The Meaty Efreeti


Monday, July 31, 2006 Two political (af)fronts are about to be tackled here. Feel free to skip over if you're not a fan of such. First up is H.R.5319 the "Deleting Online Predators" or "DOP Act." (I wish I were making that up.) This lovely little piece of legislation (that just passed Congress 410 to 15) will effectively block sites like MySpace, Facebook, and chat rooms from being accessed on computers in federally-funded institutions on the grounds that they are harmful to minors...because sexual predators run rampant on them. This is accomplished by denying funds to those institutions who refuse to block the offensive sites, much like they did when they moved the drinking age to 21 from 18. In doing so, they're also conveniently absolved from any further hassles of the ruling being deemed unconstitutional, since it's technically "optional." Fair enough you say? Something has to be done to about all those the sexual predators on the 'net! Look, without going into personal history, I can assure you that I am the last person who'd support any medium in which children are put at a risk of being sexually preyed upon. But this doesn't take any rational steps to address that problem. Kids are still going to have MySpace pages, either with or without their parents knowledge. Demonizing it, and thereby terrifying those parents who don't take the time to figure out exactly what it is on their own, will essentially make it that much more difficult for kids to talk to their parents about a potential MySpace "date." Thus, increasing the aggregate risk. See, that isn't really what this is about though. This is simply about curtailing the reach of the online voice. Bah! But do we really need kids reading MySpace pages on their high school/public library computers anyway? Well what about universities? Because the bill doesn't necessarily make a distinction between them...it just requires they be censored from all state-funded schools. And I can't help thinking that they're not far from leaning on the boards of universities to do the same thing. Take the torpedoing of the Net Neutrality Bill for example. (And I'll get to the news on that in just a moment.) Though perhaps the biggest problem with this thing (aside from the obvious White Out that it takes to the First-fucking-Amendment), is that the definition of sites that are to be blocked from "educational" computers are qualified as follows: 1. Funded by a corporate entity. 2. Permits registered users to create an on-line profile that includes detailed personal information. 3. Permits registered users to create an on-line journal and share such a journal with other users. 4. Elicits highly-personalized information from users 5. Enables communication among users Which hits, 5-for-5, most pieces of blogging software out there right now. Both Blogger and LiveJournal allow users to create profiles, and discussion happens between their members via comments. Whack. No more of those pesky bloggers out there in the world's only true democratic medium, voicing their venomous dissent and clogging the tubes of our educational systems with anti-American agendas. Which segues well into my second topic: Via DailyKos, Ted "Series of Tubes" Stevens is at it once again. He's trying to force Congress into voting on the Net Neutrality bill via a maneuver called "cloture," which I'm kind of fuzzy about but apparently forces the hands of Congress to vote on a bill within 30 hours of the cloture passing. (It requires a 3/5 agreement for something to gain cloture status.) This would essentially force The House to vote on something they've either been paid well to make disappear, or simply don't care/understand. When these two are put together, they cast a very serious shadow over how our government currently views the freedom of the internet. And if we ignore it, then the net we all know will most assuredly go away. j.s.



"Well lookee there...un a' them Recappy thangs!" Hello you. My you're looking dashing today. No, I mean it. Wow... Friday Left work and went home to read for a while. Eventually made my way over to Danny's place to play a few quick rounds of Guitar Hero before going out to Rudyard's for a beer. Or rather we thought we were going to have a beer there. We hadn't counted on some guy standing at the bar ordering 8 drinks in succession and handing them off to his friends who were standing nearby. "Can I have a Guinness please." bartender pours the beer "Great. Now can I have a Newcastle?" pours Newcastle "Okay, and I need another Guinness." [Repeat x 5.] Furious about this ridiculous exchange (although not quite as furious as the bartender seemed), we leave Rud'z in a huff and after a few minutes of deliberation, head over to The Dirt where we spent the rest of the evening. Caught up with a few magazine peeps there who were taking a break from production, and talked briefly about the Dallas expansion and how we're all convinced that it's going to go quite well. Although honestly I'm just happy that I'll be published in two cities now, since my articles will stay the same in both versions of the magazine. We closed the place down, then made our respective ways home. Pretty slow evening, all things considered. Saturday Went to Ft. View Cafe to catch up with Mom and Derek, then swung by the Heights library to check out another Terry Pratchett book. It occurred to me at this point that I hadn't been to the downtown library in quite some time (read as: 12 years), so I hopped back into the Jeep and headed into the city, being sure to park quite a distance from the library itself so I'd have a chance to wander for a bit. Unfortunately, upon my arrival I found a sign saying the downtown library was closed for remodeling. sigh But! I still had a rather nice stroll around the park. And you know, despite the ridiculous heat, we do have some rather nice places in this city. [Like this park in the middle of downtown for example.] [Or the treeline in front of City Hall.] [Or this terrorist care package that was left on the park bench closest to City Hall.] [Perhaps the reason for the potentially incendiary carry-on?] [Outside part of the library.] Now this (pictured) wing of the library was open, and it just-so-happened to be one that I've never been in before. And I can now say with utmost confidence that the most surly security guards in the entire known universe work there. I walk through the front door and smile at the first guard, who locked eyes with me and returned a baleful stare, as if I had somehow put her out by walking into her library. I blink a couple of times then shrug at her and keep walking. At the end of the hall lay a set of marble steps leading to the second floor, and coming down said steps was another security guard. I smile at him as well as I go by, and get the same irritated stare, as if they've been told that they must tolerate the public's existence in the building, but they certainly don't have to be happy about it. Undeterred, and starting to find their sour-ass moods kind of entertaining, I keep wandering around and find that the only room that allows public access was the "Texas History Collection." I have very little interest in this topic, mostly because I've always felt it rather vain that all Texas students are required to take a course in Texas History. After all, the state that I moved here from has at least as much, if not more to offer in the way of American historical significance than this place, and yet we certainly weren't required to take "Rhode Island History." So instead I tromp up to the third floor, which held nothing but employee lockers (presumably for the pharmacopia of mood-altering medication that they aren't taking), so I gave up and headed back outside... On the way out I see the first security guard who, fatigued from her mid-afternoon surl, had squeezed her large frame into a very small office chair by the door. I unleash a 800-watt grin at her. She stares right at me, then frowns and attempts to lean back in the chair. Although, since she was wedged tightly into the seat, this has the effect of making the chair "skreeet!" along the floor. She closes her eyes and shakes her head with a frown, as if this was the worst possible thing that could ever happen on the world's worst possible day, and refuses to look up again until I've left the building. This served to put me into an even better mood (my life might not be perfect, but ye Gods it's obviously a damn sight happier than that of those poor bastards), and I head back to the Jeep, stopping only to say "hi," and smile at a girl who'd taken her shoes off and was dipping her feet into the above-pictured fountain while she read a book. And yes, she smiled and said "hi" back. As such, I can safely rule out any potential for her employment in the field of securing Texas's historical documents. Got home and cleaned the house for a bit, then decided that the evening would be better spent at the magazine's Issue Release Party, despite my earlier assumption that I wouldn't go. Although since it was at "Red Star," and featured complimentary Russian Imperia Vodka cocktails, I decide that a bit of theatricality is in order and shave my beard down to a thin moustache and pointed goatee, a la Lenin ("I am the walrus."), and wear a black t-shirt with the red outline of a raised fist under my sportjacket. I head to Danny's to pick him up, and he's decked out in plaid pants and a t-shirt that says "Dyn-o-Mite!" under a light brown leather coat. We finally pick up Luis, who topped us all with a full KGB topcoat, CCCP soccer jersey, and a military ushanka. Brilliant. So we head over to the bar, and I proceed to get sauced. (In my earlier travels through downtown I completely forgot to eat you see.) As a result, some of you might've noticed random comments on your blogs at around 3am Sunday morning... Sorry about that. Some people need to have their cell phones taken away when they're drunk. I need someone to lock my laptop up. Anyway, had a surprisingly good time there. Danced away a large percentage of the evening. And as I was returning from the dance floor, a couple girls in fishnet stockings and lingerie passed by, advertising a burlesque show that was about to start on the downstairs dance floor. I require much less than girls in lingerie to be sold on such things, so I whirl around and follow them downstairs. And the show was fun. All the girls were quite beautiful, and more importantly each had a very hard time hiding the fact that they were having an awesome time. And then the last girl came on... I blink a few times, thinking that the vodka was impairing my vision. (Well, seriously impairing my vision anyway.) But no... It was HeBeDiGi. [Heartachingly Beautiful Dirt Girl] I catch up with her after the show, talk for a while, and then carry her bag out to her car and exchange numbers. does a little happy dance Here's to serendipity... =] Anyway we take off from there at about 1:30, and head home. Sunday Awake at roughly noon. Realize that someone has swapped my skull out while I slept with one two sizes too big and I've a case of dehydration rivaling that of Imhotep. So I do what any sane person does when brutally ravaged by the excessive festivities of the night prior, I drive for 45 minutes, in 100 degree heat, out to the suburbs. Caught up with Dad and Cary for a while, which was good since I hadn't seen them since they'd returned from vacation. Stayed long enough to watch the Red Sox lose, which puts them a mere 1/2 game over the newly bolstered Yankees (I get to hate Abreyu now too), then drove home and went to bed. And I'm afraid this recap will now end like every other one has... I'm at work, and must get back to it. Talk to you later. j.s.



Friday, July 28, 2006 Hi. I haven't completely levelled out of this sickness dive, but the stick is starting to respond again and I can feel myself starting to pull back up above the clouds, to a normal altitude. (I run marathons with metaphors.) So I spent the morning at the TXDoT, renewing my auto registration. (Expired in February.) My Jeep is now 100% compliant with all local statutes and directives. fanfare You know, some people seem to hate going to the DMV, but I really don't mind it. There's always an interesting cross-section of people there, the biker next to the teenager next to the yuppie next to the low-income worker next to the single mom next to the retiree, etc. etc. And the only thing they have in common is that they all operate an automobile. (And appear to have an affinity for polyphonic ringtones.) It's rare that people of such differing social strata would come together in the same room for anything at all, so I rather enjoy seeing it at the local TXDoT. And speaking of things I enjoy seeing, here is the newest addition to my friends' family. Alexandria Xaeni, throwin' an "East Side" sign. Congratulations to all involved. Okay, I'm off for the weekend. A weekend which promises to be rather slow and uneventful, since I've turned down an invitation to attend the Magazine's Issue Release Party. (I'm not a fan of "Red Star," the club that's hosting it this time.) I suppose I could yet be convinced to go though...free vodka has a very strong lure. See you 'round. j.s.



Thursday, July 27, 2006 Still under the weather, so I'm afraid there hasn't been much going on to discuss with you here. Unless of course you want to hear about what life is like under a quilt on my couch, surrounded by crumpled wads of Kleenex and watching Dr. Zhivago. (And reading the new issue of 2600.) All pertinent and ultra-sexy information! Although I'm very seriously considering ignoring the face-stuffiness and having some coffee at Agora this evening. Or perhaps tea is a better plan... But before I do I'm supposed to help someone fix a computer issue. The problem is, I've no idea who it was... So my 5-step plan for deducing that information is as follows: 1. Get up from desk. 2. Amble aimlessly around the office, looking at people while they're working and smile expectantly at them. 3. Wait for someone to glance up and ask "Oh! Are you here to fix my X?" 4. Fix "X." 5. Go home. And if no one requests help? Then I have obviously already healed the troubled computer via the power of my mind, and will skip over steps 3 and 4 and head straight for 5. Just be glad I'm not your IT guy. j.s.



Wednesday, July 26, 2006 Hi, As you might've guessed, I'm extraordinarily busy at the moment, and I'm sick, both of which have wreaked havoc with my ability to update. I'm actually just dropping in here to tell you about someone who's high in the running for "World's Worst Human Being," and whom I just happened to sit next to at Discount Tire this morning. So there I am, reading a Terry Pratchett book while my tire gets replaced (see failed inspection post last week), when this kid in a Sigma Nu t-shirt and a crooked Abercrombie hat sits down next to me, talking on his cell phone. Here's a brief version of one side of his conversation which, coincidentally, was the only side that he heard as well. "Look, there's just no way." "It isn't possible." "Yes I'm sure!" "Shut up Paige, you're not pregnant." [[ I blink a few times at this, then try to mind my own business...and, of course, fail miserably. ]] "Yes I'm sure." he looks around furtively "And I pulled out. So there's no way." "Well if you are it isn't mine." "No, I know." "Well it really hasn't been that long." "Wouldn't you have felt something before now?" "I don't know...I don't know what it's like...uh...on the girl's, feeling, side of it." [[ The conversation continues like this for a while, then he gets a call on the other line and lowers the phone from his ear to see who it is. ]] "Look Paige, hang on...my mom is calling okay? Hang on." beep "Hey dawg." "Nah, nothin'. Whassup?" "Aww man, I can't. Sorry. I'm out of town." "No I'm not lying!" "Dude, I can't! I'm in Austin seeing my girl. Otherwise I totally would." "Well what time did you need me to come in?" "And work until when?" "Yeah, sorry man. I know I owe you from the last times, but I can't." "All right, later." beep "Paige?" "Are you crying?" "Fuck." "What do you mean 'what are we going to do about it?'" "Well if it's true I'm gonna shoot myself in the head." "No, I'm gonna drive to Mexico and disappear." "I'm kidding. No, I'm kidding. Stop fuckin' crying." "This isn't happening. It just isn't." "Because it can't be happening." "Look, I never really slept with you anyway, so you can't be pregnant. And if you are it can't be mine. I gotta go, I'm at work." "Yeah I will. Bye." He hangs up, mutters "fuck" under his breath, then slaps his knees and stands up, making sure his hat is sufficiently crooked. He glances over at me and sees that I'm openly glaring at him with a "kid, it's taking everything I have not to stuff you into one of these tires and roll your punk ass out into oncoming traffic" look. He nervously looks down, mutters "fuck" again, then storms up to the counter to bitch about how long it's taking them to fix his car. j.s.



Friday, July 21, 2006 Oh! And the new Decemberists album will hit stores on October 3. fanfare Tour dates are up on Pitchfork, but it seems that they have become yet another in a long line of artists who, for whatever reason, decide to skip over the 4th biggest city in the nation...opting on Dallas and Austin instead. Sigh. At least I'll get to see them at Stubb's... = j.s.



Well hello Bleuxpee. I'm sitting in an empty office on a Friday afternoon, slightly hungover, and awaiting a call from some IT guy on the East Coast who's probably already gone home for the day. So I figured I'd wile away some time by talking to my favorite person on Earth...you. Yes, you. Last night I had a writers' meeting that was conveniently located at Onion Creek (it seems $2 Red Stripes is enough to ply just about anyone), for most of the evening. At around 11 we called it, and a friend and I went over to The Dirt for a couple beers and to discuss writerly things. (Deadlines and pay and perks and the like.) Alas, I did not run into HeBeDiGi (Heartachingly Beautiful Dirt Girl) again while I was there. Perhaps next time. Headed home at around midnight, and was walking up to my front door when I got a call from my Mom saying my little brother had been in a car accident on I-10. I freeze in place. My heart wrings. She eventually adds "No, he's fine. He's at home." Exhale. I clamber back into the Jeep and drive over to his place to check on him, but it was 1am by the time I got there and he was asleep. So I crashed in the spare bedroom, leaving my phone consipicuously on the kitchen table so he'd know I was there if he needed anything. And he's fine by the way. Apparently a little sore, but that's to be expected after t-boning another automobile at 50mph and caroming off a jersey barrier. grumbles So this weekend is shaping up to be interesting. I'm going to lobby hard for someone to go with me to the Mixers & Elixirs thing at the Museum of Natural Science tonight. I mean, dinosaurs, IMAX, a live band, and booze...how can you go wrong? [[ed: I've been swayed into going to see Clerks II at Alamo Drafthouse instead. Looks like getting dino-sauced will have to wait.]] Tomorrow night is the semi-finals of the magazine's model search, for which I'm guest-listed and have been promised a night's worth of complimentary Dos Equis for my sipping pleasure. That one could very well get rough... Sunday is relatively open, although if I were to guess it will most likely see me laying on the couch watching Doctor Zhivago, ordering pizza, and moaning something about never drinking Dos Equis again. Okay, I'm tired of waiting for this guy...I'm going home. Have an awesome weekend. j.s.



Wednesday, July 19, 2006 So there's been quite a bit of e-drama about Joel "The Punster" Siegel leaving Clerks II after 30 minutes, screaming "*Time to go! First movie I've walked out of in thirty fucking years*!" as he did so. And here's a clip of Opie, Anthony and Kevin himself haranguing him for not going gently into that good lobby. Now while it is entertaining to listen to Joel Siegel stutter cluelessly for 10 minutes, the whole thing still smacks of Kevin grabbing at any straw available in an attempt to stir the media's Controversy Cauldron a bit. (A la "Dogma.") Regardless, I'm still going to flop my hard-earned lettuce down at the box office this weekend, and go see your flick Kevin. And I'm hoping against hope that you haven't fucked it up. You probably are too. And just in case you needed another reason to send money to the good people over at Flickr, here's a screenshot of their homepage while they're doing some server work. Genius. j.s.



Tuesday, July 18, 2006 The similarities between the Yip-Yips and the people I work with daily are astounding. Of course, they'd never "lookbook" to figure something out. j.s.



Monday, July 17, 2006 Obviously I became busy on Sunday, hence no update. After I left you on Saturday I went home, changed, then called Ed to catch up with him at the Angelika downtown for "A Scanner Darkly." Which was very, very good. The story was engaging despite being slightly predictable, the visuals were like nothing else I've seen and only rarely felt gimmicky (akin to staring at a digitized Monet while on acid) and it would seem that Keanu's acting talent increases exponentially when he becomes impressionistic. I did notice a few odd concurrences with Robert Downey Jr's lines in this film with that of his character in "Wonder Boys." Specifically "what the hell and a hootenanny do you suppose that is?" and a discussion of "pharmacopeias." Whether this was a purposeful choice by the director to draw a meta-reference between films, or just a sign that I've seen "Wonder Boys" a few too many times, is open for discussion. And, speaking of the director, Linklater is also doing a version of the brilliant book Fast Food Nation, which is due to release in mid-October. fanfare So on Sunday, instead of writing here for all of you, I opted instead to drive out to the west side to lounge by a friend's pool and drink mimosas. Just you try and hold that against me. I dare you. Hung out there with Troy and J.T. for a few hours, then sped back home to change and catch up with Dixie. After a quick errand to pick up burgers from the 11th St. Cafe (and that only because King Biscuit was closed), we went back to her place and watched "Good Night, Good Luck," which I think more than exceeded our expectations. I knew exactly nothing about Edward Murrow prior to watching the film (and had only a cursory knowledge of what a twisted soul Joe McCarthy was), yet after the film I was in awe of not only Murrow himself, but the potential for bravery and honor in television journalism as a whole. It's interesting how it's still print journalism that we think of as being the "watchdog" over our checks and balances, yet Murrow has shown that there's no reason why that title couldn't be applicable to television as well. That is, if we could just pull our collective eyes upward from the engrossing flickerings of prosaic, self-centered warblers and the edge-of-your-seat excitement of morons opening suitcases for a moment or two. I'd trade 1,000 Geraldos for just one tele-journalist like Ed Morrow... And, before I get too depressed about the media's effect on the populace of this country and subsequently bore you with tirades that would cause you to change that bloggy dial, I'm going to drop it and move along. (After all, I've sponsors to think about.) We finished the movie and suddenly become overwhelmingly tired, so I headed home. In fact, I was asleep by midnight, yet still managed to sleep soundly until almost 10:00 today. Very strange. I'm thinking this might be attributable to "sun/heat drain" since it's absolutely brutal outside right now. The kind of mirage-wavering heat that hurts your lungs to breathe in, bleaches the sky to a faded blue tint, and causes involuntary scowls to spread across people's faces as they step from the comfort of A/C out into the thick and oppressive Houston air. I'm sure I've said this before, but I hate this part of the year here. Truly. Okay, I need to get back to work. Talk to you soon. j.s.



Saturday, July 15, 2006 Hi there. Yes, I'm posting on a Saturday. So it should come as no surprise to any of you that I'm "taking 'er easy" this weekend. This is also the reason why you haven't received my typical Saturday phone call, begging you to come over to my couch with something large and heavy with which to clobber the moaning lump of quilt found there on its head, thus ending its suffering. I'll tell you this though, it's quite wonderful to wake up on a weekend without a hangover. The day just seems filled with so much more possiblity, and it already feels like I've had an extra day off. For example, today I've: - Burned a CD combining the Au Revior Simone album with the Amina EP. Stop looking at me like that. It should be enough for you to know that these things make me happy. (And in case you're interested, here's clip from Amina's Houston show, when they opened for Sigur Ros...) - Went to get my oil changed, where the Jiffy Lube guy clucked at me for allowing my air filter to become, as he put it, "unbelievably awful." As if something that resides in the engine of an automobile is somehow supposed to remain virgin white and radiate an aura of pristine cleanliness. Hmmph. - Attempted to have my Jeep inspected (due to an overzealous constable saddling me with ticket for its lapse yesterday), but actually failed the inspection due to a front tire being too worn. And if any of you have ever failed an auto inspection, you know that it is a slightly mortifying experience. After sitting in the "waiting room" for 45 minutes the ~~doctor~~ mechanic calls your name with a grave look on his face, and explains that your car has been found lacking, causing disapproving glances to flutter up at you from the other patrons of "Auto Insurance Express." He prescribes a trip to Discount Tire and wants to have another look at it within the next 15 days. You leave stickerless, with conflicting desires to a.) berate your car for being substandard and demand that it "try harder next time," and b.) console the car and apologize for allowing it to become a failure. I briefly considered backing over the feet of the kid in charge of inspecting the Jeep on my way out, then pointing out that his shoes were a travesty and unacceptable for his duties as Inspector of Auto Safety, but I thought better of this and, grumbling, just drove away. - Finished my articles for August's magazine which included a review of the System of a Down show, which is why I haven't said much about it here. (They actually pay me, so they get dibs on the story. When you guys start mailing me checks I'll be happy to attend any event you desire, and give you first shot at hearing all about them.) I can tell you that I did, indeed, hang out with members of the band (along with those of Hatebreed and the remarkably sucktastic Avenged Sevenfold), at a bar on Wednesday night, and that they're all very nice guys. How's that for noncomittal and prosaic cliche? I also happened to run into an heartbreakingly beautiful girl there whom I simply could not stop myself from wandering over and talking to. (I can't remember the last time that's happened to me, if ever.) Turned out that the photographer who was shooting the band knew her, so I had an easy "in." Alas, just as I was in the process of launching into my incredibly interesting Hurricane Katrina story, the same photographer tapped her on the shoulder and said "hey, your friend wants you," thus completely throwing off what little game I was mustering, and summarily causing me to leave the bar without her number. Disappointing. - And finally, I've had way, way too much time to drink coffee today. At this very moment I'm sitting in the corner of Diedrich, vibrating like the guy from the "Twist & Shout" scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and leaping a foot out of my chair everytime someone leans close to me to plug their laptop into the socket nearby. I think my wide-eyed countenance of "*WHAT?!? WHAT?!?*" when this happens is beginning to disturb my neighbors. I give it another 5 minutes before they hit me with a half-dozen tranq darts and drag my languid body out to the street. All this and it isn't even 5:00 yet. And since the rest of the weekend seems to be just as uneventful, socially-speaking, as today has been, I might just have time to update you on absolutely nothing tomorrow too. Aren't you the lucky one. j.s.



Thursday, July 13, 2006 I have no idea what this is, but it was in my Inbox this morning when I checked my Meatymail. "brains were functioning God forbid you should stick your head between two potentials into all-too-human goals--the quest for pure knowledge for its here. The hell with it all! I'd get tanked up tonight. I'd really like to It went like lightning through the Flock. Those birds are Outcast! "Wait," I said. "Just shut up." he said very quietly, speaking in the way that the dying speak. "I want to to gawk that you couldn't push your way through them. And it was so typical. had a blazing drive to learn to fly." ??? j.s.



Hi there. Just dropping by to post a few pictures from the events of last week. Don't mind me. [That's my "come hither" look. I give it to beer quite often.] [Danny wants to know if you're down with Chuck Norris. I'm not so sure.] [BBQ, Beer, Fireworks and Two-Steppin. 4th of July in Texas y'all.] [I love these people.] [I've no idea what came over me...I simply had to bite Dixie's mom on the head.] [Way too brilliant for words.] [I get drunk. I ride people's ears. You should too.] [You're a handsome devil... What's your name?] And, moving right along to last weekend, here are a few of the Galveston pics. [Androgyman. Battling gender bias since 1995.] [Dixie and me with my "can you possibly believe my luck?" face.] [Yes, that's a 30-year-old man using a blanket as a cape and "flying" around the beach. [My mom still loves her idiot son though.] [Somebody say 'phatwa?' Bez-holla at a brotha!"] ["Yankee infidel! You leave beach now!"] That's it for now. I'll update you later on last night's festivities. (Which actually ended with me drinking several beers with the guys from System of a Down.) Don't think for a moment that I'm unaware of how strange my life is. j.s.



Monday, July 10, 2006 Okay, it's early enough to where I can recap a bit, although it's going to be a rather sparse coverage of last weeks events... Mostly because I don't remember much of them. Let's see, did the anniversary thing at the Reagan's place on the evening of the 1st. It seemed to be the general consensus that it was much more difficult this year than last. It's my theory that, while a day doesn't go by that Russell doesn't come to mind, we really haven't dwelled on the event in question as much as in the year prior. So when faced with the loss once again, it hurt much worse than expected. Just a theory. Anyway, being out there was good. Hung out with a lot of awesome people that I rarely get a chance to see, lots of colorful incendiary devices exploded once it got dark, and we ended the evening by sitting on the back porch and telling stories about Russell that others might not have heard. We left around midnight, and I stayed conscious until we were passing through Sealy before I passed out in the passenger seat of D's car and slept all the way back to Houston. And no, it wasn't alcohol-related thank you. Between not sleeping well on the camping trip, running around the beach earlier in the afternoon, and the repeated emotional clubbing that took place throughout the entirety of the day...I think I'd just had enough. Sunday I slept late, then caught up with Luis, Dixie and Danny at the movie theater to see ~~Jesusman~~ Superman Returns. I won't ruin the film by discussing the events which led me to describe it as such, suffice to say there are a couple quotes from Jor'El about how he sent his only son to Earth to lead by example and show humans the light, a kryptonite ~~spear~~ shank is plunged into Superman's side, and in one scene he floats omnipotently over Earth, listening for our ~~prayers~~ pleas for help. It wasn't bad mind you. I was thorougly entertained for the duration of the movie. There were just a few more religious references than I'm used to in my comic book films... Monday night I caught up with Luis, Danny and Rachel at Cecil's Pub, where we quickly drank our picnic table-top into a forest of drained bottles, tumblers and shotglasses. Then we bounced over to The Maple Leaf and played one of those old-school bubble hockey games (similar to foosball, but have the Maple Leafs vs. the Red Wings) while drinking Labatt's. Good times. Though I did end up completely sauced, so I got a ride home with Luis and crashed in his spare bedroom. Awoke on the 4th and, after a quick stop at home to shower and change, headed over to Dixie's apartment building where they were having a sort of pot luck gathering of friends and neighbors. And, being brutally hungover from the night before, I had to immediately fight down several Shiner Bocks in order to lift my spirits (ZANG!) a bit. Also met Dixie's mum over there, who happened to be quite the awesome lady and very fun to hang out with. Many beers later we find ourselves watching the downtown fireworks on the roof of her apartment building, after which people begin to make their way toward bed. I stay up for a bit and chat with K (about what I have no idea, but I assume it had something to do with Europe), and then head home and to bed. Several pictures of this evening will no doubt be forthcoming. The ensuing double-hangover that arrived on Wednesday morning was simply too much for me to bear at work, so I took the morning off and had lunch with K and Rachel up at Dixie's work. That scene is a bit blurry as well, though I do remember some rather interesting points being made over lunch that I felt incapable of discussing with any kind of intelligence, so I sat quietly and thumbed edamame into my mouth instead. Generally took it easy for the rest of the day Wednesday. And Thursday as well, come to think of it. Although I did swing by the airport to pick my Dad up late in the evening. Okay, that brings us up to Friday now doesn't it? Awesome. Friday My editor has officially resigned and is moving to San Francisco, so Friday night was her going away party. Started things off on the patio at El Pueblito with some coconut drinks. And when I say "coconut drink" I mean a margarita served inside a coconut that's had the top shaved off... Bailed from there and headed to The Light, which wasn't nearly as cool as the last time I was there. You Light Kids never should've changed music formats...you had one of the only decent lounges in town that played indie rock, and you replaced it with Dr. Dre and remixes of Michael Jackson... shakes head sadly So, because of the suckulence of the music they were playing, we took off from The Light and went to The Dirt. The more astute of you might recall The Dirt as "that coin flipping place." With a much improved soundtrack, we were content to wile away the majority of the evening there, until roughly 1am or so, when it was decided that it would be a better idea to go over to something called the "Roll'n Bar." And I can't say as I enjoyed that place all that much. Not nearly as much as I dig The Dirt anyway. (ZANG ZANG!) So we finish out the night there, drop by La Tapatia for some 4am tacos, and then head to bed. Saturday Hungover yet again, I crawl out of bed and stagger into a shower at around 11, then pick Luis up and head over to Fountain View to catch up with Mom for breakfast. Feeling slightly better after a bacon/egg/cheese croissant and a couple cups of coffee, I drop Luis off at Danny's place, then meet Mom back at my apt where we head down to Galveston for the day. She spent the day alternating between sunning on a lounge chair and reading, and I spent the majority of my time sitting at the end of a jetty and staring out across the water, lost in thought about my life. Mostly about where I want it to be, versus where I seem to have been allowing it to drift, and how disconcerting it is that these seem to be two distinctly different places. (Not vastly different mind you, but they differ enough to where I feel a shift in the internal sails is necessary in order to get back on track to where I want to go.) Caught up with Dixie and her Mom at around 8ish, and lounged on the beach for a couple hours with them. We talked, laughed, and eventually settled in to watch the fireworks that had been rescheduled to that night due to a torrential downpour on the 4th. And I suppose, if I'm very nice to her, a few pictures of that evening might be forthcoming as well? gives a doe-eyed blink or two in the direction of the Random Thoughts Receptacle After the fireworks, and an all-too-brief visit from SuperJeremiah, we went our separate ways. Mom finally dropped me off at my place at around midnight. Immediately went to bed. Sunday I'd fully intended to spend the day cleaning the house and handling a laundry issue that was threatening the structural integrity of my closet walls. And I'd almost completed both of these when I ran into my landlady and she invited me over to the Main House for mimosas and chocolate cake. Evil, evil woman... =] So rather than finish up my domestic duties, I sipped champagane while watching the World Cup finals in her den. Good trade. After the game I caught up with Luis and Danny at Poison Girl, and we went over to the Edwards cinema to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean, a film I was certain was going to suck horribly and be a victim of sellout-itis. And I can say that it did not suck horribly...although it wasn't nearly as strong as the first one. My biggest problem with it was that Jack seems to be leaning more toward cartoon character status rather than the "rogue with charmed luck" paradigm he had throughout the first picture. I mean, one of his scenes looked like it was lifted directly from a classic Wile E. Coyote fall. (Don't worry...I'm not going to ruin it.) No, it pains me to admit that I didn't hate it. But I can't say as I particularly liked it either. And you already know if you're planning on going to see the film, so do your thing and come talk to me about it afterward if you like. Hell, it broke the record for most profitable opening weekend in film history, so actually the odds are pretty good that you've seen it already... Today was work, then I caught up with Rashi over sushi at "The Fish" in Midtown for her last night here in Houston. And I'm very sad to see that girl go. I'm going to miss her. After dinner and a hug goodbye, I went by the grocery store to pick up some necessities (a few of which I dropped off to aid Dixie in her MCAT studying), then came home and finished my laundry/cleaning. And now it's getting late, and I've a newly fixed computer to tote out to Katy in the morning. "So I'm taking it home to my work shop, my dear. I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here..." Talk to you-Whos tomorrow. j.s.



Friday, July 07, 2006 Jeremiah's Advice to His Unborn Son Son, The world will offer you at least one amazing, unique and unrepeatable occurrence, every single day. Something brilliant that you'll just happen to be in the right place at the right time to see. It's up to you, however, to keep your eyes open so you don't miss it. Your schooling is indeed very important to your mother and I. However it is not the lone yardstick by which we, or the rest of the world, measure you with. We're much more interested in the breadth of your mind, the strength of your character, and the kindness in your heart than with arbitrary letters on carbon paper from people that you will eventually run intellectual circles around. Pay close attention to the company that you keep, because you will be judged by them, just as they will be judged by you. Be aware that when you run with wolves, you may soon learn to howl. Belief in God is a wonderful thing, but like anything else it must be taken in moderation, else it becomes dangerous. Listen politely to the proffered advice of spiritual people, but realize that the decision of what is right and what is wrong must come from within you to be worthy of true merit. Blind belief inevitably leads people to hate those that disagree with them. And hate blinds everyone. Making assumptions about people based on the color of their skin is called "generalizing" because "general" people engage in such behavior. Be better than general. Make your body something that you're proud of. Evolution has provided you with a fully erect spine so that you may stand up straight, your shoulders back, and your head held high. Slouching is for beings of lesser stature than yourself. (James Dean was exempt from this rule.) Your body is the machine you'll use to ride through life, however it will cease to function correctly if you don't take care of it. And your mother and I have worked too hard to keep you in one piece throughout infancy/toddlerdom to let you screw it up now. Pay attention to what you're doing. Dancing, despite what other guys may tell you, is an incredibly important activity for a young man to learn. I, however, cannot help you in this respect because, while I'm rather adept at tapping a proverbial toe, I've had things in the refrigerator longer than some of your fads have been around and I'm not in the business of steering you wrong. (That's your uncle's job.) You will be a Boston Red Sox fan, will see your first baseball game in Fenway Park, and will know the legacies of Ted, Yaz, Pudge, Pesky, Manny and Papi. I'm very sorry for passing this along to you, but it's a familial heritage for men in our family to suffer as such. If you must blame someone, blame Grandpa. I do. Girls are beautiful, delicate and wonderful creatures, despite what you might believe right now. And they are to be treated as such. Every. Single. One of them. You shall hereby know that any violence directed toward them is the *one* thing that will cause your father to visit that pain upon you. When gentlemen get angry with a lady, gentlemen take a walk. This is a life-long contract. Hit your wife when you're 40, and I will come to your house and beat you senseless with my cane. That being said, there will be (at least) one girl who will gladly take your heart from your outstretched hands, and twist it into a balloon animal before tossing it sweetly over her shoulder. And though this is a prospect that might blow your mind, I understand exactly how that feels. As such, I hope you listen closely to me when I tell you that while love does occasionally cause heartache, it never hurts all the time. If it does, one of you isn't in love. Luckily you share my genes, so there shouldn't be a shortage of new girls orbiting you at any given moment... Given the type of person I am, and therefore the kind of person you're likely to be, you're quite likely to upset other men by your very existence. As such, fights will be a foregone conclusion. And while I believe violence to be the last resort of incompetence, I also understand the world is filled with witless men without better options. So rest assured that (when your mother isn't around), I'll arm you with the knowledge necessary to adequately defend yourself should ever the need arise. Please don't abuse such knowledge. Avoid a fight whenever possible. Someday you will become a teenager, however this does not mean that all knowledge of the inner intricacies of our universe has been miraculously bestown upon you, simply by doing so. Anything that creeps up into your head has been thought of long before you arrived here. Probably by me. I may even give you the keys to my car one day, and you will be charged with steering that automobile through a world filled with people who are very bad at that very activity. I would ask that you try to avoid those people. And, more importantly, avoid becoming one of those people. Your destination will endure, even if you take your time. You, however, might not, if you try to arrive too quickly. Your mother and I have invested years of our lives into your proper care, feeding and protection, and the joy we've found in doing so has more than repaid the sacrifices we've made. We are the springboards from which you will someday fly, and wrap the world around your image of how it should be. This is a job we have undertaken gladly, and I know in my heart that we will be exceedingly proud of the man you will become. You are my son, and as such you are a shining example of the good that I've done in my life. I love you uniquivocally, unabashedly, and without limits. Now go clean your room. j.s.



Thursday, July 06, 2006 And, beautifully outlining the gulf I've yet to cross to become a ready-for-prime-time writer, Cory Doctorow has written an excellent article on this very topic. j.s.



Okay, we'll get back to the Recap soon, but first I'd like to talk about "Net Neutrality" for a moment if I may. And trust me, this one is important. Not just because it's threatening to create one of the largest corporate strangleholds on creativity and innovation that the world has ever seen, but it also could very well make the website you're reading a fiscal impossibility, solely at the discretion of several white guys in suits. Now, the quick and dirty background on this is that the telcoms are lobbying for the ability to increase their fees for connectivity to certain sites that utilize higher bandwidth usage (iTunes, The Googleplex, Vonage and YouTube for example), on the argument that these nooks of the web "ride" their networks harder than the average website does. Thus creating a kind of Internet Toll Booth, based on how much traffic passes through their network lines. What this breaks down to is a blatant abuse of lobbying power to grind smaller businesses (which, by comparison, is all of them), that are currently turning a profit via the internet into debt and/or dependency on the two big telcoms. And that's if they don't simply block sites from their users, a strategy that the Mexican government has already adopted. I can hear you scoffing out there, and I think one of you just muttered something about "conspiracy theorist..." But I'll ask you this, How happy do you think it makes Verizon that over a million people are now using VoiP, and in doing so bypassing their antiquated long distance charges? Convinced they couldn't possibly stop you from using iTunes/You Tube? Perhaps you've never heard of AT&T's "Blue Room" and Verizon's VCast then... Do you honestly think they'd create these (substandard) programs on a whim? And you should get ready for AT&T/Verizon subscription based television services too, because they're coming next. And the guy pushing the pedals on this handbasket is none other than Alaskan Senator, (R)Ted "Bridge to Nowhere" Stevens. You can hear him spouting some truly awe-inspiring gibberish on the topic HERE. (Thanks Public Knowledge guys!) Now if you went to listen, you've no doubt surmised that this stuttering asshat isn't capable of rewriting "Go Dog Go," let alone legislation affecting the future of our digital access rights. And if you didn't, he's basically very upset about an email taking a long time to get to his computer, and is convinced that it's because these damn kids need to Stop All the Downloadin'. My favorite bits from his tirade are: He refuses to discuss the potential for anti-trust violations (the inevitable result of a refusal to pass net neutrality legislation), and instead passes that buck off onto another committee of overpaid and useless smackerheads to deal with, and "report on" at an unspecified later date. (Read as: never.) "The world has turned against us!" Only because you've become a whore-tool for corporate sleazery. Here's a link to the top contributors to Mr. Stevens campaign. Verizon - $36,500 AT&T - $22,500 As well as several other media giants (Fox, Viacom, Disney), that have a vested interest in the outcome of this debate. (Remember him coming back time and again to concern over movie downloads?) "No one really can say what 'Net Neutrality' means anyway!" This guy did. He wrote the Internet Non-Discrimination Act that was proposed 4 months ago and has apparently slipped off the rolling greens of Capitol Hill since. "The Internet is not a big truck. It's a series of tubes. And those tubes can be filled." Hehehe...that one's too easy. "The security of the US actually requries a separate network for defense!" (Because of a concern about delays in email arrival.) Just a guess here Wimp Lo-Ping, but I'm thinking that has less to do with latency than with the security such an intranet provides... Okay, I've ranted about for long enough. You all came here for tales of drunken debauchery and got me proselytizing about pet causes. However, if you'd like to read more, or want to help, let me just suggest the It's Our Net site. Thanks for listening. j.s. Oh, and if you're interested, This guy has a brilliant version of what took so long for Sen. Stevens's email to arrive.



Wednesday, July 05, 2006 Hi. Still hungover, but I think I'm ready to tackle some of the events these past several days, hopefully with at least a minor amount of cleverness and aplomb. Friday So the original plan was for K, Dixie, Danny, et al, to head down to Bolivar after work and spend the weekend camping on the beach. But, several drop-outs later, Dixie and I found ourselves as the last willing and able cookies in the jar. Undeterred, we hopped in the Jeep at around 7ish and took off, with only the briefest of stops along the way for some Sonic and to procure folding chairs, a tent and a couple blankets from a grocery store. [No, trouble tries its damnedest to look like us. And, on a good day, it succeeds.] We quickly set up the tent, then tear across the beach and into the water for a swim. And Michael Stipe was right, there's truly nothing in the world like swimming at night. Ensconced in warm, rolling darkness that occasionally becomes visible in a rush of white foam, the persistent "shhhhh" of the breaking surf, scolding us for shattering the night's serenity with our echoing laughter, hundreds of stars hanging overhead searing their cold and jealous light, and the intermittent bursts of fireworks from other revelers camped along the beach, illuminating the night sky in electric green, melon orange and flamingo pink. Yes, it was beautiful. And I'd say you should've been there, but it was pretty damn close to being perfect without you in attendance. Sorry. So Dixie, being an exceptionally well-prepared young woman, brought along a Duraflame, lighter fluid, a mountain of Wall Street Journals and a wooden chair that had passed its prime. The entirety of which obviously confused the hell out of me. Alas we did eventually get the fire going At which point it was Stay-Puft Time. [New marshmallow adhesive Lincoln Logs, or an attempt at trisecting an angle via confectionary trigonometric theory?] After the 'shmellows, the firelight and breaking waves brought about a bit of quiet reflection (myself especially, given the historical significance of that day), and we spent the remainder of the evening alternating between looking very pensive and covering every square inch of our exposed skin with layer upon layer of mosquito repellent. [HelioDixie!] We eventually decide to crash, and end up tossing and turning fitfully for most of the night inside a tent that was slightly too small for a people of above average stature like ourselves. Saturday Woke up at dawn to an army of eerily similar fishermen, all lined up hip deep in the water, slowly and methodically turning their reels and looking for all the world like a chubby human pier. We go for a walk, perusing the shells/rocks/syringes/dead sharks along the way. Toss the frisbee for a bit, alternate between kicking and volleying a ball, and then the wind picked up just enough to make an attempt at flying the kite. Unfortunately the breeze died back down shortly after we got it airborne, thus the kiting had to be cut short. And after one last quick swim, we decided to ferry over to Galveston for lunch at Yaga's and then head back to Houston. Turned out Yaga's was still being rebuilt after Hurricane Rita knocked down one of its walls last summer, so we went to Juju's instead. Decent enough food...although I think I'll reserve further judgment on that until I've eaten there when I'm not completely ravenous. We drive back home where I immediately shower, change, and then catch up with Mom and D. before we head out to Columbus. And that discussion will have to wait until next time, as it's almost 1am and I am in dire need of some sleep... G'night. j.s.



Still very hungover, so no posting today... I'll recap you a good'un when I'm feeling better. j.s.