Recently I've been having a lot of people leave comments like this:
Hello Author,
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If not they - me already was not live.
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Keep writing!
At first I though I'd found a following in the Portugese adult film industry, but soon discovered that these posts are merely a new way for companies to advertise. This didn't sit well- if my site's going to advertise I'd like to be paid for it, and I'd like to associate myself with companies of my own choosing, companies that meet a high standard of quality and better the community. Wal-Mart for example.
From now on when you comment you'll have to type some letters and numbers in a box to show that you are a person and not some super hi-tech spam-computer peddling Viagra. I hope it doesn't discourage you from leaving comments.
Merry Christmas!
Andrew
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Ask a New Orleans Saints Fan
I'm watching the Redskins/Saints game on FOX, and just now the guy doing color commentary was saying,
"It's great what this team is doing for the city. You go down to the French Quarter and you see the restaurants doing more business, and the people are just as friendly as ever, and they're happy to have you sample the gumbo, and it just does your heart good to see the good times starting to come back."
At the same time rosy color commentator is saying this, there is a struggle going on in the courts to force FEMA to restore housing benefits to about 11,000 households who lost their homes to the hurricane. Let's ask a member of one such household how he feels about the New Orleans Saints:
"Well, I think Drew Brees is just having a monster of a season, really reminiscent of Dan Marino back in his prime. And it's exciting to finally see Reggie Bush realizing some of his potential. It feels great to see this perennially disappointing franchise making good after so long. Yeah, I guess you could say that the Saints first playoff season since 2000 has really distracted me from the fact that it's Christmas time and my family is out on the street because the government doesn't feel like it needs to help us. I stroll through the rubble of the yet-to-be-rebuilt neighborhoods I used to know so well and think, "Man, the coaching staff has certainly risen to the challenge of finding ways to utilize both Bush and Deuce McAllister. Shit, my stomach is growling. I wish I could afford some gumbo."
"It's great what this team is doing for the city. You go down to the French Quarter and you see the restaurants doing more business, and the people are just as friendly as ever, and they're happy to have you sample the gumbo, and it just does your heart good to see the good times starting to come back."
At the same time rosy color commentator is saying this, there is a struggle going on in the courts to force FEMA to restore housing benefits to about 11,000 households who lost their homes to the hurricane. Let's ask a member of one such household how he feels about the New Orleans Saints:
"Well, I think Drew Brees is just having a monster of a season, really reminiscent of Dan Marino back in his prime. And it's exciting to finally see Reggie Bush realizing some of his potential. It feels great to see this perennially disappointing franchise making good after so long. Yeah, I guess you could say that the Saints first playoff season since 2000 has really distracted me from the fact that it's Christmas time and my family is out on the street because the government doesn't feel like it needs to help us. I stroll through the rubble of the yet-to-be-rebuilt neighborhoods I used to know so well and think, "Man, the coaching staff has certainly risen to the challenge of finding ways to utilize both Bush and Deuce McAllister. Shit, my stomach is growling. I wish I could afford some gumbo."
Friday, December 01, 2006
Preventative Maintenance
This morning after I put the children on the bus I headed down to Larry Green's Tire & Exhaust for an oil change. I waited in a nearby diner where I drank five or so cups of coffee and read One Man's Meat (A wonderful book with an unfortunate title that inspires most people my age to giggle and think of penises). After about an hour I went back to settle up.
"How's school going?" asked the man behind the morbidly obese man behind the counter.
This is always awkward. It's understandable that this man, who has seen my father pay for work on my car more often than not, would think I was still in school, and being honest with him means telling him that I am a bum.
"Actually I'm not in school right now. I need to go back to get some teaching credentials. Wish I could just teach without them. Ha ha."
The man looked at my shirt, which has my daycare's logo on the left breast, and furrowed his brow.
"Tell your dad hi for me," he said.
"What no Bush joke today?" I asked.
"What?" asked a nearby woman who had been reading and apprently eavesdropping as well.
"Oh, Cecil likes to tease my dad abut being a liberal, and he normally says somethign about Bush to him," I told her.
"I can't imagine why anybody wouldn't like Bush," she said, daring me.
"Yeah, uh, there are some reasons but you know, whatever."
"I mean, if Kerry or Gore was President I'd have had to move," she said, looking back down at her book.
"Yeah, well," I said lamely. "It's good to be able to imagine other people's point of view."
Getting into my freshly lubed car I thought about all the things I could have said to her and wondered why I had settled for self-righteous condecension.
I think it's because I work with children. It seems to me that people who work with children get too used to explaining basic concepts and principles of moral behavior. "Imagine what it's like to be someone else," is something I say at least three times a week, usually because Cody just punched Jack for taking his ball. Cody needs to learn to consider other people's feelings, as does Jack. But at Larry Green's Tire & Exhaust I couldn't hope to educate anyone; this woman was too far gone. Here I said it only as a means to save face without engaing in a pointless political debate with a mentally handicapped woman twenty yards away from a group of thick-necked mechanics who were all going to agree with her.
Maybe my words changed her. Maybe she's in the midst of internal dialogue right now, forcing herself to consider some of the myriad opinions heretofore left untouched by her too easily appeased brain. Probably not, but I'll never know. I said it with my back to her, already half out the door and ashamed of my arrogance-- still dependent on my father and talking to a middle-aged woman like I was Atticus Finch.
"How's school going?" asked the man behind the morbidly obese man behind the counter.
This is always awkward. It's understandable that this man, who has seen my father pay for work on my car more often than not, would think I was still in school, and being honest with him means telling him that I am a bum.
"Actually I'm not in school right now. I need to go back to get some teaching credentials. Wish I could just teach without them. Ha ha."
The man looked at my shirt, which has my daycare's logo on the left breast, and furrowed his brow.
"Tell your dad hi for me," he said.
"What no Bush joke today?" I asked.
"What?" asked a nearby woman who had been reading and apprently eavesdropping as well.
"Oh, Cecil likes to tease my dad abut being a liberal, and he normally says somethign about Bush to him," I told her.
"I can't imagine why anybody wouldn't like Bush," she said, daring me.
"Yeah, uh, there are some reasons but you know, whatever."
"I mean, if Kerry or Gore was President I'd have had to move," she said, looking back down at her book.
"Yeah, well," I said lamely. "It's good to be able to imagine other people's point of view."
Getting into my freshly lubed car I thought about all the things I could have said to her and wondered why I had settled for self-righteous condecension.
I think it's because I work with children. It seems to me that people who work with children get too used to explaining basic concepts and principles of moral behavior. "Imagine what it's like to be someone else," is something I say at least three times a week, usually because Cody just punched Jack for taking his ball. Cody needs to learn to consider other people's feelings, as does Jack. But at Larry Green's Tire & Exhaust I couldn't hope to educate anyone; this woman was too far gone. Here I said it only as a means to save face without engaing in a pointless political debate with a mentally handicapped woman twenty yards away from a group of thick-necked mechanics who were all going to agree with her.
Maybe my words changed her. Maybe she's in the midst of internal dialogue right now, forcing herself to consider some of the myriad opinions heretofore left untouched by her too easily appeased brain. Probably not, but I'll never know. I said it with my back to her, already half out the door and ashamed of my arrogance-- still dependent on my father and talking to a middle-aged woman like I was Atticus Finch.
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