Sometimes I wish I'd stuck with my original plan to go into political science just so I could replace all those ridiculous political ads with something halfway decent.
Ninety-eight percent of tv ads insult our intelligence and, most puzzlingly, seem designed to appeal to those who've already decided to vote for the advertising candidate anyway. For example, if you're a Republican politician and your ad says your opponent is a "crazy wack-job, communist liberal JUST LIKE NANCY PELOSI," well, anyone who that ad appeals to was going to vote for the Republican in the race anyway. And if you're a Democrat and you ad says your opponent only cares about rich people and/or the oil business, you're only attracting people who feel antagonistic toward those groups-- in other words, people who were going to vote for whoever had the "D" beside their name. But almost every ad see (from either party) plays on some variation of a theme like this. Why do ads never seem aimed to attract political independents, the people whose vote an ad could possibly influence? I get that firing up your base is part of the deal, but must every election be promoted as the final battle of good versus evil?
I don't think so.
We have on other troubling aspect of campaigning in Tennessee. Political ads here seem to be a contest of who can appear to be the biggest redneck. One prominent gubernatorial candidate built a whole campaign on the fact he wears cowboy boots. Another guy appears on a tractor in every ad and uses the phrase "Plow Washington" as his campaign slogan. (Never mind the fact that he's a Democrat whose party is in power has presumably done whatever it is that he thinks needs to be plowed). Our likely next governor has an ad in which a thickly accented guy speaks in incomplete sentences (which is just as well because half of his words are incomprehensible anyway) to describe how this candidate helped get a construction project started on his behalf. And these ads are still better than his opponent's.
I love politics, and even I'm sick of these ads. I can't imagine how fatigued the average person out there is.
I voted earlier today (highlight: A 90-ish year-old woman tried to show up after the polls had closed and was turned away. In response she yelled: "Those Damn Republicans!" and walked away). I just wish voting early came with the added benefit of opting out of heaing political ads for the next 5 days.
That would be a change I could believe in.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
No Loitering
The last refuge for the weary in downtown Nashville is gone.
I'm speaking, of course, of the exquisite downtown library, which still exists, but will no longer welcome me if I'm not sufficiently productive while there.
For the past three years, the library has been my sanctuary of idleness, the place I could go to let my mind wander unproductively for 45 minutes in the middle of a stressful work day.
But sadly, those days are gone. Last week, I noticed a sign by the front door that read: "No eating, drinking, smoking or loitering."
I understand, and generally obey, the first three. The fourth is a genuine source of bafflement. No loitering? At the library? Why not?
Isn't that like a "no loitering" sign at a public park?
Why, exactly, can't I loiter at a public space funded by my tax dollars? Who is the victim if I choose to sit aimlessly in a library chair for half an hour? Why am I allowed to to go inside the library and take things for free, but not to go in and do nothing?
The policy isn't just senseless, it leaves open an endlessly perplexing list of ambiguities. For example, what level of productivity must I achieve to be in compliance with library policy? If I can't just idly stare out the library window, what if I stare out the window but have a book in front of me? Must the book be open? What if I'm not actually reading it? If I was actively reading it, how long of a break from it can I take without facing the wrath of those notorious library security goons? And if they are serious about this "no loitering" thing, why did they buy all those comfy leather chairs?
With all these gray areas, I'm not sure how they actually enforce this rule. But at least it isn't self-contradictory, like one of the others. As I mentioned, the sign by the front (and only) entrance also prohibits food. But the library's second floor, which cannot be reached without walking past through that front door, contains an outdoor square with a sign reading: "Enjoy our outdoor courtyard: a perfect place to read, relax or enjoy your lunch!"
Ok, but how do you get your lunch to the courtyard? And when does relaxing become loitering?
One day I'm going to find a librarian and ask these questions. I'm pretty sure the librarian will think I'm crazy. And then the librarian will ask me to either find something more productive to do with my time or get out of the library.
I'm speaking, of course, of the exquisite downtown library, which still exists, but will no longer welcome me if I'm not sufficiently productive while there.
For the past three years, the library has been my sanctuary of idleness, the place I could go to let my mind wander unproductively for 45 minutes in the middle of a stressful work day.
But sadly, those days are gone. Last week, I noticed a sign by the front door that read: "No eating, drinking, smoking or loitering."
I understand, and generally obey, the first three. The fourth is a genuine source of bafflement. No loitering? At the library? Why not?
Isn't that like a "no loitering" sign at a public park?
Why, exactly, can't I loiter at a public space funded by my tax dollars? Who is the victim if I choose to sit aimlessly in a library chair for half an hour? Why am I allowed to to go inside the library and take things for free, but not to go in and do nothing?
The policy isn't just senseless, it leaves open an endlessly perplexing list of ambiguities. For example, what level of productivity must I achieve to be in compliance with library policy? If I can't just idly stare out the library window, what if I stare out the window but have a book in front of me? Must the book be open? What if I'm not actually reading it? If I was actively reading it, how long of a break from it can I take without facing the wrath of those notorious library security goons? And if they are serious about this "no loitering" thing, why did they buy all those comfy leather chairs?
With all these gray areas, I'm not sure how they actually enforce this rule. But at least it isn't self-contradictory, like one of the others. As I mentioned, the sign by the front (and only) entrance also prohibits food. But the library's second floor, which cannot be reached without walking past through that front door, contains an outdoor square with a sign reading: "Enjoy our outdoor courtyard: a perfect place to read, relax or enjoy your lunch!"
Ok, but how do you get your lunch to the courtyard? And when does relaxing become loitering?
One day I'm going to find a librarian and ask these questions. I'm pretty sure the librarian will think I'm crazy. And then the librarian will ask me to either find something more productive to do with my time or get out of the library.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
On Katy Perry's Date with Elmo
I heard a week's worth of outrage over Katy Perry's censored Sesame Street appearance before I finally got around to watching it.
I usually avoid stuff like this. No matter what I decide about a controversial issue, I'm going to be end up agitated with those whose opinions differ. Even if my decison is to be undecided, I get annoyed that those who've oversimplied the issue enough to have a firm opinion.
That's the curse of being an attorney. That's just the way we get trained to think. It's great for oral arguments, but terrible for one's social life. You end up thinking most everyone you know is an idiot, including yourself. Especially yourself. Because you have an acute realization of all the thing you do that don't make any sense. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.
Anyway, I didn't care enough about the Sesame Street controversy to torture myself with the knowledge of which opinion about it was unreasonable. I've never really like Katy Perry, I don't watch Sesame Street and don't have kids who might, and the ultimate solution seemed like a fair compromise (the skit would not air on tv, but would remain on the internet for anyone interested to watch). So whether or not her dress was too short for a skit she did with Elmo was not among the most 5,000 important issues in my life. I managed to stay blissfully ignorant about the issue until I heard the skit involved a parody of the one Katy Perry song I actually like ("Hot N Cold"), and then curiosity finally got the best of me.
So I watched it yesterday. Two things from the video stick with me. First, and most importantly, I can't get that silly song out of my head.
(You're hot and you're cold,
you're yes and you're no,
you're in and you're out,
You're up and you're down...)
I've been humming it for two straight days. Pretty soon someone is going to kill me. And I wouldn't blame them, or even necessarily mind. At least if I'm dead I'll get that song out of my head.
The other thing: there's no definite standard by which to judge whether someone's dress is too risque for a given occasion. It's in the eye of the beholder, and this one seems somewhere near the borderline to me, though had a less controversial musician appeared in the exact same dress I kind of doubt anyone would have even noticed. Unless it was a Jonas brother.
But I keep coming back to these two questions:
(1)Is there a single child out there of Sesame Street-watching age who would have seen this video, which was filled with bright costumes, revolving colorful backdrops, a catchy song and a bright red puppet, and noticed that the woman in it should have been wearing a few inches of more fabric?;
(2) And do the objecting adults really think their five-year old child is as obsessed with cleavage as they are?;
I usually avoid stuff like this. No matter what I decide about a controversial issue, I'm going to be end up agitated with those whose opinions differ. Even if my decison is to be undecided, I get annoyed that those who've oversimplied the issue enough to have a firm opinion.
That's the curse of being an attorney. That's just the way we get trained to think. It's great for oral arguments, but terrible for one's social life. You end up thinking most everyone you know is an idiot, including yourself. Especially yourself. Because you have an acute realization of all the thing you do that don't make any sense. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.
Anyway, I didn't care enough about the Sesame Street controversy to torture myself with the knowledge of which opinion about it was unreasonable. I've never really like Katy Perry, I don't watch Sesame Street and don't have kids who might, and the ultimate solution seemed like a fair compromise (the skit would not air on tv, but would remain on the internet for anyone interested to watch). So whether or not her dress was too short for a skit she did with Elmo was not among the most 5,000 important issues in my life. I managed to stay blissfully ignorant about the issue until I heard the skit involved a parody of the one Katy Perry song I actually like ("Hot N Cold"), and then curiosity finally got the best of me.
So I watched it yesterday. Two things from the video stick with me. First, and most importantly, I can't get that silly song out of my head.
(You're hot and you're cold,
you're yes and you're no,
you're in and you're out,
You're up and you're down...)
I've been humming it for two straight days. Pretty soon someone is going to kill me. And I wouldn't blame them, or even necessarily mind. At least if I'm dead I'll get that song out of my head.
The other thing: there's no definite standard by which to judge whether someone's dress is too risque for a given occasion. It's in the eye of the beholder, and this one seems somewhere near the borderline to me, though had a less controversial musician appeared in the exact same dress I kind of doubt anyone would have even noticed. Unless it was a Jonas brother.
But I keep coming back to these two questions:
(1)Is there a single child out there of Sesame Street-watching age who would have seen this video, which was filled with bright costumes, revolving colorful backdrops, a catchy song and a bright red puppet, and noticed that the woman in it should have been wearing a few inches of more fabric?;
(2) And do the objecting adults really think their five-year old child is as obsessed with cleavage as they are?;
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Random Thoughts
I would get on facebook twice as often if I didn't feel the need to come up with new status updates all the time.
In the Tennessee governor's race, the Democrat is trying to convince everyone he thinks just like a Republican, and the Republican is trying to convince people he's not really one of those Republicans. So, as a political independent, who do I vote for?
Speaking of which, I followed the 2008 election closely, but I can't build much enthusiasm for the election this November. Politicians are worse than lawyers, and I should know...
In 2010, my favorite college football team won the national title for the first time in 18 years, co-favorite NFL team won the Super Bowl for the first time ever, co-favorite hockey team made the Stanley Cup Finals, and favorite baseball team is going to playoffs for the first time in 15 years. Did I make a deal with the devil in my sleep without realizing it?
I was flipping channels this morning, and I heard Pat Robertson say that the U.S. would feel God's wrath if we negotiated a settlement between Israel and Palestine. I'm not sure if I'm more surprised that Robertson's program is still on the air, or that people still watch it.
I'd always heard that the Lord of the Rings books were a Christian allegory. I understand that comparision in some respects, but now that I'm reading them, they are really about World War II, right?
Don't get me wrong, I think the Islamic Center near Ground Zero is in poor taste. But I don't see how you can oppose their right to put one there unless you'd also oppose a church near an abortion clinic.
If I got to choose my own hours (and had to work an 8-hour day), I'd pick 10-6. No one ever accomplishes anything before 10 anyway, and it's not like there's anything happening between 5 and 6. Whoever decided on 8-5 is an idiot.
Is it just me, or is August always mind-numingly boring, but September always filled with more stuff than one could possibly fit in? Surely someone can fix this...
I've had pre-existing, out-of-town, non-holiday related plans on Memorial Day, July 4th, and Labor Day this year. I don't get Columbus Day off. But no one on Earth (who hasn't served in the military) is going to be happier about Veteran's Day than I am this year...
I will spend far more time trying to re-adjust, blow on, or put a voodoo spell the batteries in my faulty remote than it would take to walk to the kitchen and get some new ones. There's something wrong with me...
In the Tennessee governor's race, the Democrat is trying to convince everyone he thinks just like a Republican, and the Republican is trying to convince people he's not really one of those Republicans. So, as a political independent, who do I vote for?
Speaking of which, I followed the 2008 election closely, but I can't build much enthusiasm for the election this November. Politicians are worse than lawyers, and I should know...
In 2010, my favorite college football team won the national title for the first time in 18 years, co-favorite NFL team won the Super Bowl for the first time ever, co-favorite hockey team made the Stanley Cup Finals, and favorite baseball team is going to playoffs for the first time in 15 years. Did I make a deal with the devil in my sleep without realizing it?
I was flipping channels this morning, and I heard Pat Robertson say that the U.S. would feel God's wrath if we negotiated a settlement between Israel and Palestine. I'm not sure if I'm more surprised that Robertson's program is still on the air, or that people still watch it.
I'd always heard that the Lord of the Rings books were a Christian allegory. I understand that comparision in some respects, but now that I'm reading them, they are really about World War II, right?
Don't get me wrong, I think the Islamic Center near Ground Zero is in poor taste. But I don't see how you can oppose their right to put one there unless you'd also oppose a church near an abortion clinic.
If I got to choose my own hours (and had to work an 8-hour day), I'd pick 10-6. No one ever accomplishes anything before 10 anyway, and it's not like there's anything happening between 5 and 6. Whoever decided on 8-5 is an idiot.
Is it just me, or is August always mind-numingly boring, but September always filled with more stuff than one could possibly fit in? Surely someone can fix this...
I've had pre-existing, out-of-town, non-holiday related plans on Memorial Day, July 4th, and Labor Day this year. I don't get Columbus Day off. But no one on Earth (who hasn't served in the military) is going to be happier about Veteran's Day than I am this year...
I will spend far more time trying to re-adjust, blow on, or put a voodoo spell the batteries in my faulty remote than it would take to walk to the kitchen and get some new ones. There's something wrong with me...
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
12 crazy days
Friday, August 27:
So, I'm leaving for a conference in San Diego today, as a last-minute substitute for another attorney in my office who can't make it. My flight leaves at 5, but my ride to the airport needs to pick me up at 2:45. Before I go, I have a zillion and two things to do. Two things absolutely have to get filed before I leave the office for a week or an inmate might go free. The Zillion other things each only take about 5 minutes each, but I just don't have 5 zillion minutes today.
At one o'clock, I remember its also the last day to register for Spanish classes for the fall and add that to the list. I manage to get the paperwork done and wrap up pretty much everything else by 2 and I'm suddenly feeling quite good about how I managed to pull all this off. Then at 2:30 my boss-- who knows I'm leaving today-- walks in and dumps about 30 new cases on me that need immediate attention. My secretary, who was surely looking forward to a working vacation of her own while I was gone, is not going to be happy when I tell her about this. I break the news, her what to do, apologize profusely and get out of the office by 3, at which point I again profusely apologize to the ride who's been waiting, somewhat patiently but perhaps somewhat annoyed, in front of my building for way too long.
I catch my flight, and after a seemingly endless layover in the Nation's Least Comfortable and Most Poorly Designed Airport (Houston, if by any small chance you didn't catch the reference), arrive in San Diego.
Saturday, August 28:
We have seriously overbooked our trip. I knew that coming in, but knowing it and actually doing it are just two different things. So, after staying up past two a.m. chatting with old friends in San Diego, we leave later that morning to take a 2-hour trip to LA to see my sister, who has a day full of activities planned. Great, fun, exhausting day, capped with a dinner of lightly seared ahi tuna. But I'm starting to feel a little funny by the end of it...
Sunday Morning, August 29:
Please don't throw up, please don't throw up, please don't throw up...
It's 4 a.m. and my stomach is on fire. I'm hoping I can ride it out, because I hate throwing up. Just hate it. Everyone has their weird little things that they go to illogical lengths to avoid. Mine is throwing up. It grosses me out beyond what I can quickly (or politely) explain. Thankfully, I only throw up about once every 8 years. So now, I should be good for the next 24. Not a good night.
Sunday Afternoon:
I already have plans to meet up with practically everyone I know on the West Coast on Sunday at the San Diego Zoo. So there's no backing out, even if I feel like crap. I make it through. It's a great zoo, but I would have enjoyed it more if my stomach weren't in roughly the same shape as the Gulf of Mexico was a few months ago after the oil spill.
Monday:
Feeling better, I enjoy an afternoon in Old Town San Diego. Accidentally walking past a house reputed to be America's most haunted, I get a sudden headache and my watch inexplicably stops. I had to try it again to see if it was a fluke. The next time, I get the same headache but no watch stoppage. Weird. I waiver between thinking deeply of the implications of this once-in-a-lifetime paranormal phenomenon, or just getting a margarita. I quickly choose the later option (out of view of the creepy house, of course). It was the right decision.
Tuesday:
The conference that was the nominal purpose of my trip begins. Perhaps thanks in part to walking past the creep house, I'm feeling considerably worse than yesterday. So no fish tacos for me today. After dropping Liz off at the airport, I take a quick nap, buy all the Gatorade and diet sprite in sight, and make it through an afternoon and evening of conference stuff and go to bed, hoping for a better tomorrow. Which will hopefully include fish tacos.
Wednesday:
8:30-10 Conference. How am I not feeling any better by now?
10:03 Gatorade
10:03-2 nap. How am I still not feeling any better?
2-5 Conference, followed by a Gatorade.
5-8 nap. How am I still feeling this badly?
8 quick, small dinner (still not chancing the fish tacos), followed by hot tub and another early bedtime. How am I not feeling any better? And how am I going to get fish tacos?
Thursday:
I'm getting fish tacos today, no matter what. So I did, even though I still didn't feel like solid food. They tasted great, and almost immediately thereafter, I felt completely fine. I guess I should have tried that sooner. Good stuff.
Friday:
The conference ends, and I race to the airport to make my 1:00 p.m. flight. I connect through Detroit, which has a surprisingly nice airport that even includes a wine bar (I didn't partake, but it's still cool that they have it) and a sports bar where I watch a guy from Connecticut pick-up a gal local gal headed out somewhere or another. I'm not quite sure how that's going to work, but more power to them. Perhaps they can have their next date at the airport wine bar when their relationship progresses.
I catch my flight and finally arrive in Nashville at 11, where Liz picks me up and takes me home. At which point I have to start packing again.
Saturday:
We had decided to leave Nashville for Indianapolis at 11, going to a friend's wedding weekend. But Saturday morning as we were packing, we found out that Indiana is on Eastern time, which means we actually needed to leave an hour sooner. This made for a suddenly rushed trip, but I don't want to talk about that. Here's what I want to talk about: why is Indiana on Eastern time? Who decided to put the proto-typical Midwestern state in the Eastern Time Zone? Can Congress look into this? Does Indiana realize that there are other time zones available? Are they just trying to mess with people? I need answers.
Anyway, we get to Indy, check into our hotel, and almost immediately leave for a rehearsal dinner an hour away at an Indiana farm. I don't have time to explain.
Sunday:
Leave for the wedding at 11:30 a.m.. The wedding, in a cornfield, was the best wedding in a cornfield that I've ever attended. And I'm not just saying that.
In an unusual twist, the rural version of the reception (think barbecue, corn on the cobb and lemonade) ends at 3:30. Later, a second reception, both more urban and more urbane, starts at 7, back in Indy, with dinner, dancing, fancy dessert and every other good thing that comes with a nice wedding. It was a quick turnaround, but it was fun, once we overcame the exhaustion.
Monday (Labor Day):
I somehow manage to wake up with a sinus infection, but once again, the show must go on. We have plans to meet yet another friend for brunch, drop off a fellow wedding guest and close friend at the airport, and head for Nashville. After an hour-long traffic jam caused by a horrific accident in Louisville and multiple stops for caffeine, we finally make it home at 6. I have a fantasy football draft at 8, after which I crawl in my bed and die. Until tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 7:
Needless to say, I was not at work on time. But it's good to be home.
So, I'm leaving for a conference in San Diego today, as a last-minute substitute for another attorney in my office who can't make it. My flight leaves at 5, but my ride to the airport needs to pick me up at 2:45. Before I go, I have a zillion and two things to do. Two things absolutely have to get filed before I leave the office for a week or an inmate might go free. The Zillion other things each only take about 5 minutes each, but I just don't have 5 zillion minutes today.
At one o'clock, I remember its also the last day to register for Spanish classes for the fall and add that to the list. I manage to get the paperwork done and wrap up pretty much everything else by 2 and I'm suddenly feeling quite good about how I managed to pull all this off. Then at 2:30 my boss-- who knows I'm leaving today-- walks in and dumps about 30 new cases on me that need immediate attention. My secretary, who was surely looking forward to a working vacation of her own while I was gone, is not going to be happy when I tell her about this. I break the news, her what to do, apologize profusely and get out of the office by 3, at which point I again profusely apologize to the ride who's been waiting, somewhat patiently but perhaps somewhat annoyed, in front of my building for way too long.
I catch my flight, and after a seemingly endless layover in the Nation's Least Comfortable and Most Poorly Designed Airport (Houston, if by any small chance you didn't catch the reference), arrive in San Diego.
Saturday, August 28:
We have seriously overbooked our trip. I knew that coming in, but knowing it and actually doing it are just two different things. So, after staying up past two a.m. chatting with old friends in San Diego, we leave later that morning to take a 2-hour trip to LA to see my sister, who has a day full of activities planned. Great, fun, exhausting day, capped with a dinner of lightly seared ahi tuna. But I'm starting to feel a little funny by the end of it...
Sunday Morning, August 29:
Please don't throw up, please don't throw up, please don't throw up...
It's 4 a.m. and my stomach is on fire. I'm hoping I can ride it out, because I hate throwing up. Just hate it. Everyone has their weird little things that they go to illogical lengths to avoid. Mine is throwing up. It grosses me out beyond what I can quickly (or politely) explain. Thankfully, I only throw up about once every 8 years. So now, I should be good for the next 24. Not a good night.
Sunday Afternoon:
I already have plans to meet up with practically everyone I know on the West Coast on Sunday at the San Diego Zoo. So there's no backing out, even if I feel like crap. I make it through. It's a great zoo, but I would have enjoyed it more if my stomach weren't in roughly the same shape as the Gulf of Mexico was a few months ago after the oil spill.
Monday:
Feeling better, I enjoy an afternoon in Old Town San Diego. Accidentally walking past a house reputed to be America's most haunted, I get a sudden headache and my watch inexplicably stops. I had to try it again to see if it was a fluke. The next time, I get the same headache but no watch stoppage. Weird. I waiver between thinking deeply of the implications of this once-in-a-lifetime paranormal phenomenon, or just getting a margarita. I quickly choose the later option (out of view of the creepy house, of course). It was the right decision.
Tuesday:
The conference that was the nominal purpose of my trip begins. Perhaps thanks in part to walking past the creep house, I'm feeling considerably worse than yesterday. So no fish tacos for me today. After dropping Liz off at the airport, I take a quick nap, buy all the Gatorade and diet sprite in sight, and make it through an afternoon and evening of conference stuff and go to bed, hoping for a better tomorrow. Which will hopefully include fish tacos.
Wednesday:
8:30-10 Conference. How am I not feeling any better by now?
10:03 Gatorade
10:03-2 nap. How am I still not feeling any better?
2-5 Conference, followed by a Gatorade.
5-8 nap. How am I still feeling this badly?
8 quick, small dinner (still not chancing the fish tacos), followed by hot tub and another early bedtime. How am I not feeling any better? And how am I going to get fish tacos?
Thursday:
I'm getting fish tacos today, no matter what. So I did, even though I still didn't feel like solid food. They tasted great, and almost immediately thereafter, I felt completely fine. I guess I should have tried that sooner. Good stuff.
Friday:
The conference ends, and I race to the airport to make my 1:00 p.m. flight. I connect through Detroit, which has a surprisingly nice airport that even includes a wine bar (I didn't partake, but it's still cool that they have it) and a sports bar where I watch a guy from Connecticut pick-up a gal local gal headed out somewhere or another. I'm not quite sure how that's going to work, but more power to them. Perhaps they can have their next date at the airport wine bar when their relationship progresses.
I catch my flight and finally arrive in Nashville at 11, where Liz picks me up and takes me home. At which point I have to start packing again.
Saturday:
We had decided to leave Nashville for Indianapolis at 11, going to a friend's wedding weekend. But Saturday morning as we were packing, we found out that Indiana is on Eastern time, which means we actually needed to leave an hour sooner. This made for a suddenly rushed trip, but I don't want to talk about that. Here's what I want to talk about: why is Indiana on Eastern time? Who decided to put the proto-typical Midwestern state in the Eastern Time Zone? Can Congress look into this? Does Indiana realize that there are other time zones available? Are they just trying to mess with people? I need answers.
Anyway, we get to Indy, check into our hotel, and almost immediately leave for a rehearsal dinner an hour away at an Indiana farm. I don't have time to explain.
Sunday:
Leave for the wedding at 11:30 a.m.. The wedding, in a cornfield, was the best wedding in a cornfield that I've ever attended. And I'm not just saying that.
In an unusual twist, the rural version of the reception (think barbecue, corn on the cobb and lemonade) ends at 3:30. Later, a second reception, both more urban and more urbane, starts at 7, back in Indy, with dinner, dancing, fancy dessert and every other good thing that comes with a nice wedding. It was a quick turnaround, but it was fun, once we overcame the exhaustion.
Monday (Labor Day):
I somehow manage to wake up with a sinus infection, but once again, the show must go on. We have plans to meet yet another friend for brunch, drop off a fellow wedding guest and close friend at the airport, and head for Nashville. After an hour-long traffic jam caused by a horrific accident in Louisville and multiple stops for caffeine, we finally make it home at 6. I have a fantasy football draft at 8, after which I crawl in my bed and die. Until tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 7:
Needless to say, I was not at work on time. But it's good to be home.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The blog will return on or about September 7
Leaving tomorrow on a last-minute one-week to trip to San Diego for work. I'll then be home for about 8 hours before leaving for Indianapolis for a wedding. I'll be back, perfectly exhausted, on Labor Day.
Because I just found out 2 weeks ago that I would be SD all next week, I hadn't planned ahead at work to get everything that needed to be done within the next month finished by tomorrow. And as often happens in these situations, I already had non-cancelable plans lined up for every night this week. So life has been more than a little crazy.
Late August/early September always ends up being like this for me. I'll be back after Labor Day to tell you all about it.
Because I just found out 2 weeks ago that I would be SD all next week, I hadn't planned ahead at work to get everything that needed to be done within the next month finished by tomorrow. And as often happens in these situations, I already had non-cancelable plans lined up for every night this week. So life has been more than a little crazy.
Late August/early September always ends up being like this for me. I'll be back after Labor Day to tell you all about it.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Blogging the Debate
So, I haven't been posting much lately. There are a million culprits- a busy work schedule, too many demands on my free time afterwards, and just not much to say- among them. But election day in Tennessee is tomorrow, and I can't let this slip by without blogging the televised debate between the four candidates last week. There are 3 Republicans and one Democrat who are serious contenders in the race.
Below is the paraphrased version of the debate I just watched:
Hosts: "We are excited to have this debate between the 4 gubernatorial candidates here at Belmont University tonight. But mostly, we are excited to have an excuse to use the word "gubernatorial." Just to remind you, half of the questions we will use will come from crazy people who wrote in online, and the other half we will ask ourselves. But you get to try to decide which is which, and it will be startlingly difficult to tell. Also, there was a Presidential debate here 2years ago, and that was much more important than what you are about to watch. Just so you know.
"Anyway, let's introduce the candidates:
"First we have the crazy bald guy with anger management issues, Republican Zach Wamp. Then we have well-monied Republican who won't break a sweat in this debate because he's going to win anyway, Bill Haslam. Third, the token Democrat, Mike McWherter, who is old beyond his years and may or may not be asleep. Finally, we have Ron Ramsey (R) who has made the fact that he wears boots his central message so far in this campaign. Let's begin:"
First Question: How, specifically, would you reduce state spending?
Wamp (R): Thanks for asking the question. We need to tighten our belt, starting next January. Thanks again for the question.
Haslam: We need to make a lot of small cuts to our spending.
McWherter: The last governor made it work, so will I.
Ramsey: No one has given any specifics, so I guess I'm the only one who has a plan. But I'm not going to tell you my plan. You'll have to vote me into office and then wait and see. (HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!)
Next Question: The U.S. is a union of immigrants. Do you see Tennessee taking a similar stance on immigration as Arizona?
Haslam: The U.S. has a problem with immigration. I'm not going to answer the question with any specifics, because if I do, people might not vote for me, and I'm the front-runner so there's no point in pissing anyone off.
McWherter: My turn? Really? Didn't I just answer a question five minutes ago? Well, um, it's the federal government's problem, not mine.
Ramsey: This is where I differ from the other candidates. I also think illegal immigration is a problem. Also, if we shoot the illegal immigrants, they will die a cold, scary death, and aftewards we will spit on their graves.! (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!) Also, I like to wear boots.
Wamp: Arizona has done the right thing. I would move there if they would vote for me to be their governor. And if they won't, I will crush them.
Question 3: What's your education plan?
McWheter: I've really got nothing. Whatever our last governor did seems to be working, so let's stick with that. And then I'd like a nap.
Ramsey: Let's take the money away from the poor schools and give them to the rich ones, so that we can take our nation back.
Wamp: I don't have any ideas, so I'm going to look really intently into the camera. If you don't vote for me, I will kill you.
Haslam: I have a four-point plan that says absolutely nothing. Which is fine, because I'm going to win anyway.
Question 4: How would you help small businesses?
Ramsey: I'm the only one up here that has ever run a small business. But I would do absolutely nothing to help you.
Haslam: I love small businesses.
McWherter: Thank you for your question. We give lots of tax breaks. I want to give you one as well. But you have to promise to vote for me first.
Wamp: I love small business too. Also, I'm going to ramble incohertently for a while to fill out my alloted time because I have nothing else to say. Except that I will kick your ass if you don't vote for me.
Question 4: Should evolution be taught in school?
McWherter: Our public schools should blend science and religion. First Amendment be damned. As "long as we're responsible with it." No, I have no idea what that means. But it's past my bedtime, so what do you expect?
Ramsey: Jesus is my co-pilot. We need to teach God in our public schools. It is the government's job to convert your kids to the government's favored religious views. Also, I believe in a small government that doesn't interfere with our daily life.
Wamp: We need to make Bible reading mandatory. Every piece of non-biblical "science" needs to be counter acted by equal doses of Old Time Religion.
Haslam: I'm sorry, but the rest of you are crazy.
Question 5: Should Muslims be allowed to exist?
Ramsey: Put them on their flying carpets and send them back where they came from. Give 'em the boot! (I'm wearing boots. You see what I did there?)
Halsam: Why would I answer a question like this? As long as I don't say anthing offensive, I'm going to win!
McWherter: Did someone say something about a nap? A nice comfy carpet sounds good right about now-- it's almost 9!
Wamp: No.
Final Question: How do you feel about the environment?
Ramsey: Screw it. Hahahahahahah!
Wamp: I know a lot about the environment. Also, I'm getting really angry by engaging in this debate. Would anyone like to fight?
Halsam: Yes.
McWherter: Can I answer this tomorrow? I'm tired. I like what the last governor did about the environment. If you loved him, you'll be somewhat fond of me. Also, did you notice that I'm the only candidate wearing a blue dress shirt? Democrat. Wearing blue. You see what I did there?
Closing Statement:
Ramsey: I wear boots. The country is in "aheckuva shape." Vote for me. I'm God's favorite. Hahahahahahahahahaha!
Wamp: God wants me to win. God told me I'm going to win. And if I don't, God will kick your ass.
McWheter: Wha? I thought the questions were over. You just interrupted a really good dream. I dreamed that people voted for me, because the last governor was pretty good and I'll do whatever he did.
Halsam: Listen, every other candidate up here is certifiably insane. I haven't said a lot in this debate, but please know that I'm at least sane enough to realize that I really don't need to. Because these other three guys are nuts. I'm embarrassed to be sharing a stage with them.
Below is the paraphrased version of the debate I just watched:
Hosts: "We are excited to have this debate between the 4 gubernatorial candidates here at Belmont University tonight. But mostly, we are excited to have an excuse to use the word "gubernatorial." Just to remind you, half of the questions we will use will come from crazy people who wrote in online, and the other half we will ask ourselves. But you get to try to decide which is which, and it will be startlingly difficult to tell. Also, there was a Presidential debate here 2years ago, and that was much more important than what you are about to watch. Just so you know.
"Anyway, let's introduce the candidates:
"First we have the crazy bald guy with anger management issues, Republican Zach Wamp. Then we have well-monied Republican who won't break a sweat in this debate because he's going to win anyway, Bill Haslam. Third, the token Democrat, Mike McWherter, who is old beyond his years and may or may not be asleep. Finally, we have Ron Ramsey (R) who has made the fact that he wears boots his central message so far in this campaign. Let's begin:"
First Question: How, specifically, would you reduce state spending?
Wamp (R): Thanks for asking the question. We need to tighten our belt, starting next January. Thanks again for the question.
Haslam: We need to make a lot of small cuts to our spending.
McWherter: The last governor made it work, so will I.
Ramsey: No one has given any specifics, so I guess I'm the only one who has a plan. But I'm not going to tell you my plan. You'll have to vote me into office and then wait and see. (HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!)
Next Question: The U.S. is a union of immigrants. Do you see Tennessee taking a similar stance on immigration as Arizona?
Haslam: The U.S. has a problem with immigration. I'm not going to answer the question with any specifics, because if I do, people might not vote for me, and I'm the front-runner so there's no point in pissing anyone off.
McWherter: My turn? Really? Didn't I just answer a question five minutes ago? Well, um, it's the federal government's problem, not mine.
Ramsey: This is where I differ from the other candidates. I also think illegal immigration is a problem. Also, if we shoot the illegal immigrants, they will die a cold, scary death, and aftewards we will spit on their graves.! (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!) Also, I like to wear boots.
Wamp: Arizona has done the right thing. I would move there if they would vote for me to be their governor. And if they won't, I will crush them.
Question 3: What's your education plan?
McWheter: I've really got nothing. Whatever our last governor did seems to be working, so let's stick with that. And then I'd like a nap.
Ramsey: Let's take the money away from the poor schools and give them to the rich ones, so that we can take our nation back.
Wamp: I don't have any ideas, so I'm going to look really intently into the camera. If you don't vote for me, I will kill you.
Haslam: I have a four-point plan that says absolutely nothing. Which is fine, because I'm going to win anyway.
Question 4: How would you help small businesses?
Ramsey: I'm the only one up here that has ever run a small business. But I would do absolutely nothing to help you.
Haslam: I love small businesses.
McWherter: Thank you for your question. We give lots of tax breaks. I want to give you one as well. But you have to promise to vote for me first.
Wamp: I love small business too. Also, I'm going to ramble incohertently for a while to fill out my alloted time because I have nothing else to say. Except that I will kick your ass if you don't vote for me.
Question 4: Should evolution be taught in school?
McWherter: Our public schools should blend science and religion. First Amendment be damned. As "long as we're responsible with it." No, I have no idea what that means. But it's past my bedtime, so what do you expect?
Ramsey: Jesus is my co-pilot. We need to teach God in our public schools. It is the government's job to convert your kids to the government's favored religious views. Also, I believe in a small government that doesn't interfere with our daily life.
Wamp: We need to make Bible reading mandatory. Every piece of non-biblical "science" needs to be counter acted by equal doses of Old Time Religion.
Haslam: I'm sorry, but the rest of you are crazy.
Question 5: Should Muslims be allowed to exist?
Ramsey: Put them on their flying carpets and send them back where they came from. Give 'em the boot! (I'm wearing boots. You see what I did there?)
Halsam: Why would I answer a question like this? As long as I don't say anthing offensive, I'm going to win!
McWherter: Did someone say something about a nap? A nice comfy carpet sounds good right about now-- it's almost 9!
Wamp: No.
Final Question: How do you feel about the environment?
Ramsey: Screw it. Hahahahahahah!
Wamp: I know a lot about the environment. Also, I'm getting really angry by engaging in this debate. Would anyone like to fight?
Halsam: Yes.
McWherter: Can I answer this tomorrow? I'm tired. I like what the last governor did about the environment. If you loved him, you'll be somewhat fond of me. Also, did you notice that I'm the only candidate wearing a blue dress shirt? Democrat. Wearing blue. You see what I did there?
Closing Statement:
Ramsey: I wear boots. The country is in "aheckuva shape." Vote for me. I'm God's favorite. Hahahahahahahahahaha!
Wamp: God wants me to win. God told me I'm going to win. And if I don't, God will kick your ass.
McWheter: Wha? I thought the questions were over. You just interrupted a really good dream. I dreamed that people voted for me, because the last governor was pretty good and I'll do whatever he did.
Halsam: Listen, every other candidate up here is certifiably insane. I haven't said a lot in this debate, but please know that I'm at least sane enough to realize that I really don't need to. Because these other three guys are nuts. I'm embarrassed to be sharing a stage with them.
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