Auto and other bail outs

A friend sent me this article on the auto bail out. I disagree with a lot of things this guy has to say. Aside from being a car company shill, his logic seems flawed to me. He says:

"Loan assistance from the federal government that tries to control the companies too tightly, that forces them to bring to market vehicles that the public may not want, might simply assure that they fail somewhat later rather than sooner."

I have news for you, Mr. Nerad. The public wants fuel efficient vehicles. You don't see them bitching about airbags, do you?

He then says:

"Instead of simply limiting foreign imports or adding federal taxes to fuel costs to give consumers an incentive to buy more fuel-efficient vehicles,the government instituted byzantine regulations that required American manufacturers to build (or at least market) fuel-efficient cars just so they could continue selling the cars and trucks they were already known for."

Excuse me? Nerad seems to be arguing that limiting foreign imports would have given the American public an incentive to buy more fuel efficient cars. Why? This is wrong on so many levels. First, those fuel efficient cars he's talking about were only available as imports back then. American cars weren't fuel efficient. So if you couldn't get the fuel efficient import car, how were you going to have an incentive to buy a fuel efficient car?? There's no incentive created there. And since you couldn't have bought a fuel efficient car anyway, you would have bought the American gas guzzling boat. How on earth would making that boat people's only option give the American car company any incentive to build anything else? This is exactly what the American auto makers wanted - less competition, so they wouldn't have to offer fuel efficient cars.

Secondly, adding federal taxes to fuel costs would have had the same effect. Americans would have bought more fuel efficient cars, surely - and since only imports were really fuel efficient at the time, it would have increased sales of foreign cars! Which actually happened anyway, and the big 3 didn't respond.

What's funny is that later in the article Nerad argues that the foreign automakers' voluntary limitations on imports helped create "strong dealer networks" and "windfall profits" for foreign auto companies, and in turn hurt the U.S. manufacturers. But in the quote above, limitation on foreign imports IS EXACTLY THE THING HE WAS ARGUING FOR. Which is it, Jack? You can't have it both ways.

As to the second part, about forcing U.S. automakers to offer "other" cars "just so they continue selling the cars they were already known for, this is terrible logic again. First, if automakers didn't want to offer new brands, they could have made their "well known" brands more fuel efficient. Simple. Second, they weren't "forced" to do this just so they could keep selling their famous models. That makes it sound like the govt. stepped in and put this heinous condition on them willy nilly. Nope. They were going under, and guess what they were going under from? Selling their "well known" (but shitty) cars.

The driving argument behind all this seems to be that American car makers needed time to catch up to the foreign companies in order to be able to offer fuel efficient cars. I wonder if they're "geared up" yet? BECAUSE THEY'VE HAD 30 YEARS. Is that enough, or should we wait a few more decades?

Blaming the American car manufacturers' woes on govt. regulations from 1980 is downright silly. American cars suck, bottom line. Every argument he brings up can be countered by one sentence addressed to domestic auto makers:

BUILD A BETTER FUCKING CAR.

Anyway, here's another article on why at least one of the big three shouldn't get a bailout, for another reason - they already have all the money they need.

And a few more facts about corporate greed to make your blood boil.

Keith Olberman on Prop 8

Obama Wins

Thank God.

Olberman on Palin: Socialist, Fraud

McCain says the S word

TOP 5 REASONS OBAMA SUPPORTERS SHOULDN'T REST EASY

1. The polls may be wrong. This is an unprecedented election. No one knows how racism may affect what voters tell pollsters—or what they do in the voting booth. And the polls are narrowing anyway. In the last few days, John McCain has gained ground in most national polls, as his campaign has gone even more negative.

2. Dirty tricks. Republicans are already illegally purging voters from the rolls in some states. They're whipping up hysteria over ACORN to justify more challenges to new voters. Misleading flyers about the voting process have started appearing in black neighborhoods. And of course, many counties still use unsecure voting machines.

3. October surprise. In politics, 15 days is a long time. The next McCain smear could dominate the news for a week. There could be a crisis with Iran, or Bin Laden could release another tape, or worse.

4. Those who forget history... In 2000, Al Gore won the popular vote after trailing by seven points in the final days of the race. In 1980, Reagan was eight points down in the polls in late October and came back to win. Races can shift—fast!

5. Landslide. Even with Barack Obama in the White House, passing universal health care and a new clean-energy policy is going to be hard. Insurance, drug and oil companies will fight us every step of the way. We need the kind of landslide that will give Barack a huge mandate.

You can sign up to volunteer at your local Obama office by clicking here:

Colin Powell Endorses Barack Obama

Nostrobamus

An Open Letter to Joe Lieberman's Rabbis

I'm certainly not Jewish, but today being Yom Kippur, I thought I'd just post a link to a letter that I think is especially timely. I would just reproduce the text, but Mr. Kornbluth wrote it to the Huffington Post, so I'll leave it there and just link to it. Anyway I think everyone should read the Huffpo daily.

So here it is. It's a letter from Jesse Kornbluth to Joe Lieberman's Rabbis asking them to ask Joe Lieberman to ask McCain to stop the hate. A couple steps removed, but McCain supposedly listens to Joe Lieberman, and if Joe Lieberman is a good Jew than he should be doing this anyway.

I think the holocaust imagery and implied consequences may be a bit overly dramatic, but the point is taken. McCain and Palin are, by not speaking out against hatred, condoning it. And I don't think that's by accident. The right uses fear to win, and hatred comes from that same fear. They know what they're doing.

In fact, they've already convinced some people that Barack Obama is nothing less than a terrorist. Check it out:



Of course, these people aren't likely to be convinced by any argument to change their views. The best thing rational, thinking people can do to combat this kind of ignorance and hate is to get more rational, thinking people registered to vote.

You can do that here, at Rock The Vote, where they will email you your voter registration form.

Or, if you want to find out how to vote early or register to vote absentee, go here.

John McCain, where did you go?

Cubs.

Dude.

Go Cubs Go!

Please God, let the Cubs win today.

Amen.

Interview Sarah Palin

You can conduct your very own Sarah Palin interview here.

Hello Ruby Thursday!

My niece was born today!! Welcome to the world, little one! I can't wait to meet you.

Love, your uncle Dave

Olberman pays on Palin's Lies

And now for something completely different.

Think John McCain will be good for the economy?

Think again. This article gives a nice little history of the current Wall Street implosion, why it's happening, and that it's happened before. Partly due to John McCain.

The Straight Talk Express

Desperation & Lies

This is what they do

McCain / Palin Counter Punches

For anyone who knows a Republican (or anyone else similarly out of their mind) who is still thinking about voting for John McCain, there's a great article here with 15 reasons you can give them not to.

The real John McCain

The guy has two houses in Corona, California. At the beach. TWO. Who needs TWO beach condos in the same damn town?

John McCain: "Sometimes I Just Open My Mouth And Words Come Out"

Maybe, as Tucker Carlson says, John McCain doesn't necessarily speak for the John McCain campaign (forward in to 17 min, 45 secs). Or maybe he just shouldn't speak at all.

Mark Twain's Adventures. With Satan.

I found this in a blog rant about creepy kids' shows (I'm going to give a credit and link to it, but I want to post some more of them and not give them all away at once).

Some were funny, some were just plain bad, and this one was labeled as "terrifying." Yes, I suppose it could be terrifying for either kids or adults, depending on who you are. This blogger wrote that he had nightmares about everything as a kid. So did I. But I was fascinated by my own nightmares. I was a bit scared, but also aware of the atmosphere and kind of...appreciative of the good ones. Maybe that's why I grew up to love horror films. I guess I'm weird.

Anyway, I thought this clip was fantastic. It took a lot of imagination and daring to make this, in my opinion. I love the way Satan is represented, both visually and vocally. I wanted to see more. How did I miss this show as a kid? I would have loved it.

Post Op Report

No, I'm not a tranny. I did have minor surgery two weeks ago though, and haven't felt much like doing anything even though I now have an incredible amount of free time at work (that's another post).

Anyhow, for the past few years I haven't been able to breathe through the left side of my nose. It got steadily worse over time, to wear it was starting to drive me batshit crazy. And it was doing weird things, like getting really plugged up when I ate, and emitting a bright white, rubbery substance that must have been mucus but more closely resembled chewing gum. Oh yeah, this post is gonna be pretty gross.

I figured while I have semi-decent health insurance I should get this taken care of. A coworker recommended a really good ENT/Plastic Surgeon. I was really really hoping not to need the surgeon part. I thought maybe worst case scenario he'd go up in there with a laser while I read the paper or something. Maybe take about 30 seconds, bada bing bada boom! Clear skies in my nose. That wasn't meant to be.

First, I had to deal with the nightmare of our HMO. If you already know the doctor you want to see , you're screwed. You have to have a primary care doctor in the same medical group, so I had to change doctors. They assigned me to no less than 4 different incorrect doctors. I finally got the one I wanted after 2 days of phone calls. Then I had to go see him. He wanted all sorts of tests done. I didn't do them. Then he had to get an authorization for me to see the ENT. After a crapload of rigamarole, I got to go. The ENT took one look up my nose and said "oh yeah, you need surgery."

Now I had to get tests done. I had blood drawn, which went fine except they told me a week before my surgery that they had FORGOTTEN to do some of the tests. The next time I went it was 12:30 pm and I hadn't eaten yet, and I totally passed out. I woke up moaning and sweating, and also pretty mortified that I let that happen. Turns out I hate needles. Also, I'm a pansy. I could watch someone else get their arm lopped off but 2 drops of my own blood and I'm out.

You'll never see me on a talk show after cutting off my own hand to get out of the desert, or crawling a mile and a half back home after having my arms threshed off by a combine in the field. I won't make it. I'll take one look at that shit, pass out, and die of blood loss. I think that's why I'm so afraid of sharks. Yeah, getting your leg or arm bitten off would suck baws, but most people survive because the shark moves off to wait for you to bleed to death the way a seal would, and that gives a human time to swim back to shore. Not me. If that happens, I'm fish food.

Many visits and authorizations later, I found myself being dropped off at the surgery center at 7 am. I filled out 400 pages of paperwork, changed into a paper gown and sat in a lazy boy while the nurse proceeded to stick me with the i.v. Since no blood was going to come out, I felt ok about this. Soon I started getting cold sweats and feeling dizzy. Shit. Am I really gonna be that guy who buckles every time I get stuck? She took my blood sugar. She didn't know how to read it, so another nurse had to help. It was fine. Eventually it passed and I stayed conscious. After that I felt pretty good, except my arm hurt. Turns out that was because she completely "blew my vein" as a friend later told me. This is a full week after the surgery:



Anyway, they finally wheeled me in and gave me a drug cocktail. The lights on the ceiling started moving as if I was on a train car moving underneath. That's interesting, I thought. Ok, we're ready, I heard the doc say. There was a click as the anesthesia was administered, and it was instant lights out. I woke up in the recovery room feeling like I was swimming under a pool of cotton, but came to pretty fast. My throat felt like someone had made me swallow tennis balls for an hour. I wanted to lay there for a bit but they actually started sort of hurrying me out. I was my buddy's truck before I really knew what was happening.

We stopped by Walgreens because I hadn't picked up my prescription for pain killers yet. MISTAKE. After a few minutes waiting near the pharmacy, I began to bleed all over hell and creation. I was vaguely aware of Mike asking the pharmacist if he could come back and pick up my meds because I was starting to paint the place red. She said yes, and we bounced. He went back and got the pills for me, and he only kept a handful. He's a stand up guy.

Here's what I looked like that afternoon:






That stuff in my nose is called "packing." It's a spongy thing with, apparently, tubes in it so you can breathe. That shit does NOT work. I didn't even know the tubes were there until the next day when the doc pulled them out. He then pulled the packing out and for about 4 seconds I could breathe. Then it clogged up like you wouldn't believe.

Over the next few days it dripped blood so that I had to change the dressing every 20 minutes or so (first day), then so that I could get by with just rolled up tp stuck up there:



Then it just ran snot, and then that finally stopped by about day 4. Still swollen, painful, and I was not allowed to blow my nose so completely stuffed up. A week after the surgery I went back, and the doc pulled what he called "mucus plugs" out of my head. It felt like pieces of my brain were being slowly dragged out through my nose, and then he used a 9 ft metallic tube device to vacuum the back of my skull from what seemed like the next room. He also removed the stitches, which he said would dissolve on their own but he took them out to prevent "crusting." Two days later though, I blew my nose and a stitch came out. That was fun. Didn't bleed, just looked weird. I was overjoyed to be able to blow my nose at all. Do NOT take that for granted.

It's been 2 weeks now and I can breathe through my nose, although it still gets a bit plugged. But I can already tell my breathing is going to be fantastic once it clears up. The worst part has been having to sleep sitting upright for the first few days, then propped up and breathing through my mouth. For the first week, I woke up every 20-30 minutes feeling like someone had been pouring sand down my throat. I used a humidifier and still had to drink a gallon of water a night. Now I sleep for about 4-5 hours at a time. I haven't slept a single night through for 15 days though. I'm in a constant state of exhaustion. At some point I'm going to sleep for about 17 hours and then I may feel human again. The worst part is over though, and it's getting better every day. God bless modern medicine. Except for the needles.

Super Tuesday

Here is a short list of the things that happened on Tuesday, June 4, 2008 in my world:

1. I got sworn in the California State Bar.

2. I got a raise. A healthy one. After threatening to quit (separate post).

3. The Cubs won.

4. Barack Obama won the Democratic nomination.

That is a pretty effin' good day. I am grateful for it.

Sweeeeeeeep

The Cubs swept the Dodgers. While the boys in blue are my B team and I hate to see them lose, they must go down when facing the Cubs. Sorry guys. Feel free to snap that streak now and win for the rest of the season. Except next week, when the Cubs are in town. Then you'll have to get swept again. It's for a good cause, trust me.

I passed.

Screw you California Bar Exam! Screw yoooooooooooooooooou!

It's hard to believe I moved to Southern California in 2003 to go to law school. Turns out it's not so easy to become a California lawyer. But five years later, I did it. And I will never, ever, ever have to do it again. Not in this state anyway.

I considered calling this post "Free At Last" or "And I Will Learn No More Forever" but I decided those were both too disrespectful. Not so disrespectful that I wouldn't mention them, just not in the headline.

I'm going to write a more complete account of my experience, but I just needed to put something up here, since I've been annoying everyone who reads this for the last several years about it. Then again, all three of you already know, so...

Anyway, I'm a lawyer.

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.

For the facts on Black's lobbying, go here.


"McCain Campaign to Re-Vet Entire Staff," TheAtlantic.com, May 15, 2008

A Good Night's Sleep

Last night I did something I haven't done in almost 5 years: slept in a quiet apartment.

I've had upstairs neighbors that trained elephants to bowl from midnight to 6 a.m. every night since the fall of 2003. Seriously, their pounding on the floor could only have been explained by pachyderms or perhaps the USC marching band.

They were the weirdest couple. One was a small Jewish woman, maybe in her late 30's. The other was a mid-twenties Latino guy. I don't think he ever said 3 words in the entire time they were there. She, on the other hand, LOVED to talk. She referred to him as her "partner" and said that they were running a business together. However, I never once saw a product come or go. When I asked what kind of business it was, she replied "Oh, I own some domain names and other stuff." Really? The only thing I could think of was porn. And at first I thought maybe that was it. Maybe the nightly noises were porn shoots! But it wasn't that.

Nobody ever came or went, for one thing. And once I was invited in to their place and there was no room for any of that kind of activity. The place was filled with milk crates and stacks of books and papers and clutter and junk. There was a walking path to the computer and the kitchen, and that was it. Model airplanes hung from the ceiling. The bedroom had no door, just a flag with the star of David on it. And they were TOTAL potheads. She kept offering to "turn me on." Has anyone used that expression since 1968?

She also thought I was Jewish. The very first time I met her she asked me if I was, and I said no. Every single Jewish holiday after that for the next four years she wished me happy __________. Happy Yom Kippur, happy Rosh Hashannah, etc. I kept telling her every single time that I was not Jewish. Finally I just started wishing her a Happy Easter and Merry Christmas.

One time she asked me if it was a good time for her to come down and ask me a legal question. "No, I'm sorry," I replied. "I'm leaving soon. And I'm not a lawyer, so I really can't give you legal advice." Three minutes later she knocked on my door, and basically barged in. She started asking me what I knew about Family Partnerships in Nevada (a form of company there). "Well, nothing," I replied. She proceeded to tell me that it was a good way to hide assets, and that I should look into it. Right, because I have so many assets to hide. Get out of my apartment.

The noise got so bad during the last year that I went from banging on the ceiling with a broom to leaving nasty letters at her door. Her first response was "I have to work when I have the energy." Well, start sleeping at night and you'll have the energy during the day. Besides, most of us don't have that luxury. We have to work when our job dictates. Then she tried to tell me that the sounds I heard might be trucks, motorcycles, or the wind. Are you kidding me? I know where the sounds are coming from. YOU.

Finally it quieted down. A couple weeks ago she came down knocking on my door when I had people over (she always came down to be nosy when I had people over). She told me she was moving, and that her "partner" had already moved (hence the quiet I guess). They were going to a place in east L.A. owned by a guy who spoke no English and had 11 kids. 11. Our apartment manager had been steadily raising their rent (he hated them) so they must have been looking for something cheaper. She told me all about how it was a cockroach infested crap hole. I didn't take the bait by asking her why she was moving. I was too busy trying not to squeal with delight like a four year old girl. "Well, good luck" I told her. Then I promptly shut the door and announced to my friends "YES!!!! MY NEIGHBORS ARE MOVING OUT!!!!!"

So for the last four and a half years I've slept with the loudest fan on earth. I'd gotten so used to it that even when I'd go visit my sister and brother in law I'd turn on their air purifier full blast, even though it was quiet there. And when I'd visit my mom the utter silence of her country house made me feel a little insane. But last night I tried it. I turned the fan on out of habit, then remembered I probably didn't need it. I turned it off. It was eerily quiet. I got into bed and listened. Nothing. I was asleep in seconds. I even overslept, and was 30 minutes late for work today. And you know what, I do not care. I haven't slept that well in years.

LET'S HAVE A BEACH PARTY!!!!

You kind of have to give this one a minute. Stick with it for the greatest spit take ever.

Zack Galifianakis did this as part of Absolut's artist series, as long as he got to do whatever he wanted.

Zach Galifianakis' Second Absolut Vodka Ad featuring Tim & Eric

my boss just called me

to say, from his office next door, that "It's comical to people when we both answer emails. Here's what we'll do to avoid it in the future: When you get an email and we're both copied, wait one hour. If you haven't seen a response from me after one hour, then you can respond."

Or, you could just read your emails before hitting reply, and you'd see that I had already responded.

I will now race to be the first person to respond to all emails on which we are both copied. Every. Time.

The S&*T Monster

You may remember my boss, Grendel. I've decided that it's high time I posted some more about it. I've been warned by a friend not to do this, lest I get dooced. But Grendels aren't smart enough to find my blog, and besides, if I get fired over this it means I don't have to work for Grendel any more.

Some of you may have been thinking that I was exaggerating in my last post about Grendel when I described it as being 6 foot 9. I assure you that is its exact height. I need you to believe this. It will be important later.

First allow me to describe its clothing. I work in an industry where casual is the norm, thank God. I wear jeans to work every day, and I love it. But there's casual, and then there's hobo clown. My boss wears a sweatshirt with soup stains on it. I play a game with a coworker, we'll call her Brenda again for continuity, where we keep track of the consecutive number of days this same sweatshirt is worn. So far the record streak (and that word is appropriate) stands at a respectable 9. That's 9 business days, mind you. Weekends were not counted.

Next up is pants. My boss has two faves that he likes to change up every fortnight or so. One is a pair of sweatpants. They do not match the sweatshirt except in filth level. We'll get to that. They also don't go all the way down. They are what in grade school were known as "floods." They come about 3 feet shy of the top of his untied hi-tops, and the waist drops about 3 feet down whenever he bends over which, given his height, is required for every task he wishes to accomplish, including breathing. He will stand in front of the refrigerator deciding on a beverage while his entire ass is exposed to the world. He does not wear underwear.

The other leg wear my boss sports is a pair of jeans which do not have the capability of staying up on their own. When fully fastened they will instantly slide to the floor. A belt is apparently out of the question. Grendel cannot and must not remove its hand for one second. Therefore my boss spends the entire day with a fist full of denim in one hand. I have been forced to go to business meetings at incredibly posh Beverly Hills law firm offices where my boss handed over a check for several hundred thousand dollars with one hand and held up his pants with the other. When an attorney asked him "what the hell was wrong with his pants," he simply replied "we can't all be rich like you." My boss makes six figures.

The most horrifying thing about Grendel is not its clothing, but its hygiene. Or should I say, its complete lack thereof. Grendel uses the bathroom on our floor which contains two stalls. One is almost too small for a normal person to fit in, so Grendel is physically unable to use this one. It is the only stall I will ever use. The other one is a handicapped stall with a door that will swing wide open if not latched. Grendel never latches it. If you happen to be unlucky enough to enter the bathroom when Grendel is using it, it will bellow "SOMONE'S IN HERE" instead of simply closing the door. I time my trips to the bathroom precisely to avoid any possibility of this, and for good reason.

Before I knew the horrors I now know, I happened one time to be in the human stall when Grendel was in the other. I now know the sounds a cow hears right before entering the abatoir. If you heard these sounds coming from inside a haunted house, you would leave the premises immediately and sue for mental anguish. Sadly, that is not the repulsive part. Another fat disgusting monster who works at my company actually came into the bathroom seeking Grendel and, finding him indisposed, told it to come to his office when he was done. He then exited. Grendel then immediately got up and rushed out of the bathroom. No other act save pulling up the sweatpants was performed between its rising and exiting the room. Are you getting that? It simply got up and left. The toilet paper roll did not make so much as a quarter turn.

Now we come to the real reason that Grendel's sweatpants are so filthy. Given its habits, it is understandable that it often becomes "uncomfortable" during the day. It does not, however, repair to its lair to address this situation. Instead it has a conversation with whoever it must, while scratching itself violently and thoroughly, maintaining eye contact the entire time. It will ask you seriously about whether or not the quitclaim papers have been signed while digging for gold in its ass.

Keep this in mind while I tell you more. Grendel's favorite game used to be to take people's food. If you were eating a bowl of popcorn, for example, it would stick its filthy claw right in the bowl. Many people were known to throw away entire meals without touching them. Once it made a motion toward my own bowl of popcorn, but I stayed its hand with such a withering stare that it actually apologized and retreated. Stopping the touching was another matter.

I used to sit in the hallway. That is, I sat on one side of the hallway. My colleague, Brenda, still sits on the other side. I now have an office, thank the Lord up above. When I was in the hallway, though, Grendel had occassion to pass by me about 5-10 times a day. The first problem with this was that I faced the wall, so every time Grendel approached, it was standing right behind me. Do you know what is at eye level when you are seated in a chair and a 6'9" monster is standing right behind you? Can you guess? Do NOT turn your head, that's all I can say.

The second thing was that every time - EVERY time - it passed me it would pat me on the shoulder. It was a "hey, you're doin a good job" kind of pat. This did not make it acceptable. The first time I was disgusted (you can imagine why). After that I was infuriated. I started to dread it. I would see Grendel leave its lair at the long end of the hallway, and I'd have a good 20-30 seconds to anticipate what was coming. Like the tick...tick...tick of the slow climb up the first hill of a roller coaster, only instead of a slightly scary but fun ride down, a homeless guy at the top drops a wet paper bag full of crap on your shoulder.

After a while I told Grendel I didn't like to be touched. It was very apologetic, and immediately continued its habit of touching me. I told it again. And again. Finally I went to our HR guy and told him. He told me to tell Grendel. I said that I had, repeatedly. He said if it continued he would get involved. He's very helpful that way.

Grendel finally got the hint and stopped. At first it tried to just tap me on the shoulder, more lightly and quickly. Perhaps it thought I wouldn't notice if it did it fast enough. As I was now being poked instead of patted, I never failed to notice. When I voiced my complaint again, it changed strategies. It came by and said "I'm not gonna touch you any more when I come by here. I'll touch this printer instead." And it did. Every time it passed my desk, it reached out and touched the printer. Its OCD was transferred, mercifully, to another object. BUT WHY TELL ME THAT? JUST STOP.

Now I have an office, and I have situated my desk and furniture in such a way that it is impossible for anyone to approach me from behind. It's been 6 months. The nightmares have finally stopped.

Summer's here

Saturday was an absolute helluva day. Just capital. I woke up and had a great breakfast that included fresh pineapple and strawberries the size of shuttlecocks. When I moved to Southern California I was under several mistaken impressions, one of which was that pristine produce could be obtained in the supermarkets here all year long. It can't. During the winter you get the same trucked-in crap as everywhere else. Stone hard peaches that go from rock solid to rotten in about 18 minutes, and tomatoes that are bright red on the outside and white on the inside. But I will say that the fresh produce season is longer here, and by April we're already getting summer quality stuff. Don't know where it comes from. Somewhere that gets warmer faster I guess. Ohio, maybe.

After breakfast I primed myself for my upcoming tennis match with my friend by watching some Davis Cup doubles action. There are two twin brothers called the Bryans that are unbelievable. They make the same jittery twitching motions and squeeze viscous energy substances into their mouths in unison on the bench. It must be what the astronauts eat (drink?) when they need to get amped up for a spacewalk. Sadly, the Bryans lost to the French. But the U.S. ended up beating France overall anyway.

My buddy came and got me around 11:30 and we headed to the park. There are two semi-secret courts I know of and one super-secret one in case those are full. The super-secret court is really weird. It's quite a way up an old road that's overgrown with weeds and closed to traffic, and in the middle of a little glen that looks like the gateway to Narnia. But we didn't have to use that one, as one of the semi-secrets was free.

I beat my buddy for the first time, mostly because I made less than 1300 unforced errors. Not to take anything away from him, but I kill myself by trying to smash the ball on every shot. Once I relax and focus on control, I improve immensely. Next to us were some older Asian guys and a kid who must have been one of their sons. He was about 13 or 14 I'd guess. They must have brought him there for instruction, because he was being tutored by Louis Gossett, Jr.'s doppleganger. That guy was hilarious. He kept saying "Shit, man. I usually do this for some hot young girl, not no damn man with hair on his legs." And "listen, next time bring an Asian girl with ya. Under 18. Under 18, ya hear me? I need to get on dateline." He was teasing the kid, but the kid obviously didn't think it was funny. He was good though, and I listened to him the whole time he was coaching that kid and pretended he was talking to me. He was talking about focusing not on power but technique.

At one point a little Japanese woman brought her enormous Rottweiler, unleashed, and promptly went to sleep under a tree. The dog kept coming into the courts and taking balls from everyone. She finally corralled him after we yelled at her in a language which was obviously not her first. My buddy even threw a ball over the fence for the dog, which she picked up and kept without so much as a thank you. Rude people suck.

As it was 90 degrees out, we were pretty done in by 1:30. I headed home and called my sister, brother-in-law and mom while I grilled up the best piece of Cajun salmon I've had in years. My friends recently gave me - GAVE me - their gas grill, which I am totally in love with. I had Cajun salmon, green beans, roasted shallots and mac and cheese with an ice cold Stella.



Later that night my other friend came by and we went to the Dodger game - my tennis buddy had given me two free tickets. We didn't get there until the fourth inning, and it was a shellacking by the boys in blue against the hated Padres. 11 - 1 your final score, and we got to see Matt Kemp smash a homer and watch the gang bangers try to start the wave.


Walked back home past all the unlucky souls stuck in traffic, hung out for a bit and then called it a night. Saturdays just don't get much better than that.

A good philosophy on life

Living in L.A., it's easy to get discouraged by all the wealth around. Every single person in this county has a car that costs more than I've ever made in a year. Not that I want one. Personally, I'd never spend that much on a car anyway. And it's nice to see I'm not alone:



Oh, Chappelle's Show. We hardly knew ye.

It's almost here

Countdown to Opening Day

G, do not read this post.

My sis is pregnant, and has been having a serious battle with nausea and stomach acid for some time now. She can barely open the fridge due to some odor that instantly brings her, teary-eyed, to her knees (and is apparently undetectable to anyone with less than a bloodhound's olfactory powers). I feel bad for her. I cannot imagine what it's like.

For example, I'm sure it's much worse than my aversion to amplified mouth sounds on tv, which I hate with the fury of a thousand dying suns. On Saturday I half watched "War of the Worlds" on the Sci Fi channel while doing stuff around the apartment. Not the Tom Cruise Speilberg version - this one starred C. Thomas Howell. Yeah. It consisted mainly of him and a priest wandering around in the dirt looking for things to eat. Sadly, they found many items of sustenance and proceeded to consume them noisily during every line. "Aw man, what the hell," I exclaimed the first time. The second time I turned down the volume and muttered my disgust while the priest finished three ham sandwiches during a soliloquoy. After the 40th minute of dialogue said with something resembling peach bits falling out of the actors' mouths, I was screaming at the television. WHAT THE FUCK MAN?? WHAT IS WITH THE EATING?! JESUS! It really bothers me.

I used to run into the next room to hit the mute button when the Sammy Sosa Pepsi commercial would come on. You may remember it. Sammy chaws a taco while gulping soda at 130 decibels. The microphone is apparently lodged in his esophageal valve somewhere. It sounds like Jabba the Hutt is choking on balloons filled with mayonnaise inside your head. By far, though, the worst offenders of the genre are the Carl's Jr. commercials. I want 15 minutes inside a room with a long slim rod of highly brittle glass, some rope, two gallons of water and the ad executive who came up with this concept.

As with all hatred, it's good not to be alone. There's a comedian who apparently feels the same way I do about being assaulted by these Godforsaken 30 second abominations. He's done his own version, which I wish I would have thought of. Enjoy.

no subject.

GObama.

To the people of Massachusetts

You should be ashamed of yourselves. Well, those of you who elected Mitt Romney as your governor should be ashamed of yourselves. Upon dropping out of the Republican race for President (technically, he "suspended" his campaign), Mr. Romney had this to say, claiming that his staying in the race would make it "easier for Obama or Clinton to win"*:

"In this time of war, I simply cannot let my campaign be a part of aiding a surrender to terror. This is not an easy decision. I hate to lose."*

Are you kidding me? Do you mean to say that electing a Democrat as President is tantamount to calling Osama Bin Laden and handing over the keys? To letting Al Quaeda do as they will with our country? Because I'm sure that's what Obama or Clinton would do. Moments after the inauguration they'll hold a press conference to explain to us that from now on, we need to do whatever the terrorists say and get used to the idea that we might die in a hijacking or building explosion any day. It will just be a part of life. I forget, was it a Republican who was President when 9/11 happened, or a Democrat?

I guess we know what kind of campaign to expect from the Republicans. Not that it comes as any surprise. I just sincerely hope that people don't fall for it again.

_________________________________

* "Romney Suspends Presidential Campaign", From CNN.com, February 7, 2008
http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/02/07/romney.campaign/index.html

And now for something completely different.

But seriously, there really are starving kids in Africa.

My sister and brother-in-law have just recently bought a home and moved. They did it over the holidays, while dealing with, among other things, a 10 day visit from me. Not the most relaxing time for them. Moving is stressful, I know. I moved across the country by myself to a strange city to go back to school after being out for 8 years. And yes, the school was only accessible by walking uphill both ways. On a fence. But as my property professor put it, I will probably be in the top 1% of the world as far as education and standard of living (if I can ever pass the bar).

Don't get me wrong here, I am not trying to belittle what my sister and brother in law are going through. I've never bought a house, so I really have no idea. If I continue to live in this state, perhaps I never will. At the moment real estate in Los Angeles County is somewhere around 4 million dollars a square foot. And that's in South Central.

I'm not posting this to show anyone up, or criticize. I was just going to suggest a movie I saw. But then I thought hey, the three people who read my blog should see this movie too! So I decided just to make a post out of it.

I fully admit to getting so into my own s&*$ that I lose all perspective. In fact, I only saw this movie because I had an interview the next day at the company who made it, and I wanted to be able to talk about at least one of their films. How self-absorbed is that? I hurriedly added the most recent one to my Netflix list in order to try to further my career. After I saw it, though, I really did want to talk about it. With everyone. Probably to a degree that made me shunned for several weeks by everyone who knew me.

I even went so far as to bring it to work and force it on a colleague. She was probably hating my guts at that moment. To her great credit, though, she took it home and watched it. And it wasn't lost on her. In fact, she blogged about it herself. I'm always teasing her, as you'll see from her account. Every time I'd hear her complain about something I'd walk past her desk and say "Oh yeah? Have you had to drink your own urine today? No? I'd say you're having a pretty good day then." Luckily for me she has a great sense of humor.

It's cliche to talk about people who have it worse than us. It's tough to put into a frame of reference that seems anywhere near relevant to our own lives. "I know there are starving kids in Africa, but I still have to deal with this crap!" It's the same way I used to react when my dad would tell me there were poor kids in other countries who would kill to have what I have. It's the same way I used to react when I still smoked and ex-smokers would tell me I should quit. It's probably the same way my still-smoking friends react when I, having quit, tell them to stop smoking (I'm that guy now). And I'm sure it's the same way I'd react if someone told me to see this movie.

But that's why I think everyone should see this movie. It goes beyond the unwanted wisdom of a know-it-all like myself. It goes beyond cliche. It makes it really personal. Yes, it's sad in many ways. But overall it's really uplifting to see the determination, perseverance, and most importantly the positivity and cheer with which these people face the horrific situations of their lives. I believe I could survive a lot, but I don't know that I could do it with the hope that these men and women possess. I'd like to think so.

That same property professor would often end class with a story about World War II. He's Jewish and most of these stories were about the holocaust. There was a collective eye rolling when he started. Some people actually got angry and left. They felt it wasn't his place to pontificate on such things. I guess they had a point, but he was just trying to give us some perspective. I was riveted (he was a good storyteller). So when you're thinking about all the crap you're going through, remember that you probably have things that the majority of the world will never have. Did you have to drink your own urine to stay alive today? Then hey, you're doin alright.