CAPITALISM IS THE NEW JINGOISM.

"THERE'S NOTHING SADDER THAN AN EMPTY STORE SHELF" IS THE MOST PATRIOTIC STATEMENT MY FATHER'S EVER MADE.

Cubs Win! Cubs Win!

Pretty cool, huh?

Michigan's passed a law approving some stem cell research and disapproving of some punishments for the possession of marijuana. (under one ounce and they'll just ask why you have this much Oregano while doing an impression of Bobby's Mom from Bobby's World)

For the first time in the history of the United States, someone who is not entirely white has the largest of all possible conchs. Woo!

The people of Colorado decided against describing a person as "a fertilized egg." Smart. At the very least, from a "sum of parts" arguement, I probably couldn't get myself sterilized or lobby for legislation requiring that [certain persons] be sterilized as that is clearly half a person.
As an Aside, who writes a measure against abortion by changing the legal definition of a human life to "something which begins at conception." I mean, you're the government right? Well, we're the government, but we're choosing you to represent us and propose measures for us, so propose measures that are actually measures, not effective legal fictions. Maybe if the measure was "Abortions are illegal and you can't have them anymore, because you said so" people could get behind that.

And way to go San Fransisco. You've taken one step closer to cementing my belief that you are the land of make-believe. Sex trade be damned, prostitution is decriminalized. SFPD cannot arrest, investigate, or prosecute any of those bitches, and they are fucked in an entirely new way. Crudely said as that said is, I suppose sex-slavery is an INTERPOL/FBI issue.

Also, Proposition 8 passed. Further proof that Californians have completely lost their shit. Apparently, the litmus test for legal uncoolness is whenever it's legal in New England. Hetero-exclusive marraige is retro, a unique type of cool. Like leg warmers, acid wash, and skinny ties.

Sometime you really do just have to say "what the fuck."

So whenever this extended adage about a plumber turns into a contriage¹ that really leaves me waiting for a joke about the new cost, both moral and practical, of laying pipe...

Or whenever some girl in knee socks and short shorts sits outside my apartment and cries so I'll feel morally obligated to say "hey, is everything alright?" only to run further down the alley and into the adjacent apartment building...

Or whenever I suffer through the Astro-Stat class that already doesn't make any sense, only now it's cold AND confusing because apparently someone or some computer program is worried about a heatwave in October...

Or reading Shakespeare...

Or complimenting some dude on his shiny shirt, apparently for the sole purpose of prompting him to laugh at me...

Or when I suddenly feel inclined to explain things to friends and family with truth tables and sentence atoms...

Or figuring out, through trial and error, that Brown really does want my writing sample mailed to them and not submitted electronically, because their website will only accept one file per portion of application...

I think of you, Tom Cruise. I think of how you broke my heart and I cry.
______
¹I am 99.9% sure I just made this word up.

Whatever Man

I was not accepted into Teach for America.
No, we would not like your free teaching skills.
I am not that worried. I am not less optimistic about grad school. I do not wish I knew why my application sucked so well. I am not faxing my resume to every credit card, bank, and insurance agency that advertises on the internet. I am not learning how to trap, gut, and deflesh the small mammals of various ecosystems. I am not learning to make fire from stone and leaf.
I do not care.


I am over it. Right now, I'm wondering why I think the Governor of California is a killer robot from the future and not a barbarian with bad hygiene whose name keeps getting honor and fear heaped on it by people who are, in a word, ridiculous.

An 85% True Story

Still w/o power/powerless to regain power. This makes a week. I feel profligate and subsequently blonde. (I read meditations in an emergency.) I wish I had a camp and a bonfire. AEP has told me, kindly at first, that the black out takes priority for some reason. I don't understand. My problem existed before and is easily fixed, but they do not have a person to spare. I would love a steak. I read an article in an old Esquire that extolled the virtues of olive oil when sautéing vegetables and the evils of it when applied to the searing of flesh.
Yes, I would still like steak by any name. It is still savory and delicious when paired with potatoes and dark beer.
Yes, I read Esquire. Intermitently. I have selection criteria.
-"This way Out" tells a funny joke. Last time I bought one the joke was "How the top 1% lives." (Genius sex is like regular sex, but with footnotes.)
-WTF is on the cover. Last time it was Robert Downey Jr. (Appaerently he smokes cigarettes now. Camel "straights," which is hardass for Camel Non-Filter [he is in AA. It is okay.])
-WTF does Chuck Klosterman think? Last time he was puzzling out a question of international opinion. (There was also a... [small encapsulated thing that has nothing to do with the article but kind of does and also kind of looks like a chart] showing four covers to "Killing yourself to Live." The American cover was what you'd expect. The Italian cover was the same but had an introduction by someone else. In French, the essay is still called Killing Yourself to Live but the cover is like flash tattoo art with KISS skulls and a steaming car. The German cover is austere (black with bright text) and the title is "An 85% True Story." Awesome.)
-Will I be able to use this for reference in the future? Last issue contained the above mentioned searing and sautéing instructions, as well as some decent recipes. Also a rubric for evaluating the size of my (metaphorical) testicles.
My criterion are rarely fulfilled, but 3 out of 4 is good enough when the wallet is thick. (with paper or digital paper-proxies.)
So I bought an issue of Esquire yesterday because what else is there to do. This issue is the 75th Anniversary of Esquire.
√ This Way Out contains 75 years of retractions and corrections including a startling revelation that Frank Sinatra did not have a cold for [some interview he did with Esquire] but Chlamydia.
√ The cover is "75 years of Esquire" but offers 75 influential people of the 21st Century. (It's a very forward-thinking issue.) They also continue to promote an electronic ink edition of the cover. The "American Diaspora" article even interviews the fellow who helped invent it. (Esquire is apparently manned by turds.)
√ Chuck Klosterman writes a timeline for the next 75 years of history. (Robot vs. Animal war. Moon colonization by necessity. Simulated experiences of phone sex, death, and whole lives. McCain, Obama, a blogger named Digger True, and Tom Brady become president. Jamie Lynn Spears becomes Prime Minister of the West Coast. "It turns out that smoking is kind of good for you.")
-No good reference material. Several Fashion people write blurbs on the future of fashion beneath their piled up hand bags, trench coats, over coats, and button-downs.

Creative dinner experiences: I'm tired of eating out. I've cleaned my home out of Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch, milk, (only threw out half of it) butter,(wasted) a pound of corned beef,(total loss) yogurt, sugar cookies, and pickles. I have 8 packages of S'Mores pop tarts and some Fiber One bars, as well as a package of kielbasa, beer, liquor, and maraschino cherries. Last night I bought a small package of lox, triscuits and cream cheese, which fuctioned as dinner and lunch, yesterday and today, respectively. I do not care for Salmolux lox. Tonight I will find a raccoon or other small mammal and grill it outside of AEP's office using fell branches and gasoline. It will be awesome and not rabid.
I have managed to finish my applicaton to TfA and a short story. Further proof that blackouts are awesome.

Sometimes I like to Pretend I am a Cartoon Character

I haven't been staying at home much lately. It would even be accurate to say I am getting out more. So while I don't know if I am the best judge, I would say that it appears people, not necessarily "people like me" are getting out more. I have come to this bold conclusion because the places I go to seem busy. I suspect no one can cook other than the service industry.
And soon there will be a rush at the supermarkets, I suspect, even though I haven't been at one of those places in a week, because people will be able to keep things cool the way they do.
So I have an innovative solution to the financial crisis you may or may not have heard of:
Shut the power off in a random residential zone for three days every month. Call it the "Get the Fuck Off your Computers and Out of your Houses" plan.
You'll thank me later.

In other news, it's true that I sometimes like to pretend I'm a cartoon character instead of a real-life character. These photos were produced using a hypocritical photographer, a computer with an over-screen camera, and a bottle of Neutrogena Clear Skin cream. (Left on for longer than five minutes with no (noticeable) ill effects.)

Canada and Professional Bookwear.

I saw Niagara Falls today. It is big. It is wet. It would be better with a jumbotron.
Also, here's a service I'm offering: Professional (a misrepresentation) Bookwear Service.

For fifty dollars per hundred pages, plus the price of the book if it is not already owned, the Professional Bookwear Service will brutalize spines into shapeless paper-like submission, the first of many indicators that a book has been read not just once but two, three, four times at least. Hardback books will have they're corners rounded down. The cardboard will show through the clothette. When lending books, your borrowers will know that you carry your books around often, on their own, possibly along with other books, so many books you can hardly keep a handle on them.
All books will have one in one hundred pages torn, ever so subtly at the corner. For an extra five dollars, the tear will come at particularly well-paced paragraphs, capturing your keenness to the illusion the author has endevoured to create.
Pages will also come dog-earred, underlined, and filled with near-legible notes, your reactions to the text.
An additional twenty-five dollar offer is available entirely according to preference. As is, the dog-ears, notes, and underlinings are random and it will be up to you to make sense of them should someone ask your reasoning behind your various annotations. There's some appeal to that, I feel, but Elliot's Annotations can be applied to any book, along with a primer which will serve as a summary of the book. Deconstructionist, Orientalist, and historical criticism reads available on demand, free of charge. Sliding scale for other readings.
All books will be mailed anywhere in the United States free of charge. I will inform you of international prices as I figure them out.

Also, I went on the Maid of the Mist. I got wet. Otherwise an entirely positive experience.

In California. A Log Cabin. With Red Shutters on the Windows.

My mother was a mill worker and my father waited tables in a hotel lounge, mostly for the tips. Neither of 'em spoke a lick of Spanish, but they managed to bring home enough lobster to feed our two dogs and me every night.