings: Six Point Five Years
The prompt this week is, "I come from..." or if you like you could try, "I came from..." This is all about your perspective. Where did you start? Where do you start? How did it all begin? Where do you stand right now? Where exactly do you come from?
Foot in the door, my partner gets me my first opportunity in corporate America.
Contracted for a project that corrected statements so we could determine balances.
A big break, the result of a crazy fired lady screaming at the top of her lungs.
Ten keyed to my heart’s content and returned lots of money to lawyers. Sorry.
A rare accounting supervisor, unanimously elected by those who had trained me.
Supervised a tad inside the Lion’s Den, a short stay.
An interesting request from a controller, go find out what he’s doing.
Managed portfolios of accounts and stood inside the doorway of an ornery man.
Some interest from another department, let’s see what you’ve got.
Gathered requirements, made nice with Operations, and tested an application or two.
Off to another job, she left me wondering if I could fill her shoes.
Managed a project or seven and learned a great deal more about politics.
A shot in the dark, tried my luck at applying for a reach position.
Leading. And working with a client to help them determine their own balances.
Foot in the door, my partner gets me my first opportunity in corporate America.
Contracted for a project that corrected statements so we could determine balances.
A big break, the result of a crazy fired lady screaming at the top of her lungs.
Ten keyed to my heart’s content and returned lots of money to lawyers. Sorry.
A rare accounting supervisor, unanimously elected by those who had trained me.
Supervised a tad inside the Lion’s Den, a short stay.
An interesting request from a controller, go find out what he’s doing.
Managed portfolios of accounts and stood inside the doorway of an ornery man.
Some interest from another department, let’s see what you’ve got.
Gathered requirements, made nice with Operations, and tested an application or two.
Off to another job, she left me wondering if I could fill her shoes.
Managed a project or seven and learned a great deal more about politics.
A shot in the dark, tried my luck at applying for a reach position.
Leading. And working with a client to help them determine their own balances.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Sporting Rants and Raves: March 21, 2009
Happy 24th birthday to Mr. Adrian Lewis Peterson formerly of the Oklahoma Laters and now of the Minnesota Purple People Eating Norsemen not to be confused with Mr. Adrian Nicholas Peterson formerly of the Georgia Southern Not Specifically Bald Eagles and now of the Chicago Midway Monsters Vs. Aliens Not Brown Bears whose birthday happens to fall on July 1st, the exact midpoint of the year during a leap year.
Try reading all of that in one full breath...
What better way to start the day than with the madness that is this month of March. I have enrolled myself in three brackets, as stated in my Thursday post. And at that time, I was doing better than I expected. But isn't it usually the case that the madness itself rears its ugly head at some point during the eventual completion of said brackets? Case in point, I had Wake Forest and West Virginia playing in the Elite 8 for a chance at a Final Four spot. Ugh. With Wake I should have known better, but WVU surprises me. But there are silver linings, e.g. the fact that I chose the entire Western region correctly in this first round. Oh, and that all of those teams - in each bracket - that I chose to win the big dance are still in the big dance. Not to mention the real Huskies dominated today while the other Huskies were undone by a collection of Boilermakers. More to come...
Say it ain't so, Donte'. Say it ain't so.
The World Baseball Classic continues with a powerhouse Venezuelan team taking on the Korean upstarts. Korea leads 8-1 at the moment. Venezuela has the ability to come back. But will they?
The Eastern Conference of the NBA can already boast of three teams in the playoffs, i.e. Boston, Cleveland, and Orlando. The Western Conference only has one for now, the Los Angeles Lakers.
Trivia of the Week: The Lakers are so named because they came from this city. And they came in this year. For extra credit, can you name the team (city and mascot) that became the Lakers back in 1946?
Many overlook the fact that the Women's NCAA tournament is now underway. Thus far, only a couple upsets. Tenth seeded San Diego State upended DePaul. And eleventh seeded Mississippi State handled the sixth seeded Lady Longhorns. Both upsets came in the Berkeley region. Meanwhile, I await the dominant Lady Huskies - real, not other - to take the court against a team that can only be described as 'from Vermont'.
John Elway is sad. Why? Because he doesn't understand why Jay Cutler and Josh McDaniels can't just get along. Neither can I. Okay, so Jay finds out that Josh is considering bringing Matt - of the Cassel variety - to Denver to be his QB. No big surprise that Josh - in his new home - wants a familiar face to accompany him. Well, that didn't happen. Matt went to Kansas City - see Scott of Pioli fame - leaving Josh with Jay. Jay then says he doesn't want to be the second choice and wants a trade even after talking to Josh. I know it takes two to tango. And Josh hasn't handled his communication very well. But this is business. And Jay - I think - still has his best shot of making a name in the league in Denver blue and orange. To Jay, I say get over yourself and deal. To Josh, I say figure out how to communicate a bit better; you're not Bill - of the surname Belichick - and you're a mile higher than you were out in Newer England.
Brett or Melky? The New York Yankees are looking for that man who will fill the shoes of Bernie, Ricky, Bobby, Earle, and the Mick. And what a travesty it would be not to mention Joltin' Joe. But I thought I should give him another sentence since he was above and beyond all the others in his contributions to the game. So, I ask again, Brett or Melky? Either? Or are we going to have to resurrect one of the late greats to christen the new stadium?
Maybe one team of dogs from the northwest have played their last in March 2009. But there is another team of dogs, and it stayed alive today. Next up? Tarheels.
Question of the week - Can you identify any similarities between the following names: Anquan Boldin, Plaxico Burress, Chad Johnson, Terrell Owens, Jeremy Shockey, Donte' Stallworth, Kellen Winslow Jr? Receivers / Tight Ends. In the NFL. Yes and yes. Have, in some way, made themselves look like numnutzes in their own respective ways. Yep. Have the same agent, Mr. Drew Rosenhaus. Also, yep. Now, to be fair, Rosenhaus' firm has many more clients. In fact, I counted 121 in the Wikipedia article. And these include more wide receivers like the Moss brothers, Ernest Wilford, Bernard Berrian among others.
But I'd like to call attention to the fact that Rosenhaus is connected to some of the biggest cry babies and - to some degree - screw-ups in the NFL. I can only imagine a conversation he might have with some of these wide receivers. 'You are the best out there. You deserve more than they're offering. You're better than they are. You are the man.' And they - I've heard that wide receivers love to have their respective egos massaged - believe every word of it. They then escalate that belief to the point that they believe themselves to be irreplaceable demigods within their respective organizations. Now, I know it starts with these players. But Drew ain't helping. He's a co-dependent of the highest order, telling them it's okay.
Some day, I hope these men grow up and reflect. Then they'll see that Drew has done them no favors.
Trivia of the Week: The Lakers are so named because they came from this city. And they came in this year. For extra credit, can you name the team (city and mascot) that became the Lakers back in 1946?
Minneapolis. 1960. EC: Detroit Gems
Try reading all of that in one full breath...
What better way to start the day than with the madness that is this month of March. I have enrolled myself in three brackets, as stated in my Thursday post. And at that time, I was doing better than I expected. But isn't it usually the case that the madness itself rears its ugly head at some point during the eventual completion of said brackets? Case in point, I had Wake Forest and West Virginia playing in the Elite 8 for a chance at a Final Four spot. Ugh. With Wake I should have known better, but WVU surprises me. But there are silver linings, e.g. the fact that I chose the entire Western region correctly in this first round. Oh, and that all of those teams - in each bracket - that I chose to win the big dance are still in the big dance. Not to mention the real Huskies dominated today while the other Huskies were undone by a collection of Boilermakers. More to come...
Say it ain't so, Donte'. Say it ain't so.
The World Baseball Classic continues with a powerhouse Venezuelan team taking on the Korean upstarts. Korea leads 8-1 at the moment. Venezuela has the ability to come back. But will they?
The Eastern Conference of the NBA can already boast of three teams in the playoffs, i.e. Boston, Cleveland, and Orlando. The Western Conference only has one for now, the Los Angeles Lakers.
Trivia of the Week: The Lakers are so named because they came from this city. And they came in this year. For extra credit, can you name the team (city and mascot) that became the Lakers back in 1946?
Many overlook the fact that the Women's NCAA tournament is now underway. Thus far, only a couple upsets. Tenth seeded San Diego State upended DePaul. And eleventh seeded Mississippi State handled the sixth seeded Lady Longhorns. Both upsets came in the Berkeley region. Meanwhile, I await the dominant Lady Huskies - real, not other - to take the court against a team that can only be described as 'from Vermont'.
John Elway is sad. Why? Because he doesn't understand why Jay Cutler and Josh McDaniels can't just get along. Neither can I. Okay, so Jay finds out that Josh is considering bringing Matt - of the Cassel variety - to Denver to be his QB. No big surprise that Josh - in his new home - wants a familiar face to accompany him. Well, that didn't happen. Matt went to Kansas City - see Scott of Pioli fame - leaving Josh with Jay. Jay then says he doesn't want to be the second choice and wants a trade even after talking to Josh. I know it takes two to tango. And Josh hasn't handled his communication very well. But this is business. And Jay - I think - still has his best shot of making a name in the league in Denver blue and orange. To Jay, I say get over yourself and deal. To Josh, I say figure out how to communicate a bit better; you're not Bill - of the surname Belichick - and you're a mile higher than you were out in Newer England.
Brett or Melky? The New York Yankees are looking for that man who will fill the shoes of Bernie, Ricky, Bobby, Earle, and the Mick. And what a travesty it would be not to mention Joltin' Joe. But I thought I should give him another sentence since he was above and beyond all the others in his contributions to the game. So, I ask again, Brett or Melky? Either? Or are we going to have to resurrect one of the late greats to christen the new stadium?
Maybe one team of dogs from the northwest have played their last in March 2009. But there is another team of dogs, and it stayed alive today. Next up? Tarheels.
Question of the week - Can you identify any similarities between the following names: Anquan Boldin, Plaxico Burress, Chad Johnson, Terrell Owens, Jeremy Shockey, Donte' Stallworth, Kellen Winslow Jr? Receivers / Tight Ends. In the NFL. Yes and yes. Have, in some way, made themselves look like numnutzes in their own respective ways. Yep. Have the same agent, Mr. Drew Rosenhaus. Also, yep. Now, to be fair, Rosenhaus' firm has many more clients. In fact, I counted 121 in the Wikipedia article. And these include more wide receivers like the Moss brothers, Ernest Wilford, Bernard Berrian among others.
But I'd like to call attention to the fact that Rosenhaus is connected to some of the biggest cry babies and - to some degree - screw-ups in the NFL. I can only imagine a conversation he might have with some of these wide receivers. 'You are the best out there. You deserve more than they're offering. You're better than they are. You are the man.' And they - I've heard that wide receivers love to have their respective egos massaged - believe every word of it. They then escalate that belief to the point that they believe themselves to be irreplaceable demigods within their respective organizations. Now, I know it starts with these players. But Drew ain't helping. He's a co-dependent of the highest order, telling them it's okay.
Some day, I hope these men grow up and reflect. Then they'll see that Drew has done them no favors.
Trivia of the Week: The Lakers are so named because they came from this city. And they came in this year. For extra credit, can you name the team (city and mascot) that became the Lakers back in 1946?
Minneapolis. 1960. EC: Detroit Gems
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Potluck: Current Events Ramblings
The Seattle Post Intelligencer. The other Seattle paper in a city that shouldn't have two papers has died an internetted death. No longer printed it listlessly competes with the likes of news.com, cnn.com, foxnews.com, msnbc.com, iknoweverything.com, reuters.com, bob.com, and hundreds of other sites that purport to report. I'd wish them good luck but have decided to send my luck wishing towards something I think worth the trouble.
Obama and his Final Four picks. Coach K thinks the prez should concentrate more on the economy than on his bracket. Coach K better figure out a way to get past the Sweet Sixteen for the first time in God knows how many years.
Obama and Leno. Sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S A-I-G. Stunned. Annoyed. Ticked. Someone up there didn't do their due diligence in the short term. And some ones in the past allowed these knuckleheads think they could get away with it. Egregious. Ridiculous. And movin' on.
Deadly spiders in stores. Watch for some wacko to be swingin' from store to store tomorrow somewhere claimin' he's spahda mayen.
Anyone else wanted to see Manson's mug? Yeah, thought not.
The Iraq War celebrates its 6th birthday today. I am reminded of the novel 1984 by George Orwell. We're fighting overseas against an enemy about which the average person knows little. Except there's a proposed date for the troops to come home. But we'll see.
Bellevue, WA. A couple of entrepreneurs decide that they're gonna try something out. Alcohol delivery. See i-booze.com if you don't believe me.
And for all of you hiding under a rock, March Madness has begun. So far, so good. 13 of 14 in one bracket. 12 of 14 in another. Underestimated Michigan in both. 11 of 14 on the espn.com bracket. Got Michigan in that one. UCONN, Memphis, and Pitt, I picked in each respectively to win it all. The next round's about to finish. So, why am I sitting in here. Off to see UCLA-VCU in its final seconds...
Huskies-Huskies coming up...
Obama and his Final Four picks. Coach K thinks the prez should concentrate more on the economy than on his bracket. Coach K better figure out a way to get past the Sweet Sixteen for the first time in God knows how many years.
Obama and Leno. Sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S A-I-G. Stunned. Annoyed. Ticked. Someone up there didn't do their due diligence in the short term. And some ones in the past allowed these knuckleheads think they could get away with it. Egregious. Ridiculous. And movin' on.
Deadly spiders in stores. Watch for some wacko to be swingin' from store to store tomorrow somewhere claimin' he's spahda mayen.
Anyone else wanted to see Manson's mug? Yeah, thought not.
The Iraq War celebrates its 6th birthday today. I am reminded of the novel 1984 by George Orwell. We're fighting overseas against an enemy about which the average person knows little. Except there's a proposed date for the troops to come home. But we'll see.
Bellevue, WA. A couple of entrepreneurs decide that they're gonna try something out. Alcohol delivery. See i-booze.com if you don't believe me.
And for all of you hiding under a rock, March Madness has begun. So far, so good. 13 of 14 in one bracket. 12 of 14 in another. Underestimated Michigan in both. 11 of 14 on the espn.com bracket. Got Michigan in that one. UCONN, Memphis, and Pitt, I picked in each respectively to win it all. The next round's about to finish. So, why am I sitting in here. Off to see UCLA-VCU in its final seconds...
Huskies-Huskies coming up...
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
3WW: American Sentences (Burden, Natural, Ubiquitous)
American Sentences: They are haiku-length poems that Allen Ginsburg suggested be limited to 17 syllables, like haiku in Japanese and like the Heart Sutra in Buddhism. The following two sentences are such American Sentences of 17 syllables.
To be ubiquitous is naturally a restraining burden.
I feel the unnatural burden of the ubiquitous silence.
To be ubiquitous is naturally a restraining burden.
I feel the unnatural burden of the ubiquitous silence.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Video of the Week: Happy St. Patrick's Day
Good evening to you dear family, friends, and casual readers. I hope you've had your fair share of corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes topped with a swig of your favorite libation and a pinch of luck. I decided to turn back the clock a tad. From a childhood favorite, I sought a performance that might lighten the mood. Have a Happy St. Paddy's Day!
Monday, March 16, 2009
Art in All Its Forms: Milk
I've contemplated whether I should write about this movie, it being so divisive and controversial. Not to mention the fact that it hits me rather close to home. I find I am afraid what some might think of my opinions. That somehow I might burn bridges and jeopardize relationships.
I've been down that road before, however. And it was a dark and lonely road where I distanced myself from family and friends. The only thing to fear - I recall a great president said - is fear itself. I therefore choose not to be afraid. Instead, I will meet the challenge of this review and write - as always - from the heart.
It was Saturday. Outside, the snowy rain fell in thick globules upon the green grass and molehills. The dogs, Joseph, and I had tucked ourselves into the warm house. He and the dogs hunkered down on the couch to watch Milk, and I - who cringe at sad movies - escaped to the office to play World of Warcraft. I sat staring at my Night Elf Priest, Aquinias, and asked myself what I was doing. With that question, I rose from the black pleather chair, closed the door to the office, and told Joseph to start from the beginning as I was joining him in the living room to watch the film.
I'm glad I did.
The movie begins with footage of men being harassed and even arrested. For having a drink in a gay bar. An all too common occurrence in major American urban centers in the 1950s and 1960s.
We then meet Harvey Milk in New York in 1970. A closeted, somewhat effeminate man about to turn 40, he admits that he has done nothing up to that point in his life of which he could consider himself proud. With his new-found partner, he traverses the states and finds himself in San Francisco.
He opens a camera shop in the Castro neighborhood, intending to become a businessman like his father. But he quickly finds that his kind are not wanted in them there parts. Sound familiar?
He begins to understand that he's not particularly wanted in that blue collar Irish-American neighborhood. But Milk is no pushover. A New York Jew, he decides that he's going to round up his gay friends and boycott any business that doesn't cater to his kind. The result? Those businesses that didn't cater to his kind didn't survive.
One day Allan Baird - a Teamsters rep - walks into the camera shop and explains to Harvey that William Coors - of Coors beer fame - was treating the union unfairly. Milk immediately sends his 'community' out to spread the word that gays won't drink Coors. The boycott works. Coors settles soon after.
Gays had shown that they had power as a group, at least in a capitalistic society.
But that's not really the point, is it? Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's. Gays had used their economic clout to affect an outcome tied to money, but they would never be accepted as moral leaders. These sick, psychologically twisted people who chose to be this way.
Fast forward to Dade County, Florida. The year, 1977 (a year with which I am rather well acquainted). Anita Bryant, representing Save Our Children, dances a jig when voters decide that homosexuals have no civil rights when it comes to their sexual orientation. Translated: homosexuals can be fired, harassed, and otherwise abused for being who they are.
More repeals come in Kansas, Minnesota, and Oregon. Severe setbacks. For all the economic clout gays have, they do not have any political power. Or so they thought.
Enter Harvey Milk in San Francisco. An outspoken gay man elected as city supervisor.
The conservative right wing decides that the California gays must pay the piper. They decide to teach them a lesson. The proposition: disallow homosexuals from teaching in California public schools. Why? Bryant explains what so many felt at the time, i.e. 'Children are very easily persuaded ... a homosexual is not born, they are made. So there has to be some recruitment.'
These people honestly spew their ridiculous beliefs that gays - all perverts and pedophiles - are out to recruit boys and girls. To turn them against their parents. To make them immoral beings hated by God.
I pose a question to all of you who still have doubts about whether gays are born or 'made'. Why in God's name would I choose to be gay? The norm is to have a wife and children. To buy a house and work in a job that pays the bills. To be close to my family. To live a normal life. Why, then, would I choose not to have this life? To spite someone? I don't feel spite towards anyone. I like being accepted. I love my family. It just doesn't make sense. Not at all.
And that's the same argument Harvey used. We are gay because we were born that way. Because God made us that way.
They won in 1978. The Briggs Initiative fell entirely flat.
Then Harvey fell flat too. From five gunshot wounds.
Watching the movie, I felt saddened, of course. A few tears fell. But I also realized that Harvey would become - and has become - all the more powerful as a martyr.
It was this movie that helped me to realize that gay rights is a civil rights issue. That homosexuals should have the opportunity to earn the same rights as their straight counterparts, whether in raising children or attaining public office.
It seems I haven't even touched on the acting within the movie. Sean Penn does lose himself in the role, a rather amazing feat. I enjoyed Emile Hirsch's portrayal of Cleve Jones. As well as Josh Brolin's remarkable Dan White. The acting was incredible, to say the least.
The environment? I felt like I was alive in the 1970s in San Francisco. The clothing. The hair styles. The boat cars and bugs of piss yellow and puke green. The facades of the buildings. The characters' speech. The music. Believe you me, I have no desire to go back to the 1970s; it wouldn't have suited me well. But I now understand a tad bit better what it was to be in the 1970s as a young person coming of age.
Watch the movie. Please. Even if you disagree with what the movie suggests, it is nonetheless a cinematic triumph. In the end, it forces the issue. And that's what good art is supposed to do...
I've been down that road before, however. And it was a dark and lonely road where I distanced myself from family and friends. The only thing to fear - I recall a great president said - is fear itself. I therefore choose not to be afraid. Instead, I will meet the challenge of this review and write - as always - from the heart.
It was Saturday. Outside, the snowy rain fell in thick globules upon the green grass and molehills. The dogs, Joseph, and I had tucked ourselves into the warm house. He and the dogs hunkered down on the couch to watch Milk, and I - who cringe at sad movies - escaped to the office to play World of Warcraft. I sat staring at my Night Elf Priest, Aquinias, and asked myself what I was doing. With that question, I rose from the black pleather chair, closed the door to the office, and told Joseph to start from the beginning as I was joining him in the living room to watch the film.
I'm glad I did.
The movie begins with footage of men being harassed and even arrested. For having a drink in a gay bar. An all too common occurrence in major American urban centers in the 1950s and 1960s.
We then meet Harvey Milk in New York in 1970. A closeted, somewhat effeminate man about to turn 40, he admits that he has done nothing up to that point in his life of which he could consider himself proud. With his new-found partner, he traverses the states and finds himself in San Francisco.
He opens a camera shop in the Castro neighborhood, intending to become a businessman like his father. But he quickly finds that his kind are not wanted in them there parts. Sound familiar?
He begins to understand that he's not particularly wanted in that blue collar Irish-American neighborhood. But Milk is no pushover. A New York Jew, he decides that he's going to round up his gay friends and boycott any business that doesn't cater to his kind. The result? Those businesses that didn't cater to his kind didn't survive.
One day Allan Baird - a Teamsters rep - walks into the camera shop and explains to Harvey that William Coors - of Coors beer fame - was treating the union unfairly. Milk immediately sends his 'community' out to spread the word that gays won't drink Coors. The boycott works. Coors settles soon after.
Gays had shown that they had power as a group, at least in a capitalistic society.
But that's not really the point, is it? Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's. Gays had used their economic clout to affect an outcome tied to money, but they would never be accepted as moral leaders. These sick, psychologically twisted people who chose to be this way.
Fast forward to Dade County, Florida. The year, 1977 (a year with which I am rather well acquainted). Anita Bryant, representing Save Our Children, dances a jig when voters decide that homosexuals have no civil rights when it comes to their sexual orientation. Translated: homosexuals can be fired, harassed, and otherwise abused for being who they are.
More repeals come in Kansas, Minnesota, and Oregon. Severe setbacks. For all the economic clout gays have, they do not have any political power. Or so they thought.
Enter Harvey Milk in San Francisco. An outspoken gay man elected as city supervisor.
The conservative right wing decides that the California gays must pay the piper. They decide to teach them a lesson. The proposition: disallow homosexuals from teaching in California public schools. Why? Bryant explains what so many felt at the time, i.e. 'Children are very easily persuaded ... a homosexual is not born, they are made. So there has to be some recruitment.'
These people honestly spew their ridiculous beliefs that gays - all perverts and pedophiles - are out to recruit boys and girls. To turn them against their parents. To make them immoral beings hated by God.
I pose a question to all of you who still have doubts about whether gays are born or 'made'. Why in God's name would I choose to be gay? The norm is to have a wife and children. To buy a house and work in a job that pays the bills. To be close to my family. To live a normal life. Why, then, would I choose not to have this life? To spite someone? I don't feel spite towards anyone. I like being accepted. I love my family. It just doesn't make sense. Not at all.
And that's the same argument Harvey used. We are gay because we were born that way. Because God made us that way.
They won in 1978. The Briggs Initiative fell entirely flat.
Then Harvey fell flat too. From five gunshot wounds.
Watching the movie, I felt saddened, of course. A few tears fell. But I also realized that Harvey would become - and has become - all the more powerful as a martyr.
It was this movie that helped me to realize that gay rights is a civil rights issue. That homosexuals should have the opportunity to earn the same rights as their straight counterparts, whether in raising children or attaining public office.
It seems I haven't even touched on the acting within the movie. Sean Penn does lose himself in the role, a rather amazing feat. I enjoyed Emile Hirsch's portrayal of Cleve Jones. As well as Josh Brolin's remarkable Dan White. The acting was incredible, to say the least.
The environment? I felt like I was alive in the 1970s in San Francisco. The clothing. The hair styles. The boat cars and bugs of piss yellow and puke green. The facades of the buildings. The characters' speech. The music. Believe you me, I have no desire to go back to the 1970s; it wouldn't have suited me well. But I now understand a tad bit better what it was to be in the 1970s as a young person coming of age.
Watch the movie. Please. Even if you disagree with what the movie suggests, it is nonetheless a cinematic triumph. In the end, it forces the issue. And that's what good art is supposed to do...
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Sunday Scribblings: Dear Past Me, Dear Future Me
I approached this as if I would be able to hand these letters to myself at these specific points in time. Because I believe that saying too much would most likely influence my decisions in those respective continuums, I have decided to keep these rather vague and short, while still saying something worthwhile.
Dear 1989 Me,
Things aren't as bad as they seem right now. I understand that the divorce was difficult. And that you are altogether confused about a great many things. But, there is no doubt that you're on the right track. Remember that a little fear is good. Also remember that your shadow is your friend.
-TD
Dear 1999 Me,
You've hit a bit of a lull. You're questioning everything from the establishment to your own values. You're wondering if you'll ever finish college since they put such weight on grades and appearances and such. And you feel altogether awkward in your own skin. You're learning that life is about living for its own sake. You have your first taste of virtue. Just wait a couple years and you'll see what I mean. Again, you're on the right track. It's not about everyone else. Rather, it's about you and what you believe. Hold fast and endure.
-TD
Dear 2019 Me,
The year 2012 has come and gone and it seems the Mayans got it wrong after all. I'd imagine you've finally hit your stride as you've always believed that you'd be the happiest and most effective between the ages of 40-60, the autumn of your life. I'd imagine you've finally experienced a significant loss, and for that I am sorry. But from this loss, I'd also imagine that you have gained a great deal more. I can't imagine you're in an even remotely similar occupation, though with the jobs you've had up to the point that I write this letter, it's possible. Above all, I hope you are finding time for prayer, meditation, and thought in what promises to be a busier and more distracting existence. The only way humanity makes great leaps while simultaneously grounding itself is through prayer, meditation, and thought.
-TD
Dear 1989 Me,
Things aren't as bad as they seem right now. I understand that the divorce was difficult. And that you are altogether confused about a great many things. But, there is no doubt that you're on the right track. Remember that a little fear is good. Also remember that your shadow is your friend.
-TD
Dear 1999 Me,
You've hit a bit of a lull. You're questioning everything from the establishment to your own values. You're wondering if you'll ever finish college since they put such weight on grades and appearances and such. And you feel altogether awkward in your own skin. You're learning that life is about living for its own sake. You have your first taste of virtue. Just wait a couple years and you'll see what I mean. Again, you're on the right track. It's not about everyone else. Rather, it's about you and what you believe. Hold fast and endure.
-TD
Dear 2019 Me,
The year 2012 has come and gone and it seems the Mayans got it wrong after all. I'd imagine you've finally hit your stride as you've always believed that you'd be the happiest and most effective between the ages of 40-60, the autumn of your life. I'd imagine you've finally experienced a significant loss, and for that I am sorry. But from this loss, I'd also imagine that you have gained a great deal more. I can't imagine you're in an even remotely similar occupation, though with the jobs you've had up to the point that I write this letter, it's possible. Above all, I hope you are finding time for prayer, meditation, and thought in what promises to be a busier and more distracting existence. The only way humanity makes great leaps while simultaneously grounding itself is through prayer, meditation, and thought.
-TD
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Sporting Rants and Raves: March 14, 2009
Happy 30th birthday to Love. No, not that love. He's much older. This Love happens to have been given the real name Arsenio Sebastião Cabungula. A forward for Angola's Clube Desportivo Primeiro de Agosto, Arsenio - because he has a very close relationship with his mother - was first called 'Amor' (Spanish for love) which was later translated into English. The name has stuck ever since.
3 hours, 46 minutes. 209 shots. 93 free throws attempted. 58 3-pointers attempted. 66 fouls committed. No technical fouls. No flagrant fouls. 244 points scored. 6 overtimes. These are the statistics associated with an epic game by any standards. The second longest game in Big East NCAA basketball history.
And I missed it thanks to the PDDS deployment. Oy!
Trivia of the week: Staying with the UCONN theme, I pose to you UCONN fans and to you NCAA basketball enthusiasts a question associated with a game that I remember all too well. Who threw the ball AND to whom was the ball thrown for 'The Shot' that elevated the Huskies to the Elite 8 for the first time in their history?
Mr. Julius Peterson the 31 year old linebacker formerly of the San Francisco 49ers and now also of the Seattle Seahawks has been traded to the Detroit LieDowns for lineman Cory Redding and a 5th round pick. Although an expensive commodity and a 31 year old, Peterson was the only Seahawk in the Pro Bowl last year, not to mention the fact that he rounded out a rather good linebacking corp with Hill and Tatupu. I'm certain the Seahawks will miss Mr. Peterson. And Detroit will have a quality linebacker.
Good luck to Mr. Andre Smith. After a rather appalling display at the NFL combine, Mr. Smith might want to consider his options for the future. The UFL. Returning to school to finish his degree. Or begging some NFL team to allow him to carry water to all of those who completely outplayed him.
I wrote last week about the World Baseball Classic. And I told you that there are approximately 24 national teams competing. In today's first game, for instance, Venezuela downed the Dutch 3-1. And in the second game, Puerto Rico lambasted the United States 11-1. Does anyone else see the issue here?
It begins November 19, 1493. Christopher Columbus arrives. He names the island San Juan Bautista (Saint John the Baptist). The island later becomes known as Puerto Rico (rich port) and the capital is named San Juan. A Spanish colony. Fast forward approximately 405 years. It is July 25, 1898. The United States invades Puerto Rico in what can only be considered a staged war. 'Remember the Maine.' After that, the United States named Puerto Rico a commonwealth. It remains United States territory to this day.
Got the issue yet? 24 national teams. Puerto Rico defeats the United States. Really?
Congratulations to Mr. Martin Brodeur of the New Jersey Devils who tied his childhood idol, Mr. Patrick Roy, with 551 wins this evening in his native Montreal. The 36 year old future hall of famer has played his entire career with the Devils. Although a true feat in this day and age, it's lessened by the fact that it's Jersey...
Can I ask a question about March Madness? Why is it that before the big dance, there are as many upsets as there are expected victories? Case in point: Mississippi State defeats LSU. Florida State beats UNC. Ohio State downs Michigan State. USC handles Arizona State. I don't get it.
Come one, come all to the freshman season for the Seattle Sounders Football Club. The third team to have had the Sounders name, they have already sold more season tickets than their destitute baseball neighbors at Safeco. I shall report out after attending my first game.
I leave you today without a specific question of the week as nothing I've recently read in the sporting world makes me particularly passionate or argumentative.
Trivia of the week: Staying with the UCONN theme, I pose to you UCONN fans and to you NCAA basketball enthusiasts a question associated with a game that I remember all too well. Who threw the ball AND to whom was the ball thrown for 'The Shot' that elevated the Huskies to the Elite 8 for the first time in their history?
Thrower: Scott Burrell; Throwee and Game Winning Shooter: Tate George
3 hours, 46 minutes. 209 shots. 93 free throws attempted. 58 3-pointers attempted. 66 fouls committed. No technical fouls. No flagrant fouls. 244 points scored. 6 overtimes. These are the statistics associated with an epic game by any standards. The second longest game in Big East NCAA basketball history.
And I missed it thanks to the PDDS deployment. Oy!
Trivia of the week: Staying with the UCONN theme, I pose to you UCONN fans and to you NCAA basketball enthusiasts a question associated with a game that I remember all too well. Who threw the ball AND to whom was the ball thrown for 'The Shot' that elevated the Huskies to the Elite 8 for the first time in their history?
Mr. Julius Peterson the 31 year old linebacker formerly of the San Francisco 49ers and now also of the Seattle Seahawks has been traded to the Detroit LieDowns for lineman Cory Redding and a 5th round pick. Although an expensive commodity and a 31 year old, Peterson was the only Seahawk in the Pro Bowl last year, not to mention the fact that he rounded out a rather good linebacking corp with Hill and Tatupu. I'm certain the Seahawks will miss Mr. Peterson. And Detroit will have a quality linebacker.
Good luck to Mr. Andre Smith. After a rather appalling display at the NFL combine, Mr. Smith might want to consider his options for the future. The UFL. Returning to school to finish his degree. Or begging some NFL team to allow him to carry water to all of those who completely outplayed him.
I wrote last week about the World Baseball Classic. And I told you that there are approximately 24 national teams competing. In today's first game, for instance, Venezuela downed the Dutch 3-1. And in the second game, Puerto Rico lambasted the United States 11-1. Does anyone else see the issue here?
It begins November 19, 1493. Christopher Columbus arrives. He names the island San Juan Bautista (Saint John the Baptist). The island later becomes known as Puerto Rico (rich port) and the capital is named San Juan. A Spanish colony. Fast forward approximately 405 years. It is July 25, 1898. The United States invades Puerto Rico in what can only be considered a staged war. 'Remember the Maine.' After that, the United States named Puerto Rico a commonwealth. It remains United States territory to this day.
Got the issue yet? 24 national teams. Puerto Rico defeats the United States. Really?
Congratulations to Mr. Martin Brodeur of the New Jersey Devils who tied his childhood idol, Mr. Patrick Roy, with 551 wins this evening in his native Montreal. The 36 year old future hall of famer has played his entire career with the Devils. Although a true feat in this day and age, it's lessened by the fact that it's Jersey...
Can I ask a question about March Madness? Why is it that before the big dance, there are as many upsets as there are expected victories? Case in point: Mississippi State defeats LSU. Florida State beats UNC. Ohio State downs Michigan State. USC handles Arizona State. I don't get it.
Come one, come all to the freshman season for the Seattle Sounders Football Club. The third team to have had the Sounders name, they have already sold more season tickets than their destitute baseball neighbors at Safeco. I shall report out after attending my first game.
I leave you today without a specific question of the week as nothing I've recently read in the sporting world makes me particularly passionate or argumentative.
Trivia of the week: Staying with the UCONN theme, I pose to you UCONN fans and to you NCAA basketball enthusiasts a question associated with a game that I remember all too well. Who threw the ball AND to whom was the ball thrown for 'The Shot' that elevated the Huskies to the Elite 8 for the first time in their history?
Thrower: Scott Burrell; Throwee and Game Winning Shooter: Tate George
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Potluck: Haiku
I drew a perfect
circle in the sand with a
stick. The world ended.
A leaping leper
is in serious danger
of losing himself.
The road fell; the wind
and cold rain burned my face. God
held me in His palm.
circle in the sand with a
stick. The world ended.
A leaping leper
is in serious danger
of losing himself.
The road fell; the wind
and cold rain burned my face. God
held me in His palm.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
3WW (Cajole, Recluse, Temper): Report Enhancement
I clasped the rigid handle and tried to gain entry. Locked, it seemed. Thank God, I thought. An excuse I could take back to my boss. I turned to walk back through the vacant corridor when a young woman rounded the corner, almost colliding with me. My boss, as it turned out.
‘Did you speak to him?’ she asked.
‘No, door’s locked’ I replied.
‘Locked? That’s odd.’ She walked to the door and gave a push. The heavy wooden slab swung open to reveal a room absent the light of most normal corporate offices.
‘Doesn’t seem locked to me,’ she answered sarcastically. ‘He’s towards the back.’ She was about to leave but turned and said, ‘He has a temper.’ With that, she was gone.
I pushed the door open sending bastard rays of fluorescent light into the darkened chamber. As the door hinged shut, I noticed the jungle of cubicles and computer parts strewn about the room. This room had obviously housed about a half dozen people in the company’s prime, but the number had dwindled until there remained but one recluse tucked in a back corner.
No one claimed to have seen him apart from his manager. He was said to arrive earlier and leave later than any employee. In fact, there was talk that he never really left at all. But for such a technology-heavy shop, the main systems never seemed to fail, thanks to him – our final information technology resource.
The faint glow of a monitor shown dully from behind a cubicle wall. I scuffed my shoes along the worn carpet to forewarn him of my approach, as if the door wasn’t enough. I stepped deliberately from behind the cubicle wall to find a dark haired, cleanly shaven young man of no more than thirty years.
‘Hi,’ I said in the happiest voice I could find in such a dark place.
No response. I heard the muffled rhythms of music.
‘Hello’ I said again. Louder this time.
This second greeting startled him. He leapt from his chair with surprising agility, the ear plugs falling to the ground.
‘What the hell do you want?’ he screamed twice as loudly as was necessary in such a space.
‘Uh… um… well’
‘Oh, spit it out!’
I noted the unnatural glow of his bleach-white face. I had no idea how to cajole the likes of this apparent maniac. ‘I… I was told you would know how to update the… um… reconciliation report.’
‘What do you idiots want now?’ he retorted, sitting down at his desk. His fingers flew over the keyboard; the cursor flailing across the screen with reckless abandon.
‘Can you um… add a drop down so we can uh… sort by customer?’
‘Yeah, whatever.’ Again, his hands magically glided across the keys. ‘This look like what you want?’
I gazed at the screen, feeling somehow dirty in doing so. ‘Um… yeah, that looks fine.’
‘Good, then get the hell out of my room. And never come back. Send someone with balls next time. Like that boss of yours.’
I escaped the darkness and returned to my cubicle. I pulled up the report and noticed the fully functional, perfectly placed drop-down menu. The report went out to my boss by day’s end.
‘Did you speak to him?’ she asked.
‘No, door’s locked’ I replied.
‘Locked? That’s odd.’ She walked to the door and gave a push. The heavy wooden slab swung open to reveal a room absent the light of most normal corporate offices.
‘Doesn’t seem locked to me,’ she answered sarcastically. ‘He’s towards the back.’ She was about to leave but turned and said, ‘He has a temper.’ With that, she was gone.
I pushed the door open sending bastard rays of fluorescent light into the darkened chamber. As the door hinged shut, I noticed the jungle of cubicles and computer parts strewn about the room. This room had obviously housed about a half dozen people in the company’s prime, but the number had dwindled until there remained but one recluse tucked in a back corner.
No one claimed to have seen him apart from his manager. He was said to arrive earlier and leave later than any employee. In fact, there was talk that he never really left at all. But for such a technology-heavy shop, the main systems never seemed to fail, thanks to him – our final information technology resource.
The faint glow of a monitor shown dully from behind a cubicle wall. I scuffed my shoes along the worn carpet to forewarn him of my approach, as if the door wasn’t enough. I stepped deliberately from behind the cubicle wall to find a dark haired, cleanly shaven young man of no more than thirty years.
‘Hi,’ I said in the happiest voice I could find in such a dark place.
No response. I heard the muffled rhythms of music.
‘Hello’ I said again. Louder this time.
This second greeting startled him. He leapt from his chair with surprising agility, the ear plugs falling to the ground.
‘What the hell do you want?’ he screamed twice as loudly as was necessary in such a space.
‘Uh… um… well’
‘Oh, spit it out!’
I noted the unnatural glow of his bleach-white face. I had no idea how to cajole the likes of this apparent maniac. ‘I… I was told you would know how to update the… um… reconciliation report.’
‘What do you idiots want now?’ he retorted, sitting down at his desk. His fingers flew over the keyboard; the cursor flailing across the screen with reckless abandon.
‘Can you um… add a drop down so we can uh… sort by customer?’
‘Yeah, whatever.’ Again, his hands magically glided across the keys. ‘This look like what you want?’
I gazed at the screen, feeling somehow dirty in doing so. ‘Um… yeah, that looks fine.’
‘Good, then get the hell out of my room. And never come back. Send someone with balls next time. Like that boss of yours.’
I escaped the darkness and returned to my cubicle. I pulled up the report and noticed the fully functional, perfectly placed drop-down menu. The report went out to my boss by day’s end.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Video of the Week: 5/8/2009
"We have no captain and no first officer to replace him," says Bones to the members of the crew. "Yes, we do," a confident young man mutters to those within the distance to hear him. Two months remain before we learn the future's history...
Monday, March 9, 2009
Art in All Its Forms: The Watchmen
I have no qualms with admitting that I'm a geek. And you must therefore understand that I had set in my mind that I would see The Watchmen sometime during opening weekend.
No, I did not see it opening night. For those of you familiar with my spending habits, you know that $20 for 2 tickets seems ridiculously rich for my blood type. Instead, Joseph and I ventured to Renton's Landing for a glimpse at the cinematized graphic novel on Saturday afternoon for a mere $8 per ticket.
Before I venture into my review of the film, I shall attempt to explain the significance - from a very high level - of The Watchmen to you who have attempted to ignore the hype. (By the way, if you have, congrats.)
The Watchmen is a graphic novel created by Alan Moore, artist Dave Gibbons, and colorist John Higgins.
Graphic novel: a type of comic book, usually with a lengthy and complex story line similar to those of novels.
In short, this graphic novel deconstructed the superhero archetype by analyzing superheroes' respective impacts in the 1940's and 1960's. Moore, in his alternate history, went so far as to consider how superheroes - had they actually existed in the history of the United States - might have affected World War II and the Cold War, especially Vietnam. The result is a sometimes gritty and altogether fascinating look into the psyches of people who don't quite seem like a superheroes from day to day but who somehow have that ability - if they so choose - to emerge from their own depths to become forces with which to be reckoned.
Enough with the synopsis, how did the unfilmable movie fare?
Let me first say that the hype did it no favors. As with the sequels to The Matrix I think it is fair to say this fell somewhat flat (though certainly not as flat as those sequels). It is, after all, rated R and deals with a dark and complex subject at a time when people don't necessarily want to see dark and complex movies. In addition, it is a geek's movie poorly garbed as a blockbuster. Not to denigrate the geeks that spent a combined $55 million to see it this weekend, mind you, but The Watchmen has never been a mainstream phenomenon. In fact, it seems rather paradoxical that the people who tried to bring this graphic novel - a study in being a complete outcast - to cinema would even attempt to make it a blockbuster. Instead, I think it might have lent itself much better to independent film making. But then it would have been unfilmable because there would have been no budget. Irony of ironies.
That said, I personally enjoyed this film similarly to the way I enjoyed - not surprisingly - V for Vendetta (another Alan Moore comic). As with V there is a layer beneath the daily lives we live. A layer - almost prayerful - asking each of us how we live and why. And I think this movie captured that sentiment. It also interwove the story lines rather well, though did not - as I've been told - do justice to the novel. Does a movie ever really?
The acting?
Billy Crudup in his generated - fully nude - Dr. Manhattan body was somewhat bland. Though expected of the character, it just seemed as though another could have betrayed the emotion a tad better.
Patrick Wilson did Nite Owl justice; I enjoyed watching a 'superhero' who seemed afraid of his own shadow.
Matthew Goode - Ozymandias - was dull and trite. The development of his character seemed rather choppy and even, at times, disconnected.
Malin Akerman - the Silk Spectre - came off too much like a confused prostitute in her black and yellow latex.
Jeffrey Dean Morgan - The Comedian - played his part well. A sad and sordid character, he was able to convey The Comedian's love and hate for the world. A perfect clown, if you take my meaning.
And finally, Rorshach - played by Jackie Earle Haley (of The Bad News Bears fame) - blew everyone else away. I suppose it's easier to play a character that does not compromise, that remains rather static from beginning to end. But he did. And he did it well.
Overall, the movie proved a bit choppy. So much exposition. Necessary since we don't know these characters nearly as well as Batman, Superman, Spiderman, or the X-Men. Also necessary since the graphic novel deals more with their thoughts and development than their actions. But too much for a mainstream audience.
Worth watching? From my perspective, yes. For the special effects, go see a matinee. If special effects don't mean as much to you, wait for the DVD. And then, if you're a geek like me, buy it and watch it over and over again to understand the nuances. If you're not a geek like me, rent it through Netflix, determine whether you're a closet geek, and move forward with your life.
Until next I write...
"No. Not even in the face of Armageddon. Never compromise."
No, I did not see it opening night. For those of you familiar with my spending habits, you know that $20 for 2 tickets seems ridiculously rich for my blood type. Instead, Joseph and I ventured to Renton's Landing for a glimpse at the cinematized graphic novel on Saturday afternoon for a mere $8 per ticket.
Before I venture into my review of the film, I shall attempt to explain the significance - from a very high level - of The Watchmen to you who have attempted to ignore the hype. (By the way, if you have, congrats.)
The Watchmen is a graphic novel created by Alan Moore, artist Dave Gibbons, and colorist John Higgins.
Graphic novel: a type of comic book, usually with a lengthy and complex story line similar to those of novels.
In short, this graphic novel deconstructed the superhero archetype by analyzing superheroes' respective impacts in the 1940's and 1960's. Moore, in his alternate history, went so far as to consider how superheroes - had they actually existed in the history of the United States - might have affected World War II and the Cold War, especially Vietnam. The result is a sometimes gritty and altogether fascinating look into the psyches of people who don't quite seem like a superheroes from day to day but who somehow have that ability - if they so choose - to emerge from their own depths to become forces with which to be reckoned.
Enough with the synopsis, how did the unfilmable movie fare?
Let me first say that the hype did it no favors. As with the sequels to The Matrix I think it is fair to say this fell somewhat flat (though certainly not as flat as those sequels). It is, after all, rated R and deals with a dark and complex subject at a time when people don't necessarily want to see dark and complex movies. In addition, it is a geek's movie poorly garbed as a blockbuster. Not to denigrate the geeks that spent a combined $55 million to see it this weekend, mind you, but The Watchmen has never been a mainstream phenomenon. In fact, it seems rather paradoxical that the people who tried to bring this graphic novel - a study in being a complete outcast - to cinema would even attempt to make it a blockbuster. Instead, I think it might have lent itself much better to independent film making. But then it would have been unfilmable because there would have been no budget. Irony of ironies.
That said, I personally enjoyed this film similarly to the way I enjoyed - not surprisingly - V for Vendetta (another Alan Moore comic). As with V there is a layer beneath the daily lives we live. A layer - almost prayerful - asking each of us how we live and why. And I think this movie captured that sentiment. It also interwove the story lines rather well, though did not - as I've been told - do justice to the novel. Does a movie ever really?
The acting?
Billy Crudup in his generated - fully nude - Dr. Manhattan body was somewhat bland. Though expected of the character, it just seemed as though another could have betrayed the emotion a tad better.
Patrick Wilson did Nite Owl justice; I enjoyed watching a 'superhero' who seemed afraid of his own shadow.
Matthew Goode - Ozymandias - was dull and trite. The development of his character seemed rather choppy and even, at times, disconnected.
Malin Akerman - the Silk Spectre - came off too much like a confused prostitute in her black and yellow latex.
Jeffrey Dean Morgan - The Comedian - played his part well. A sad and sordid character, he was able to convey The Comedian's love and hate for the world. A perfect clown, if you take my meaning.
And finally, Rorshach - played by Jackie Earle Haley (of The Bad News Bears fame) - blew everyone else away. I suppose it's easier to play a character that does not compromise, that remains rather static from beginning to end. But he did. And he did it well.
Overall, the movie proved a bit choppy. So much exposition. Necessary since we don't know these characters nearly as well as Batman, Superman, Spiderman, or the X-Men. Also necessary since the graphic novel deals more with their thoughts and development than their actions. But too much for a mainstream audience.
Worth watching? From my perspective, yes. For the special effects, go see a matinee. If special effects don't mean as much to you, wait for the DVD. And then, if you're a geek like me, buy it and watch it over and over again to understand the nuances. If you're not a geek like me, rent it through Netflix, determine whether you're a closet geek, and move forward with your life.
Until next I write...
"No. Not even in the face of Armageddon. Never compromise."
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Sunday Scribblings: American Sentence Statements
From Sunday Scribblings: 'What pressing matter do you have weighing on your mind? What would you like to say to someone? What would you like to say to the world? Or to yourself? What do you think is important enough to make people listen? What would make you say, "Listen up because this is important?"'
He spoke a rare truth to the world, and the world snickered at his wardrobe.
‘Stop using my credit cards’ the beleaguered father begged his daughter.
What you believe happens to you after death determines how you live.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Sporting Rants and Raves: March 7, 2009
Happy 59th birthday to Mr. Franco Harris and happy 57th birthday to Mr. Lynn Swann. Harris and Swann proved to be 2 significant contributors to the Steelers dynasty of the late 1970s. In fact, Harris and Swann both achieved the distinction of Super Bowl MVP in consecutive years (Super Bowl IX - 1974, Super Bowl X - 1975).
Trivia of the week: Can you name the team with which Franco Harris ended his career? The year in which he did so?
Staying on the Pittsburgh theme, I have some sad news to report to all those Huskies fans of the Northeastern variety. Cats proved better than dogs in this one. And it seems that Pittsburgh deserves the #1 spot in the country as well as the #1 overall spot in the tourney. How many of the UCONN faithful miss Mr. Jerome Dyson right about now?
Not all cats prevailed over their doggy rivals on this day. Approximately 3000 miles away the other Huskies defeated the WSU Cougars to become the first University of Washington basketball team to win a championship in 56 years. Congratulations to the only college / professional team in the Seattle area to do anything in the last 2 years.
'But Junior's back' I hear from a few random voices convinced that Griffey will somehow lift the M's from the obscurity of its condition since Sweet Lou departed for greener pastures.
Umm, okay...
Speaking of old M's players, what do you think about Mr. Alex Rodriguez and his torn labrum? Do you think it's from a lack of steroids? I don't. Don't misunderstand me. I still wish he were not a Yankee. But this torn labrum seems an issue unrelated to his involvement with steroids.
In other news, The Rod - there really is only one of him, right? - will miss the World Baseball Classic. Ever heard of it? I'm certain some of you have. Any idea what the difference between this and, say, the Baseball World Cup is? No, I didn't know there was a Baseball World Cup either before looking it up. To clear things up a bit... The World Baseball Classic includes approximately 24 teams, began in March 2006, includes national teams that contain only natives of those countries with teams, and will be played every 4 years after this year. There has only been 1 winner thus far (since there's only been 1 thus far) - the Japanese.
The Baseball World Cup includes approximately 36 teams, began in 1938 (between the United States and Great Britain), includes national teams that contain only natives of those countries with teams, and is played every 2 years.
The difference? The World Baseball Classic includes professional players. The Baseball World Cup does not. Make sense?
Doesn't to me either...
Moving on to another prima donna. You all know to whom I refer. The cancerous to. Okay, TO. Better? This morning, I had decided to write a great deal more about Mr. Owens and the ridiculousness of his situation. But then I return from the movies and find that he has signed with the Buffalo Bills. First of all, wha? Second of all, I'm glad to get him out of the NFC altogether. Maybe the AFC will better suit his shenanigans. Third of all, I'd like to see what Ryan, Sparano, and Belichick do with him. Fourth of all, wha?
A tangential point... I do not like the Dallas Cowboys. I can't foresee a time when I will like the Dallas Cowboys. I figure if I rooted against them with Parcells at the helm, I'll root against them no matter what. But, with their release of TO, Pacman, Tank, and the Horsecollarer, I can honestly consider respecting them again. Not liking, mind you. Just respecting...
I will stay on the NFL theme for a moment and remember Mr. Marquis Cooper and Mr. Corey Smith. The searches - both official by the Coast Guard and private by the families - have ceased. And thus, we celebrate their lives and hope for their entry into heaven.
Moving on to lighter news. Mr. Charles Barkley checked into jail today to serve his 3-day sentence for DUI. Hopefully, he and others will learn from the mistake. But I don't bring this up because of his DUI. Nor for his basketball prowess. Instead, I would like to share with you a video of Barkley swinging a golf club. My thanks go out to Steve for the introduction to this video:
Another video? Okay, here you go. Mr. Chris Paul of the New Orleans Hornets makes a risky decision and gets away with it...
Moving on to college football. You have heard of Bobby Bowden, methinks. If not, he's the head football coach for the Florida State Seminoles. At 382 wins, he trails Penn State's Joe Paterno by only 1 and is therefore the second winningest coach in history. The point? Because of an academic cheating scandal at Florida State from fall 2006 through summer 2007, Bowden may lose 14 victories if the NCAA decides to make every team associated with the 61 guilty parties during that time forfeit every one of the winning contests with which they were involved. A travesty.
The question of the week. Why is cheating such a travesty? No, this isn't a difficult one. I have no trick answer for this question. The answer is obvious. Cheating gets you immediate pleasure and extended pain. In this specific instance, cheating might have helped some of these athletes - who think that athletics is the end all, be all - stay eligible to help win a few games. In the case of football - at least - the eligibility of these students directly impacted Florida State's bottom line as well. But, it didn't encourage the students to think or to challenge themselves.
How many of those students are playing sports professionally at this moment? I'd guess not many. Then, where are they? Some are out in the world. And they believe in cheating. Cheating on the creation of some software application that has a major flaw and allows for a hacker to infiltrate the system, thus stealing your SSN and credit card numbers. Cheating on the manufacturing of a carseat that accidentally kills an infant. The old man often told me, 'How you practice is how you play.' If that's how those athletes - and even those that helped them to cheat - play after practicing this behavior in college, then this world's just a little worse off because of them.
Diatribe over. Soap box scooted back beneath the desk...
Trivia of the week: Can you name the team with which Franco Harris ended his career? The year in which he did so? - Seattle Seahawks, 1984
Trivia of the week: Can you name the team with which Franco Harris ended his career? The year in which he did so?
Staying on the Pittsburgh theme, I have some sad news to report to all those Huskies fans of the Northeastern variety. Cats proved better than dogs in this one. And it seems that Pittsburgh deserves the #1 spot in the country as well as the #1 overall spot in the tourney. How many of the UCONN faithful miss Mr. Jerome Dyson right about now?
Not all cats prevailed over their doggy rivals on this day. Approximately 3000 miles away the other Huskies defeated the WSU Cougars to become the first University of Washington basketball team to win a championship in 56 years. Congratulations to the only college / professional team in the Seattle area to do anything in the last 2 years.
'But Junior's back' I hear from a few random voices convinced that Griffey will somehow lift the M's from the obscurity of its condition since Sweet Lou departed for greener pastures.
Umm, okay...
Speaking of old M's players, what do you think about Mr. Alex Rodriguez and his torn labrum? Do you think it's from a lack of steroids? I don't. Don't misunderstand me. I still wish he were not a Yankee. But this torn labrum seems an issue unrelated to his involvement with steroids.
In other news, The Rod - there really is only one of him, right? - will miss the World Baseball Classic. Ever heard of it? I'm certain some of you have. Any idea what the difference between this and, say, the Baseball World Cup is? No, I didn't know there was a Baseball World Cup either before looking it up. To clear things up a bit... The World Baseball Classic includes approximately 24 teams, began in March 2006, includes national teams that contain only natives of those countries with teams, and will be played every 4 years after this year. There has only been 1 winner thus far (since there's only been 1 thus far) - the Japanese.
The Baseball World Cup includes approximately 36 teams, began in 1938 (between the United States and Great Britain), includes national teams that contain only natives of those countries with teams, and is played every 2 years.
The difference? The World Baseball Classic includes professional players. The Baseball World Cup does not. Make sense?
Doesn't to me either...
Moving on to another prima donna. You all know to whom I refer. The cancerous to. Okay, TO. Better? This morning, I had decided to write a great deal more about Mr. Owens and the ridiculousness of his situation. But then I return from the movies and find that he has signed with the Buffalo Bills. First of all, wha? Second of all, I'm glad to get him out of the NFC altogether. Maybe the AFC will better suit his shenanigans. Third of all, I'd like to see what Ryan, Sparano, and Belichick do with him. Fourth of all, wha?
A tangential point... I do not like the Dallas Cowboys. I can't foresee a time when I will like the Dallas Cowboys. I figure if I rooted against them with Parcells at the helm, I'll root against them no matter what. But, with their release of TO, Pacman, Tank, and the Horsecollarer, I can honestly consider respecting them again. Not liking, mind you. Just respecting...
I will stay on the NFL theme for a moment and remember Mr. Marquis Cooper and Mr. Corey Smith. The searches - both official by the Coast Guard and private by the families - have ceased. And thus, we celebrate their lives and hope for their entry into heaven.
Moving on to lighter news. Mr. Charles Barkley checked into jail today to serve his 3-day sentence for DUI. Hopefully, he and others will learn from the mistake. But I don't bring this up because of his DUI. Nor for his basketball prowess. Instead, I would like to share with you a video of Barkley swinging a golf club. My thanks go out to Steve for the introduction to this video:
Another video? Okay, here you go. Mr. Chris Paul of the New Orleans Hornets makes a risky decision and gets away with it...
Moving on to college football. You have heard of Bobby Bowden, methinks. If not, he's the head football coach for the Florida State Seminoles. At 382 wins, he trails Penn State's Joe Paterno by only 1 and is therefore the second winningest coach in history. The point? Because of an academic cheating scandal at Florida State from fall 2006 through summer 2007, Bowden may lose 14 victories if the NCAA decides to make every team associated with the 61 guilty parties during that time forfeit every one of the winning contests with which they were involved. A travesty.
The question of the week. Why is cheating such a travesty? No, this isn't a difficult one. I have no trick answer for this question. The answer is obvious. Cheating gets you immediate pleasure and extended pain. In this specific instance, cheating might have helped some of these athletes - who think that athletics is the end all, be all - stay eligible to help win a few games. In the case of football - at least - the eligibility of these students directly impacted Florida State's bottom line as well. But, it didn't encourage the students to think or to challenge themselves.
How many of those students are playing sports professionally at this moment? I'd guess not many. Then, where are they? Some are out in the world. And they believe in cheating. Cheating on the creation of some software application that has a major flaw and allows for a hacker to infiltrate the system, thus stealing your SSN and credit card numbers. Cheating on the manufacturing of a carseat that accidentally kills an infant. The old man often told me, 'How you practice is how you play.' If that's how those athletes - and even those that helped them to cheat - play after practicing this behavior in college, then this world's just a little worse off because of them.
Diatribe over. Soap box scooted back beneath the desk...
Trivia of the week: Can you name the team with which Franco Harris ended his career? The year in which he did so? - Seattle Seahawks, 1984
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Another Video of the Week: Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
I decided that I wasn't altogether pleased with Tuesday's video this week. And it was because I didn't go with my first instinct. I will therefore present to you a 23 second video that will make all of you laugh. Yes, all of you...
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
3WW: Sad Old Soul (Avenge, Genuine, Ramble)
I remember everything about that day. The dull, dusty heat lingered like a rabid dog’s bad breath. I threw the dolls from my bed and lay there; the perspiration formed in droplets along my forehead and rolled into small puddles by my shoulders. I heard my father’s rambling voice below, his Midwestern drawl reverberating through the paper-thin walls. My door opened slowly, quietly. I pretended to be asleep. There wafted from the doorway the alcoholic mustiness of my great uncle George. A sad old soul plagued with Alzheimer’s he often spoke to me as he did to his wife when she was alive, or so I was told. Uncle George pulled down his pants leaving himself fully exposed and climbed on me, his ancient member flaccid as it touched my inner thigh. He wept the genuine tears of lost love and whispered my great aunt’s name into my ear. After a time his body rolled off the bed; his feet touched the wooden floor. He pulled his trousers up around his thinning waist and exited as quietly as he had entered. The next morning, my mother found him dead in his small twin bed. His dead wife’s namesake avenged.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Video of the Week: One
Every so often, I need a pick me up. I immediately enter a 'y' in Firefox's address line and click 'youtube'. Then I choose the video that reenergizes me. A performance by U2 and Mary J. Blige. Not necessarily my favorite performers of all time. But this song certainly qualifies as one of my favorites.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Art in All its Forms: Tyler Perry's Madea Goes to Jail
Joseph and I ventured to The Landing in Renton this past weekend. I needed cleats. And Joseph wanted to see Tyler Perry's Madea Goes to Jail.
We hunkered down in the exceptionally comfortable chairs - though for an $8.00 matinee ticket they better be comfortable - and watched the lights dim. We watched the trailers. Something about a witch in a mountain with the Dwayne formerly known as the rock. A story about some haunted house in northern Connecticut. And when the movie trailer announcer guy said Connecticut, Joseph got all excited and nudged me given that I am a Connecticutian after all. There were a few other forgettable movies introduced, but obviously nothing in which I had an interest.
Then there was the movie. Now, mind you, I didn't really want to see Madea go to jail. Not that I care all that much about Madea. I mean, whether she goes to jail or not. Oh, you know what I mean.
I saw that the critics had given the movie a C. I also understood that this movie would most likely be uneven, tenuous in places, ridiculous in others, and somewhat glib overall. Let's face it, a 6'6" man dressed as an old woman acting as the comedic conscience of a middle class African-American family is just asking to fall on its face. Not to mention the fact that Derek Luke did not play a lawyer well. And I just can't get past Rudy Huckleberry being a prostitute.
With all that said, however, the movie wasn't a complete failure. In fact I don't think I'd call it a failure at all. Because it doesn't take itself too seriously. It's a morality play that laughs at itself and gets away with it. Madea is funny. As well as Brown in his outfits and Uncle Joe constantly smoking weed. And though Luke and Knight Pulliam just don't feel right in their respective roles, they still manage to deliver the Christian message for which Tyler Perry is known.
Would I spend another $8.00 to see a movie of this caliber? If Joseph is adamant, I may. But not if I had my choice. Still, I do not wish for those 2 hours of my life back. And I laughed, something I realize I do too infrequently.
For those of you who have never seen a Tyler Perry production. I'd suggest you see Diary of a Mad Black Woman or Family Reunion. Or you can see any of his plays on DVD.
We hunkered down in the exceptionally comfortable chairs - though for an $8.00 matinee ticket they better be comfortable - and watched the lights dim. We watched the trailers. Something about a witch in a mountain with the Dwayne formerly known as the rock. A story about some haunted house in northern Connecticut. And when the movie trailer announcer guy said Connecticut, Joseph got all excited and nudged me given that I am a Connecticutian after all. There were a few other forgettable movies introduced, but obviously nothing in which I had an interest.
Then there was the movie. Now, mind you, I didn't really want to see Madea go to jail. Not that I care all that much about Madea. I mean, whether she goes to jail or not. Oh, you know what I mean.
I saw that the critics had given the movie a C. I also understood that this movie would most likely be uneven, tenuous in places, ridiculous in others, and somewhat glib overall. Let's face it, a 6'6" man dressed as an old woman acting as the comedic conscience of a middle class African-American family is just asking to fall on its face. Not to mention the fact that Derek Luke did not play a lawyer well. And I just can't get past Rudy Huckleberry being a prostitute.
With all that said, however, the movie wasn't a complete failure. In fact I don't think I'd call it a failure at all. Because it doesn't take itself too seriously. It's a morality play that laughs at itself and gets away with it. Madea is funny. As well as Brown in his outfits and Uncle Joe constantly smoking weed. And though Luke and Knight Pulliam just don't feel right in their respective roles, they still manage to deliver the Christian message for which Tyler Perry is known.
Would I spend another $8.00 to see a movie of this caliber? If Joseph is adamant, I may. But not if I had my choice. Still, I do not wish for those 2 hours of my life back. And I laughed, something I realize I do too infrequently.
For those of you who have never seen a Tyler Perry production. I'd suggest you see Diary of a Mad Black Woman or Family Reunion. Or you can see any of his plays on DVD.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Sunday Scribblings: Lost American Sentences
American Sentences: They are haiku-length poems that Allen Ginsburg suggested be limited to 17 syllables, like haiku in Japanese and like the Heart Sutra in Buddhism. The following two sentences are such American Sentences of 17 syllables.
The devil sits atop the steeple eying lost souls for his stockpile.
I found myself utterly lost in the dark folds of the mountain’s flab.
A lost book of the Bible is neither lost nor part of the Bible.
The devil sits atop the steeple eying lost souls for his stockpile.
I found myself utterly lost in the dark folds of the mountain’s flab.
A lost book of the Bible is neither lost nor part of the Bible.
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