Walk Of Life

Do we have universal health care yet?

Didn't think so. That would be civilized or somethin....

But hey! one of the locals threw something over the transom today. Yes, my office has transoms. I had heard the Pony express comin, but you know how things are around here. Me, I'm thinking some entertaining bit of zombie flotsam....

No! That would be trite... Instead, it's a swell garment, lovingly adorned with Mekonic artwork.

So, I am putting out the word to all zombies, ghouls, and other non living types: NO EATING OF VON'S BRAINS!! HANDS, TENTACLES, AND MECHANICAL APPENDAGES OFF. She is under Protection when the Zombocalypse comes.

Hey, thanks Von. It's swell, it really is. Made my day, which wasn't terrible to begin with.

Now, back to trying to decipher the Mystery Art Bage, which is a masterpiece of subtlety, if you're in Ohio.

Doot Doot

Simels at PowerPop hooked me up with this song, go ahead and get it your own self. Yeah it's on a commercial, but hey, these guys prolly didn't get any money the first time around, so it hardly qualifies as selling out, does it?

Anyway, in my eagerness to avoid doing any work today, I came across this comment (at this hole):

I guess what interests me about the whole issue, is why does Obama spend so much money fighting this in court if there's not a problem? I've read a lot of Farah's stuff. He's asking for the long form Birth Cert that lists the physician and the hospital. I think he's also after some of Obama's college records that remain secret. Funny the press couldn't manage the same defense of Bush, as well as outrage at all those who went after him, no? Anyway, that's why I find it interesting.

I guess what interests me is that I have here a "Birth Certificate" that I obtained for the purposes of a passport. It looks pretty much like Obama's except it says "Certification" and it's blue. It's valid for every frickin government purpose. why is this not enough for these gomers?

I guess what interests me is how this commenter is unable to understand that Obama is not fighting any of it in court. The Birthers bring a court case, Obama's legal team responds, and the case is laughed out of court. Nobody's fighting, except for the idjits who are unable to come to terms with a black man as President.

I've seen my version of the document this guy calls a Long Form Birth Certificate. It wasn't long, it was a scrap of paper, quarter size, with every thing scrawled in by hand, barely legible, and photocopied several times. I imagine it lists the doctor and the nurse and other stuff, but not in a way that you could actually read. Hardly indisputible, and the idea that one of these would put this irrational business to bed is laughable. I doubt it would be effective in even obtaining a passport.

And...just why does anybody give a shit about Obama's college records? Other than run of the mill privacy providing trumped up justification for claiming the President is being SECRETIVE!!!, what bearing is there on whether Obama got a B or a C in Basket-weaving class?

But beyond that. Obama's mother was indisputably an American citizen. No matter where he was born or who his father was, this makes him de facto and constitutionally an American Citizen. McCain was born in Panama his own bad self. why is this even being discussed? I mean, besides Loud Obbs? And the fact that the right wing has gone full goose bozo upholstered-wall-banging crazy?

But that's not why we're here. We're here to talk. About art. and Life. and Health care. and maybe manage a laugh. And all of this was wrapped up so neatly, so succinctly, so artfully, by John Farr, right here. The man is a WRITER, and you could spend worse time than reading some of his stuff.

So, we'll talk, right? And... maybe we'll manage a laugh.

Everything is Different

Went to Brady Street Festival yesterday to catch the Wooldridge Brothers. Told TeenZombie that I had seen these guys in a couple of different bands, starting back when I was in college, we were all young and skinny and dinosaurs roamed the earth. He instantly dubbed them "PreCambrian Band". Smart ass. Where does he get that?




They did a nice pair of sets for a crowd that seemed to mostly consist of friends and family, and me. They also did some choice covers, even though Zelmo was nowhere to be seen (Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead, Picture Book, and a Lennon song). I had some margaritas. the jets flew by overhead.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. Wanted to talk about the war. Well, not really, but that's an Arlo Guthrie line, and it was too opportune not to use it. Actually, I wanted to talk about misbehavior.

Here's a story. Happenened quite a few years ago; I used to shoot bar darts at a local pub, and our team was kind of legendary. Mainly because we were far more concerned about the alcohol than the darts, but whatever. One night, after we had finished our matches, one of our team suggested we visit another bar near Marquette.

Once we got there, we got beer, and pumped the juke full of money, and were enjoying the night, when the POLICE descended on the bar. Being near a college, they were raiding it for underage drinking. Not being underage, we showed no concern as they lined everybody up to check IDs at the door on the way out. What the hell, we had beers to finish...

Eventually, most of us exited. most of us. R and I were finishing our pitcher, and when we went to leave, one of the officers stopped us. "They didn't get into line!" he exclaimed, refusing to look at our proof of age and insisting we remain in the bar. I said "We had beers to finish!" the bartenders laughed ruefully and turned away.

Of course, I was indignant. Of course. I was a radical, not like now. We had been doing nothing illegal, and merely did not show what this officer felt was sufficient obedience to his AU-THOR-I-TAH!!

Here's where thing started to get twisted. One of our friends, P, noticing we weren't behind them on the sidewalk, returned to the front door to see what was up. A cop stopped him; he explained he was just going to tell us where they were going; the cop responded "Those guys aren't going anywhere for a while." When P tried again, talking to us behind the cop, he was grabbed, cuffs were slapped on his wrists, and they sat him on a bar stool away from everybody else, where now P sat glowering in rage.

Now here is where I missed my opportunity. My only defense is that I had been drinking. You see, what I should have done here is told the officers I wanted to call my attorney. Regardless of what they said, All I had to do was call across the room "Hey P!" P, you may realize, was an attorney. He was the only one handcuffed. He also received a disorderly conduct citation, which was dismissed by the DA the next day. P's brother is also a police officer. P. is also clearly Hispanic.

But at this point, my friend R was trying to defuse the situation, as is tradition. He took his ID and mine to a different cop, explaining "look, we're not underage, we didn't do anything wrong, here's our IDs, what can we do to go along?" The cop snatched the IDs so she could run checks. We were worse off than before.

Eventually, one of the cops called my name, but I didn't hear; called again louder and more irritated. Well so was I. "WHAT!?!?" I yelled back.

"HOW LONG AGO DID YOU LIVE ON LOVER'S LANE?" My last name is kind of common.

"NEVER LIVED ON LOVER'S LANE!! WRONG FUCKIN M*****!"

At this point, I overheard the cop who initially blocked our exit arguing with another.

"I don't care, he's busted!"

"But he's got to have DONE something!"

Apparently I am a dissident. Fortunately, there were no tasers at the time.

Finally, another cop came over with our IDs, smiling like he was doing us a favor, telling us we could go now. Thanks, man. I'll remember that THE NEXT TIME I DON'T DO SOMETHING ILLEGAL!!

A few minutes later, P was cited and released also, and was furious. The ironic thing is, all the cops had to do was follow us to our cars and give us breathalyzer tests.

Now, I don't want to give the impression that I believe racism was involved. Haven't really thought about it until the Gates kerfuffle last week. But now that I recall, the only person handcuffed in that bar on that night was my Hispanic friend, whose only offense was trying to talk to me.

Me and R, whose only offense was to believe that we were not breaking any laws and as such, had nothing to fear from a policeman.

The idea being promulgated in some quarters that we are obligated to not talk back or argue with a policemen at any time is inherently fascistic. We were acting legally, if insolently; as was Professor Gates, by most accounts. But insolence is not a crime in America.

Not yet.

Armagideon Time

No videos, you whiners.

Mendacious D is on vacay, so go over there and make a mess. curse, bring your pets, link to Ann Althouse, whatevs.

Be aware that Zardoz is a trigger for me.

Big Zombie

Well, I drove east, but I didn't go home
I just drove out past the false-front neon signs
Great double trucks rumble on the coast road
I'm just not human tonight
Start up in low, and watch them go
With a growl like lions in the zoo

Pardon merci, je suis le grande zombie
I'm just not human tonight

The air got cooler as the highway narrowed
Stinking ocean breeze ran through the night
The cars got fewer and their headlights hurt
I'm just not human tonight
Well, they're just restless, just like you
They've got to take the car out and drive somewhere

Pardon merci, je suis le grande zombie
And I'm just not human tonight

People falling down upon their knees
Watch the night crash down around their ears

I pulled into an all-night cafe
Just to stretch my legs and take a bite
But I couldn't face a naked dinner on a plate
I'm just not human tonight
So pull them in and throw them out
They'd be better off eating cat food at home

Pardon merci, je suis le grande zombie
I'm just not human tonight

fuck, I love these guys. Just a bunch of cuddly socialist punk folkies. Isn't that poetry?

This is Radio Clash

I was tuning in the shine on the light night dial
Doing anything my radio advised
With every one of those late night stations
Playing songs bringing tears to my eyes
I was seriously thinking about hiding the receiver
When the switch broke 'cause it's old
They're saying things that I can hardly believe
They really think we're getting out of control

(CHORUS) Radio is a sound salvation
Radio is cleaning up the nation
They say you better listen to the voice of reason
But they don't give you any choice 'cause they think that it's treason
So you had better do as you are told
You better listen to the radio

I wanna bite the hand that feeds me
I wanna bite that hand so badly
I want to make them wish they'd never seen me

Some of my friends sit around every evening
And they worry about the times ahead
But everybody else is overwhelmed by indifference
And the promise of an early bed
You either shut up or get cut up, they don't wanna hear about it
It's only inches on the reel-to-reel
And the radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools
Tryin' to anaesthetise the way that you feel

Wonderful radio
Marvelous radio
Wonderful radio
Radio, radio

Sweet living fuck, that was written 30 years ago.

Clampdown

Watched Obama's press confo tonight, while sitting at the dining room table working. Wish I had time to do a big ol bloggo post; The American Insurance-Medical Complex is a particularly galling issue for me....

In the meantime, I've been listening to the Clash, and other Strummer-Jones music.... It almost makes me feel young again.




I'll be back into the swing on Saturday or so.

As Good As It Gets

AG's definition of hubris:

An ex being served a restraining order for bothering the AG written by the current adorable boyfriend.

Gawd, I love dating an attorney, a hottie, a Jew, an academic, and a doctor.

AG is due back in about three and a half weeks after Net Roots. Look out because AG is coming back full force with photos, stories, and some video action if y'all are a good captive audience.

Things I Never Knew

Yes, you saw correctly. They are part of this.

They have books too. Right, you probably already knew that was coming didn't you?

Shayera, are you fixin' to join the local team? (Yes, AG said fixin'. Winkie, winks.)

Another One Bites The Dust

This is completely for Righteous Bubba, and totally his fault:

There's No Here

Wella wella wella, now I seem to have a pretty lil dilemma.

mikey's FrankenPod ideas notwithstanding, I see a check today, which allows me to euthanize my butthurt iPod.

But, now here's the thing. Apple stopped offering the 160 gig model, which is the only one that allows me to carry my entire music collection in my pocket. I know I know, I'm facking spoiled. And admittedly, there are things on there that do not need to be portabilized; the yodeling sampler, the North American Frogs, anything by Journey.... don't tell me to lose the Shatner though.

And the regular old 120 gig model allows you to use the Genius feature on the go, which I like. I presume the Genius uses the Music Genome Project in some way, like pandora does.

Apple has a refurbed 160 gig that I could get. Wouldn't be here till next week sometime, but that's a minor quibble. Maybe.

Or I could hit an Apple store to snag (heh) a 120 gig right away, thus filling the aching iPod shaped hole in my life.

Arrrgh. my mind is shot that I can't make this decision.

Devils and Dust

One for mikey, because Springsteen still has something to say:

Now every woman and every man
They wanna take a righteous stand
Find the love that God wills
And the faith that He commands
I've got my finger on the trigger
And tonight faith just ain't enough
When I look inside my heart
There's just devils and dust

devils and dust, indeed, sometimes that's all I can see.

Another View

riffin on a Leftous Bubble post.

HI, BURT!!

Salty Sam

Because when AG leaves the USA, you don't know what's going to happen.

Dark At The End Of The Tunnel

well that was interesting.

Summerfest started strong, loud and hot. Rancid, Matthew Sweet, Dropkick Murphys..... even a little Spoon for the hipsters.

And it ended on high notes too, English Beat and Elvis Costello. And lots of excellent local music, a welcome addition.

In between the high water marks is where the mold grows, however. Clouds moved in, and it started raining. The Summerfestblog showed signs of strain from the outset, balking at updates regardless of what I tried. Finally I stripped out everything but text, but it didn't help. I considered migrating everything over to Blogger, but what a PITA that would be. I eventually threw my hands up, made a couple of desultory posts, and when nobody commented, kind of threw the whole thing into the dumper. Fuck it.

Because in the interim, life was treating me to a harsh lesson in trusting other people. I was engaged by a client to prepare existing conditions drawings of a factory building in Beaver Dam, and design drawings for a conversion to apartments. Unfortunately, I am also in the midst of designing a new apartment building in Milwaukee, and severely short on staff. So, I engaged a local architect to measure the building and prepare computer files of the plans, elevations and sections of the building.

Finally, early last week, I received some computer files. As I started to review them, expecting a limited effort to format them, I started to see that they were inaccurate and too simple, almost cartoons. Essentially and mostly unusable. I found myself looking at the necessity to revise the plans in large amounts, and discarded the sections and elevations, generating them from scratch. The effort had already taken a couple of weeks longer than estimated, and the client was impatient. Hell, he told me I was insane. Maybe so, Bob, maybe so.

So, Summerfest became history for me. As of Wednesday the 30th, my streak of consecutive attendance became sacrificed on the altar of.... what, really? a lousy career. My streak ended at 46 days, somewhat impressive but far from any kind of record. As of Sunday evening, Zelmo and I are currently tied at... one consecutive day.

I spent the end of June and the beginning of July, including the holiday weekend, trying to pull together the drawings that somebody else should have done. I probably put in 100 hours on them in 6 days. FWIW, this is an example of what they should have looked like:


Four sheets of plans, two of elevations, one of sections.

Of course, that put me behind on the other project, which is due by the end of this month. So, I've been getting up early, working on the dining room table on my trusty battered Powerbook, then going into the office and ignoring the phone there, and coming home and working until... O let's see, it's currently 12:22 AM.

It would be less debilitating if the clients would be willing to make progress payments. But this particular client loves to screw the architect down on fees in the front end, demand the full completion of drawings, and finally pay the majority of the fees 90 days after that, financing the project on someone else's credit ratings. Welcome to the glamour of private practice. However, in the current climate, it's obvious to everyone that a developer with project in hand is in the driver's seat, and able to dictate whatever heinous terms they like.

Well, since I used the term:



So, the blog and the family and the sleep and the recreational time and the dog all just gets flushed down the drain. Fuck, I would take a job with another practice in a second, but you know how many design firms are hiring? somewhere between zero and negative 700. Hell, I've even considered calling my first boss, who is a legendarily abusive asshole.

And then today, as if Mama Life was having a helluva time kicking me in the teeth, decided to go for the yarbles when I tried to protect my face. While updating my iPod, ALL FUCKING 34000 SONGS GOT ERASED FROM IT. 150 gigs, all the music I have. Now, don't worry, my entire music collection is on an external hard drive and nothing is permanently lost. But the iPod refuses to re-sync, freezing up whenever it gets within shouting distance of 10 gigs of music re-loaded, regardless of whether I use auto-sync or manual. Might be fucked for permanent.

And, just before Summerfest, I found out one of my oldest, dearest friends had to have emergency spinal surgery to avoid becoming a para, or quadra, -plegic. Because he was unemployed, and anything like preventive care is a laughable pipe dream in the medieval health care "system" we "enjoy".

So, you know, fuck. Accordingly, the zombocalypse has been put on hiatus at least until Sarah Palin completes her meltdown. Cuz that's fuckin funny.

Old Joke:

What do you call an abortion in the Czech Republic?

A canceled check

Come now. It has Blue Girl shiksa appeal.

When in Prague...make bad jokes.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



The hushed tones of this song danced through the Mercedes as we made our way towards the beer hall. It’s been a long three days between leaving my daughter and the States in the rear view mirror to the abstract being accepted, the speaking engagements that I now have to carry because my colleagues saved a heart attack victim in flight and have to remain in Canada with the patient until Health Canada clears them for deployment to London. A rolling stone never gathers an AG for long…

It occurred to me as this song filled the air that my life is better than it has ever been. Despite how difficult my childhood was, my life has been pretty remarkable. And yet, it keeps getting better like a good bottle from the Russian River Valley. I probably never would have believed I'd be captivated by a Southern Jew who makes the ACLU look like a conservative organization, if I had been told this is how my life would be in 2009. (Shoot, I was in Europe around this time last year for a mere 48 hour turn around and was sick from dining on tomatoes. I thought I was going to die. Good times, June 2008!)

A man who makes me not just want to be better, but to actually be better. A man who understands the value in me visiting the concentration camps this week because we must pay testament to what should never happen again. A man who talked me into our daughter when I not only never wanted to have anyone need me more than I needed myself, but not throw it back in my face when I called while fighting back tears the other night because I missed her so much. He didn’t judge when I explained they are only small for a brief moment in time and if I do not cherish that, I will have lost everything. A man who walked in from outer space and waited patiently while I fought him like a Confederate at Gettysburg with every reason in the book. Meanwhile, he just kept grinning knowing I would eventually give into the fight and become my own AG to him.

Life is good. A brief glimpse of my trip thus far:

Happy Hour

Quick question from the road:

Has anyone tried the new Michelob Ultra flavor: tuscan, orange, grapefruit? Drunking McVideo guy is not trust worthy.

Could you provide a full report on this, if you have!

Smells like Old Spirit

When Nevermind was released, I was right the fuck on top of it. The buzz was hot, and it was produced by Madison boy Butch Vig, and I had a steady paycheck, so it was mine right away. A sweet sweet mix of Black Flag and Cheap Trick, I played it incessantly. My favorite memeory was riding in a friend's Porsche, top down, at 100 mph, with "Teen Spirit" blasting....

five months later, Billboard changed the way they judged album sales, and Nirvana was an arena rock band.

And within a couple of years, Kurt Cobain was tabloid fodder and killed himself. Can't say I blame him, actually.

But you know, for me, it's always about the music. The SOUNDS. The NOISE. And Cobain always held simultaneous love for the Beatles, The Meat Puppets, and the Germs. How could I not appreciate that?

But boy howdy, being the focus of media blitzkrieg changes everything. You know, I forgot how great Nevermind is, and the pure punk bliss that is Teen Spirit.

Until I downloaded this cover by Patti Smith. Look, if you don't know who Patti Smith is, you shouldn't be reading this blog.

Utube has embedding disabled because the record companies suck. But hey, fuck that, just go buy the album, cuz Patti is teh shit.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwpLqrh19Ws

But the cover is unbelievable, and the first or second thing I noticed is that teh song is fucking great.

Cobain was a helluva song writer, and we are always poorer with one less artist among our midst.

And I forget
Just what it takes
And yet I guess it makes me smile
I found it hard
Its hard to find
Oh well, whatever, nevermind

You know, fuck. Meanwhile Newt Gingrich is still drawing air. Who did better?