NYC Police Officers go undercover at protests

I'm not sure what to make of this. My initial reaction is to 1984-out -- so Orwell was off by a couple decades -- but is there some justification for it?

Dear Sǿren --

Do you think, after officially hurting a person's feelings -- and by "officially" I mean destroying a major portion of their life's hopes and dreams, not just, like, kissing a different girl -- it's best to completely break off contact with the wounded person, and do so spitefully, unexpectedly, and especially after there is a considerable investment? Would you recommend a person does this if he or she wants to someday patch things up completely? Won't a break like that make all the parties involved more interested in a make-up?

SO Really Remorsefully Yours
Baltimore, MD

Yes, SORRY, I think it worked for that Prodigal boy, and it could work for you. But are things that bad? You want to find that out first. But who am I to know? I broke it off with that foxy Regina Olsen for much less than hurt feelings.

Merry Christmas

Word to the wise--Don't move over the holidays, it's depressing. Also, don't jump off a building, that's depressing too.

Three cheers for the transit workers in New York City. Seems like you're gonna get screwed whatever you do. But hey, that's the American Way. Merry Christmas.

A Link

Funny stuff. Sub in Jason, Emily and Abby and it's perfect.

What's up Doc?

It has been two years since I visited the doctor's office. Two years. And I even have insurance. The only reason I went today was to renew my physical for work. They didn't do a whole lot. You know the usual weight, blood pressure, take deep breaths until you pass out routine. I was a little fearful I would have to turn my head and cough, and a little more fearful that I would get a finger shoved up my pooper, but no none of that. I did get a little prick in my arm to check for TB (tuberculosis), and the nurse penetrated my skin with a flu vaccine. The little flyer about the vaccine said that one of the possible allergic reactions was anaphylactic shock. So as I was leaving the doctor's office and walking to my car I was imagining that I was short of breath and that I could feel my passages closing.

All in all, I guess I'm pretty healthy. Apart from the 20 pounds I've gained in the last year, the unhealthy food that I eat, and the general lack of exercise in my life, yup, pretty healthy.

The Pickle

Did Adam Robinson delete his blog? I could see him doing this in a state of drunk-on-Nati-Bo frenzy.

Really, though, it's just not there.

Not-Posting

Well well well, it's been a while since I've posted something of substance hasn't it? I know that your expectations are at an all time low now, so I feel confident that this post will be read by all of my readers who are so loyal as to check The Tarantular every afternoon at 3:25 p.m.

The joy of not-posting has been a staple for every blogger I know except for Adam Kotsko. (Oh, he'll "take a break" for a few days, a weekend here and there, and maybe a week if he has a paper due or something; but even then he'll comment on other people's posts. That guy is dedicated let me tell you.) Not-posting was made popular by Adam Robinson over at The Pickle. His days of not-posting were inspired by his inspired idea to have everyone control his life and tell him what to do. He created this website, The Life of Adam, where readers would give him ideas of what he should do with his time. He learned how to crochet, wrote a song, read Paul in the bar, did drunken yoga and lots of other silly stuff. Then all of a sudden The Life of Adam was no longer living. I guess he just couldn't stand to have his life dictated to him by a bunch of idiots like us. So the website became defunct (although I think it still appears as a heading if you google Adam Robinson) and he basically stopped posting on The Pickle. We were all glad when Go Brewers went by the wayside and we witnessed the ascendency of The Pickle once again (although I must admit it's been kinda weird ever since--I guess Baltimore does that to you).

Cap'n Pete has enjoyed long periods of not-posting mainly precipitated by important life events--his wife's pregnancy, the birth of his son, Harper, and now his attending to grad school in Georgia.

My not-posting all started when I first began my blog. As a "chief" in the Eckerd Youth Alternatives organization, I would go on 2-4 week backpack or canoe trips that would have me away from the computer (obviously) for long periods of time. So yes, I was not-posting before it was cool to not-post. I have carried on this long not-posting tradition through job changes, marriage, pregnancy, birth, and all of the periods of laziness in between.

I remember this one time when I first moved to my current house (somewhere around March of this year) when I was posting almost every day, visiting other blogs and "getting my name out" and trying to have a go at creating a "serious blog." It just didn't stick. I wasn't cut out to be a serious blogger. I don't have the dedication nor the stamina.

My most recent bout of not-posting was brought on by a two week vacation, hosting my family for Thanksgiving and of course my usual laziness and lack of interest. During my vacation (with my wife and our 6-week old daughter mind you) we drove from North Carolina to Michigan overnight and stopped in at my ole pal Chief Ryan's place. We drank Busch Light and played rummy and had an all around great time. After that we headed north, over the Mackinac bridge in high winds (apparently they lose a few cars over the bridge each year) and up through the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We hiked a bit near the Pictured Rocks National Shoreline and then headed over to Mercer, Wisconsing to visit my good buddy, Holmes, and my friends Craig, Mark and Zac. We hiked around a bit, enjoyed some good Wisconsin brewed beer (New Glarus is a damn good brewery!), lit a campfire and had an all around good time.

Next we headed down to Madison to stay with Jeff and Laura. I love Jeff and Laura. They compliment each other so well. They are both a bit crazy in their own way which makes them much more enjoyable to be around. Laura enjoyed holding Abby and practicing her baby talk while Jeff rolled his eyes told her she sounded stupid. On Thursday, Laura and Emily and I found some good bargains at the St. Vincent DePaul's and then met Jeff for lunch at a mediterranean restaurant. They had good tea.

On Friday we drove down to Chicago to visit Benji and Sarah and to take in Russ's bachelor party. On the way we to Chicago, we stopped in New Glarus, Wisconson and toured the New Glarus Brewery. It was just o.k. and I was a little perturbed that a six-pack at the brewery cost more than what I had payed in the grocery store the previous night. I really don't get that. 6 bucks for a six pack seems pretty reasonable and one ought to be rewarded for going to where they brew their beer. In fact one ought to get free beer, but alas they did not offer it as such.

Anyway, I digress. We helped celebrate Russ and Jia at his bachelor party by singing him songs and playing Russajeopardy where you would yell "Fruss!" to answer with a question. Fruss! is derived from "For Russ." Get it?

I would go on and tell you about Russ's wedding and about how we played football beforehand, but I am experiencing blog fatigue and am about to be called for spinach lasagna. So Word to yo motha and all that.

Peace.

Gas

I think gas is great
In all forms
Especially the kind that comes out my ass

I am in a particularly sour mood this morning. I suppose it is because I was in a particularly sour mood from yesterday, the first day back to work after a 10 day vacation. Who was that poet who talked about a permanent vacation? David Lee Roth? I don't remember. I wish I could be a stay at home dad, or work a job that I actually enjoyed. Ayy me, I just want people to leave me alone. People are fucking stupid. I suppose I think that because I'm in a particularly sour mood this morning.

Theology

The Tarantular would officialy like to express it's interest in, and support of, Feminist Theology. Further more, we assert that Rosa Parks was a feminist theologian and would like to memorialize her with this post.

Mountain Dew "All Night Long"

The Tarantular would like to give it's official endorsement of Mountain Dew MDX Energy Drink just because this commercial is goddamn funny as hell. The "Sunglasses at Night" is not nearly as funny. But forgiving that, you should go out to your local grocer or independent gas station owner and buy Mountain Dew MDX . . . just because.

Hooker Lane, Powerball Senator

According to a NY Times story this morning, there's a suburban street in Connecticut named Hooker Lane, and the residents aren't too happy about it. They support a motion to change it to Stonebrook Lane.

Sheesh.

I mean, sure, I understand that the snickering probably gets old, but we need these people to carry the fight, otherwise sooner than later we'll change the planet Uranus to -- this will be terrible -- like, Edgewood or something.

And what do you think of Judd Gregg, the Republican Senator from New Hampshire, winning $853,492 in the lottery yesterday? What's up, New England?

Speedy Lee

It was round abouts February when I got a speeding ticket while transporting one of the guys on my caseload. It was for 70 in a 55 and the copper wasn't having any mercy for the fact that I worked with "troubled youth" and was late for a meeting. A month later I had to drive all the way to Gates County--armpit capital of North Carolina--in order to "get help", a.k.a. get my ticket reduced so my insurance wouldn't go up. After this I started driving slower--10 miles over the speed limit at the most.

Then there's Katrina and jacked up gas prices, yadda yadda yadda. I hear this thing about how any speed over 50 mph is giving you increasingly bad gas mileage. So I've slowed down to about 5-7 miles over the speed limit. Sometimes I even drive the speed limit. I can drive 55.

The thing about driving the speed limit is that, instead of passing all of the people driving "slow", you are the one that's getting passed. It's quite cathartic actually. You don't even have to really pay attention to what your doing. I have a 17 mile commute to work and back. I'm never in a hurry in the morning, so why drive fast? That extra 2 or 3 minutes in the car is another song that I get to listen or another story on the news.

So I encourage you to try it out. Drive the speed limit. It saves on gas, reduces the risk of tickets, gives you more time to listen and makes you think about why the hell you're in such a hurry in the first place.

And for the record, I am jealous of those of you that get to ride the train or the bus. You bastards.

Bears

Man the Bears were fun to listen to today! Pummeling the struggling Vikings 28-3, the Bears had two great offensive series' resulting in touchdowns. Although his fumble at the beginning of the game was enough to piss anyone off, Kyle Orton's 16 completions to 8 different receivers for 2 TDs certainly made up for it.

The Offense showed up, baby! Jones, despite his knee injury, rushed for 89 yards and 2 touch downs. Mushin Muhammad (5 recs. for 48 yds.), Des Clark ( 4 recs. for 19 yds. and 2 TDs) and Mark Bradley (1 rec. for 15 yds.) made plays from the receiver core.

And ohhh the D-fence! When Urlacher sacked Culpepper on the Minnesota 1 on 4th down (leading to one of the Bears TDs), ohhhh man. Urlacher had 2 sacks, 8 tackles and 1 assist. Awesome game! Damn can he play! He was backed up by Harris and Idonije, both with key Culpepper sacks. The secondary was active as well, breaking up plays and forcing turnovers. Charles Tillman and rookie Chris Harris both had an interception.

The Bears were firing on all cylinders with Special Teams making big plays as well. Bobby Wade returned a punt from the Minnisota 2-yard line for 49 yards setting up the second Bears touchdown. And Special Teams blocked a second half field goals attempt that kept Minnesota to 3 points.

I have to go tend to Abby now, but Wow, the Bears played good today.

How'd your team do?

Thunder Marie Robinson

Realizing that dogs are people too, The Tarantular extends our deepest sympathies to Adam Robinson for the loss of his friend Thunder. Rest in peace little one.

I think it's cool that Abby and Thunder share the same middle name.

Cuppa Joe

Is it the weather? Is it fatherhood? Is it the autumn equinox?

Whatever it is, I've been downing loads and loads of coffee this week. Usually I'm good for a cup or two/day at work, but this week I've been averaging 4 or 5 cups. It's only 11:25 a.m. and I'm on my third already.

I am interested in your coffee habits. Do you partake of the java? Are you an addict? What's your favorite brand? My favorite coffee seems to be the kind brewed at a small, locally owned, out of the way gas station. You can just taste the labor and care that went into making it. Mmmmmmm.

Abby Lee

It happened on Monday morning. I am officially a father. Life is good.

Go to Abby's site here to read the birthing story and see some pictures.

I will also make a link, but for some reason all of the links are at the bottom of the page. I have no idea why this happened or how to change it back. I think it was probably Troy's fault. Aaaarrrggghhh.

AltizerDystopiaBirth

I suppose it was because I recognized the name Altizer as a prominent name (rather than Anthony Smith or Adam Kotsko) that I actually read this longer of posts--something I must admit I do not normally do (sorry guys). But it got me to thinking.

I've been reading a number of dystopias lately. I thought of one in particular--This Perfect Day by Ira Levin. This is one of those dystopias where society is trying to create humans that are all similar and unquestioning. They do this mainly by a regimen of mandatory injections that occur on a monthly basis. These injections not only control the outbreak of disease and viruses, but they also control the hormones (resulting in birth control and a lack of sexual desire) and dull the senses of one's individuality. The injections are accompanied by visits to a "therapist" who monitors how each individual is doing. If there is odd behavior or an individual begins to question things a little too much, then there injections will be adjusted, or they will get an extra "treatment." Everyone in this society also wears a bracelet that they touch to various screens in order to enter a room or purchase goods, thus tracking the movements of each person. After an arduous struggle, the main character, Chip, and his girlfriend find a way to avoid the injections and make their way to an island of "incurables" or others who are not on the "grid." Upon arrival, Chip is disheartened by the fact that he has to work in a mine and share an apartment with another couple in order to make ends meet. He is disgusted by the fact that most of the people who escaped to the islands have accepted this lot in life and have taken to drinking lots of whiskey and wine and watching bad television--thus dulling their senses once again.

There is more to the book than that, but I was reminded of it this morning--particularly the part of the "revolutionaries" succumbing to whiskey drinking as a way of life. I realize that after having "escaped" the bondage of my conservative religious upbringing--by actually thinking and engaging God through thought and through theology, and by, oh my God, drinking alcohol with a bunch of other lunatic artists/writers/theologians--I have settled for mediocrity. Whereas drinking used to be just an excuse to get together and be creative, now it's just an excuse. And it's not just that, it's the avoidance of the encounter with the Almighty. Oh there are moments of clarity each year--like when I reread The Sickness Unto Death last winter--but these are few and far between. I think that the dulling of one's senses can take various forms, but at it's heart is a refusal to encounter God, or a denial that this encounter is necessary.

When Altizer talks about repression,

for now “God” can clearly be understood as the source of our repression, as the very speakers of God can no longer speak of God without actually evoking our repression, and evoking the ultimate power and ubiquity of that repression.

I think about a repression that I understand as having been self imposed, or at least that has been accepted without question. But it seems that what Altizer is saying is that exactly at the point of this repression is where the opening for a revolutionary theology lies:

Now it is not accidental that God has now disappeared from our theological language, or from our critical theological language, as nothing is now more damning or more self-destructive than actually hearing God, or hearing that God who is now spoken in a hearable theological language. This, too, is historically unique, but it opens up a whole new theological path, and just as once we could know God as the God of absolute judgment, now we can know an absolute or an absolutely ubiquitous repression whose only source that we can name is God, and whereas once the way to God was through an absolutely guilty conscience, now the only manifest way to God is through an absolute impotence or repression, or that repression which only now is all in all.

I think that there is something to this, however without seeking the struggle and seeking the encounter with God, then one's repression is just simply that.

On a not entirely unrelated note, my wife had her first strong (i.e. painful) contraction this morning--an indication that she may be close to going into labor. She is due on Sunday, so it's about the right time. I can't believe how exciting (and scary!) this is.

I'm a Hopeless Indie Guy

I cringed at the track listing for Adam Kotsko's new mix CD, and then faced my depression in what I'm writing now. I'm not facing it completely, though, because I'm too scared to post it at the Pickle. I'm sort of hiding out at The Tarantula, if I can call Jason's blog that, if I can call him Jason.

This woman, right -- this genius, actually -- actually rolled over in my bed and, facing me, said, "Are you an indie rock guy?" She said that to me! She said it coyly, as if to say, "It doesn't matter how you respond. I mean, I'm already in your bed."

But my thoughts started raging. I think she asked, believe it or not, because when we snuck into my bedroom, my roommate thoughtfully started blasting Wilco's album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. That was conscientious of him; he wanted to dampen any noises he feared might come from, you know, the act of lovemaking. But then I sang a long a bit, because it's true what they say: I am an American aquarium drinker. I do assassin down the avenue.

And then she asked me was I an indie rock guy and it wasn't hard to answer, "No, I am not," because, after all, I know who The Arcade Fire are but I don't know what they sound like. And you can't be an indie rock guy nowadays without feeling something about Trans Am, but I just don't. I've tried and I don't. So "no," I said, and I meant it.

But the truth is, I don't "have" anything else. I am not well versed in Brazilian music, which of course is what you have to be into if you were once an indie rock guy but aren't anymore. I really like OS Mutantes; I mean, I'm not insane -- but I don't own any of their stuff on colored vinyl. You know I'm crazy about Daniel Johnston but he's as insane-guy-tape-trader as I get. I can name two songs I really like by Aaron Copeland, though.

But when it comes down to playing music while painting a wall, I don't know which Thelonious Monk record to put in, or if I'm going to get made fun of for playing a '60s dance album from Tahiti. I do know that if I play Sufjan Stevens someone is going to say, "This music is so sad" and I'll go, "Yeah, but listen to this build." And if I play Pistolero everyone will talk about their first time listening to the Pixies.

It's like Camus said in his posthumous novel: "You love [indie rock]. It's all you have." And so, I mean, ick. But I guess I have to forgive Adam Kotsko his list, don't I? I do, but with the admonition to, please, get really crazy about Braziliam music and then send me a mix tape.

Al Jazeera animated take on Katrina

Cartoon

Switching in the Rail Yards

You may notice that I have a new site on my blog roll. I came across this site the other day and thought it was pretty cool. This guy works in Toronto for the Canadian Pacific Railway. He just writes about his job and his family. He seems like a good guy and definitely has cool kids.

Trashy

I don't know if your neighborhood is much like mine, but apparently it is the culture to just discard your used McDonald's wrapper, Dorito's bag, Coke can, etc. wherever you are at. Yeah, that's right. You are walking down the street drinking a hug and you gulp the last bit down. What better place to get rid of it than in someone's yard? Every week I have to pick up trash in and around my yard. Dispicable. At first I thought I was being targeted because I'm a white dude. But that theory was quickly denied as I looked around at my neighbors' yards. Same thing. Trash everywhere.

This week I was particularly suprised to find some bicycle handlebars in my yard. Handlebars? Honestly! What's next, a muffler?

So if you are missing some handlebars to your bike, come on over and get them.

Here's a big thanks to Chief Troy (Pharm house) for making this blog not suck quite as much as it has been sucking.

what can i say? blogging's just really not my forte.

on a not entirely unrelated note, I bowled a 161 today. That's better than half as well as you can possibly do! Now that's pretty damn good I think.

Are you ready for some Football?

I sure as hell am! After following the Chicago Bears through much of their off season, I am excited to see how they look in a real game scenario. With a top ranked defense and some new offensive weapons, the Bears might just pull off a win on the road in Washington.

Emily and I are driving down to Raleigh to catch the game. The Fox station here will be televising the Carolina Panthers game, and there is no bar close by that has the NFL Sunday Ticket. So off to Raleigh we go.

Who's your team?

Aaargh. Another bad country song.

Have your heard the song Arlington by Trace Adkins? Yeah, this song is horrible.

Goddamnit! It's not o.k. for these kids to be dying! For what?! The fucking suits? Shit.

George Bush Doesn't Care About Black People

The only real reason I watched the NBC concert for hurricane relief last night was for Harry Connick Jr. A New Orleans native, Connick has been helping NBC out by touring the city and providing a raw, real and heartfelt commentary on the catastrophe. The relief concert included a number of stars who appeared on stage in pairs reading scripted comments and information about the hurricane. Mike Myers and Kanye West appeared together. While Myers read his script, West followed up with an angry rant about how the media has been covering the hurricane catastrophe. "I hate the way they portray us in the media. You see a black family it says they're looting. You see a white family is says they are looking for food."

West went on to address his own feelings about the racism. "It's been five days because most of the people are Black; and even for me to complain about it, I would be a hypocrite because I tried to turn away from the TV because it's to hard to watch. I've even been shopping before even giving a donation. So now I'm calling my business manager right now to see what's the biggest amount I can give; and to just imagine if I was down there and those are my people down there."

Mike Myers looked a little bewildered as West continued his unscripted comment. "To anybody out there that wants to do anything that we can help with the set-up that America's set up to help the poor, the Black people, the less well off - slow as possible. The Red Cross is doing everything they can. We already realized how a lot of the people who could help are at war right now fighting another war. They've given them [The U.S. Army] permission to go down [to New Orleans] and shoot us."

Here's a partial video clip that catches the "Bush doesn't care about black people" comment.

the little hippie sat kissing my wife as they sat comfortably under the computer screen. surrounded by white washed walls and an El Salvadorian harbor. Segovya sat playing volleyball on the beach. the flags were unfurled and the bells rang out. Hooora! Hooora! and the crowd went red and wild.

sitting under the tree, the little hippie sang softly a song and knitted socks for her daughter. the night was cool . . . cool in a way that comes after a southern spell of hot steamy days. the first cool evening that you actually enjoy sitting on your porch, drinking, staring, talking softly. an Israeli speaks to me about his pet goldfish and how envies their simple existence. he is a mechanic in Jerusalem.

pay the rent!!! this is a reminder for those of you that have not payed your rent. granted, it is past the middle of the month, but we understand each other, don't we. sometimes it is difficult, existentially, to actually pay money for shelter. helter shelter. the envious man under the sign agrees.

love thyself, love thyself geometrically and judiciously and theologically. logic is a funny word isn't it?

chronologic. the logic of the chronos. the days, the rain, the diminishing light. painful it goes as painful it comes.

scotch and water

i'm tired of capitalization. it makes me feel egotistical. like when i capitalize any word, I feel like i am positing myself too much. do You know what I mean? I've seen people writing comments and (more commonly) instant messages without capitalizing. and God Forbid: not using proper, punctuation; furthermore.

what I would really like to say (ah, how the cogito does not pull out of it's settlement so easily) is that I have taken to drinking single malt scotch again. it's a habit I picked up, ironically, in Scotland (yes, places should be capitalized . . . probably) when I spent about a week in Edinburgh (pronounced edin-bura). I stayed at this hostel that I don't remember a whole lot about that served as a hub to my journeys around the city.

yes, ironbru did come in handy. i enjoyed some of the hand pulled ales that were fairly plentiful around the city. but first, i thought i would try various single malt scotches (as Scotland has many)and find what I liked. i walked from bar to various bar and asked for single malt scotch. glenlivet glenellen glenfidich (which i kind of like) darwinie mccallan mccallan mccallan.

yes, i am currently drinking 10-year-old McCallen single malt scotch, distilled and aged in Scotland, and made for a west coast store that I choose not to name at this time. McCallen single malt scotch is usually sold at a liquor store as a 12-year-old Single Malt Scotch for 30 or 40 dollars. the 10-year old at the affore-non-mentioned store sells for 20 bones.

McCallen was one of my favorites out of the single malt scotches that I tried while in Edinburgh. i also at fish and chips, toured the castle, and took at least two ghost tours. i spent the day with a family from a church, and we walked their dogs around some hill. i walked through a cemetary. and i walked. and i walked.

and i am drinking scotch and water Right Now.

YOUR COMMENTS ARE DESIRED AND ENCOURAGED, NO MATTER HOW TRIVIAL, VULGAR, INAPPROPRIATE OR UNRELATED TO THE CURRENT POST

chiefjason

Ice Hole!

It seems that someone had an "earthshaking" experience as a chunk of ice flew through their roof. I saw this brief news story tonight on a local Raleigh news channel about a man who had been sitting in his chair and got up for a minute. Next thing he knows, he hears a noise "like Hiroshima" and his chair has been destroyed by an ice chunk that apparently fell from an overflying jet airplane.

This is not the first time that a block of ice from an overhead plane has come ripping through someone's roof. It happened in 2004 to Constance Cotter of Lynn, Massachusetts. Constance says she thought her house was falling down. The ice left a hole 2 feet by 4 feet in her ceiling.

It happened on June 13th in Japan.

And in Portsmouth, an airplane's loo was taking a leak.

Airdisaster.com tells us another story about it happening in Auckland. There is also an informative discussion about "blue ice" incidents that follows.

Then there is this story (and this story) in the Santa Cruz Sentinel that quotes another website as saying "there have been at least 27 documented blue-ice incidents nationally in the past 24 years."

Then Susan Selzer of Long Island swears she has a guardian angel watching over her.

Then there's Dave Crandall of Tweaknews.net who has nothing to do with falling things from airplanes, but who created this pretty cool modification to his computer. He calls it Project Blue Ice. This is pretty interesting actually.

Word.

Benji, Beer and Babies

Benji and I call each other about once or twice a month. We end up talking about a lot of different things, but we always talk about home brewing. We have a tradition of sharing a homebrew while talking on the phone. He'll say, "Here's to you." And I'll say, "Here's to you." And we'll have a drink. The first time we did this I think we talked for about two hours and shared a forgotten number of beers.

I called Benji today on my way home from visiting a family that lives in Knightdale. It's about an hour drive home so I figured I'd call people. I talked to Jeff and Laura too. Alas, I did not have a beer to drink on the drive home, but Benji and I spoke about life while Elli (a.k.a. Eleanora Annabelle Bergstrand (sp?) was cooing in the background. Elli can apparently wave to people and say, "Hi." There are at least 6 documented cases of this. She is also fond of dogs and so far has gotten out, "Da." That's pretty damn good if you ask me!

I shared how Emily was doing. The baby is kicking quite a bit these days. I'm pretty sure she can already say the alphabet. I put together a crib last week--it's quite a cool crib, kind of old looking and very sturdy. It's also a transformer--it changes into a double bed down the line. Nice!

We talked about our most recent brews. He had brewed an IPA and said it had gotten better with age. The Porter I brewed was just delicious. I bottled it in 22 oz. bottles and have enjoyed each one. I took one to the guys at the brew store and they said the really liked it. I gave two to Mr. Hallmark--a teacher at camp who also homebrews. My friends Katie and Troy from Baltimore had a couple at my house. I'm bringing a few over to Phil and Liz's for dinner tomorrow night, and I'm taking the rest to the baby shower next weekend. This beer is getting some mileage!

Tonight I'm going to bottle the IPA that is in my fermenter (a 5 gallon bucket). I just got these blue glass litre bottles that seal like the Golsch bottles. I am very excited about these. Mr. Hallmark's logic about 22 oz. bottles is that "you never drink just one, right?" So carrying this logic even further, a litre bottle makes a whole lotta sense. He's gone to kegging his beer. I myself am just going to keep using bigger bottles. I suppose that growlers are next.

Perhaps I'll share a beer with you. You should come over to my house.

Ireland

I think Ireland is a funny country

Discuss

This is Sooo Adam R.

Adam called me on Friday night so I could help him look up a cheap airline ticket to Baltimore. He doesn't have internest access at his apartment and figured it would be quicker to call me than to wait the 10 minutes hold time for the airline. 15 minutes later, I still had not located him a good rate to Baltimore.

Funny thing is, Adam, rather than flying to Baltimore, was suppose to be going on a date with this girl he's had a crush on for five years. He describes her sexiness in many different ways.

He also realized that Jeff and Russ were coming over on Saturday and that it might be weird for them to show up at his apartment and find him missing.

I'm not sure if Adam was drunk or not, but he wasn't at work, so odds are he was sober . . . or at least hung over.

Incidentally, I had friends over from Baltimore last night. Hmmmmm.

Do we sense a theme?

who's drunk? 

Speaking of Nipples

Contributor implies contributing so...

I play fantasy golf. Yup thats right. It's just like Dungeons and Dragons. You are assigned a golfer each week and it is your job then to act, speak and golf like that golfer. It really sucks when you're assigned Chris Dimarco, what with that Big ass Butt of his and all.
Dick Pride is kinda fun to be but it get's old fast. But man, when you get assigned John Daly, it's the best. You just have to drink and smoke all day. And you have to play aggresively, like take your 0 iron from 260yds out and just try to stick it on the green. David Duval is the easiest to mimick on the golf course however.

I'm kidding about the Dungeons and Dragons similarities. I do however play fantasy golf. Three different kinds actually. I play Pick-a-Pro where you pick one pro every week. The amount of money your pro wins is how many points you win. You can pick each pro only one time. If you have the most points at the end of the season you win these...

Fantasy golf is a bit different. You get an allowance of $1,000,000 each week. You have to buy 5 golfers. Dick Pride usually costs about $75,000. Tiger Woods is always $300,000.

Not since Tecmo Super Bowl have I known so much about a Professional sport. I know Driving Ditances, GIR percentages and putts per green. I watch golf every weekend wondering how my teams are doing. It's made the sport so much fun.

Now that I'm thinking about it, it might be more fun to play Fantasy Golf the Dungeons and Dragons way, just so long as when I'm Phil Mickelson, you don't call me Phil Nippleson.

Havana, Oh Havana 

Clemens, Lee, Nipples

I was just looking at the stats for Major League Baseball. All sidled up to my desk with a big wad of grape Big League Chew in my cheek I looked over the Chicago Cubs pitching staff. Maddux is quite impressive. So is Zambrano. Leicester? Not quite, but I don't think he's found his groove yet. Dempster has had some good games and could be considered our number 3 pitcher.

Speaking of pitchers, have you seen Roger Clemens pitch this year? Damn! He pitches with a mission. Leading the league in ERA with a 1.46 average, Clemens has pitched 142 games allowing only 96 hits, 27 runs (23 earned) and 5 home runs. Roger is 42-years-old and this guy is HOT. Somebody slap him with a popsicle!(especially when they play the Cubs)

I must say, though, that Derreck Lee is my man! Not only is he my cousin, but he is having the best season of his career. He's been in the league 9 years and is putting up some numbers like he never has before. Leading the league with a batting average of .364 (career best of .282), he is tied for 1st as the home run leader with 32 yard balls (the most of his career) and is in 5th place for RBIs with 82. My other cousin from The Brewers, Carlos Lee, is right above him with 84 ribees.

Which reminds me when I was in high school. I played ball with this guy who had a red growth on the lower part of his ribs. It didn't seem that cruel to call him Triple Nipple. He really didn't seem to mind that much. I honestly don't remember the guy's name, but he used to like to eat sunflower seeds when we were both sitting on the bench(I was the backup catcher and occasionally used pinch hitter and pinch runner). He thought it made him look cool spitting all that shit out of his mouth. Me, I just ate them whole and got tired of them quickly. Never have been a big fan of sunflower seeds. Still, I always kinda liked Triple Nipple. He was a good guy . . . for somebody with three nipples.

I Grok, Gorss

There are so many reasons to search with Grokker, not the least of which is to entertain your inner Heinleinian. Google might be better, but for now Grokker is more fun.

And for some reason, it seems more feminist.

Does anyone recognize where this is at? 

The Baby Shower from God The Father Herself!

YOU ARE INVITED

To a Baby Shower!!!

My brother and sister-in-law are throwing us a baby shower in Maryland on Saturday, August the 13th. This has got to be one of the coolest baby showers ever! There will be beer pong and horseshoes and "baby shower bingo." Emily's parents and brothers and sisters will all be there.

You should come. Are you coming from Chicago?

Or perhaps Milwaukee? (Richmond isn't much farther from us than Raleigh).

Ithaca?

I'll be bringing a homebrewed Porter that is most delicious. Hopefully I'll have an I.P.A. ready as well. Hell, Benji and Bill oughta come just for that!

Did I mention there would be Beer Pong?

R.S.V.P. in the comment box or to my personal electronic mail account.

I love you.

West Virginia here we come

My wife and I leave this afternoon for a weekend music festival near Morganstown, West Virginia. Chief Troy was able to swing us free tickets and VIP status, so it should be an enjoyable and economical weekend. No bottles allowed, so cheap brews in a can are the ticket. It's how I like to roll.

During my absence, feel free to use this space however you might see fit.

The H was O

I was over at the H was O--the blog formerly known as the H is O--and was browsing around as I do every now and again. Honestly it's been a few months since I've been over there, but I was deeply humored, as I always am by the H was/is O and excited about their creativity. God this blog is hilarious! I've always wondered to myself what my connection is to the creators of The H was O. Is it just a tenuous relation brought on by Adam Kotsko's Weblog and Robinstein's The Pickle. I always thought so . . . until I noticed The Tarantular Chief Jason was on The H was O's blogroll. I was shocked and surprised and . . . well, pleased (I was similarly surprised just the other day when I found The Tarantular blogrolled over at a house falling in the sea). This leads me to believe that my connections with The H was O are more than tenuos, more than just happenstance. This runs deeper.

Or perhaps The H was O just wanted to extend a hand of friendship out to lousy ole chiefjason. All I have to say is

You guys are Great!!!

I feel like I have new friends popping up all over the place.

Thus, I shake hands with The H was O. Now we are friends.

Who is Chief Jason?

After a long stint of blogging out of sheer obligation, I've recently been enjoying the interactions with fellow bloggers Cap'n Pete, Adam R., the green Wuxiruss and freshly-back-on-the-scene Jared Sinclair. Sinclair's most recent post made be laugh quite a bit, especially since I didn't realize chiefjason was such a mystery.

At any rate, it's nice to feel good about my immediate blogosphere of influence these days, as well as a little guilty about going to bed an hour and a half later than I wanted to. Yes, it's nice to feel a little guilty.

The Cubs Suck

The Brewers rule.


Update: The Cubs and the Brewers suck.

-chiefjason

My Weekly Post

I went to a show at The Brewery down by NC State with Emily and her friend last Saturday night. The headlining band was Silvertide--who we did not stay to see (although the lead singer commented on my chops as we made our way to the car. I thougth that was nice and kind of wanted to watch them play afterall. Alas, late and drunken and pregnancy).

The opening act was a local band called Bombbox. They were a four piece act that played some catchy candy rock tunes along the lines of third eye blind. The lead singer had some sweet vocals with a nice upper range while their bass player laid down some impressive bass lines. The guitar work was catchy, simple, not overdone. The drummer was off beat at times.

They were followed by a band called Oliver Black. My least favorite band of the night, Oliver's lead singer ruined it for me. She was a shorter, rounder version of Britney Spears, singing like Joan Jett and seemed to be experiencing a combination of whiskey and speed. Seriously, she could whale some vocals, but her stage presence was just too much. Very annoying. I personally think she has some deep seated psychological issues.

The band that I came to see did not fail to impress. Pepper's Ghost. Their songs are melodic with nice guitar work and very cool harmonies. Based out of Philly, these guys know how to put on a good show. Their stage presence harkens back to the showmanship of the Stones and the Beatles. Straight up, good feelin' rock 'n roll and not ashamed of it. Check out their website here.

The Brewery is a very small venue and they like to play it loud. My ears were ringing for the next day and a half. The fact that they offered Pabst Blue Ribbon in a can really made the night for me. I feel good drinking a PBR or six.

Word.

My biggest flaw

My biggest flaw is that I have been and always am too focused on the present moment. I cannot take a step back, analyze a situation, and then discuss, respond, etc. I am always reactionary. Always. This plays itself out too often and too well in my job. I work with families of "emotionally and behaviorally disturbed" teenagers. WTF? Can someone show me a teenager that isn't emotionally or behaviorally disturbed in some way? If you can, then that is disturbing. The most disturbing thing is that teenagers can be "disturbed" simply because they are teenagers. But their parents don't have that excuse. Yes, I often relate to parents that are far more emotionally disturbed than their "disturbed" teens.

So back to my biggest flaw. I react. To situations, to people. I think it is mostly my facial expressions and partially my words. But I alway think back on a situation that happened and think, "why the hell didn't I say this that or the other thing?!!" And I always come up with something better.

I have learned to trust myself in my own reactionariness. Which is why I distrust blogging. I have too much damn time to think. But not really. When I comment, I comment in the moment. I react. And then I click the damn button and there it is, in print. Of course I think of better things to say 10 minutes later, but by then it is already too late.

Perhaps I will regret this post.


Update: I regret this post.

Home is where your wife is

I figure everyone should get a chance to see where someone lives. So here's some shots of our front porch. I particularly like our bushes. They are gnarled cedar-like trees.


bush 

rail 

front 

porch 

The Streets

 

If you're from the Streets, like I am, you'll already know that Adam has posted today. See, I'm always up on what's going on. I was even an early commenter on the most recent post at good ole Rob Schunneman's most excellent t-shirt site.

Seriously, I have my finger on the pulse of the world wide web. Seriously.

Which makes sense, since I did invent the internet . . . or rather the idea behind it.

sense since scents cents

(for instance, that was a complete senstence, for instance)

Emily's mom (also drunk). 

This is a grrreat picture of Emily's dad (my dad in-law). We just got finished drinking all afternoon in Santa Cruz. 

Word. 

Word to the Logos Legos

I decided to smoke a cigarette tonight. I know Emily would be mad at me, but it was just a nice night for a cigarette, sittin on my front porch in the dark. The kids were out and about and having a good time, probly gettin in a little trouble. The air was a little damp and cool, but not too damp and cool, if ya know what I mean.

I also watched an episode of Malcolm in the Middle at midnight tonight. The dad and the youngest son decide to build a lego city in the living room. The little son wants to make it a utopia and then becomes the dictator of the lego civilization, plotting to destroy his father with a lego army. This goes on for about three days until mom comes in the door, trips on a lego car, falls, and destroys most of the major buildings in the town . . . in slow motion.

So logically I do a search on the internet for "legos." That is when I found "The Brick Testament." Various verses of the bible acted out in lego scenes. It's really quite beautiful. You really should check this out. It'll make your week. My favorite one is when Mary asks the angel how she will bear the Christ child not having had sex with a man. He answers that the holy ghost will come upon her.

Word

you make bath-time lots of fun

Now I'm not saying I would ever shop for myself at bath and body works, but my wife happens to have these two products that I use more than she does--the eucalyptus and mint foaming bath and bath salts. I've always been a sucker for a hot bath and a good book. Seriously, I'll spend forty five minutes just soaking and reading. So I took a bath after work the other night for the first time in quite a while. I used the foaming bath and decided to throw in some bath salts for an extra touch. After reading Franny and Zooey for about forty minutes I decided it was time to enter back into real time. In the post bath hours before bed, I couldn't believe how relaxed and stress-free I felt. So so nice.

I have been reading Salinger's Franny and Zooey strictly because I took The Catcher in the Rye with me on the plane to California last weekend and after finishing it I immediately started reading it over again. Once I got back to the house I figured I hadn't had enough of Salinger yet, so I picked up Franny and Zooey. My copy of this book was given to me on my 24th birthday by Bill Brower with the note, "on your way to the Eastern Philosophy chair in hell." I thought that was nice. Not too many people have given me books as gifts. Bill knew me well enough to know that I would love that book--the budding ascetic that I was. After finishing it back then, I immediately sought out and read The Way of the Pilgrim and then found a copy of the Philokalia in some small town Minnesota bookstore along the Mississippi river (this was while I was spending time in a Russian Orthodox monastery).

I suppose my move out to North Carolina was in many ways an attempt at asceticism--an attempt that seems to have mostly failed. Or has it?

The Bergstrand Trio

The Bergstrand Trio was spotted at the wedding of Emily Lake and Jason Lee, providing music for the consumption of their audience. Benjamin Bergstrand himself provided the lead for "Annie's Song" (available on page 121 in Rise Up Singing) while strumming along on his mandolin. Adam Robinstein played a mean guitar with a sweet opening riff. He was nervous and cute as ever. Monica (pronounced moan-ika for those in unfamiliar places) added in a beautiful complmenting harmony to Bergstrand's lazy and friendly style of singing.

Lee proudly exclaimed, "those are my friends," to anyone who talked about the song.

Lee claims that after having aquired a new instrument called a bouzouki on his honeymoon, he is hoping to become the fourth member of the Bergstrand Quartet.

One wonders when their first practice might be . . .

Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever

I wear a ring of white gold around my left "ring" finger. I have never worn a ring before except for about a week when I tried having a pinky ring.

The 8mm thick solid white gold ring shimmers in the sunlight and reflects an image of myself when I look in it, slightly distorted and funny looking. It is comfortable and I like the extra weight on my hand. The weight is new, yet somehow familiar, like I knew it should have been there all along. I like to play with it--twisting it and polishing it, paying attention to getting it clean when I wash my hands. I like my ring. It is a new and exciting part of my body. Just as much as my wife is a new and exciting part of my self.

I had the privilege of writing my and Emily's vows for the wedding.

I have reprinted them here, for the rememberance of those who were there, and for the convenience of those who were not:

I _______ freely give myself to you ________, to be your life mate.
To wander through this life together
Through valleys and upon mountains
Through shadow and through light
Through joy and through sorrow
Through good times as well as trying times

I promise to daily give of myself to you; to cultivate a selfless and pure love between us, so that we might share our love with those around us.

And just as Jesus Christ laid down his life as on offering for us, so I give my life to you.

Seriously, I can't believe I'm married. It's surreal. But very cool.

Word.

DaaBers and DA BIG IDEA

So I'm watching the last of the Cubs game right now. Cincinnati is winning 11-8 going into the Bottom of the 9th, Bartosh (the Cubs 7th pitcher of the game) just struck out the last batter (Dunn) to end the Top of the 9th. Seem like it's been a pretty goddamn good game, one you wished you were at.

But that's not what I'm posting about. I posting about Daabers. You know, the Chekago Bers.

How 'bout those draft picks? A powerhouse running back and two speedy wide receivers. Let's hope the offensive line can step it up to add the . . . (hold on)

>>>Ronny Cedeno just got his first major league hit with a single to left and a run driven in. It's 11-9.<<<

So back to DaaBers. Howsabout those draft picks?

>>>Awww damn, the 3rd out. Hollandsworth grounded out. I'm impressed with the Cubs. Although they definitely have some issues going on in the pitcher position, our other guys are gettin the job done. Although still a loss, it is a loss with 13 hits and 9 runs. They also spread the wealth around with 9 different guys getting the hits and 5 of those guys driving in the runs. Even when we get outs, much of the time we are putting the bat on the ball and the ball into play. That's how you win games.<<<

Can we talk about the Bears now? With a workhorse running back, two speedy wide receivers, and a ready to go Rex Grossman at QB, their offense just might have the spark it needs. If the offensive line can step it up (perhaps an effective off-season training program in Kankakee, Illinois?) they might just have the one-two punch.

So here's DA BIG IDEA:

Now I know I got some friends who are some good Bears fans, and I sure as hell don't get to see these friends that often. We should pick an away Bears game that isn't too far away. Meet on Friday night (or Thursday night?) in that city. Take in the sites on Saturday. Get crazy for the Bears on Sunday. Rest (or work if you gotta) on Monday.

So yeah, like a four day weekend with a Bears game as the climax. How can you go wrong? I figure since this is my idea, I get to put in the first suggestion for the game. My first instinct was to pick the Redskins game on September 11th, but that's pretty close to when my baby is due, and the date doesn't seem to have any GOOD luck. So my official pick is the December 11th game in Pittsburgh. Seems we could find some cheap accomocations, similarly cheap bars, and freeze are asses off to watch the Bears and the Stealers pound it away. Sounds like good bonding time to me.

Baby Lee  

Baby Lee

Isn't this freaking amazing? Emily and I went in on Wednesday for her first ultrasound. I was astonished as I watched our baby's heartbeat and saw it's limbs and head and bones. All this inside of her belly. What a mystery!


Baby Lee sucks its thumb. 

Harper J. Bienko

Again, congrats to the Cap'n and crew. Go here for a photo of the young lad and some brief words from the Cap'n.

Also, congrats to the Cubs for winning handily today.


And a "too bad" to the Brewers for blowing a 6-0 lead.

Oh yeah, and congrats to the Catholics for your new Papal Head.

A Baby!!!

The Tarantular would like to congratulate Josh and MaryJo Bienko on their freshly born child. We are excited to hear more details (name, weight, etc. etc.)and updates on baby life.

Yeaaaa Baby!!!!!

Spring Posting

I do believe that I have myself proven that the myth of increased blogging in the spring is false. My beer and my front porch already have more pull than the laptop in my study. Thus the longer gaps in my posting.

So I have given in to the baseball enthusiasm and purchased the entire Major League Baseball season on internet audio for only $14.95 (living in North Carolina and not having cable, this seems to be a good option to follow the Cubs). This is an interesting thing since I "simultaneously" listen to a baseball game over live audio stream, say, from WGN radio, while watching the gameday update from MLB.com, which shows the current batter (with the balls and strikes and where the pitch landed in the strike zone), as well as a picture of the field with the names of the defensive players and their positions, and the names of the offensive players at bat/on base. Thing is, the audio is usually behind the updates of the visuals . . . but sometimes the audio is ahead. Like I said, it's interesting.

Anyway, I watched the Cubs lose a close one with Loecester blowing a 5-5 tie, walking the first two batters in the 8th, then hitting the next (ending in a 7-5 loss). Then I watched the Brewers lose to the Dodgers 7-3. All in all, a depressing day for baseball.

Tall Tees vs. Tight Rolling

I'm not sure where you live (although if I had to guess it'd be Chicago, Milwaukee or Ithaca) but I wonder if the fashion of tall tees has caught on. Not being familiar with how or where fashion trends start, I'm willing to admit the possibility that this trend started in North Carolina. Noting the many backward ways of my Carolinian compatriates, however, I somehow doubt it. If you are not familiar with the tall tee fashion, it is basically a plain t-shirt that is usually 2 sizes too big and that hangs down to the wearers knees or ankles. I have typically seen tall tees worn in black or white with an occassional pink thrown in. This fashion is prevalent among young black males in my area.

I find this trend very silly. I watched a young man - probably about 14 years old - walk down the sidewalk across the street from my house. His hair was braided, black tall tee down to his ankles, and he was making punching motions in the air, like a boxer sparring. He approached my neighbors (a man, wife and young daughter lounging in their yard) kitty corner from my house, and was confronted about something. I made out the word "hooligan" but didn't hear anything else. I wondered if the tall tee wearer was related to these neighbors and noted that he obviously knew them in a familiar way. Whatever the case, he turned quickly and walked back from wear he had come, again shadow boxing.

I couldn't help but laugh to myself as this boy - looking like a nubian princess with a long black dress - hiked up his pants, karate'd the air and strutted down the street. I wish I could have it on video tape to show him five years down the road. Surely he would realize how utterly ridiculous he appears.

Just like me, when I was 14, with my tight rolled jeans. Where the hell did that fashion start? North Carolina?

Word

The Adam R., Cap'n Pete race has been everything I hoped it would be. From diving catches to last minute 3-point shots to 12th inning home runs, these guys have been pulling out all the punches. I note that Adam is just waiting to see when Cap'n's going to post next. He's probably got three posts saved, just waiting to spring them on the Cap'ns postal efforts.

Whoa! That gives new meaning to "going postal." That's right, you heard that phrase coined here at The Tarantular. Pretty soon, I feel, the Cap'n and Adam R. are both going to be going postal in an effort to earn a moniker change.

Now I know that Adam has tried to get his changed by default, trying to create a blog about The Brewers. Reality check here Adam--No one gives TWO FARTS about the Brewers. Perhaps if you alternated with posts about tours of the Miller Brewery, or observations of drunk Brewers fans. And I just have to note that Adam hasn't posted since the Milwaukee racked up two losses at Wrigley Field. Hmmmm.

Go Cubbies!

Cap'n Ping

I was going to update The Tarantular's loyal readers about how neither Adam or the Cap'n have posted today and then Cap'n Pete slips in a late-in-the-day post on me. I was even going to mention how it would be kinda nice not to have to go into my template and change the score on the sidebar, but hey, I ain't complainin'

Whereas Adam's two posts have focused on the game of baseball, the Cap'n relates a chuckleful story about he and his pa playing a round of golf with a pair of hackers--both who don't seem to know any golf etiquette, and one who thinks moonboots make good golfshoes. I wonder if they had spikes?

At any rate, I'm well into my golf game down here in North Carolina--my first round finishing even, my second round with a one under par, and my third round with one up. I was pretty pissed with my last performance because I had a triple bogey on hole #18. I didn't even open up a new course.

just so the loyal readers know, Emily and I will be in Connecticut for the weekend, so the blogging may be at a minimum. That doesn't mean you shouldn't keep 'em comin' though. BRING IT!

Word.

Cap'n Pete v. Adam R.

Well folks, so far the Cap'n is gettin' his ass handed to him by the Robinsteiner. Granted, there's a few days left in the month, but the Cap'n needs to back up his trash-talking comments with some good old-fashioned blog posting. Ya feel?

I keep clicking over to the Decrepit Cap'n Pete hoping to see something other than the digital reprint of Too-loose LaTrek.

The score as of 10:30 p.m. EST:

The Pickle - 2

Coney Island - 0

(and that's a big fat zero)

(and not as in Cap'n Pete, he's our hero, gonna take pollution down to)

The NCAA Blues (CBS--YOU SUCK!!!)

I must admit, I turned off my Tele at Luther Vandross. I mean, c'mon.

I remember back in the day when the National Championship celebration was actually televised. Seriously, can the constituent audience really be more interested in silly cell phone commercials, redundant car adds and blurbs about CSI and David Letterman?

Goddamnit!!!

I'm pissed!!

Illinois lost!

And they couldn't even have the decency to give me the jouissance of watching the North Carolina players make a bunch of asses of themselves (although the shot of McCants taking his jersey off certainly helped the cause).

Please please, if you must have a cell phone, be it not cingular or that other brand I can't remember except for the guy who didn't want to talk to his mother-in-law for 20 minutes about her cat. And please, please do not go see the horrible looking movie about a haunted wax museum. And please, please do not buy anything from Pontiac.

Furthermore, do not watch your television. It is evil.

Fuck!!

Update:
Nice job Adam. I love you for posting about baseball this evening. Such a rebel.

The Cap'n vs. Adam R.

Spring is in the air, the flowers are in bloom, the flies buzzing and the smell of fresh cut grass tickling the nosehairs.

There is a theory goin round that blog traffic/interest wanes during the winter months and picks up again come springtime.

Well we here at The Tarantular are going to test this theory. Beginning today and running through April 30, the blog that posteth the mosteth will earn the right to have their moniker changed on The Tarantular Chief Jason.

Will it be Cap'n Pete of Coney Island?

Will it be Adam Robinson of The Pickle?


Only the Tarantular Chief Jason could bring you such a dynamic, jaw-twisting and fingernail-biting contest.

Tune in here for daily updates.

Word.

Terry Schiavo

is still dead.

A very astute observation was found via CPRobes. The Liberal Conservative Blog has this to say:

The rise of the Terri Schiavo story never puzzled me: Like OJ, Scott, and Monica, Terri is just another freak show designed to distract us from the real news (such as the fact that our country is bankrupt; like Nazi Germany we've invaded and occupied a sovereign nation under false pretenses; as a parasite of this planet's gifts, we're killing our host; and so on).

That's what I used to think. Now I can see why Terri resonates so strongly. She is us, and we are her.

America is a brain-dead former beauty queen of a nation being kept alive by a feeding tube. Through this tube, the rest of the world funnels $2 billion a day, and that's just to support our shopping habits. We'd deteriorate faster than Terri Schiavo if the Chinese, Japanese, Saudis, Koreans, and others stopped paying the hospice bills. Like Terri Schiavo, we are oblivious to our own circumstances. I don't pretend to know what went through Terri's mind, such as it was, but it couldn't have been much less substantive than tonight's episode of Survivor.

May Terri RIP.

Adam Kotsko

Aye me.

Woe is me.

I remember the days--many many moons ago--when Adam Kotsko actually visited and commented on my blog. He made me feel so . . . so . . . special that he would bless my URL with his presence.

Ah but gone, gone are those days of innocence. Gone, gone are those days of Kotskoian bliss.

I understand that Marioworld is more important than little ole chiefjason. No hard feelings.

I'm just gonna go play Hitman 2. May the crosshairs on my screen symbolize freedom and a new day.

Update

Johnny Cochran: Dead

Terry Schiavo: Dead

The Pope: Not quite dead.

Gerry Garcia: Dead (?)

Update to the update:
The pope is dead. The 9 days of mourning have started.

Terry Schiavo #2

Still dead.

Terry Schiavo

This is my first post about Terry Schiavo.

She is dead.

Honestly, it's hard to be concerned about global politics, the meaning of life or even simply reading when you have your firstborn on the way. Logically I have accepted the fact that I am going to have a child. But in reality, I just can't get my arms around the concept. I understand that my father had a son which turned out to be my brother. And then he had another son which turned out to be me. I understand the concept of sonship. Daughtership I comprehend, but have no real firsthand experience with the concept. I even look at Emily's belly and know that there is a real human being in the process of being formed even as I sleep next to her and dream about robbing houses in France and running through factories in my underwear.

I see all of this happening in front of me and around me. I even find my own belly growing before my eyes. However I really cannot fathom the actuality of having a son or daughter to care for and raise. What a mystery this all is. I even got really drunk the other night and felt horrible. I realize that those days are over for me. I no longer have just my body to flail around and do with as I please. My body is not my own.

I can't keep up with y'all. Lacan, Zizec, Baudilaire, whoever the flip. None of it is important to me. My heart isn't in it. I suppose I'll never get past Kierkegaard and I think that's o.k. Eventually I'll finish Works of Love, even if it takes me 'til I'm 50. In the meantime, I'll content myself with drinking a beer on my porch, flipping through the most recent issue of National Geographic or Harper's and wondering if I'll be living at this house long enough to see my child playing in the front yard and hiding in the bushes. That's not so bad really.

Zinn #2

It is clear to me that the only reason the non-elite, the marginalized, the poor people without land ever got anything in the early days of this country is because they armed themselves and banded together to fight for their rights; to fight against the tyranny of the land-owners and the elite.

I keep telling Emily that we are going to see some crazy shit in our lifetimes. Recession turns into depression and the people get restless. Not even new episodes of CSI and Survivor can turn back this tide. Eventually people will no longer be concerned about ideology, they will be concerned about having the capital to shelter and feed their children. Militias will fight federal armies. Townspeople will take up arms against their local governments. Washington D.C. will be surrounded by cement baricades and guarded by tanks and snipers. An exodus will begin--American emigrants to Canada and Mexico. A few at first. Many more later. Then they will shut their borders. The world will turn against us, because we have turned against them. Our transgressions are tenfold. We will reap what we have sewn.

Little Horror

Wisconsin state officials insist that a halfway house (type thing) for sex offenders has to be built somewhere in Milwaukee county, but every time they decide on an area the residents rally in protest. These protesters say heinous things. They say the offenders are monsters, and they need to go to jail for the rest of their lives. The men sound like snotty third grade tattle-tales, but with gruff Cheesehead voices. The women have all sworn to protect their children, so how can they allow this home to be built?

If I wanted to ruin my life, if I wanted to lose every shred of my sense of self, I would be a sex offender. In my experience working at Indian Oaks Academy, I began to see that these kids could never, ever be normal again. The institution ensures that they think of themselves as freaks whose every instinct has to be second-guessed. If their life was my life, I would be utterly hopeless.

But having that sympathy for a sex offender will do little to placate the neighbors where this home will eventually be built. I have no kids, so I can't imagine what their fears are like. It doesn't make sense for me to say that what these people should do once the criminals move in is bake them a damn pie and bring over the whole family for some card games. I would want them to feel normal.

(It's sort of a facticity thing, right? Like, if you kill someone how long are you a murderer for? What are you besides a murderer? Can you ever stop being a murderer?)

Pegi Taylor has a much more sane approach to the issue than I do, and a pithier response. She did some good research. She found a study that shows that something like 95 per cent of people who are offended knew the person who hurt them. She says that the house should go about two blocks from her house. I think that makes sense. I'd like to see them build it in my neighborhood; considering I don't know any of the residents, I'll sleep safe and sound.

A Clean and Pure Blog

You potty mouths!

You vulgardirtynaughty excuses for thinking people!

You oughta be ashamed of yourselves.

Have you noticed the amount of curse words that people just freely use around the blogosphere? There is no thought of what message they may be sending or whose eyes they may be offending. No thought.

Well we here at The Tarantular Chief Jason are taking a stand, you filthy mouthed vermin. No longer will we Fuck the world, we will Fart the world. No longer will we go out drinking and get Shitfaced, no, we will get Kakafaced. There are no Assholes here at The Tarantular Chief Jason there are only poopooheads.

So listen here you kaka loving motherfarting dirty lipped poopoofaces.

No more!

No more!

No more!

You are absolved of your need to cuss at The Tarantular Chief Jason

After all, we are a Clean and Pure Blog with little to no damn cussing.

Iraq

I'm not one for links usually, but I figure we should keep this in the forefront and realize it's still going on. This article talks about journalists in Falujah who describe U.S. soldiers killing civillians and children. Our military is apparently using napalm as well. They link to one of the journalist's blogs here.

At least the senate voted down the $14 billion proposed cuts on Medicaid funding.

Coming Soon:

Music - As soon as I figure out how to put audio on here, I got a new song for ye.

Zinn - Another post on Zinn's history of the U.S.

Lynch - A comment on David Lynch's web series, Rabbits.

I roil.

A feature on Allison's show from the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel.

Reg(i)stry

Wedding registry is a funny thing idn't it? I mean, honestly, who the hell registers?

Emily and I are registered at Target, Crate 'N Barrell and REI. Fuck yeah we put a canoe on there! If someone's gonna give me a canoe, just because I'm gettin hitched to the best goddamn girl in the world, then by god I'm gonna let em.

I can picture myself, Emily and our newborn babe lunching on the lake in the shade of a willow tree. The babe is suckling his mother's white breast in the cool air of a hot days heat. I, munching on chips and swigging a pale ale, looking at the marvelous bugs on the limb in front of my face. I ask Emily if she knows what kind of bugs they are and what their mating characteristics are (she knows alot about this shit). She, giving me her look as she smiles the smile that goes along with that look, contents herself with holding the child in front of her face and kissing his eyes. We lunch on lentils and kool-aid and love the love that love's the love that love's the love that love's the love.

Go right now to REI and make this scene a reality. Help promote family and nature and love, all at the same time. Can all of your clamoring about Bush and the Republican's and the defense budget really compare to this? Spend your tips wisely. Go into debt just a little more. Give to the American Dream.

*************************************************************************************

There are alot of Jason Lees' getting married. What the hell? I put in my name to get to our registry and there are a gazizillion number of Jason Lees' signed up. So I started looking at their registries. Some poor couple got married in November of 2004 and nobody got them shit! Then another couple from '04 got almost everything on their list.

Well I have half a mind to go buy something for that poor schmuck, Jason Lee, who didn't have any friends decent enough to even buy him an espresso square plate! what the hell? Somebody already got us a vacuum food sealer , a four slice toaster and the spicy salsa pillow. I'm already happy with that!

I wouldn't mind the type of furniture that Bethany and Fred got for their wedding. Although I don't know if people are man enough to do it again. Are ya? Huh? Huh? Are ya?

Word.

Let's All Clear Our Throats

It's awesome that Jason's blog is awesome.

Russ is here and Jeff is coming tonight. We're gonna have some fun. Also, I've joined a band. Isn't that exciting? We've got a show on April 1. Tomorrow I'm going to be featured at Linneman's open stage. There have been two rehearsals for my play and it's going, it's going.

Rejoice!

I have been taking pleasure in my hands recently. I guess more specifically, the work that I put my hands to.

I look forward to the turning of the lock to the front door and the good feeling that key has as it slides in perfectly and turns the deadbolt.

I take pleasure in the drawing of the small sharp knife with the white plastic handle (not one of the "better" knives*)from the silverware drawer--the wooden drawer that slides out smoothly, but not too smoothly--in order to cut the cellophane packaging of some spinach that was fresh bought tonight; I am having a strawberry jam, spinach and Wasa cracker sandwich.

I watch and listen to the pooring of the oolong tea into my tiny Chinese teacup and the dribbling sound of the tea from the small spout of the small brown pot.

My hands. Their work is more deliberate, with purpose. I have never felt this before.

I did three loads of laundry on Monday--two of them were Emily's. It felt good as I folded her shirts and pants and underwear, knowing that when she selects her clothes for the next week she will be undoing my fold-job and placing them on her body.

I cooked dinner for Emily and Bridget on Wednesday night - Spicy Pesto Chicken Pasta with Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes and Whole Kernel Corn Out Of A Can. It was the first time I have ever roasted Garlic and I got the cloves a little on the dark side of browned. For the pesto chicken I substituted Cholulas hot sauce for the "chili paste" that the recipe called for (do you like the sound of "chili paste?") The roasted garlic mashed potatoes tasted of blackened garlic and were palatable yet not that good. The pesto chicken pasta may have been one of the best dishes I have ever made. It is definitely going into my repiratoire.

I have discovered why my dad always stayed up later than everyone else. This time is my time to do with as I please. Some of it is used to tap into my latent OCD and pick up the living room, the dining room and the kitchen. It feels good to make a place new and clean and ordered.

At least 3 times today, I put my face up to Emily's belly and said in a high pitched voice, "Hello baby, how are you doing in there?" That always gets laughs from whomever's watching, and of course it makes me look cute. I expect my conversations to get longer and more complex as my child gets older. We'll start on Socrates at 12 weeks and maybe move on to the pre-Socratics at 15.

I picked up a book today by Marcel Mauss - A General Theory of Magic. I read the prologue and the first chapter. It looks intriguing. I remember my friend, Virgil Brower, always talking about Mauss and Levi-Strauss.

I drove 45 minutes to sit through a 4-hour seminar today about baby cribs and highchairs. The products they were selling looked great. Too bad I don't have enough money and don't like layaway plans. At least Emily and I have a coupon to send in so we can get deluxe accomodations for 3 days and 2 nights in one of a list of cities, none of which I have any real desire to visit.

At any rate, life feels good. This is a heroic and liberating time. It is mundane and practical and good. The work of my hands is my art.


*better knives - knives with wooden handles that don't necessarily cut better but just feel better in the palm of your hand.



Update: I have found another recipe for some pesto chicken pasta that looks even better! It uses sundried tomatoes--something Emily and I have been loving lately. I make a damn good sundried tomato and spinach pizza. And yes, I make the dough myself thank you very much.

Update: If you were wondering, you spell that plasticy packaging stuff celophane, and you spell that garbage heap of famous knowledge your repertoire. I also helped blogger learn "oolong" and "sundried" tonight. What can I say, I'm a good vocabulary teacher.

Prohibition anyone?

A prohibition is afoot in Turkey. Apparently the goverment has instituted a tax on liquor so high that bootleggers are having a heyday. The article cites the effects of bootleg "raki":

A total of 44 people have been hospitalised so far with complaints of vomiting, dizziness, headache and loss of eyesight.

Hello people, you're hungover!

The one thing Ataturk forgot to teach--how to drink like an Irishman.

Beer

Have I ever mentioned that I brew my own beer? My most recent brew was a variation of a "palace bitter." The recipe for a palace bitter calls for two different kinds of hops, whereas I used three different kinds. The use of hops has different effects on a beer depending on when you put said hops into the "wort" (this term refers to the liquid that you boil up before you seal it in a vessel to ferment). As soon as the wort starts to boil, you would add hops in order to give the beer a bittering effect. If you like pale ales, then you appreciate this bittering effect. You may have heard a pale ale referred to as an "India Pale Ale." The history of this apparently stems from the shipping routes from England to colonized India. This route went south around the tip of Africa. In order to preserve their beer, the English used hops as a preservative so that their beer would not spoil. Thus the India Pale Ale.

Adding hops into the wort in the last 5 to 10 minutes of the boil is known as "flavoring hops." This is just as it says--the beer takes on the flavor of the hops. There are many different types of hops with varying flavors, so depending on which types of hops you use is the flavor that your beer adopts.

The last addition of hops occurs in the last minute or two of the boil. This is called the "aromatic hops." Again, this is self descriptive as this addition of hops adds a nice aroma to the final product. Of course the end aroma of your beer depends on the type of hops that you use.

I have been drinking my "palace bitter" for a couple weeks now and have enjoyed it thoroughly. There really is nothing like drinking a beer that you brewed yourself. Similarly, there is nothing quite like pissing off of your own porch.

Word.

Zinn #1

It is the year 1776. You know, the year the colonies declared their independence from England. The Declaration of Independence. It was shouted from the rooftops. The Declaration of Independence. "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal." So equal that four days after the reading of this document from the town hall balcony in Boston, the townsmen of this city were ordered to arrive on the Common for a military draft. A draft that could be avoided if one were rich enough to pay for a substitute. If you had enough money, you could buy your way out of "patriotic duty."

All men are created equal. What a joke. This country has never been about equal rights. It's always been about giving the dissenting voices enough table scraps to keep them quiet. And it has worked overwhelmingly well.

I'm reminded of Fahrenheit 911 when Michael Moore is trying to get congressmen to sign their children up for military service. They weren't really going for it. Not so much. They were, however, more than willing to send other people's children. Your and my neighbors, friends, brothers and cousins.

(from a reading of Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States)

New Beginnings

I moved to a new house this weekend. Emily (my fiance), her roommate Bridget and I have moved into a pretty nice house in Henderson. One of my new amenities is a gas fireplace that sometimes leaks and makes me feel high. Another new amenity is the DSL capability. It is my first high speed internet at home and ooh am I thrilled. This jubilation is a little sarcastic if you did not catch it. I both love and loathe technology, as I'm sure you do too.

At any rate, I am making a commitment to be more active on an intellectual level--with both reading and with blog activity. I will be the first to admit that I have not put all that much time into this blog. But my friends, IT IS A NEW DAY.

Perhaps Adam will post more, the bastard.

Coming soon: A series of posts on my reading of Howard Zinn.

What kind of man kills another man? Out of revenge? Out of duty? Out of rage? Out of protection?
I cannot fathom the thought. I cannot even comprehend extinguishing the life of an other.
Perhaps you can. Please explain.

I remember seeing Saving Private Ryan for the first time. The scene where the German soldier and the American soldier end up fighting hand to hand after they both run out of ammunition. They come face to face, eye to eye, with only the thought of killing. The enemy. The German soldier ends up slowly sliding a knife into the American soldiers heart. He gazes into his eyes saying, "Shhhh. Shhhh," while the American soldier screams, "No!" repeatedly. His life is gone, ended in a moment of passion and survival. Kill or be killed. As the German soldier descends the stairs, he sees Upham--the very green, scared, ammunition toting war journalist. The German soldier passes him by without a second glance. Upham does nothing. In another battle scene, this same German soldier is shooting Upham's comrades. Upham could have prevented this, if only he would have acted. He just didn't have the stomach for it.

Was it harder to kill before gun powder? From a distance, behind a gun, you don't have to watch your enemy die. You don't have to look him in the eye and decide he is not worth living. There is separation. Objectification. Like hunting a deer. Maybe it was only harder from a technical standpoint? I don't know.

In the end, Man is and has always been his own worst enemy.

Anti-Terror

I was just listening to a radio broadcast discussing how some state prosecutors are using anti-terrorist laws to prosecute "regular" criminals. The first example involved a young girl who was shot in the head by a gang member in New York City. The people involved in the shooting apparently fled to Mexico, but the prosecutor brought charges against 16 members of the same gang under the anti-terrorist laws stating that they were "intimidating the civilian population." The second example was from Boone, North Carolina where the district attorney was tired of the violence associated with crystal meth labs, and the people who make crystal meth that were getting off with only short jail terms. He tried to bring charges against some of these crystal meth makers using an anti-terrorist law that had to do with the production of weapons using toxic chemicals (they use toxic chemicals to make crystal meth) with the intent to do violence or to intimidate the civilian population. Of course someone who is prosecuted under an anti-terrorist law is subject to stiffer penalties and longer jail terms.

Both examples seem fairly ridiculous to me. It is an obvious stretch to jump from production of an illicit drug to manufacturing chemical weapons. And since when do we prosecute people because they were in the same "association" as someone who committed a crime? McCarthy couldn't have done it better himself.

I don't think that the word "terrorist" should be limited to foreign nationals who illegaly enter the country. There are plenty of examples of domestic terrorism--the Unibomber and the Oklahoma City bombing to cite two. However using anti-terror laws to prosecute criminals just because the prosecutor thinks the regular laws aren't stiff enough? That seems criminal in itself. Not to mention the basic human rights violations that seem to accompany anyone associated with the word "terrorist." This stuff makes me ill.

God is dead

Co-Worker: God is dead.

ChiefJason: No she's not, I just talked to her this morning.

Co-Worker: "Her," huh? What did she say?

ChiefJason: She told me to love you and to die for you.

Co-Worker: Harrumph.

ChiefJason: My sentiments exactly.

Influenza

I have been convalescing for the past four days. I ache all over and have the chills. My nose is stopped and my throat makes me cough. I used to love being sick when I was a kid--who didn't? Who can beat getting to stay home when everyone else is at school? I remember in junior high spending two days straight in my parents big bed reading Dragonlance books. That was nice.

Staying home from work doesn't have the same enjoyment. I'm losing money that I can't afford to lose, I'm getting further behind in my paperwork, and I feel like shit to boot. Sometimes being an adult sucks.

I have made myself Kool-aid and I've watched Star Wars and the Empire Strikes Back. Why did they have to make the new ones suck so much? Carrie Fisher is still hot.

I think my brain is going to explode.

**Update--Yeah, so I've been pissing myself all day long. You know when you're sick and you think you've pushed all of the pee out of your wee willy wonka that you can get out, then you zip up your fly and sure enough if there isn't a warm tinkle going down your leg. For fuck's sake! I'm paying for a quart of oil at the gas station, trying to smile at the old lady, while my sickly little guy is leeking urine into my cordoroys. This is not cool.

What if?

An Israeli settler next to an unexploded rocket, following a Palestinian attack on a settlement in the Gaza Strip.

What if the Iroquois were to start fighting back? How long would it take before US citizens stopped complaining about getting a room with two doubles when they specifically reserved a king way back in September?

You Are a Mother Fu**ing Tarantula Fu**er

There. Are you happy. You got Tarantular. You got your Title Field. Why don't you just go back to the Pickle you demanding piece of Mothe* Fuck**g monk*y dung.

Furthermore, did you hear I'm getting married?

WHAT THE FEEZEE (sp?)?

I never understood that expression, or knew its origin.

What I DO understand, though, is that I just wrote a post only to see it disappear. Well, not see it disappear, which would be impossible, but only notice that it is gone. And now, even though the same thing will probably happen again this time, I'm composing in Blogger rather than Word because I'm the definition of insanity.

What I said, real quick, was:
If you want, Chief Jason, you can turn post titles on for each post under the "Settings" tab.

Also, I said I liked the name "Cold Room/Warm Heart" (punctuated like that) for this blog, and that the metaphorical meaning will outlast the winter. If, however, you are looking for a name that is more universal, you could take the greatest name I ever came up with, which is:

Tarantular.

In the deleted post I really built it up. But that's it. "Tarantular" is a really good blog name. While I'm on the subject, does anyone know of a better onomatopoeia in the funnies than "Pifft"?

Finally, I told a story about my dog that I don't feel like going through again.

Thank you.

Driving my Saturn to work today with Interpol coming from my dash, I felt good. Maneuvering myself smoothly between the lines, following the curves with just a touch of my wrist. My bowels were empty and my body relaxed. My feet secure in thick socks and snug boots. My favorite long sleeve shirt. The sun bringing out the green of fields and the reds of bushes and the black of people, I was on top of the world. Surely it is good to be alive today.