This says it...

...rather well.

http://www.startribune.com/stories/1519/5427823.html

Friday PM

My eyes have sunk into my head by about an inch. I am looking out at this screen through a tunnel of exhausted, darkened flesh. I want nothing more right now than a cool breeze, a rum and coke, and some hopelessly silly humor. I'd love a long weekend of slow pace, and minor but great achievements, like the garage being half emptied. It would also be nice to go out to Drake's Beach with My Lovely Wife and The Little Buccaneer. He's never seen the ocean up close, never seen the waves break or had cold sea foam wash over his toes. He loves the water so perhaps he'll take to the beach like a gull. Who knows? Perhaps we are raising the next Laird Hamilton, but don't know it yet. Or, he could be like his old Dad was as a little kid, and get a huge rise out of running from the freezing cold water as it runs quickly up the beach. In any case, I would be happy if he just dug the sand, in all the ways you can dig something. Dig? Crazy.

"Once upon a Time,
In the Land of Ooopapadow...."

- Jazzbo Collins -

Uncle Fester

My head feels like it's' in a vice. I have a cold. Not a bad one as colds go, but I only get about one a year, so they have an impact. I feel as though I'm sitting in a hot room with a giant holding my head in his two hands and just pressing them together. Everytime I think of this, I'm reminded of Uncle Fester on the Addams Family TV show and how he used to put his head in a press and have Lurch turn the wheel until the "Pop!" was heard. Then he'd say "That's great, Lurch!"

I stayed home from work a couple of days back and had that great feeling I used to get in grammar school when I had a cold and could just stay home and play. I didn't sip coffee and surf the net back then, but doing that two days ago sufficed for the morning. Sure, I could've done that at work. The mosheen is better, faster and has a bigger screen. But why? I sounded like hell, and was blasting indescribable things from my bronchial tract all over the area. At home, all I had to do was get my own goodies, and lean down and scratch the dog behind the ears now and again. He was into it until he noticed something furry in the backyard, then all hell broke loose. I got him out just before the back door gave way. He's a good dog, though, and large. I'm pretty sure that anyone who broke in would regret it in a hurry.

I done been tagged!

I've been tagged by Hip because he likes to harass me. How nice! So I gotta lis a few things heah!

Total volume of music files on my computer?

I have no idea. I don't even keep track. I just copy cds into a media library and make mixes and ride through my job on wings of song. Who cares how much as long as its a lot?

The last CD I bought was:

Without a Net - Grateful Dead

Song playing right now:

Up Around the Bend by Creedence. I must have my Creedence, just about everyday.

Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me (in no particular order):

Up Around the Bend - CCR
Brown-eyed Girl - Van Morrison
Cast Your Fate to the Wind - by anyone. Something about that melody has completely burrowed into me.
La Mer - Charles Trenet (or Beyond the Sea Bobby Darin) Again, the melody....
Semper Fidelis - US Marine Band. Sousa swings as hard as anyone, and I grew up in the Corps.
This Time its Real - Tower of Power. So I listed six. So sue me. Five ain't enough. Six ain't enough, but I'll stop there.

Which 5 people are you passing this baton to, and why?

Just two. Roy, because I don't think he got it yet, and he's a righteous picker, and Wiggy because I'd like to read what she says. Otherwise, I don't really know anyone here...yet. Ones I'd pass it to already passed it to me, or got it passed to them. I's behind the curve here. So there we are.

Oil for Food...HAH!

Is this part of the March to Democracy? I guess you could cynically rationalize this as assisting the Iraqi people, even though everyone knew that Saddam was pocketing the proceeds with the Iraqi people still hanging off the shit end of the stick. I put this in the same category as Halliburton (then headed by Dick Cheney) subsidiaries doing business with Saddam Hussein at the height of sanctions. It is a stark reminder of the hypocritical nature of the thing our government has involved us in. It also leaves me questioning even more why we went to war. What was the real reason? First we facilitate the machinations of Saddam, going back decades, making major bucks off him. Then we whack him for invading our ally, then we make more billions of dollars off him. Then we whack him again, for good, for . . . what? The inspectors were doing the job, so it wasn't as though he wouldn't let them back in, he didn't have WMD and they basically knew that before the trigger was pulled, and he wasn't part of the 9/11 plot. So what was the real reason?

Mellow, Man...

...don't harsh my mellow. Like...wowwww.

What a fine day it turned out to be. After reading with mounting, teeth grinding fury more about our devious administration, I somehow managed to lay it all aside and flow into the day. I became part of it, as it were. When swimming I imagine myself as something like an oil slick on the surface. I try to become part of the upper layer of water. It's uncanny that whenever I manage to do that, my hips rise, I rotate better, and any strain or tension disappears. In fact I speed up, which ain't saying much, but still... The world becomes a bright blue thing accompanied by a gentle bubbling sound. Now and then a human torpedo passes by soundlessly, not seeming to move at all, yet rapidly growing smaller as they move down the line.

So I tried this today in the office and it worked like a charm. Things to seemed to flow past me as I flowed past them. Somehow, before they disappeared, I completed the task. Why, oh why, can't I do this everyday? Could it be that it only works on Friday the 13th? Does it only happen with a new moon? Does it only happen at the end of the semester? Is it an ancient technique that I have actually stumbled upon, where if I develop it enough I can disappear at will?

Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice...

Here's a piece from the Washington Post, via the SF Chronicle. Here's the memo in question.

More evidence of heartless abuse of power, of lying out right to the American people on an issue of life and death, based on some kind of megalomaniacal power/resource grab and perhaps other motivations as well which may have nothing to do with politics or national resources.

Well, there is no security there now such that the resources can be tapped. Iraq isn't paying for its reconstruction, we are. Even though in May of 2003 our goofy child president said major combat operations had ended in Iraq, there is a Marine regimental combat team engaged in a major operation in NW Iraq, to try to whack the insurgency near the taproot, two years later.

Of course, one can say, "Well, of course things are fucked up. It's war, Man!" Uh huh. A war that didn't need to be fought; a misplaced effort when the real effort had to be continued elsewhere, when other threats loomed far more dangerous but were less conveniently dealt with. Bush got his war, American and Iraqi families are smaller or gone altogether, and where are we now? Al Qaeda remains, Bin Laden is out there somewhere thinking up his next vicious move, North Korea thumbs its nose at us with probable nucular weapons, Iran does the same but perhaps not with weapons yet but with more proven ties to terrorism than Saddam ever had, and our forces are stretched such that they are beginning to break down. Iraq is a shambles, victimized by corruption even after Saddam was long gone. The American taxpayers dollars have been wasted in the billions and they have been lied to yet again. I could go on and on. I didn't even mention government sanctioned torture or the grinding into the dust of civil liberties in the US.

The whole of the administration that perpetrated and continues to perpetrate the Big Lie should have all their pay and pensions assigned to military families that have lost loved ones in this war. They should have all their stock dividends diverted to the reconstruction of Iraq. They should then be forced to clean the halls of government through which they have trod with small, old toothbrushes and paint thinner to help get rid of the smell. Then they can go home.

I know, it'll never happen. They have screwed us all to the wall and will get away with it. The American people will demand no real accounting and these liars will duck hunt and diddle their money into whatever oblivion awaits them, perhaps while some other administration deals with the Second Korean War.

There are days...

...when I wish I were a large dog. Then I could run around naked and sniff things, and no one would care.

By the way, this Lucas cat's got nuthin'. The last two "Stah Wahz" movies have been rubbish. The third one will be as well. Hang it up George.

Finally A Friday

Indeed, and why am I making an entry? I can't really think of anything to write about. I just figured I better get something up here, or Hip Liz will make me do pushups, and rightly so. I inflicted this thing on the blogosphere, so I better use it, huh?

I miss it, but lately I have been busier than the one-legged man in the ass kicking contest. It just never ends. Well, it does end. The semester ends. Yeah. That. It just doesn't seem like it. My mind lately has gone into that halting mode. I have...a...thought. Almost as though William...SHATNER! has taken over my thought process.

Thank God for Baseball, or "Bay-tall" as Daring Dayton refers to it. I will hopefully sink deep into the televised version tonight, and attend the same Giants vs. Nationals game that Hip will be attending tomorrow. All the bushwah surrounding Barry's knee, and angst over the fortunes of the bullpen will be moot. I will lose myself in the expanse of green and the hum of the crowd. I just want to see the ball rocket across the diamond as Edgardo Alfonzo calmly throws out a runner by half a step, smoothly making a throw that would cripple my shoulder forever. I want to see Omar Vizquel lay out, snag the pill deep in the hole, and still throw the runner out from a sitting position. I almost don't care who wins. I just wanna see it happen.

The Nationals are an interesting story, aside from the shameful tale of political brutality they suffered at the hands of Major League Baseball when they were the Expos, just because of the name. There was a Washington Nationals club that played in the mid-19th century. Then, they were known as the Washington Nationals from 1905 through 1956, even though they were an American League club also known as the Senators. First in war, first in peace and last in the American League.

Right now, my computer is playing the Marine Band playing "Semper Fidelis." I love JP Sousa, particularly "Semper Fidelis." People around here have been somewhat taken aback by this, but to hell with 'em all. Sousa is quintessentially American, and swings waaaay down deep to boot. Besides, it's "The President's Own" playing the music of their greatest conductor. All other considerations evaporate.

Happy Friday, and semper fi'!

Paralysis

I have sat here for one and a half hours doing almost nothing useful. I have sent two brutal emails regarding a certain event or which I have wasted an enormous amount of time in the service of my clientele, and the faculty, only to have equivocation and caprice rule the day. I won't go any further with it. I can't. I'll go stark raving mad and start singing "Le Marseillais" out my window, badly off key.

This place has sucked the motivation out of me. They have attached a vacuum cleaner to my heart and turned it on full.

Maybe I should just get in D. James Brown says he can't get down if he doesn't get in D. Funky D! Down D!

Maybe I should just disappear on some mysterious "errand" and catch up on the latest at the local magazine stand.

Maybe I should set up nine pins at one end of the hallway and organize a match for the staff.

Maybe I should just try to do something, anything, to justify a paycheck that happily just got a bit bigger. I'd really like to. I am not the bitter, hopeless bureaucrat yet. There is still a spark of fair play in there somewhere that tells me I should earn what I get. I should perhaps have a spark-ectomy. It seems to be getting the way of my cavalier time wasting.