Numb Trolleybus

2010: My Spaced-Out Odyssey

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 01:16:00 +0000

The Christmas season is over.

New Year's... is over. Thankfully.

As usual this season, I had plenty going on for Christmas and absolutely nothing for New Year's Eve, further intensifying my distaste for the occasion and giving me cause to wonder if I'll ever, ever have anywhere to be during the world's biggest annual party.

But I didn't, and like I said last year, if I had to choose between the two, I would invariably pick Christmas, because that's what really matters, for the purposes of this discussion. My brother and his wife flew into town on the 21st and departed on the 31st, and believe you me, there was much food, sleep, and merriment to be had in between. We did things a little bit differently this year, such as having Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve -- something we've never done before -- and as such, The Big Day was infinitely more restful for my poor mom than it usually is, given that all stress was basically off. Normally, we're up around 8:00 a.m. for gifts, and then we all hit the showers and scramble around to get ready in time for the grandparents to arrive for dinner.

And I slept in a bit myself this year. On a given Christmas morning, you might see me up and around as early as 5:30 a.m., putting out last-minute gifts, as well as my brother's yearly treasure hunt -- clues I leave strewn about the house, one leading to the next, the last one pointing the way to a pig-related gift, game, or fun doo-dad. But this year, I didn't even open my eyes until 8:05 a.m., by some bizarre unfolding of events, and I was immediately afraid I'd slept too late. As it turned out, I wouldn't be able to get anyone else out of bed for over another hour, and that gave me all the time I needed to get things in place.

It was just strange waking up after sunrise on Christmas morning, that's all I'm saying. It didn't feel the same; I'm used to sneaking around under the cover of relative darkness.

But today... today, seventeen straight days of vacation, sleep, and utter freedom (to do absolutely nothing) came to an end, and I reported for work at 10:00 a.m. (the usual time for a Monday morning). I wanted to gag. My two-point-five week reprieve from administrative assistant life didn't seem to fly by at the time, but now that it's over, it certainly seems short. I've been heard saying many times over the last few days that I expect this first week back to feel every bit as long as the 17 days I was gone. Day One wasn't bad -- the boss wasn't around for personal reasons and will probably be gone at least tomorrow as well, if not Wednesday -- so I was under precious little pressure. I have a couple of things I'd like to get completely taken care of before he returns, and if I can, there will also be precious little for him to complain about when he does. Other than that, it was just like any ordinary day at work, and for that, I am grateful. In the past, it's been hard to anticipate what I'm going back to when I return from even a three-day weekend, let alone a vacation at Christmas. In another day or two, I'll be completely over having to go back to my life. I am never ready for that, even after Christmas is over.

My brother and his wife mentioned the other night that her dad has two free round-trip airline tickets at his disposal that will expire at the end of February, so if they can get their hands on them, they may be back in town in two short months.

My next possible outing comes at the end of March. My oldest sister mentioned the possibility of me coming to Houston to see them for what amounts to the largest rodeo and concert series in North America, and once I can squeeze the dates out of her, I will start checking into air fares and see what I can work up.

Hope everyone's back safely, warm enough, and happy to be back to work. I can at least say I am two of the three.

Christmas Vacation

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 23:31:00 +0000

I'm back at my local Starbucks location, piping hot Caramel Apple "Spice" on my right, waiting cell phone on my left.

Waiting for what? I'm glad you asked.

My brother, the Pig, and his wife, Girl Pig, should have landed at the airport at 4:53 this afternoon, and Felicity, my cell phone, is waiting ever so patiently for word as to whether I am meeting the group at the restaurant of their choice (let it be Cracker Barrel, please) or at la casa de mis padres. I am hoping for the former, but very nearly counting on the latter. Girl Pig's migraines have been so severe lately that she often spends the entire day in bed, and in fact last week, she drove a car by herself for the first time in over a year.

In the process of writing that meager paragraph, Felicity spoke up and let me know that the group in question had chosen neither of the above options, but rather a Subway sandwich shop in a town next door to my folks' house. I probably have a half hour before they reach the place, so I'll write for a few minutes and then hopefully finish up my Jill Sobule entry, thus far unpublished on the Numb Trolleybus.

I always look forward to the Pigs' visits at Christmas. It seems like they get more diva-esque every year, though, this time around demanding that I not accompany my parents to the airport for fear they would then be "jammed" into the back seat. Never mind that my mom has a five-passenger car -- apparently that's insufficient room to carry, you know, five passengers, at least according to the automobile aficionado I grew up with known at The Pig. But if that's the most fierce battle we have to fight during the ten days the Pigs are in town, I think we'll all have a very merry Christmas.

I'll make a point to write some more over the holiday, keep everyone posted on the Christmas goings-on and not keep you too close to the edges of your respective seats. The hijinks are bound to be plentiful; stay tuned. :)

My new home away from home?

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 00:47:00 +0000

I have my amazing girlfriend to thank for getting me hooked on Starbucks. That's where I'm sitting at the moment, if you were wondering. Now mind you, I still don't drink coffee, and only certain cappuccinos will do, but Starbucks has a Caramel Apple "Spice" that they only serve during the winter months that almost can't be beaten.

I did say almost.

My history with the Caramel Apple "Spice," in quotation marks, goes back to 2005 when I was dating Misery. Back then, the beverage in question was named Caramel Apple Cider, and it was like Christmas in a cup. It was the one thing Misery gave me that amounted to a positive, rather than a paralyzing negative. And now... well apparently, even these things can change.

I realized last week sometime that they would certainly be serving the Caramel Apple Ciders again, and what with all the fuss about my amazing girlfriend getting regular freebies at her Starbucks of choice, I thought it couldn't hurt to stop by my local location and enjoy a warm beverage again -- free, this time, of any lingering memories of the Ghosts of Toxic Girlfriends Past.

I got away with this once or twice.

About the third time this season, I actually paid attention when the barista in question was formulating the thing. And what did I see? A jug of Tree Top apple juice pulled out of the fridge and poured into the mix.

Really? Brand name apple juice I could buy at the grocery store for $1.49 and mix up at home myself for not much more? When the hell did that begin? And that's when the answer occurred to me: it happened at about the same time they became known as the Caramel Apple "Spice." Cheap it up by replacing cider with apple juice, leave the price the same, and change the name slightly... what a racket.

I was one of the few in my circle who was unaware of this change, apparently, no doubt because I'm the least of all Starbucks aficionados within earshot. And it hasn't stopped the string of Caramel Apple "Spice" purchases I've been guilty of the last week or so... just don't think of me as an idiot, that's all I'm saying. :)

Jill Sobule takes Kansas City

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 05:41:00 +0000

And this is what it takes for me to come out of semi-blog retirement, apparently. Last night, at The Record Bar, I had the absolute pleasure of meeting everyone's favorite supermodel, the great Jill Sobule.

As these things usually do, it got off to a pretty inauspicious start.

The Facebook event said the show began at 7:00 p.m. with Erin McKeown opening, and Jill taking the stage around nine. The Record Bar's web site, though, said Erin went on at 9:00 and Jill at 10:00.

That's on a Sunday night, mind you.

Well, if working at the Pitch only taught me one thing -- and it's entirely possible that it did -- it's that the listed showtimes will bite you in the ass. And there's usually no telling how big the crowd will be, especially given some of the off-kilter music I tend to gravitate toward. A folk/pop dyke like Jill is bound to have a following, so with a 9:00 start time in mind (I wasn't putting any stock in Facebook), I left my apartment at 7:15 and took a book.

I got there much quicker than I expected, and the moment I walked in, I spotted Jill herself standing at the bar, flipping through an issue of the Pitch; the bartender on duty was telling her about different restaurants in the immediate area. I grabbed a table near the back of the place (for now), across the way from an attractive but obviously lesbian girl with enormous brown curls; I would find out later that she is Jill's girlfriend and merch coordinator for these small-venue shows. All the tables bordering the stage were already full, of course, but the rest of the place was pretty empty.

I started casing the joint for comfortable seats closer to the stage, because I didn't want to miss a gem one from Miss Sobule once the party started. The closest booth to the stage would do, but it was covered in used dishes and tips for the server. I accosted one of the wait staff to take care of that for me, and once I got sat down, it wasn't but another ten minutes before Jill took the stage.

That's right... at 8:00 sharp. A full hour before the web site indicated. Glad I showed up when I did.

And I did say that Jill took the stage first; despite all listings and available show information, Erin McKeown was not opening for her, it was the other way around. And let me tell you, Jill did not disappoint. She started out with a ditty the two of them had written on he road called "Kansas City, Missouri," since they'd basically taken a simple tune and fit the name of their current tour city into it, making up local lyrics as they went. She included old favorites like "Lucy at the Gym," which is always a treat no matter your mood, and more recent irreplaceables from the new album like "San Francisco" and "Where is Bobbie Gentry?" In fact, upon listening to the new album on my way home, I was shocked at how many tracks she'd played for me (and me alone!) just a couple of hours earlier. But probably the biggest surprise of the evening, at least for moi, was the complete absence of the two songs that really put her on the map back in the mid-1990s: "I Kissed a Girl" and "Supermodel."

Many times did Jill Sobule ask for requests during the show, sometimes outright and other times making it a multiple choice endeavor. Not wanting to be the one-note character in the front row who only knows the artist onstage by one or two songs, I declined to suggest the two overly-obvious hits that one-note characters in the front row suggest and betray the fact that they don't exactly know what they're talking about. I know you're thinking, what did he say? Re-read that if you need to. I did.

Jill was only on for about an hour, but she warned she'd be back as Erin McKeown took the stage. That's when Erin made mention of the Christian side-hug; during her years as a Catholic youth, she was once treated to a video lesson on how to hug someone without... arousing yourself or the other person. And in her estimation, it essentially amounted to putting your arm around someone's shoulders, from one side or the other, and giving a squeeze. Thus, the term "safe Christian side-hug" was born, and she and Jill were more than happy to demonstrate the folly of the lesson for their Kansas City audience.

So Jill made good on her threat to return, because once she got back onstage with Erin, she continued to play a supporting role until the show was actually over. They ended their set with a bang, only to come back almost immediately once it became clear that we wanted an encore, and they treated us to a reprise of "Kansas City, Missouri" before jumping off the stage and heading to the back, both of them high-fiving me as they went by. That was definitely a highlight of the show.

After all shows were finished, I began to gather my things and noticed that both Jill and Erin were making themselves available to chat, sign albums and memorabilia, and otherwise show their social sides to the small-ish audience that had nonetheless ventured out on a Sunday evening to catch a show. My camera and case were presenting problems; I was trying to wrangle them and a book and a coat and the cash I'd thoughtlessly left in my pockets instead of walleting away like I usually do. Out of the corner of my eye (this corner being situated near the top, if you can imagine), I could see Jill slowly making her way across the venue in my general direction, and just as I'd finished getting my belongings situated, I stood up, rounded the corner of the table, and immediately found myself unavoidably face-to-face with Jill fucking Sobule.

Standing there, stopped in front of me. Looking me in the face. No one else within arm's length. Unbelievably, I spoke first.

"Jill... brilliant. Absolutely brilliant show."

Hey, not bad.

She thanked me profusely, sincerely, and eagerly, as though it was the first time she'd ever heard such a thing. She immediately asked what I was reading, having spotted my "souvenir" copy of The Bell Jar, and commented not on having read it herself (I was too flustered to ask if she ever had), but on the fact that it looked old and bound in such a way that made it look like a library book.

Yeah, you could call it that. I didn't give her the story.

I asked if I could take her picture, and she suggested that we hand off the camera to a trustworthy stranger and pose together in a safe Christian side-hug. Later on, after I'd bought her newest album at the merch table from the lesbian girl with enormous brown curls, Jill came directly up to me and asked, "Can I sign that for you?"

To which I replied, after a few false starts, "You're asking me?"

At the same time, she was nice enough to sign one of the promotional posters for that night's show that I'd pulled down off the wall; Erin McKeown also signed. And I could not get over how incredibly nice, social, and accommodating both artists were. Both made themselves completely available to talk to fans and sign autographs whether the merch in question was bought at that show or not. For an artist who's been at this twenty-some years by now, Jill Sobule has not lost sight of the fact that her fan base, extremely niche but equally dedicated, is the reason she's still doing what she loves. I was charmed beyond the telling of it; I just hope, for KC fans' sake, she doesn't let the small crowd prevent her from coming to Kansas City again. It would definitely, definitely be our loss.

a saturday spent in Kirksville

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 18:12:00 +0000

On Saturday, I slept way later than I had intended; I had had a stressful few days and I was absolutely worn out, so it did me quite a bit of good to get the extra sleep. However, 12:40 in the afternoon is a bit late even by my standards, so I got up and around just as fast as I could so as not to spend the bulk of the day shut up in a hotel room.

First I went up to the JavaCo and blogged from there. Around 4:15 or so, I got antsy and thought I'd better start making the rounds if I was going to take advantage of the day. I secured the electronics in my trunk, grabbed my camera, and took a walk around the square (you can see plenty of those photos on Facebook as well). With Samantha's help, I managed to find Stone Creations, the hometown-type craft store at which I've found a number of Kirksville souvenirs, including the "Best Of" and "Friends" key chains I made for Rachael and myself. Only it wasn't Stone Creations anymore, it's now a place called Tranquil Seasons... and they were closed. They closed at 4:00, people... on a Saturday afternoon.

A store on the town square in a college town closes at 4:00 on a Saturday afternoon. They were closed altogether on Sundays and Mondays, so there would be no chance of getting in and seeing the place, maybe grabbing a souvenir for old time's sake. That was another thing I noticed whilst I was there last weekend: very early closing times, and many businesses that were closed altogether on Sundays (with the occasional Monday). Hell, some of the pubs up that direction even closed by 10:00 or 11:00 p.m., and I have to think a lot of that has to do with summer hours and the student population being nearly non-existent this time of year. I just can't imagine them keeping those hours when the town is full of college kids, especially the bars.

From there, I made the rounds: Toons (now called Wrongdaddy's, and which was also closed until the end of the month, presumably geared toward the students' return); the Wooden Nickel, Too Talls' Two, Sarah and Rachael's old house on W. Hildreth, which had received a makeover in the form of some new siding and possibly new windows as well; and the new eight-screen movie theater on the square -- "new" to me because I'd only been there once, and that was in 2002.

Once dusk arrived, I wondered just what exactly I was going to do with myself. The original plan, of course, had been to catch the summer play, but it had closed the night before, and I wouldn't have been able to get to Kirksville in time to see it (I'm not even off work until 6:30, and the play had an 8:00 start time). Toons was closed for another three weeks; the JavaCo closed at 7:00, which meant I couldn't hang out in there all night, much as I might like; and the grease at Pancake City tends to go a long way. So I sucked it up and did the unthinkable on a trip like this: I went to see a movie.

Funny People was the only thing playing that I hadn't seen and had any interest in at all, and honestly, my interest in it wasn't that great. But I went to see it, sans AMC discount, sans the know-how I'm used to at the old theater I used to work at... and it was a phenomenal movie. I found myself glad, as it progressed, that it appeared to have a really long running time, because the emotion of the weekend was starting to get to me, and this was a really nice escape. Turns out the film has a two hour and thirty-five minute running time, which is looooooong for a comedy, but it worked really well, and if I'd written it up on Movie-Popcorn in any kind of timely manner, I would have given it an A-.

It was just past eleven when I got out, so I headed back to campus for a late-night visit. This time, I was able to camp out in the Sunken Gardens for a while, now that the wedding was long over and I didn't have to compete with anyone in that respect. Let me tell you... I had almost forgotten what the ambiance was like in that place at night. Every insect in the world is calling your name, the breeze whispers to you through the trees like an old friend, and a kind of peace completely envelopes you, one that I remember from my college days but that I thought was long lost to me as an adult. The time I spent on the quad and in the Gardens that night proved to me that you can go home again, and when you get there, you may just find that that's where your heart has really been all this time.

Next up, my last day in Kirksville, and why I was so antsy to get on the road already.

it ain't javaco, but it'll do

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 19:41:00 +0000

I have found, and am currently sitting inside, a coffee shop just up the street from where I live. It has a warm, earthy-colored interior, table windows, free wifi, and beverages other than coffee, which means I'll probably be coming here more than just this once.

Certainly it's no Washington Street JavaCo. If nothing else, it doesn't overlook an old-fashioned square in a quaint college town where people still smile at each other. Instead, the view out the front windows includes a Zeke's Paint & Design store complimented by an extremely uneven front parking lot, and a main drag state highway to the west with Golden Corral and Culver's as a backdrop. To its credit, there are three sets of tables/chairs out front for the outdoor crowd, but the sparse landscaping leaves quite a bit to be desired and consists of much more mulch than actual plant life. Altogether, the whole thing seems to scream "suburb," the busy, mundane day-to-day life flying past at or above the posted speed limit while no one inside cares. And yet here I sit, peach smoothie on my right, pretentiously thick book on my left, laptop on my, well, lap, because the window table I had planned to claim was shoplifted at the last minute by an unkempt girl with black-framed glasses, a prominent hickey, and a belly that can't decide if it wants to project pregnancy or just too many trips to the coffee shop for peach smoothies.

So, last weekend. In Kirksville. Something I've been thinking about from the moment I arrived back in town, no surprise there. Because I'm an incredible nerd, I know that last Friday night, the 31st of July 2009, was the ten-year anniversary of the first closing night of The Foreigner -- yes, we had two closing nights, because once the summer run was finished, we came back a month later and put on a four-show run at the end of August for the regular Fall audience. So once I rolled into town and got checked in to the hotel (which had free wifi), the first thing I did was grab my camera and head over to campus for a stroll across the quad and, if I was lucky, a quick toodle into and out of the surely-locked Baldwin Hall, just so I could say I was actually there ten years later.

Well. The building wasn't locked. Not where I was. The inside was lit up like Vegas, there was absolutely no one around, and the Little Theatre was sitting wide open to welcome me back, it seemed.

Only it wasn't the Little Theatre anymore. To my horror (and to this very moment I still may be in relative shock about it), the Baldwin Little Theatre had been decommissioned as a stage theatre and transformed into... a classroom. Yeah... that's just what I said. A fucking classroom, people. The black ceiling and walls had been painted white, the painted-over windows had been cleared, all black curtains had been removed, and worse yet, the stage had apparently been boarded up and sealed off, at least from the front. It is completely inaccessible as it was previously; a chalkboard has been tacked on to whatever fronting they had chosen to turn the fourth wall into an actual wall, burying alive inside the resulting tomb every character, every monologue, and a piece of every actor who ever took the stage in the untold decades it served as a place for theatre and drama to flourish.

I started taking pictures. For Facebook, primarily, because I knew some people would want to see this, and as it turns out, I was right. Check the photo album called Ten Years Hence, and you will see the heartbroken posts of my old Theatre friends lamenting the painting-over of one of the most important parts of our academic and social histories. It occurred to me to write, "Blasny, blasny" on the board before I left (that was one of the most prominent lines in The Foreigner), but there was no chalk to be found in a classroom that had replaced our beloved theatre with a chalkboard. It occurred to me yesterday that I could have stopped off at Wal-Mart for chalk and gone back the next day, but yeah, I didn't think of it until yesterday.

I went back into town for biscuits and gravy at Pancake City, which I was relieved to discover also had free wifi (apparently this is much more common than I realized, having just gotten a laptop myself recently). For some reason, I remember the place being much bigger on the inside (and the outside, for that matter), but I grabbed a corner booth and allowed me to Facebook like crazy in peace, the swarms of flies notwithstanding.

Up next, a Saturday spent in Kirksville sleeping late, revisiting JavaCo, and exploring the town square, which has undergone some changes of its own.

weekend thus far

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 17:30:00 +0000

So I'm back at my favorite JavaCo in Kirksville this early afternoon after a couple of hours on campus taking photos and reliving some last-minute memories even though the buildings are supposed to be closed and locked down (more on that later) and there is absolutely no one on campus that I can see. It's been fantastic having the Netbook along on the trip, but it's been much more tedious to edit/resize photos on it than I anticipated, so I haven't gotten a whole lot of that done so far. I've uploaded a couple to Facebook so far, but I haven't published the album yet; I'll do that once I'm home and have gotten everything right where I want it, captions included.

I'll also have a full rundown of the entire weekend coming soon, tonight or tomorrow night. It's been quiet, relaxing, and very, very tranquil, but it has not been without its share of emotion, and that goes beyond the extensive trip down memory lane I expected and into the realm of such excitement as my doubtlessly illegal entry into campus buildings and my failed attempt to gift myself with a school flag I saw flying on campus. Again, full stories on the way, all. :)

Although it has been a trip down the aforementioned memory lane, one thing it has not been is a trip back in time, as my friend Briana suggested. Everywhere I looked, I was reminded that it is not 1999 anymore. For starters, The Shack, aka The Love Shack, aka Mathilda's Love Shack, was the very center of the Theatre People's social universe when I was at Truman, and it was torn down, along with that entire row of houses, sometime around 2002-2003, as I remember. It turns out I have been to Kirksville since Rachael graduated, it was to make one or two random deliveries for the Red Cross, but they weren't meaningful visits; it was during one of those trips that I stopped by campus and found The Shack to be missing, as in not there anymore.

And since that was Landmark #1 on my memory playlist, the new Ruth Town Museum and Visitor's Center that now stands in its place was a constant reminder, all weekend, of how things can and do change over time.

Likewise, Missouri Hall? Where I lived every semester I was at Truman? Has this horrendous glass foyer tacked onto the main entrance that appears, from the outside, to be nothing more than a student lounge with red plush furniture and little else; the building was locked, and this one, I couldn't get into. :)

The Baldwin Little Theatre, where we performed The Foreigner and which had hosted countless other plays before and since, is now, for all purposes, a classroom. I managed to get inside on Friday night, less than an hour after I'd arrived in town, and you can imagine my shock when I saw that all the windows that had been painted over and covered had been cleared; the stage itself had been boarded up and sealed, as had the sound and light booths in the back of the theatre. Apparently the new James G. Severns Theatre, which was under construction when I graduated, negates the need for our historic Little Theatre, at least in the eyes of the bean counters that run the place. With time comes improvements, and with improvements come change. We know this.

This building just plain wasn't there when I was a student. I have no idea what it is:

Toons is now called Wrongdaddy's, Stone Creations is now Tranquil Seasons, the Wal-Mart is now a massive supercenter... but one thing that has not changed much is the Washington Street Java Company, of which I am the lone customer at the moment. They close at 5:00 today, and I had planned to blog and post photos until they kicked me out, but I may just head out of town a couple of hours earlier than that so I can get home and knock out a bit of laundry for tomorrow. I don't relish the thought of getting back to my life, no offense to anyone, but getting home after dark won't accomplish anything.

So until then, I will bid you all adieu, and I promise that over the next couple of days I will have many more stories and photos for those of you so interested. As a final thought for the time being... I know I've said my next visit to Kirksville could be a very, very long time from now, but I was wrong. I don't plan on waiting another seven years before I see the place again. I hope to get up here once every summer until Life no longer allows it... and maybe even after that as well.

ten years hence

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 20:16:00 +0000

First things first, I suppose.

I'm coming you to live from the Washington Street Java Company, probably the most well-known hang-out in Kirksville. You wouldn't know it in the summer, apparently; it's 3:22 on a Saturday afternoon as I sit here typing, and there are three other visible customers seated and two standing at the counter. A girl in a yellow headband and braces just served me a roast beef and colby cheese sandwich with tomatoes and sliced cucumber, a side of carrot sticks, and a bag of BAKED! Lays original. While she was at it, she charged me $1.35 for a can of Coke, and I have, officially, seen everything.

I'm sitting in the front window.

This was always where Sarah, Rachael, and I sat when we came here, which wasn't often; we only came here together a few times. As I remember, they were all after I graduated, the last one was during the winter months, and I remember thinking it strange that they would want to sit so close to a frosty outside-facing window. Now, seeing it open in the middle of the summertime, I couldn't resist taking our old seat. I might move when I need to plug the Netbook in, but it tells me we have nearly three hours of juice left, and JavaCo's summer hours flyer says they close at 7:00. I'll have to find Stone Creations before then anyway.

There is a rubber tree on my right that's probably older than I am.

It's so strange, but not, when you think about it, that I never spent much time here when I was a student at the University. I never really had any money, to begin with, nor did I have a laptop with which to occupy myself as I not buying coffee -- which I don't really drink. Come to think of it, with all that and Coke running upwards of a dollar per 12-ounce can, it's really no wonder at all I never hung out here in college, is it? :)

JavaCo, to me, is a place to relax. I see people working on their laptops, studying for who knows what, since even the summer blocks are over with for now. But since I see it as a place to relax, it's especially strange, but not, when you think about it, that I never really came here much as a student. For one thing, I was never relaxed when I went to Truman, and that's particularly true of my first year here, so of all the times in my life, that was when I could really have used a place to retreat to. But I was a depressed, anxiety-ridden mess, and I really couldn't afford to relax, or things around me would have fallen apart even more than they already had. That was 1997. When I came back in 1999, I was in much better shape emotionally, but I was completely engrossed in the theatre scene, working on shows, hoping to get cast, etc. Students' lives here are very campus-centric, and since I still didn't have money or a laptop, it just wasn't a place I gravitated toward to unwind or share in a bit of literary wisdom or witticism, as I hear the people around me doing now.

And by the by, business has picked up quite a bit since I sat down. I'm counting around twenty other characters in here, almost none of them the same as when I first arrived. Good to see.

I took nearly fifty photos on campus this morning, but there was actual wedding planning going on in the sunken gardens at the time, so I didn't get any shots of it today. I'll have to come back tomorrow once everyone's married off and cleared out. I'm off now to take some pictures of the square, find Stone Creations, if it still exists (I'm reading that it might not), and let me tell you... Samantha is coming in more handy than I imagined she would this weekend. I am floored by how much I don't remember, in terms of where things are and now to get there. I've been away far, far too long. I can't do that again.

kirksville bound

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 02:04:00 +0000

For quite some time now, I've known that I wanted to take a weekend and get back up to Kirksville, and it would almost certainly have to be over the summer sometime; not that Fall is out of the question or anything, it's just that this summer holds some pretty significant importance in the overflowing nostalgia bucket that my head has become.

Some of you may remember that I stayed in Kirksville over the summer of 1999 to knock out some classes so I could graduate in December. Well, it turned out to be one of those summers you never forget. I met my excellent friend Rachael, I fell in with the theatre crowd, got cast in a mainstage play (the last one of my college career, although there would still be some one-acts), had a fling with one of the more high-profile girls in the department, I even wound up dating our assistant stage manager for most of the production... and that's only scratching the surface. Periodically, when I think back to that summer, I absolutely kick myself for not keeping a better journal and taking more pictures, because that's the kind of time in your life about which you want to remember every. detail. you possibly. can.

It's hard to explain why. It was really the way the place felt over the summer. Let me tell you, from a student's perspective, Kirksville over the summer doesn't look anything like it does when classes are in session at the University. The campus is bare and very quiet; all you can hear is the hum from the buildings (yes, the buildings hum). You have everything to yourself, you never have to fight for a parking space or a computer or a seat in the dining hall. It was hotter than all hell, but I got a bullshit doctor's note that authorized me to put an a/c window unit in my room, so when I wasn't out getting cast in plays or dating theatre girls, I was lounging in 70-degree air conditioning while temps outside climbed to somewhere in the vicinity of 200 degrees F.

This summer, then, would be the ten-year anniversary of all that nonsense I enjoyed so much as a mere 23-year-old college student, all the rehearsals, parties, gatherings, and get-togethers that made that summer what it was. And so I thought, what more fitting way to observe that than to take a weekend and head up to Kirksville? I'll catch the summer play, run wild all over my old stomping grounds, and take a ton of photos while I'm at it. It'll be a trip down memory lane, to say the least, and since I haven't been there since Rachael graduated in 2002, it'll give me a chance to see what all has changed since I've been gone.

A decade, my friends. Ten years have passed since one of the most pivotal times in my life... how is that possible?

My awesome friend Jen, who I met in my very last writing class at Truman, lives in Kirksville with her husband and chickabiddees, and I thought I would stop in on them as well. Unfortunately, that's the weekend of their yearly trip to Minnesota, so I'm going to miss them this time around. I hate that, but it can't be helped, of course.

The best news, though, is that I understand the hotel I'm staying at has high-speed internet access. So I'll be taking the Netbook and all the necessary accessories so I can blog and post photos before I get home. I'll be Facebooking, too. So keep an eye out for all the dish, because it's coming your way before I even get back.

I haven't been to Kirksville in nearly seven years, and after next weekend, it could be a very, very, very long time. There's just no telling. So I'm going to make this one count.

One last thing -- let me address this before one of you does. I know there are those of you who are still hoping for a visit from me... those of you in Denver, Houston, Pearland, et al, who may be wondering why I haven't come to see you but am going to Kirksville on a weekend in which I know my one remaining friend won't be there. The answer is all a matter of expense; I can afford one but not the other. My hotel bill for the entire weekend in Kirksville wouldn't pay for the gas it would take to just get to your house, let alone get home again. And I wanted you all to understand that that is the only reason.

They say that as long as you're an alumnus, which you are for life, there will always be something for you in Kirksville. I'm kind of hanging my hat on that at the moment, because the thought of not having a second home up there makes me really, really sad. Right now, though, I'm just looking forward to getting back and enjoying some old memories. I do love that place.

partners in wireless

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 18:53:00 +0000

I'm sitting here at the kitchen table typing on the new Netbook with my gorgeous girlfriend in the adjacent seat, typing away on her laptop, which now shares my DSL connection thanks to the also-new Cisco router sitting on my desk in the next room.

Life is awfully good right about now.

I just reached over, squeezed her arm, and said, "I'm so glad you're on my wireless network."

Romantics, I tell you. :)

ex marks the spot

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 06:36:00 +0000

OK, I have a question to ask: what the fuck is up with exes e-mailing me months down the road wanting a reconciliation?

This happens periodically. One in particular would e-mail and/or message me on Myspace every five/six months or so and ask if I was still mad, why I wasn't speaking to her, etc. I think I broke her of that; our last exchange ended with a threat to kill newborn animals if I ever heard from her again, so hopefully she's fucked off for good.

This one was more of a surprise. Back in November, she e-mailed me, ok, saying we couldn't see each other anymore because she "just can't do it." I never got any more information out of her than that.

Until recently. This e-mail rolled in, and well... she never was much of an English person:

"Hi here how are you doing? I would like to say sorry for what I have done to you. I would still like you to be friends with me but if you feel like that you can't then I understand. I feel so bad for what I have done to you. I hope that one day you can forgive me and we can be friend and talk once again. I really miss talking to you. This is all my fault and I am very sorry. So will you forgive me and call me sometime?
Well I said it would be just a little note so I will talk to you later."

It seems innocuous enough, and I'm sure you could read any number of things into it, but here's my rough translation:

I didn't have any real, discernible reason for breaking it off, I was really just being an impulsive kid, which is how I got into my situation to begin with. But I didn't expect to still be single eight months down the road, so I'm going back to the well because I figure there's no way you've found anyone either, and well, something is better than nothing, right?

I used to think so. When I was nineteen.

Needless to say, I won't be replying to this. I got a voice mail from her about a month before this e-mail, and I didn't return that either. The truth is that I have been seeing someone since late November, thanks for asking, and I'll be damned if she doesn't show me a bit of respect every now and again (read: all the time). So thanks for playing... with yourself, which is apparently what you're doing nowadays, or you wouldn't be writing to an ex you so unceremoniously blew off via e-mail.

Sorry... I don't have a lot of patience for this kind of thing.

public enemies

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 23:00:00 +0000

My review of Public Enemies has been posted on www.movie-popcorn.com.

a word from our 10,000 sponsors

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 05:40:00 +0000

Tonight (I guess it was technically last night), my folks and I went up to a ball game at the stadium and got shut down 4-1. But that's not what I'm here to complain about.

As a side note... does it trouble anyone else that I have come home from every single ball game this year with a complaint? It's almost as though going to a game is a chore anymore, which is a bad sign.

This isn't a new complaint, though, and it's not limited to the ballpark by any stretch, it's all around us: everything... and let me emphasize this properly...

EVERYTHING...

... has a goddamn logo on it. A fucking sponsor. Some dumb ass company splashing their name across it so that you'll see it and want to buy something. You can't wipe your ass anymore without taking a trip to the Coca-Cola Restroom Facilities. It makes me ill, to be perfectly honest.

At our ballpark, they have bits of entertainment on the scoreboard in between innings that are fun to watch, but they're included in the advertising madness. There's the Heinz Hot Dog Derby, the Schweigert Hot Dog Launch, the John Deere Lawn Mower Race, the Midwest Airlines Suitcase Shuffle, and much, much more.

The kid-size baseball diamond called The Little K? It's now the John Deere Little K. We've also got the Pepsi Party Porch, the Miller Lite Party Deck, as well as the MLB2K9 Game Lounge, and entire sections of seating called the Dri-Duck Fountain Seats and the Hy-Vee View Level.

Entire stadiums and arenas have fallen victim to this, and some of them have shed some pretty historic names in the process: in 2003, Comisky Park was re-named U.S. Cellular Field after those asswipes purchased the naming rights for $68 million. Seattle has Safeco Field; Tampa has Tropicana Field; Detroit has Comerica Park; Cleveland has Progressive Field; and that's just American League Teams.

Never mind the National League stadiums, which include Citizens Bank Park, AT&T Park, Petco Park, PNC Park, and Minute Maid Park.

Altogether, a whopping eighteen of the thirty Major League Baseball stadiums have sold out their names to a fucking sponsor.

Can't we just have a party deck? Why can't we just have fountain seats? Two years ago at Kauffman Stadium in Kansas City, the grass beyond the center field wall was just that -- outfield grass. And that was nice... until John Deere paid to mow their fucking logo into the grass for a hefty sponsorship fee.

We can't even have grass without somebody slapping a goddamn logo on it.

Many cities and towns across the country have considered selling ad space on police cars to raise revenue. And then there was that wretched idea to put satellite billboards in space that would be visible in the night sky from the ground. When you think about the lengths to which these marketing weasels are willing to go to make their next buck, a company logo cut into the stadium grass shouldn't surprise me... but somehow it still does.

Needless to say, I'm going to buy what I'm going to buy -- half the time it's generic store brands anyway -- and no amount of hitting me over the head with company logos is going to make any difference.

I'm off to my Mattress Firm bed now; I'll shut down my Dell computer, brush my Arm & Hammer Baking Soda teeth, and get myself a good night's sleep, sponsored by Unisom.

completion

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 04:55:00 +0000

This entry wraps up our annual 30 Days of Blog campaign. Yeah, the first and last entries of the month pretty much write themselves, you jot down something about how you're going to have all this free time on your hands, and if you're not blogging, what are you really going to be doing with yourself, anyway?

Believe me, something will come up.

Many thanks to my good friend Jerry for his successful participation in this year's 30 Days, and big hugs go out to Katherine and Jen, who, um... were not as overwhelmingly successful. But like NaNoWriMo, the important thing is that you stepped up to the plate and gave it a few swings. My intention from this point on is always to blog much more often than I used to, even if it's not daily, so we'll see how much luck I have with that.

Having said all that, this concludes our 30 Days of Blog, we will have to do it again next year. :)

it's like that fats domino song

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 04:42:00 +0000

I may have mentioned to some of you that I've taken up walking in the evenings. That's right, I'm deliberately getting exercise. I got the idea from my folks, who walk 3+ miles a night for health reasons. I've started noticing more muffin-top action over the last few years than I'd like, and I don't have the spare cash laying around to go torture myself at a gym, so... I walk. Two miles a night, now. I started small, right after we got back from Texas, at one mile a night, and quickly moved up to two. It's only been a couple of weeks, and I'm already noticing how much better I feel the next day, and most of the time I'm not even winded at the end of the two miles, so there you go.

I had to miss several days last week because it was so damned hot and/or raining, but that seems to have calmed down some, and I'm back to my routine. I take the GPS with me, and that helps me keep track of how far I've gone... although coming soon, I won't need that anymore, because I've got a nice route all nailed down, and in fact, I didn't even need the GPS tonight, so I'll probably leave it at home from now on. I probably will invest in a nice big can of pepper spray, though.

it takes two to make a thing go right

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 02:52:00 +0000

If you haven't seen The Proposal, you must put it on your list before the summer's out. I've seen it twice already, and it was so much fun, it's one of my favorite movies of 2009 so far.

On the other hand, if you're thinking of seeing Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, you might give that a second thought.

I've posted both reviews over at Movie-Popcorn. I'm slowly getting back on the reviewing horse. Hell, it's summer, what better time, right?

gimpwatch 2009

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 05:22:00 +0000

About an hour ago, I went outside to assess the parking situation.

The two vehicles parked in handicapped spaces had hang tags (looks like I was wrong about the plate); the third such space was empty. Whomever it was provided for probably hasn't moved in quite yet, or hasn't moved in completely; as such, I'm also going to be keeping track of how long that space stays empty, and if it's more than a week, I might call the office and ask what's going on.

Update: I was actually right about the plate -- two hang tags and one disabled plate, so all three appear legitimate. That doesn't mean I won't be keeping my eye on things out there, though.

reserved parking

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 03:35:00 +0000

OK, how big a jerk am I? We're about to find out, and the second part of that answer is, I don't much care.

As you all know, I live in an apartment complex. There are parking spaces directly in front of the building as well as a 'center ring' of sorts, if you can imagine that. It sounds like a lot, but there isn't as much parking as you might think, and besides that, I don't want to have to park in the center ring. I've lived here almost nine years, I want to park directly in front of my building.

A little over a year ago, a handicapped parking sign popped up in front of one of the spaces in front of my building. I thought it was strange; I hadn't noticed anyone with a disability (although they could have just moved in at the time), and the sign didn't look like it would pass muster if scrutinized by a city official. I know there are regulations that dictate how high a sign must be posted, along with various other minutiae including how reflective the paint must be, etc.

On top of that, there was no handicap access to the sidewalk, so the whole effort seemed moot.

Just a short time later, a second handicapped sign popped up, and once again, it was right in front of my building. Now there were two spaces that were automatically off-limits, and this irritated me to the point where I thought about calling the city and asking them to come inspect them, the idea being that if they weren't up to spec, the city would remove them.

My first thought was that the complex is private property, and if that was the case, the city would probably tell me they couldn't do anything about it. But, if they couldn't do anything about it, then that must also mean they can't write you a parking ticket for violating this so-called handicapped zone. I haven't tested that, and in fact at the time, I decided not to rock the boat at all; I'm working up a pitch to see if I can't get the landlord to replace my carpet without raising my rent, and since my rent hasn't gone up in six years, I'm not anxious to draw attention to myself.

Imagine my irritation, then, when today, a third handicapped sign appeared, once again in front of my building. And I about fucking lost it.

Really? Three fucking handicapped spaces in front of one building, and none by any other building in the complex? Where are these gimps coming from, and why are they all moving into my building? It's going to get to the point where there's nowhere for anyone else to park in this motherfucker. Parking was at a premium a year ago; now, so many people are claiming disabilities that within another year's time, I'll be parking on the adjacent street.

You can bet your ass I'll be watching those spaces like a hawk. The vehicles that park in the first two appear to have the proper permits; one has a disabled plate and the other has a hang tag. But if I ever see anyone parked there that doesn't, I will report them on the first offense. If the city can't do anything, I'll report it to the landlord and log every incident. But someone will hear about it.

nothing like a friday

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 01:44:00 +0000

Friday, to me, is one of the most promising days of the week. In particular, it's the promise of a nice weekend that gets my attention. :) I had tried to get some people together for the drive-in tomorrow night, but that didn't materialize because everyone had so much to do already. One guy's out of town, too, so we'll try it when he gets back. Also, next week is a four-day week, and that's never a bad thing.

Today was kind of an allergy day, so I'm going to call it a night here pretty quick. I had planned on rearranging my bedroom tonight so that the desktop is on one power strip and the DSL modem and wireless router are on quite another, but that won't happen until tomorrow either; I want to be able to unplug the computer in bad weather without losing the option of getting online via wireless. That way, if anything gets fried by lightning, it'll be a $50 router instead of a $600 desktop.

sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep..........

putting out fires

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 04:43:00 +0000

I haven't had a chance to breathe today or tonight. I had a couple of projects put on my desk first thing this morning that have so many issues, they're still not resolved. I won't write about them here, it's just work shit, but you know... it wears me out.

The Netbook

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 04:41:00 +0000

I finally did it. I went and got me one of those fancy Netbooks at the behest of my brother-in-law and sister, who sang its praises and steered me away from the Kindle in the process. Here are my thoughts on this puppy so far.

My brother-in-law heard I was fixin' to spend nearly $400 on a Kindle and said look... for quite a bit less than that, you can get yourself a Netbook, do all the same shit, and have all the functionality of a laptop at the same time. His was an Acer, and he had only good things to say about it; he even pointed me, some time ago, to several sites that offered e-books free of charge. So I gathered up my birthday money and Amazon gift cards and placed an order for an Asus instead (I had been warned about Acer computers by Gary, my IT guy) at the low, low price of $269.99.

So far, it's been worth every penny, although it seems a bit incongruous to substitute it for a Kindle; I can already tell you I'm still going to want one of those. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Its complete name is the Asus Eee PC 900HA 8.9-inch Netbook. It is quite a bit smaller than my sister's, as I remember, so she may have gotten the 10-inch screen, I'll have to ask her. It has a 1.6 GHz processor, 1 GB of RAM, which makes me happy, and a 160 GB hard drive, which is twice the size of my desktop. And it's running XP, which almost goes without saying, but I'm saying it because I'm happy about it, tools.

It is so small that it does not feature a CD-ROM of any description, but its compactness is part of what I like so much about it. And it does come with three USB ports, an ethernet port, an external monitor connection, and an SD card slot. The wi-fi is fantastic, and something I've never played with before, but an additional $50 at Microcenter snagged me a wireless router last night, and now I can be seen blogging and surfing goat porn all throughout my apartment and beyond. I am learning from it every day; I have never owned a laptop of any description.

At first, my main concern was the size of the keyboard. I am slowly getting used to it, but the first couple of days were filled with typos and cursing, cursing and typos; the shift key on the right side is one-third the size of the shift key on the left side, and I found myself hitting enter or 'up' every time I needed to shift. I've accidentally deleted entire paragraphs with this mistake; thankfully we have the 'undo' command at our disposal. But the more I type on it (I thought my product review would be less than sincere if I didn't write it up on the unit itself, so I am), the more I'm convinced it's something I can overcome with time. The small-ish space bar is also less accessible than I'd like, and occasionally, the touchpad is less sensitive than I would prefer as well.

No, the keyboard will not, in the end, be my primary complaint in an otherwise favorable review. What bothers me most is the battery life. The label on the keyboard boasts a five-hour battery life, which would be insufficient on its own, but the reality is that with a 98% charge, the battery monitor tells me I have 3.5 hours of operation left. That is simply inexcusable, and this is why the Netbook will never be a suitable substitute for the Kindle. The aforementioned battery life label displays a URL that is most likely aimed at teaching the user how to maximize the battery's charge, but when I enter it into the address bar, I only get an error message.

To be completely fair, though, charging the unit for one full hour will bring the battery back up above 80%, so the turnaround is quick in that respect. Plus, you can always use the machine while it's plugged in, as with any laptop.

Overall, it is one of the coolest things I've ever owned. It is extremely compact and transportable, it's powerful and has a ton of storage space, and it doubles as a portable DVD player even without a DVD-ROM; just plug it up to an external drive and transfer a movie onto its enormous hard drive, and you're set.

Oh yeah... I can see this thing costing me a lot of sleep over the next couple of weeks, and not in a bad way.

wireless is a go

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 02:52:00 +0000

In the interest of avoiding a computer-crippling lightning strike, this post was not published until the morning after it was written. This disclaimer is written to maintain the integrity of our 30 Days of Blog campaign.

On a complete lark this afternoon, I hopped on Microcenter and NewEgg to shop around for wireless routers. On recommendations from Gary, my IT guy at work, I gave preference to Linksys and d-Link and couldn't believe some of the deals I found. NewEgg had a d-Link for $38, but after some consideration, I realized I didn't feel like waiting until sometime next week to receive it. I bought the thing from Microcenter, then, and arranged for in-store pickup after work.

It was only a shade over $50 including tax, and the installation could not have been easier. My biggest problem was deciding where to set it on my desk. It was all but completely automated, which was great in terms of usability and expeditious operation, but on the down side, I didn't learn anything. So I have quite a bit of reading to do to make sure I've done all I need to do in the interest of security. The one I bought is Linksys, which I found out later is a division of Cisco... and believe me, in the IT world, no two words go better together than "Cisco" and "router."

More to come on the Netbook. I've got to shut down, there's apparently a gigantic thunderstorm coming, and I've been down that road before, as you know.

netbook

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 00:12:00 +0000

Is anyone in the viewing audience familiar with Netbooks? Because I got one on Friday and I've been trying it out as much as I can. When I'm not otherwise occupied, I will write up a full review with my thoughts and experiences so far, but I have to say that up to this point, I'm pretty happy with it.

As a preview, I do plan on upgrading the RAM to 2 gigs and setting up a wireless router for it in my apartment, because I'm just not crazy about the idea of using the unsecured connection that manages to graze my building in the evenings.

In the meantime, does anyone have any thoughts or tips regarding wireless routers/networks, or netbooks/laptops in general? I have never owned any of the above in my life, so if there are any common pitfalls to avoid, I'd love to hear about them.

mythbusters

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 23:35:00 +0000

So I'm sitting here s-l-o-w-l-y working on my review of The Proposal for Movie-Popcorn, and several things occur to me, not the least of which is that it's getting more and more difficult to write movie reviews every week. That's why I can't always do it. I need to get back in the swing, though.

When you announce yourself as a movie critic on the Internet -- a position, by the way, which requires no formal training or education whatsoever, but which benefits from a strong writing background, if not one in broadcasting and film -- a number of misconceptions immediately pop into everyone's heads. I will take a few moments to debunk the most common ones.

Myth #1: You've seen everything.
"WHAT?! You mean you've never seen [ title goes here ]?! And you call yourself a movie critic?!"

Because as I was saying before, reviewing movies on the Internet requires no particular background. And somehow, it's easy for people to forget that even though you are a "critic" now, you haven't always been one, just like your preacher wasn't always a preacher, if you know what I mean. No, I haven't seen everything, and I don't care to. That's not what it's about.

Myth #2: You will see everything that comes out.
Now that would be a neat trick. This coming week alone, there are two movies opening in wide release and six in limited release; God only knows how many indie films are hitting one screen in New York, two screens in L.A., etc. Do you have the money to see all that shit? Do you have the time to track down theaters showing the ones in limited release? Then, do you have the time to write up all the reviews? You see where I'm going with this. Even Roger Ebert doesn't see everything; poke around on his web site and you'll see what I mean.

Myth #3: You automatically get advance screenings.
You mean putting together your own web site doesn't guarantee you'll see stuff before everyone else? And you have to pay for 'em too, what kinda deal is that? I've never looked into it, but I have a feeling you would need some pretty serious credentials to persuade a theater chain to let you screen things before they're released. More often, movie critics attend press screenings, and although the credential requirement isn't usually as stiff, such screenings don't go on much around here, at least that I'm aware of. No, we here at Movie-Popcorn are subject to the same release dates you are.

Understandable misconceptions, all... at least, until you actually think about them. What we try to do is figure out which movies are going to be the biggest draws of the weekend and hit those reviews as early as we can. We don't always succeed; sometimes we miss the mark on what's popular, and other times, life just gets in the way. That's been happening a lot lately, but going forward, I hope to make the rest of 2009 a pretty solid review year for Movie-Popcorn. Like blogging, there's no better way to build an audience than by consistently writing.

hot & snot

noreply@blogger.com (N.T.) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 04:14:00 +0000

It's an All-Snot week, Trolleybusers, the first of its kind, so let's get crackin'.

Who's Snot: the RIAA... again
For: Frivolous litigation
By now you've heard about the jury who fined a 32-year-old mother of two nearly $2 million for various alleged Internet-related copyright infringements. You all know how I feel about this; I've blogged about my distaste for the record companies' desperate, greedy attempts to sue back the losses they've suffered during hard economic times. But an $80,000-per-song penalty is indefensible by any standard of punitive measure. Federal law allows for up to $150,000 per song, but let's be realistic about something: one song? One hundred and fifty grand? Since when did entire albums cost more than $20 up in this motherfucker? The judge in her first trial called her original penalty of $222,000 "wholly disproportionate," and an attorney in the case is quoted as saying, "... she's been fined $1.9 million for stealing [sic] 24 songs that went for about $1.99 on iTunes. There's no way that can be the correct result." Yeah, no shit.

Who's Snot: the anti-equality hawks in Maine
For: Opposing equal rights
Apparently it isn't enough to ban equal protection in California, now the gay-bashing hordes in Maine have hired the Proposition 8 PR firm to come do their dirty work as well. In all my life, I've never seen people go to such lengths to make sure they get rights that others don't. Are they really that anxious to force their religious beliefs on everyone else? Because that always seems to be the basis for their argument -- religion, the Bible, Jesus, Christianity. Well guess what, kids. The Bible doesn't rule this land, and no Jesus I ever knew would fight to ensure the civil oppression of a portion of the citizenry. Air your personal distaste for homosexuality any way you see fit; that's your right under the First Amendment. But don't try to legislate one set of religious beliefs to the exclusion of things like the Constitution -- that's a right you don't have.

Who's Snot: PETA
For: Their fuss over the fly
Has it really come to this? People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals has berated President Obama for swatting and killing a fly in a television interview this week. Instead of taking out the pesky insect himself, they expected him to somehow trap it and release it outside; they even sent him a Katcha Bug Humane Bug Catcher for that very purpose. PETA spokesman Bruce Friedrich said, "We support compassion even for the most curious, smallest, and least sympathetic animals." To which the entire country replied: IT'S A FLY.