First their was Ponce De Leon. And Columbus. Now, there's my friend Shelley.
While wandering aimlessly around her house last night, she discovered something she had never seen before- a closet. One may wonder why such a large, obvious object had never gone noticed, especially given that Shelley has lived in her place for nearly a year.
But discovery has a certain prestige, and there is no use diminishing the power of new real estate. I am told the closet will be used to "store things"- a brilliant idea from Miss Shelley. I just hope she doesn't bring small pox to whoever currently lives there.
-Dave
Friday, August 28, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Sabotage
I got a really awkward look today at work. It was one of those looks that makes you check to see if your fly is open, or comb your hand across your head to see if someone put something in your hair. It was riddled with uncertainty and laced with disappointment and anger. It was a pretty powerful look.
And for the longest time, I couldn't figure out why the attorney had singled me out as the recipient of his burning gaze. I've been fairly productive this week- which is to say that I have completed all of the menial tasks that I have received and still managed to do atleast two crossword puzzles each day. I've been happy and excited too- I'm going to visit Madison this weekend for the first time in more than a year. And I've been looking pretty sharp- finally decided to shave and wear some of the shirts that I got for my birthday. Completely undeserving of awkward attention.
But then it hit me.
I left my book in plain view on my desk and the attorney had spotted it. This may not seem out of the ordinary, but in this place it is far from it...
Keep in mind that I work at a law firm that specializes in construction law. This means whenever there are disputes between developers, owners, contractors, subcontractors, vendors, and suppliers, our firm arrives on the scene to rake in some profit. And while many other sectors of the economy have slowed down, construction law has not- almost everyone is defaulting on their contracts or somehow offending the parties they are working for.
So when the attorney spotted the shiny cover of "The Monkey Wrench Gang" on my desk, he probably was taken aback.
For those of you unfamiliar with Edward Abbey and his most famous book, it basically tells the story of 4 unlikely partners who drive around the American West destroying roads, bridges, and construction equipment. The characters, like Abbey, are notoriously resentful of excessive development (or really any development for that matter) and band together with bolt cutters, wrenches, gas cans, and chainsaws to upend construction efforts. On the first page of the book, Abbey offers a brief definition of sabotage: "n. [Fr.< sabot, wooden shoe + -AGE: from damage done to machinery by sabots].
Might as well be reading the Communist Manifesto in Joseph McCarthy's office.
-Dave
And for the longest time, I couldn't figure out why the attorney had singled me out as the recipient of his burning gaze. I've been fairly productive this week- which is to say that I have completed all of the menial tasks that I have received and still managed to do atleast two crossword puzzles each day. I've been happy and excited too- I'm going to visit Madison this weekend for the first time in more than a year. And I've been looking pretty sharp- finally decided to shave and wear some of the shirts that I got for my birthday. Completely undeserving of awkward attention.
But then it hit me.
I left my book in plain view on my desk and the attorney had spotted it. This may not seem out of the ordinary, but in this place it is far from it...
Keep in mind that I work at a law firm that specializes in construction law. This means whenever there are disputes between developers, owners, contractors, subcontractors, vendors, and suppliers, our firm arrives on the scene to rake in some profit. And while many other sectors of the economy have slowed down, construction law has not- almost everyone is defaulting on their contracts or somehow offending the parties they are working for.
So when the attorney spotted the shiny cover of "The Monkey Wrench Gang" on my desk, he probably was taken aback.
For those of you unfamiliar with Edward Abbey and his most famous book, it basically tells the story of 4 unlikely partners who drive around the American West destroying roads, bridges, and construction equipment. The characters, like Abbey, are notoriously resentful of excessive development (or really any development for that matter) and band together with bolt cutters, wrenches, gas cans, and chainsaws to upend construction efforts. On the first page of the book, Abbey offers a brief definition of sabotage: "n. [Fr.< sabot, wooden shoe + -AGE: from damage done to machinery by sabots].
Might as well be reading the Communist Manifesto in Joseph McCarthy's office.
-Dave
Monday, August 17, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
SOCIALIST!!!
If you have been paying attention to the news lately, you’ve probably seen coverage of the healthcare town hall meetings that are taking the country by storm.
And that may not be such a bad idiom to use. Massive throngs of people, many of them elderly, are converging on auditoriums all over the country to make sure their opinions about healthcare reform are heard. The Congressmen who are hosting many of these town hall meetings are being greeted with boos, screams, enraged accusations, and the deafening hum of oxygen machines. Many of these gatherings have been less than civil, with frequent outbursts of anger stinking of regurgitated talking points from Fox News anchors and republican officials. In weather parlance, its been a perfect storm of misinformation, senility, and anger.
So when I got an email notifying me about a local town hall meeting with Democratic Congressman David Price, I knew I had to go.
The meeting was held in the stuffy auditorium on NC-Central University’s campus- a historically black college that I am quite certain has never seen so many old and white people parading around. My brother and I arrived an hour early and got decent seats about 100 feet from the stage. We scanned the audience to find potential trouble makers- the moustached man a few rows back with a US Marine Corps hat and a hand-written sign that read “Liberty or Death”, the white-haired gentleman in the center section scratching out notes on the back of an envelope, the motorcycle couple up front with matching mullets and tightly-crossed arms.
Apparently, lots of people had seen the news reports. The auditorium quickly filled to capacity and beyond, with camera flashes and video camera lights blinking in almost every row. Local news outlets and reporters were on the scene, yearning for a chance to capture someone shouting “socialist” or accusing Rep. Price of wanting to kill old people. The anticipation of conflict was certainly palpable.
In those types of situations, I am always tempted to do something rediculous and completely out of left field. But I decided to let other people do that for me.
The emcee of the event began the evening by asking everyone to rise and recite the pledge of allegiance. We then observed a moment of silence for those who “were unable to join us tonight.” Im assuming that he wasn’t referring to the millions of other Americans who were probably watching reruns of CSI on their couch. Either way, it was a little strange to bang the drums of patriotism and recite oaths just to talk about healthcare. Once everyone felt happy and tingly on the inside, we started.
The first outburst came about 4 minutes in. One of the speakers on the panel was talking about the absurdity that Bernie Madoff will be receiving healthcare in his jail cell courtesy of the US government, but that almost 50 million hard working Americans do not have access to the same resources.
“I came here to talk to my congressmen, not to be lectured by some mo-ron!”
Ironically, the disgruntled shouter stormed out of the building, despite the fact that Rep. Price was twiddling his thumbs queued up to speak next.
There were several more outbursts and boos as the evening went on- mostly reacting to the possibility of elderly people being marched out of their retirement homes to face a government-sponsored firing squad. But many of them were hushed and suppressed by the eloquence of Mr. Price and the other speakers on the panel (no, not a death panel). The folks who lined up on the yelling side of the aisle were drowned out by the other participants who actually had things to say. I suppose its pretty easy to get riled up watching Sean Hannity or Glen Beck yak about healthcare on tv, but much harder to translate these unintelligible sentence fragments when faced with an intelligent opposition.
My favorite outburst came towards the end of the evening, when another man with a moustache got behind the microphone and said: “I have three daughters, and I just am worried about America. I don’t want them to be raised in...have to pay debt, because socialism.”
It sounded like a direct translation from a Japanese video game. What the hell does any of that mean? Nouns and verbs and adjectives don’t fit together that way. And certainly no sort of meaning could be derived from that rubbish. But the funny thing is that other people nodded. Other people seemed concerned by what was troubling this man, and his words made sense to them.
Rep. Price stared blankly for a minute and then answered tersely: “I think we have a problem with definitions here.”
And we do. We have a problem with definitions, with information, with scope, and with meaning. We have completely lost sight of what the healthcare discussion is about, how it got to where it is, and what needs to happen. We let people think for us and act on our behalf that have no business doing so. We all need to go to a town hall meeting and listen to the David Prices of the world and see if his points are really refutable. And when we feel tempted to accuse someone of being a socialist or cut and paste from Sarah Palin’s Facebook page, we should pause just a minute and remember that this fight is not about politics. Its about doing what is right.
-Dave
And that may not be such a bad idiom to use. Massive throngs of people, many of them elderly, are converging on auditoriums all over the country to make sure their opinions about healthcare reform are heard. The Congressmen who are hosting many of these town hall meetings are being greeted with boos, screams, enraged accusations, and the deafening hum of oxygen machines. Many of these gatherings have been less than civil, with frequent outbursts of anger stinking of regurgitated talking points from Fox News anchors and republican officials. In weather parlance, its been a perfect storm of misinformation, senility, and anger.
So when I got an email notifying me about a local town hall meeting with Democratic Congressman David Price, I knew I had to go.
The meeting was held in the stuffy auditorium on NC-Central University’s campus- a historically black college that I am quite certain has never seen so many old and white people parading around. My brother and I arrived an hour early and got decent seats about 100 feet from the stage. We scanned the audience to find potential trouble makers- the moustached man a few rows back with a US Marine Corps hat and a hand-written sign that read “Liberty or Death”, the white-haired gentleman in the center section scratching out notes on the back of an envelope, the motorcycle couple up front with matching mullets and tightly-crossed arms.
Apparently, lots of people had seen the news reports. The auditorium quickly filled to capacity and beyond, with camera flashes and video camera lights blinking in almost every row. Local news outlets and reporters were on the scene, yearning for a chance to capture someone shouting “socialist” or accusing Rep. Price of wanting to kill old people. The anticipation of conflict was certainly palpable.
In those types of situations, I am always tempted to do something rediculous and completely out of left field. But I decided to let other people do that for me.
The emcee of the event began the evening by asking everyone to rise and recite the pledge of allegiance. We then observed a moment of silence for those who “were unable to join us tonight.” Im assuming that he wasn’t referring to the millions of other Americans who were probably watching reruns of CSI on their couch. Either way, it was a little strange to bang the drums of patriotism and recite oaths just to talk about healthcare. Once everyone felt happy and tingly on the inside, we started.
The first outburst came about 4 minutes in. One of the speakers on the panel was talking about the absurdity that Bernie Madoff will be receiving healthcare in his jail cell courtesy of the US government, but that almost 50 million hard working Americans do not have access to the same resources.
“I came here to talk to my congressmen, not to be lectured by some mo-ron!”
Ironically, the disgruntled shouter stormed out of the building, despite the fact that Rep. Price was twiddling his thumbs queued up to speak next.
There were several more outbursts and boos as the evening went on- mostly reacting to the possibility of elderly people being marched out of their retirement homes to face a government-sponsored firing squad. But many of them were hushed and suppressed by the eloquence of Mr. Price and the other speakers on the panel (no, not a death panel). The folks who lined up on the yelling side of the aisle were drowned out by the other participants who actually had things to say. I suppose its pretty easy to get riled up watching Sean Hannity or Glen Beck yak about healthcare on tv, but much harder to translate these unintelligible sentence fragments when faced with an intelligent opposition.
My favorite outburst came towards the end of the evening, when another man with a moustache got behind the microphone and said: “I have three daughters, and I just am worried about America. I don’t want them to be raised in...have to pay debt, because socialism.”
It sounded like a direct translation from a Japanese video game. What the hell does any of that mean? Nouns and verbs and adjectives don’t fit together that way. And certainly no sort of meaning could be derived from that rubbish. But the funny thing is that other people nodded. Other people seemed concerned by what was troubling this man, and his words made sense to them.
Rep. Price stared blankly for a minute and then answered tersely: “I think we have a problem with definitions here.”
And we do. We have a problem with definitions, with information, with scope, and with meaning. We have completely lost sight of what the healthcare discussion is about, how it got to where it is, and what needs to happen. We let people think for us and act on our behalf that have no business doing so. We all need to go to a town hall meeting and listen to the David Prices of the world and see if his points are really refutable. And when we feel tempted to accuse someone of being a socialist or cut and paste from Sarah Palin’s Facebook page, we should pause just a minute and remember that this fight is not about politics. Its about doing what is right.
-Dave
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Some Short of a Quandry
My friend and I have been debating something for quite some time...
Our exchanges always end up the same way- my friend calls me short. I respond by telling him that I am not short, but actually am the national average for height (which is true). His reply is always "yea, national average for female midgets"...
...I get what he's saying, but Im a little shaky on the correctness of it. I ask: are female midgets really shorter than male midgets? And is there really a recorded national average for female midgets?
-Dave
Our exchanges always end up the same way- my friend calls me short. I respond by telling him that I am not short, but actually am the national average for height (which is true). His reply is always "yea, national average for female midgets"...
...I get what he's saying, but Im a little shaky on the correctness of it. I ask: are female midgets really shorter than male midgets? And is there really a recorded national average for female midgets?
-Dave
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Hooray for Trees
Several weeks ago, my doorbell rang. At the door was a goofy, hand-waving young man carrying a clip board and wearing a stupid blue shirt with the words "Environment North Carolina". He asked me for my money.
The interaction certainly filled me with rage (he works for the organization that I just quit- see blog posts with keywords "canvassing", "terrible job", and "holy shit, I want to kick a baby"). But I was more amazed at how withdrawn I felt from the experience- even though he was doing exactly what I did just a few months earlier. It was almost as if my doorstep visitor was from another planet. And for a brief moment, I thought: how does someone even get into that line of work?
And then I remembered.
This week is the annual brainwashing week for all salaried employees of the non profit organization Environment America in Boston, Massachusetts. A week when young, malleable-minded individuals hop on planes, trains, and buses from all over the country and converge on the city where a bunch of rascals hurled some tea into the water several hundred years earlier.
There will be extensive "training"- roleplays followed by roleplays in subjects ranging from "how to map a legislator's sources of influence" to "how to conduct press calls before a news conference". There will be speakers- various state-level advocates, fellows who have lasted several years in the organization, and maybe even a low-level local politician desperate to harness the organization's canvassing arm for their benefit. Trainees will practice introducing themselves, shaking hands, and grinning like an idiot.
At night, there will be organized social events, so trainers can analyze conversations and character in a Sam Adams soaked environment. Watching to see where each of the new crop of employees will fit best.
And at the end of the week, returning employees will trudge back to their offices ready to endure another year of hellish mistreatment and soul-depleting heirarchy. And the new employees will get placed in various offices around the country, each swelling with idealism and eager to tackle the challenges that lie just beyond the reach of Environment America's organizational rigidity. And in two, six, or twelve months down the road, most of them will have been deflated like a balloon, either quitting or just going through the motions because they have no time or energy to break the mold.
Last year, more than 40 people headed to Boston in August. Only about 7 remain. The year before, a similar proportion lasted that long. And this year will probably be similar.
So its easy to see how someone could get sucked in and wind up on your doorstep begging for money. Its the feeling of worth you get training with an organization that aligns with your ideals (atleast on paper). Its the feeling of camaraderie from working with so many other people who are in the same boat at the same time. And it is the calm before the storm of a year otherwise spent in confusion, misery, and anger.
I hope some of them end up enjoying their job- they certainly will be the minority. And for the rest of them who are still trucking through, my hats off to ya.
-Dave
The interaction certainly filled me with rage (he works for the organization that I just quit- see blog posts with keywords "canvassing", "terrible job", and "holy shit, I want to kick a baby"). But I was more amazed at how withdrawn I felt from the experience- even though he was doing exactly what I did just a few months earlier. It was almost as if my doorstep visitor was from another planet. And for a brief moment, I thought: how does someone even get into that line of work?
And then I remembered.
This week is the annual brainwashing week for all salaried employees of the non profit organization Environment America in Boston, Massachusetts. A week when young, malleable-minded individuals hop on planes, trains, and buses from all over the country and converge on the city where a bunch of rascals hurled some tea into the water several hundred years earlier.
There will be extensive "training"- roleplays followed by roleplays in subjects ranging from "how to map a legislator's sources of influence" to "how to conduct press calls before a news conference". There will be speakers- various state-level advocates, fellows who have lasted several years in the organization, and maybe even a low-level local politician desperate to harness the organization's canvassing arm for their benefit. Trainees will practice introducing themselves, shaking hands, and grinning like an idiot.
At night, there will be organized social events, so trainers can analyze conversations and character in a Sam Adams soaked environment. Watching to see where each of the new crop of employees will fit best.
And at the end of the week, returning employees will trudge back to their offices ready to endure another year of hellish mistreatment and soul-depleting heirarchy. And the new employees will get placed in various offices around the country, each swelling with idealism and eager to tackle the challenges that lie just beyond the reach of Environment America's organizational rigidity. And in two, six, or twelve months down the road, most of them will have been deflated like a balloon, either quitting or just going through the motions because they have no time or energy to break the mold.
Last year, more than 40 people headed to Boston in August. Only about 7 remain. The year before, a similar proportion lasted that long. And this year will probably be similar.
So its easy to see how someone could get sucked in and wind up on your doorstep begging for money. Its the feeling of worth you get training with an organization that aligns with your ideals (atleast on paper). Its the feeling of camaraderie from working with so many other people who are in the same boat at the same time. And it is the calm before the storm of a year otherwise spent in confusion, misery, and anger.
I hope some of them end up enjoying their job- they certainly will be the minority. And for the rest of them who are still trucking through, my hats off to ya.
-Dave
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
"Yeah I'm not looking at your dick or anything."
Scene: Trivia Night. It's busy with the regulars and passersbys getting out of shows in the theater district and from a free musical at the common. We arrive early and the trivia guy is late. Robert almost doesn't get in and Pete shows up half way through the night for the first time in months. I walk towards the mens room and pass by a long line of ladies waiting to get into there bathroom. One of them grabs me "I'm going pee in there" While she points towards the mens room. There's no door to the restroom or stall at this joint so I tell her "Alright I'll watch out for you." She shakes her head no, "Fuck that we can pee at the same time get over there and piss."
I do as she says. The stall she's on is only 4' away and faces me. From the corner of my eye I see her pull down her panties and sit.
"Shit I don't think I can pee with you, oh wait... nope, there's pee comin' out of my vagina."
"Good, I'm glad" I respond, "there's pee comin' outa my dick."
"Yeah I'm not looking at your dick or anything."
"I'm not looking at you either miss." She stand and squirms back into her panties, I zip and turn to wash my hand.
"Shit if your washing your hands I guess I should too" she laughs.
We each knock out a squirt of foaming soap and scrub our hands.
"Yeah that was great, no biggie, just peeing, that was fun. Shit yeah I'm from Lebanon why would I care, I'm fucking Lebanese that was no big deal to me".
"Your from Lebanon?"
"You callin' me a liar!?"
"No I was just confirming that I'd heard you correctly" I respond.
She puts her arm around me and her lips close to my ears, "Come find me later and I'll buy you a drink". Interesting.
I return to our table and put my arm around Robert and Pete and retell the story, they laugh and I point her out towards the front of the bar, we laugh again. Did I mention she was an older woman and I was wearing a T-shirt that read, "I 'heart' hot moms"? Seriously.
The game turns around for us, we're in third and rollin' strong. Everyone is contributing and having a blast, it's been a good night win or loose. In the end we take third -our highest placing sense Pete's team took second back in March.
The team encourages me to redeem my drink. So I walk towards her and she's talkin' to a large bald guy. I lean in "You owe me a drink."
"What why?"
"I was in the bathroom and we peed together and you offered me a drink if I found you later."
"Oh shit, that's right, you're right, hey Tim, TIM where's my purse this guy was a gentlemen in the bathroom and I owe him a drink."
I pause, waiting for his massive fist to pummel me into the ground. At this point I think to myself 'That's why you offered?' I was a gentlemen? That was hardly the case.
He asks me "whatcha' drinkin'?" and I respond Bru, I'll take a Brubaker" and he shrugs his shoulders and walks off. She turns too me, "You're sweet, hey do you want to smoke some pot?"
"Hmm it's been a while I dunno."
"It's no big deal Tim'll smoke you out. Is there an alley near bye? Here hand my purse again." Tim returns with the beers and we clink glasses. She leans over to him, "Here take the joint and smoke 'em out he's a nice guy, he hasn't smoked in a while though so watch out for him". He shrugs, looks at me and nods his head towards the door. I fallow.
"Hey what's your name?" I ask.
"Tim".
"Nice to meat you I'm Robert. Thanks for the smoke".
We exchange pleasantries and walk to the alley. He lights up and says "Hey take a big hit like your not afraid to suck a cock."
I take the quickest hit ever and give it right back.
He chuckles and says "I knew it."
I take another hit and this time I really huff and puff. For some reason I can't get myself to stop talking in a drunken' vaguely east coast accent and I'm ready to get punched again. But for a second time Tim restrains himself. We start walking back towards the restaurant and talking about marijuana law. About 5' from the door he says "No look we were never in any danger" and he flips open a wallet out away from his body and flashes me his police badge.
I gulp.
He says have a good night and we both go our separate way in the bar. I walk towards the group -high as a kite in heaven. They ask me if I wanna go get pizza next door with our winnings -perfect timing.
-Raw
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