Tropical Storm Isaac heads to Bermuda

Troubling but productive

Someone very dear to me and I have been going back and forth a bit about the War in Iraq and terrorism. HIs politics are a bit to the right of mine the way Vern Troyer is a bit shorter than Yao Ming. Okay, we're probably not really that far apart, but on this issue it sure feels like it.

He made the comment, "Terrorism would have increased whether or not we went into Iraq." This drove me crazy because it's like saying, "Crime's going to get worse whether or not we put people to death, so we may as well keep doing it." In both cases, the action's primary justification is to be a deterrant. In both cases, it is not.

An important distinction is that, while the death penalty may not be a deterrant to crime, I'm pretty sure it's not actually creating more criminals. This war is giving people who previously wouldn't have strapped C4 to their bodies and detonated themselves in a crowded marketplace the desire to do so. I have Bill Clinton, General Batiste, Pervez Musharraf, and the Dalai Lama on my side in this argument. I like my company.

Here's the way I see it, tell me if you think I'm wrong:

As far as a "War on Terror," there's nowhere you can draw a line in the sand and say, "Good guys on this side, bad guys over there." The terrorists we should be worried about aren't flocking to Anbar Province to take on the U.S. military head on; they're plotting something big over coffee in a residential neighborhood... perhaps, within the U.S.

You can't fight terrorism the way you can fight invading forces (ah, the good ol' days), because there is, by definition, no front line. You need to fight terrorism like you fight organized crime, because that's what it is. When we decided to take on organized crime, we didn't bomb New Jersey (although, the thought is making me reconsider my position). We fought it the only way it could be fought: infiltration, intelligence, and disruption. Those are the primary tactics we should take against terrorism.

I can't find a way to justify bombing Iraq or killing criminals simply because it makes a handful of people feel better - especially when both are done in our name.

He was funnier on ESPN...

...but, holy shit. This really cuts to the core of my ill will toward the current administration. I can only take so much snake oil before I gag.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm too angry about it all. Then, I think about the fact that if someone were hurting my family and I were not angry, I'd be the worst kind of coward: a coward that tolerates and even enables other cowards.

In the words of the immortal philosopher, Lebowski, the dude does not abide.

Good as Gould

Man, Rex...  You are luh-KEE!  You managed to cancel out your negative with a positive for a net zero point game.   The end result, Robbie Gould beats Ryan Longwell 13-10.  MVP!

Quantum Lighter Theory

There are two types of people in this world: people who lighters move toward, and people from whom lighters move away. In a closed system, all the lighters would end up in the posession of the former, whom I'll call "lighter net-negative." Fortunately, the good people at Bic, and Cricket, and Zippo, etc. continue to produce new lighters and feed them into the sytem.

I, personally, am lighter net-positive, or one of those who seems to emit lighters which quickly bind with the pockets and purses of the lighter net-negative crowd. I live with a lighter net-negative. Back when Laura was smoking, I noticed one day that I had returned to my lighter base state (which is 0 lighters, for a net-positive) and, after some "discussion," got Laura to empty her purse. Inside, there were no less than 14 lighters, many of which had been in my posession as early as that morning. Even still, candles need to be lit. So while the flow has dropped to a trickle of its former self, it is still in effect. I can only surmise that smoking puts an individual into an excited quantum lighter state causing the number of lighters being emitted or bound to rise.

So, I have a proposition for the net-negative crowd. If you look into whatever container you use to hold lighters (pocket, purse, bra... whatever) and you have more than one, ask around for someone who needs a lighter but doesn't have one. Give them the lighter. You'll get more. I'm sure of it.

(Semi)Random Thoughts

• Sometimes, I'm just in the mood for food cooked by people who actually come from Mexico - that's why I go to Panda Express
• I'm thinking about opening a restaurant for dieters where I'll actually eat the food and just describe it to them: "Mmmmm... God! This is really good! You would have loved this!"
• Laura was watching "What Not to Wear" the other night and I realized that if you replaced the "c" with an "nk," host Stacy London would be "Stanky London." I giggled.
  
• Does anyone else find it ironic that one of the companies cited for tainted spinach is named "Natural Selection?"
• This morning, I asked Ellie, "Where's Daddy?" She looked like she was trying to recall something for a couple of seconds, then her face brightened (and, her face gets bright) and she pointed right at me. Best day of my year, so far...
  

Thank God for the Geneva Convention

Mr. Pilsner reminded me with his comment to a couple of posts ago...

I don't know how many of you ever wondered what happens if you don't get out of the car at the end of a Disney ride, but I can tell you first hand.

Mr. Pilsner had moved out to California and my other buddy, Ronnie, and I decided to fly out there for a visit. We rented a convertable Mustang for our trip and were cruising around in it. We decided to check out Hollywood. Hollywood is depressing. You see a lot of people you're pretty sure you recognize from milk cartons and it's dirty. As we were cruising around, an attractive young lady asked us if we could give her a ride. Being young(er) men, we said, "Sure!"

As we were driving around, she said, "I just need to stop by my boyfriend's house, then we can go pick up some of my girlfriends." Being young(er) men, we said, "Cool!" Then, as we were driving around, she kept talking about how she had enough money to give her "boyfriend," and how he was going to be pissed if she didn't have enough money. Being smart(ish) men, it dawned on us, "She's a hooker!" As she gave us directions to her "boyfriend's" house, we exchanged glances and we all knew how it would play out - the second she got inside, we left skidmarks getting away.

Later that trip, we made it to Disneyland. This was my first trip to Disney. I'd always fantasized about it growing up. I even built models of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. God bless Johnny Depp for bringing all that to life for me because, quite frankly, the ride itself is a real let-down when you're in your 20s. The movie was much closer to how I imagined it when I was building those models.

We also went to the Haunted House. This was another of those rides I fantasized about as a young child. Contrary to the Pirates ride (which seemed kinda Showbiz Pizza), the Haunted House ride was pretty cool. So cool, in fact, that Ronnie and I decided not to get out of the car when the ride ended. Eventually, we ended up in a fluorescent light office kind of area where a young woman in Betsy Ross garb was doing paper work. We pretended this was the scariest part of the ride. She pretended we weren't the biggest assholes in the world.

She said, "Alright, you two," and motioned for us to climb out of the car. Then, she started leading us down a series of corridors. I said, "Other people probably do this, huh?" She said, "Yeah... Five-year-olds..."

She led us down a corridor, down a flight of stairs, down another corridor, up a flight of stairs, around a corner, down another corridor, up a small flight of stairs, down a small flight of stairs...

I said, "You're taking us to Disney jail, aren't you?" She said she wasn't, but she probably should. I trembled - God knows what Chip and Dale do to the inmates there...

Finally, we went up another flight of stairs and she opened some crash doors into the sunlight. It seemed terribly bright after being in the 60Hz glow of fluorescents for so long. We hooked up with Mr. Pilsner and went to go get a drink. We talked about how we almost ended up in Tiajuana jail, but that's another post...

Celebrity Encounters (Part VII)

And, this may be the coolest yet...

Buddy George and I met at the Bennigans on Michigan at South Water Street for our usual lunch of Turkey O'Tooles. For those of you unfamiliar with the O'Toole, it's a turkey sandwich on a pretzel roll (similar to Challah bread). I got it in my head that I wanted a burger, but I didn't want to part with that pretzel roll. So, I ordered a burger served on the pretzel roll!

I know, I know... Stop playing God, right? But, it was awesome. That, some french onion soup, and a big-ass diet soda and lunch was a complete success.

When we were done I went to the washroom and on the way back, I heard a very distinct and familiar voice. I looked over and, eating lunch by himself, there was everyone's favorite gay spaceman, George Takei, or Star Trek's Mr. Sulu as you may know him. I would have said something, but I didn't know what to say that wouldn't make the both of us ashamed... "Hey, Sulu. Beam us up some food that doesn't suck?"

I should have recommended the burger with the pretzel roll.

Clean Streets

Cue dramatic music with brass fanfare...

Deep voiced narrator:
"The street cleaner: zamboni of the roadway. These mechanical bison roam the boulevards and avenues of your town. They work tirelessly to improve your quality of life by squirting a little water on the asphalt and then smooshing around the empty cheetos bags and used condoms..."

Seriously... What's the point? I'll tell you what the point is - turning half a city street into easy pickin' for the parking ticket writers. It's like they sneak out in ninja garb and tie the signs to the trees under cover of darkness. You never actually notice them until you get home from work and, by then, there's a bright orange ticket stuck to your window with some sort of uber-glue that can never be removed from the glass.

I remember finding out that DeKalb (and most towns, actually) have a line-item in their budget for parking tickets. I was appalled. Maybe I was appalled because I was a major contributor to that line-item. I may have been my own sub-line-item...

Once, the doorbell rang pretty early in the morning. I pried myself out of bed and went to the door. A couple of cops handed me an envelope and told me it was a summons for unpaid parking tickets. I mumbled, "thanks," mustering as much sarcasm as I could that early in the morning and stumbled back to bed.

Five minutes later, the bell rang again. It was those same cops and they said, "Turns out, there's a warrant out for your arrest."

I believe I said, "Fine... Lemme put some shorts on." After I got dressed, they helped me accessorize my outfit with some really nice bracelets with a chain between them. As I sat cuffed in the back of the squad, the cops started chatting about where they might go to lunch later. I said, "Hey, Guys... Can we figure out what's going on? I need to get to work."

The cop in the passenger seat picked up the radio and made some calls. After a couple of minutes, he said, "Oooh... Big city warrant. It's for sixty-four dollars."

I said, "Is that, like, the bond? Do I actually owe $640?"

He replied, "Nope. You owe sixty-four dollars."

So, I said, "Oh. Can we stop at an ATM on the way?"

He said, "Eh, sure."

So, we pulled up to an ATM on the way to the station. Fortunately, it was my bank so I didn't have to pay any fees on my withdrawal. He let me out of the back seat and I approached the ATM.

"Uhhh..." I said.

"Oh, yeah," said the cop as he undid one of the handcuffs. As I stood there typing in my PIN, I heard a honk and it was a friend driving by. I raised my arm, cuff dangling as I waved.

Once we got to the station, they undid one of the cuffs again and reattached it to a bench. I asked if that was really necessary and if they thought I might pose a flight risk. Apparently, they didn't find the whole situation as funny as I did.

After processing my paper work, they actually fingerprinted me, took my mug shots, and sent me on my way.

"... So, next time you see a wet condom and confetti that was once a parking ticket composting into the tar on your street, remember to say, "Thank you, Mr. Street Cleaner... Thank you."

Random Thoughts

• Ryan Dempster is the Cubs nominee for the Roberto Clemente award. It is a charitable award after all, and we've seen how he likes to give up runs in the top of the ninth...
• ABC mini-series about 9-11 is full of factual inaccuracies and they get called out by Clinton administration officials. Next up, ABC's docudrama about the Civil War where Lincoln frees African-American "tenants" from their overbearing landlords.
• Turns out the Jonbenet guy WAS just really creepy. I still think the parents are, at the very least, involved.
• Our daughter is the cutest insane person I've ever met.
  
• I caught myself thinking, "I guess the Croc Hunter had to get it someday since he kept putting himself in all those dangerous situations," as I was crossing Michigan Avenue against the light while smoking a cigarette.
  
• I just ran spell-check on this and it tried to replace "Dempster" with "Dumpster..."

Op Ed

Now, I'm not historically a one-issue voter. I like to take into account each candidate's entire portfolio of policy and, in the end, make an informed decision as to which candidate's platform most closely matches my own. But ever since I became a zombie, I've been consumed with one burning issue: Braaaaiiinnnnnnssss!

I don't think the zombie vote can be ignored much longer - our numbers are growing. See... Here's how it works with zombies: Say I run into you in a dark alley and you're a little put off by my putrifying flesh. You'll probably run to your car and, wouldn't you know it? Your battery will be dead. I'll flail around slowly for a while until I eventually smash your window. Once I take a big chomp of your frontal lobe, then you're a zombie, too. If eating brains wasn't important to you before this, believe me - it sure will be afterwards.

It's really simplified the electoral process for me. In the past, I might have been concerned with a candidate's personal history, or prior voting record, or even how that tax cut they're proposing might affect me in the long run. No more... Now I just want to feast on the gray matter of the living.

So, in these upcoming elections, candidates will make speeches and meet in debates. Some will put together well-reasoned, compelling arguments about foreign policy, the economy, the environment, or how their rise from poverty qualifies them for office. But, I tell you - the first candidate to take the podium and moan, "Braaiinnss... More brrrraaaaaiiiinnnnnnssss!!! Rahhhhhhhhrrrrr!!!" will have my vote. You had me at "Braaiinnss," buddy... You had me at "Braaiinnss..."