ounce of prevention...

Darling Roommate and I have lived in our place for exactly one month.

3 weeks ago, I faxed over a list of problems with the place that the property management should have fixed before we moved in - ranging from minor cosmetic stuff like wallpaper gashes and paint scratches to the major, such as the downstairs toilet not working and a kitchen cabinet ready to fall off at any moment. Oh, and the annoying - my neighbor's pipes clank right next to my bed, waking me up every damned morning. I had a nice chat with the lad at the office at the time, who assured me he'd have people on it immediately.

So far, nada. Since I'm having people over this weekend, I am going to go about fixing the cabinet and toilet situations as much as possible.

Now, I know this is awfully mundane for me to write about. And, I wouldn't write about it, if it weren't for Comcast.

See, Comcast sent us the wrong boxes. We're paying for their Digital Gold package or some other kind of rip-off - 400 freakin' channels, about 300 of which are in Spanish, or for kids, or for Spanish kids, so they do me no good. The key to our cable, besides the internet access (which admittedly has rocked so far), is HBO.

One small problem - we can't HEAR HBO. For some reason, the line volume level is basically nil. In order to hear the HBO, I have to crank the TV volume to the maximum, turn my stereo volume to 92% of max volume (at which point the electricity humming through the system makes more noise than the HBO signal!) and sit approximately 18 inches from the screen.

Comcast's solution - take a day off work while we come in and replace the cable boxes we just installed 3 weeks ago. They gave us the wrong boxes.

OK, I'll believe that. Mainly because I'm gullible and just want my H-B-O. They couldn't give us the right boxes the first time? Eh...what are you gonna do?

However, my property management company is going to need me to do the same thing - clean up something they should have taken care of sooner. My unit was empty for nearly a week between the previous folks moving out and Darling Roommate and I moving in. Why couldn't they do the work *which they knew they needed to do beforehand from the previous tenants* before we moved in?

It's now going to be more expensive for both of these companies to fix what could have been easily prevented.

Sounds something like the system failures in New Orleans, doesn't it? Preventable and cheaper to do right, the first time. Maybe I'm stuck on the idea of getting stuff right, correct, stable...all the debacles of the Gulf Coast, all the politicians covering their own asses in enough spit-laced rhetoric to drown another major U.S. port...

The blame game has been disturbing, and distracting. The grandstanding has been deliberate and denegrating. I'm boggled by the stupidity at all levels - Michael Brown, Rick Santorum, Kathleen Blanco, Ray Nagin - mayors, governors, Senators, oh my!

Estimates for Katrina clean-up are running between 50 and 100 billion dollars. New Orleans is still half underwater. Gas is up to 3 bucks a gallon - and Exxon is about to declare its highest profit quarter ever. But I'd be a fool and a communist to make *any* connection there, huh?

The City of New Orleans would have been spared, lives saved and homes standing with a better levee system - infinitely cheaper than this mess.

Preventative Maintenence. Disaster Prevention. Maybe these should be the buzzwords of 2006.

Just a thought...

It's time to be truly tasteless

Did you hear the mayor of New Orleans died last night? His finals words were "Glub glub glubbb...."

Many Hollywood celebrities have banded together to rasie money for the victims of Katrina. Kevin Coster has donated all the proceeds from his film "Waterworld." Come on, Kevin, haven't those people suffered enough?

A bunch of lesbians have arrived at New Orleans. They heard there were dykes that needed plugging.

The Louisiana Race Track has recently been modified for Seahorse Racing.

The New Orleans Saints Cheerleaders are now going to be the hottest Syncronized Swimming team ever.

The storm even screwed up the Governor's Mansion. Knocked the thing right off its axles.

Best thing ever

http://www.pandora.com

Think of this as the iPod Shuffle of music you don't own. Or, a streaming music TiVo. Or, do what I do, and simply think this is the best. thing. ever.

Simply tell Pandora what song or band you like, and it will play music it thinks you will like based on various traits like the tone, key, vocals and instrumentation. The first 10 hours are free, but I'm already in love. TiVo pretty much kicks ass, but it still thinks that because I like the Family Guy, that I like ALL animation, and that I'd love Kim Possible. However, this is much more intuitive - it figures out things a little more intelligently than TiVo. Also, since you're right there listening to this streaming service, you can instantly judge the tunes for appropriateness. You can even buy the song from iTunes or Amazon as it's playing.

What a BRILLIANT idea!

Consider the $36 payment to them for a year a wise investment.

-- This concludes my shameless commercial plug in which I don't receive a plug nickle. I'm like the world's cheapest sell-out. --

The Aristocrats - Reviewed by the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic

This is the movie I have been waiting my whole life for.

As a former stand-up comic, I was introduced to the world of the titular joke in the late `90s, at a comedy club in Iowa. I had heard the joke before in it's basic sense - guy walks into the agent's office, tells him he's got a great act, a *family* act, and then proceeds to have sex with his kids. The act's name? "The Aristocrats!" In itself, it's not funny.

However, when told by a professional funny person, the joke takes on a life of its own. The sex gets naughtier, kinkier and, depending on the jurisdiction, probably illegal. The kids get younger, the man gets nastier, animals are involved. Nothing is sacred from the lengths this man will go to impress this agent - no religious, historical or political icon can escape the power of the Aristocrats.

This movie examines this truly tasteless joke, and is told from old-time funny men like Don Rickles and Larry Storch to guys who made their names during stand-ups boom in the 1970s and 1980s - Robin Williams, Taylor Negron, for example, and current stars like the South Park gang, Dana Gould and Doug Stanhope...whom I've seen naked. Thrice.

This is not a family movie. This is not a feel-good film. There are no heroes, no plucky young orphans fighting an evil lord. There is Sarah Silverman, though, and she's close. If you like raw, crude, in-your-face humor and can swim in a pool of profanity, and don't mind hearing Bob Saget use words he NEVER used on "Full House," then this is the film for you.

---------------- 4.7 Whammies out of 6. 1 whole Whammy was deducted for having WAY too many Eric Idle and Billy Connolly scenes, and not nearly enough Bob Saget and Emo Phillips. A second Whammy was deducted for having the completely unfunny Paul Reiser dominate part of the film. However, a .7 of a Whammy was added because I've met seven of the performers in the film, and each one of those bastards is worth a tenth of a Whammy. ----------------------

Put the beer can down, Sidney

From the A.P. :

Orioles' Ponson arrested, charged with DUI
Pitcher stopped on I-95 early today for following too closely
The Associated Press
Originally published August 25, 2005, 7:12 AM EDT

Baltimore Orioles pitcher Sidney Ponson was arrested early this morning for driving under the influence and driving while impaired, WJZ-TV has reported.

The arrest was made after a traffic stop at 1:31 a.m. on southbound Interstate 95, south of I-395, said Maryland Transportation Authority Police Corporal Pamela Thorne.

Thorne said Ponson was driving a 2005 Mercedes-Benz and was stopped for following to closely. He was subsequently arrested for the traffic violation, DUI and DWI and has been released.

------------ SNIPPED --------------

Sad thing is, though - this isn't the first time, second time, or even fifth alcohol-related incident he's had.

When I lived in Canton, I saw him and Scott Erickson come into Looney's on a Sunday night, and Sidney was *BEYOND* plastered. Couldn't walk down the stairs. He slurred his words, babbled, spit up, punched at a stripper - all in a night of fun. He was scheduled to pitch in 36 hours.

I've seen him out at all sorts of Baltimore hot spots - Club One, Power Plant, Bay Cafe - and each time he was just buttered up. He can drink a goodly amount of booze, and he's the life of the party, but he's doing way too much. He's now no longer a talented pitcher pissing away his talent - he's an alcoholic pissing away his LIFE.

He is literally the life of the party when he gets going. Absolutely hilarious guy, boisterous, fun-loving - the kind of dude you want to have a beer with. He's a laughing sort, always friendly, kinda like that fat drunk fraternity guy who you just couldn't help but to like. He'd have been a fantastic Baltimore Colt, circa 1959, when you could walk into the corner bar and guys would buy you a Premium because you were a Colt. Well, Sidney's in that mold, but he's also getting the Grey Goose to chase his beer. He's got great taste in drinks, but an unquenchable thirst.

But, just like the fat drunk fraternity guy, you also have to pity him, because fat drunk and stupid is no way to get through life, son.

If the O's are smart, they shut him down this year, and put him in detox. They can't mandate it because of the player's union, but if there's ever been a guy who needs it, it's Sidney. He needs to get off the sauce. If he wasn't a baseball pitcher, he'd be in jail for a while. This has been a bad year for him, and he's hitting rock bottom. This is the moment of clarity for an alcoholic, if he has one, because he's really in trouble now. 2 drunk driving charges, an assault on the beach and a fight at the bar, and that's just the stuff we know about in the past 12 months. He also had a charge against him in the minor leagues. What else might be lurking on his rapidly-expanding rap sheet?

Sidney doesn't need to go to AAA, he doesn't need to go on the DL - he needs to go to A.A. and the Betty Ford Clinic before he kills himself or somebody else. Wasting baseball talent is one thing; wasting lives is another.

- - - - 30 - - - -

Stewie Griffin - The Untold Story - Reviewed by the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic

Allright, I can hear you griping already, my fine audience of morally-upright folks. "How dare you review a DVD movie that hasn't come out yet? Why would you support illegal file sharing and the theft of intellectual property? Why, I never!" Why yes, my sin-free flock, you are right. I am bad. I am naughty. I downloaded a movie that hasn't been released yet. Do I feel guilty about it? Not one bit. See, because I love the Family Guy, I will buy at least one copy for me, about 5 copies as gifts, and, thanks to people like me who downloaded the original tv broadcasts, the show is back on the air. So, I'm sorry if I don't see where I'm exactly harming anybody, as I wear my Family Guy-licensed "Evil Monkey" t-shirt. Now, on to the movie.

First things first - it is DAMNED funny. The story appears to be three seperate stories about Stewie, the maniacal omnisexual baby, and his quest to find out his place in the world. After a near-death experience sends Stewie briefly into Hell, he decides to become, once and for all, a "good boy." One day, he sees on TV a man who looks a lot like himself in San Francisco - could this be Stewie's REAL father? So Brian and Stewie hit the road in Quagmire's Winnebago (a.k.a. the Wanna-Bang-O) RV and go on a roadtrip. Glen's goal is to do a chick in each state, and the three head westward.

The best line in the movie comes from Brian looking at the sign Quagmire put on the side of the Wanna-Bang-O - "Cross Country Trip" BRIAN: Shouldn't there be a 'U' in Country?" QUAGMIRE: "Nope!"

Then again, hearing Stewie, Peter and Lois all drop the "F-Bomb" without that annoying little beep is pretty much up there, too. Peter's almost nonsensical rant about that damned Lindsay Lohan, "and her outfits, all up there, in her little outfits. What do you want, Lindsay, do you want to go out with me, is that what you want?" And, by the way, Meg gets a sex change, Stewie shaves his ass, Brian gets him drunk, Chris becomes a cop, and Asian reporter Tricia Takinawa love David Bowie long-time.

In short, it's an hour and a half of Family Guy. There are just a couple of stretches of slowness, and a couple of jokes that just don't hit, but, it's yet again a brilliant slice of hilarity from Seth MacFarlane and his crew. 90 minutes of Family Guy is works quite well.

----------------- Total Rating : 6 out of 6.5 Whammies. A 1/2 Whammy was deducted for an extremely long download time. -------------------------------------------------------------

Why I'm Bailing on online dating

A few random reasons over the past couple of months why I'm giving up my Match.com ad:

1) If you're mad at your current boyfriend, and are reading this site out of spite, please don't go so far as to create a profile, respond to a few ads, go out on a couple of dates, and then decide you're not mad at your boyfriend anymore. You wouldn't trust a guy who would do that; so why do it yourself?

2) If you then get re-mad at the boyfriend, don't call up one of the aforementioned dates, and beg forgiveness, and then get back with the boyfriend anyway.

3) If you hear voices in your head - not like an inner dialogue, but, seriously, multiple voices - please don't reply to an ad. You need to go to therapy.

4) Please don't tell a guy you've fallen in love with them after the first MEETING. I'm not a bad guy, but I'm also not that dang sexy.

5) If you tell a guy that you like them, and can't wait to see them again...don't wait over a month to even talk to them again, let alone even reply to an email.

6) Do not spend your entire time ont he first date telling me about how there are no worthwhile single men in the DC area anymore. Please. I don't have time for your psuedo-drama.

7) Simply be honest - be honest in your emails, be honest on your phone calls, and be honest if and when we finally meet. If you lied about your pictures, your profile, your status - it'll all become painfully obvious in person. So, just be yourself.

Are We Not Men? Or, Are We Devo?

From a discussion on another board, in which the male role was debated...

-----------------------

Men aren't becoming more feminine, per se; we're simply the first generation in ages in which men are expected to be less manly. I know, I know, Loocy, I gots some 'splainin' to do. But, since I'm a history nut, my 'splainin' should (hopefully) make sense.

Ever since the women's suffrage movement in the United States, men have felt like they were under attack by women. For every perceived threat, real or imagined, men have tried to rally against women's advances - for every Elizabeth Cady Stanton or Susan B. Anthony, meet psychologist H.W. Frink and anti-Suffragist William Cremer. Frink thought feminists were crazy, and were simply hiding their masculine desires. Cremer lauched a campaign against women's voting rights, and collected 250,000 signatures. That was pre-WWI, too - no e-mail petitions for this guy!

For every group that was women-centric - the Abolitionists, Labor movement, Prohibitionists, for instance - there was an equally large male-centric group who supported them, and at least one male-centric group who opposed them. So, as society was changing, lifestyles changed and mindsets began to as well.

There was one constant in all this, though. Traditional gender roles within the home were still fairly stable. Eventhough women could vote and have jobs and political power, they still took care of the home, and the man was responsible for lifting heavy things and killing icky spiders. Mom was the caregiver to the children, and Dad was the disciplinarian. One of the most dreaded phrases in the 20th Century - "Wait until your father comes home!"

Nowadays, roles are reversed all the time. Of my last four girlfriends, I've made less money at that time than they did, and I wasn't exactly homeless, either! (came close once, though...) Had any of those relationships progressed, I wouldn't be the primary income source for the household, a BIG difference over life 20 years ago. Every day I go to work at my DoD building, I see at least 30 female soldiers who are trained to be better fighters, better shooters and in better shape than most men on the planet. Meanwhile, poor little civilian bachelors have to figure out what to cook for dinner, what tv shows to watch, and what to wear in the morning. Female soldiers go back to the base, go to the mess hall and then wear the same outfit tomorrow.
Between medical science extending our lifespans, our potential for health and increasing our child-bearing range, a girl who's 23 and not married isn't an old maid anymore. That wasn't the case in 1905. She's got 60 more years of life expectancy now; then, she had maybe 20. There's less pressure now to settle down at a certain age. Also, more people are opting to simply not have kids at all, futher reducing the need for marriage.

All the stereotypical male events of the past are a lot harder to do nowadays. My grandfather and my great uncles in Pennsylvania loved to hunt and fish, and the living ones still do, and have passed that love to their kids. Now, we have to watch for endangered species and toxic lakes and Blinky, the three-eyed fish. Guys used to be able to hang around a garage and fix up old cars. Have you SEEN Pimp My Ride or Monster Garage? Can't do that anymore. Computer relays, anti-lock brakes, airflow control modulators - you not only have to know advanced diesel physics, but also electronics, computer science, art and welding. Old time farmers used to know how to fix everything on their ranch - the tractor, the truck, the plow, the windmill. Hell, if my circuit breaker trips, I'm sitting there like a dummy, poking my George Foreman grill, wondering how it shut off my microwave AND my lights.

The male role is just different than it was. We're expected to me more involved in the raising of the children. We're expected to be at least somewhat capable in the kitchen and the bedroom. We can dress ourselves, and do our own laundry, and even buy clothes that sort-of fit. We're not supposed to be non-communicative all the time. We are still supposed to kill icky spiders, though.

However, we're a lot manlier than those fops of the 17th and 18th Centuries. Have you ever seen paintings of those guys? With their little waltzes and harpsichords and merkins? Their little kerchiefs and frilly collars and make up and wigs? That's pretty damned womanly, and I'd even be scared of a woman who dressed like that. Whole damned generations of men dressing like dogs with weird collars so they don't chew their neutering stitches out.

And while Grandpa may have been able to shoot a defenseless deer with a high-powered rifle, and catch trout the size of couches, I'm able to turn the venison into a stew with rosemary and red potatoes in a sourdough bread bowl and that fish into a filet pan-seared in extra-virgin olive oil with a garlic-peppercorn crust over a bed of wild rice and spring vegetables. Grandpa would burn ice. I do what he couldn't, he did what I didn't want to - both sides of the equation are important if you want to eat.

What does that mean? Simply put - we can literally be anything we want to be. All those ads at Lady Foot Locker and inside Jane magazine, showing women they can be empowered to do anything and aspire to greatness - they can be aimed at guys as well. All those mixed signals that womens' magazines have been giving them for decades - Be Strong! Be Demure! Be Smart - Men Like Smart Women! Don't Be Too Smart, or You'll Sound Like a Bitch! Be Thin! Lose Weight! Be Comfortable in Your Own Skin! Be Happy Who You Are! Be Better and Happier Than You Are! How to Get Your Ex-Back! How to Get Back at Your Ex! How to Look Better! Look Your Best! Hairstyle Do's and Don'ts -Guess what? They're all hitting us now, and we don't have the experience in how to deal with this. Are we supposed to be Jack Black or Jack White? Kyan Douglas or Hugh Douglas? Chippendale or Dale Earnhardt, Jr.? Man or Astroman? Ice-T or Ice-Cube? Will Farrell or Colin Farrell?

Which Keanu character are we? Little Buddha, Neo, Ted Logan or the doctor who schtumped Diane Keaton? Some days we're more Jack Traven (Speed), others we're Donnie Barksdale (The Gift), and others we're more Johnny Utah (Point Break). A few of us are Scott Favor (My Own Private Idaho), and are fine with that.

I just pretend Johnny Mnemonic never happened.

The correct answer to all of those is "yes," if we're to believe pop culture. They're all just trying to sell us something, after all.

So, simply view these conflicting roles and messages as a buffet table. Take the foods you like, avoid the foods you don't like. If you hate beans, don't fill up your plate with beans and get back to your seat and bitch about a plate full of beans. However, if you've never had beans, take a sample. See what you think. Might be the best dang foodstuff you've ever had.

At the end of the day, we still have our sticky-outty parts, and girls have the sticky-innie parts, and no amount of spackle in the panties can change that.

Though surgeons in Sweden can.

----------###----------------

debate me baby one more time.

On another board, we've been discussing the best rock band of all time. I posited "Spinal Tap" but only semi-in jest. I didn't come up with the list of finalists, merely used the most frequently mentioned ones. Post follows as below:

The Best Rock Band can be proven scientifically. Simply list the major factors of Being A Rock Star, and proceed from there.

Or, maybe I've been watching "Rockstar - INXS" too much.

The categories are:

A) Career Longetivity and Productivity
B) Critical and Consumer Acclaim
C) Stage Performances
D) Drug Abuse
E) Turn towards Eastern musical and religious influences
F) Band member fight with life-threatening disease or early death.
G) Progeny in the rock world.
H) Midwestern State Fair Factor
I) Tribute Bands

Let's take the most mentioned bands, and plug them into the Rank-O-Matic - the Beatles, the Who, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, U2, The Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Barenaked Ladies, Dave Matthews Band and REM.

A - Longetivity and Productivity

The Beatles - From the 60s through the 70s, Meet the Beatles, Abbey Road, Hey Jude, White Album, Sgt. Peppers, Revolver....wow. Plus, each band member made good solo albums - Paul McCartney and Wings were really, really good.
The Who - Tommy alone is all this band needs.
Led Zep - Albums so cool, they're listed in Roman Numerals like Super Bowls - plus Houses of the Holy and Physical Graffiti. Very productive ten years. T
The Rolling Stones - Exile on Main Street, Tattoo You, Beggars' Banquet and they've been recording together for 40 years. They've got the longetivity part down pat
U2 - Boy. War. Joshua Tree. Achtung Baby. 20+ years recording together. No line up changes.
The Beach Boys - Little Deuce Coupe and California Girls changed to the highly-influential Pet Sounds. Even came back from the grave with Kokomo. Try to resist that songs' power. Aruba, Jamaica, ooh, I wanna take you to Bahamas, Montego, baby why don't we go down to Kokomo...
Pink Floyd - The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon and the best album art.
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - A rock tornado - didn't last long, but recorded some great albums really, really quickly.
Barenaked Ladies - They've been together for over 15 years, and it doesn't seem possible. Gordon, Born on a Pirate Ship, Maroon, Stunt - good stuff. I pretend that Postcards with Chimpanzee's song never existed.
Dave Matthews Band - They peaked really early - Under the Table and Dreaming is a must-own for most people under the age of 40 - and Ants Marching still gets feet tapping.
REM - If only the Reagan Years lasted for them, as they kicked out some good albums, like Reckoning, Life's Rich Pageant and Document, plus Fables of the Reconstruction. Sadly, once Bush the Elder came to office, they went and made Shiny Happy People, possibly my least favorite song until that damned BNL Chimpanzee song.

B - Critical and Consumer Acclaim

All of these bands have sold well, but, the Beatles only had one #1 album while they were producing albums. They had sustain, but never turned it up to 11.
Barenaked Ladies' "Gordon" is one of the best-selling albums in Canada. Selling over a million copies of anything in a country with less than 30 million people is amazing.
Pink Floyd - Wasn't Dark Side of the Moon on the Billboard Charts for 15 years or something? Amazing!
The Beach Boys' Smile was supposed to be released after Pet Sounds but the success of the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's and Brian Wilson's complete looniness shelved the project for over thirty years. Of the few people who heard the studio tapes back then, it was regarded as the most technologically advanced album in terms of techniques, use of many layers of sound, and, even sampling!

C - Stage Performances

While I can certainly see a debate between the Beatles, the Who, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, U2, and The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Black Sabbath, and even Barenaked Ladies as the Best Rock Band to See Live, I really can't see where REM merits discussion because they weren't great live. Influential - yes. Between "Radio Free Europe" and albums like Murmur, they definitely brought in a lo-fi, DYI sound that later propelled bands like Pavement. However, to be a truly great band, you simply have to rock out on stage.
Every great band has to have a defining moment at a concert. To wit - Black Sabbath. Not the greatest rock band, but, they raged on stage.

Beatles - the kids screamed so loud at the Ed Sullivan Show, nobody could hear the music.
The Who - Smashing guitars to the point of hearing loss
Led Zeppelin - 3, 4 hour concerts and people STILL wanted more Zep
The Beach Boys - Getting banned by James Watt from the 4th of July concert in DC is pretty funny
The Rolling Stones - They've been touring since the `60s and are still a must-see
U2 - One of the few bands to still rock as they enter middle age.
Pink Floyd - Originators of multimedia experiences at concerts. They did laser shows before they became dumb laser shows.
DMB - They have followed in the Grateful Dead's tradition of jam band shows quite well. No real trascendental moment, but good concert recordings. Maybe their take of "All Along The Watchtower" would classify if it had gotten more support.
Jimi Hendrix - Woodstock. Star Spangled Banner. Fin.
Black Sabbath - biting a bat's head off at a concert in Des Moines is legendary.
BNL - A rumour of a free show brought over a quarter million fans to the streets in Beantown. That's rockin'
REM - uh...well...it was cool when I saw them and Kate from the B-52s came out and sang "Roam" with them.

D - Drug Abuse

It could also be argued that drug abuse is vital to the Total Rockstar Experience. To that end:
The Beatles - "They were so high, they let Ringo sing a couple of songs" - Bill Hicks
the Who - Keith Moon alone is legendary
Led Zeppelin - Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll was pracitcally named after these guys
The Rolling Stones - Keith Richards has become a drug-addled cliche'
U2 - Is Guiness a drug or a foodstuff?
The Beach Boys - Brian Wilson could have taught Elvis things.
Pink Floyd - What ever REALLY happened to Syd Barrett? And, you can't listen to a Pink Floyd album without coughing.
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Jimi didn't do drugs. Jimi lived drugs. Allright...
Barenaked Ladies - OK, probably too straight-laced. I'm sure they may have had too many Molson's one night, or ate one too many Tim Horton's donuts. Definite points off.
Dave Matthews Band - Contact highs alone from their shows and Bonaroo would elevate them to epic status. Plus, since nobody's ever really deciphered what the hell Dave is singing, I'm guessing crack would be involved.
REM - Michael Stipe acts like he's on drugs, and has the haircuts to prove it. That's gotta count. The one dude got busted on a flight with some dope. Not in a Led Zep class, but not too innocent.
Honorable mentions go out to Motley Crue and the Doors and Cypress Hill, purely for their sheer devotion to partying.

E - Turn Towards Eastern Musical Influences:

the Beatles - Check. Practically invented this.
the Who - not unless the Japanese used electric guitars 500 years ago, no.
Led Zeppelin - some influence, mostly on the album cuts
The Rolling Stones - pretty much steered clear of it musically. Maybe used a sitar a few times, never OD'd on it.
U2 - Dancehalls in Hungary are technically east of the UK, and that Pop album had a lot of dance music on it...
The Beach Boys - Ravi! Ravi! Ravi!
Pink Floyd - A bit, yeah, sure. Not oppressively, though.
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Some chimes and woodwinds, sure.
Barenaked Ladies - Two of the guys are Jewish. Israel is east of Canada. Sure, I'll count it.
Dave Matthews Band - Oh yeah, I'll count Africa for this.
REM - Not much musically, but they have some very Eastern influences in their lifestyles.

F - Band member fight with life-threatening disease or early death.

the Beatles - Two are gone, two are alive. John Lennon is still missed.
the Who - Keith Moon = Gone
Led Zeppelin - John Bonham = Gone
The Rolling Stones - mostly alive, how, we'll never know.
U2 - Alive and Kicking
The Beach Boys - Brian Wilson might as well have been dead for years.
Pink Floyd - Living, but Barrett scares me.
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Gone
Barenaked Ladies - Kevin Hearn survived a scary bout with leukemia. If the band survives that Chimpanzee song, it'll be a miracle.
Dave Matthews Band - Alive. No known scares. Points off.
REM - brain tumor definitely counts.

G - Progeny in the rock world.

The Beatles - every pop band from England. Keane, Travis, Coldplay, Radiohead, The Wonder Stuff, XTC, etc...
The Who - Any kid who played the guitar wished they could do the windmill. Queen, Styx, Kiss - all used the Who's bombast and sense of style.
Led Zeppelin - The same kids who tried to windmill tried Stairway to Heaven - White Stripes to Motley Crue to Metallica.
The Rolling Stones - Liz Phair to David Bowie to the Replacements.
U2 - Coldplay, The Alarm, Simple Minds
The Beach Boys - Cheap Trick played the guitar part, and all those damned boy bands picked up the four part vocal harmony
Pink Floyd - Radiohead. Grandaddy. Garbageland.
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Lenny Kravitz is a prime example, as is any band formed after a guitarist - Will Sexton to Robert Cray and Living Color all worship the man.
Barenaked Ladies - Moxy Fruvous, Arrogant Worms.
Dave Matthews Band - they have bands who are contemporaries, like Big Head Todd and Widespread Panic. Maybe Carbon Leaf? Jason Mraz has mentioned him as an influence.
REM - Pavement. Nirvana. The Replacements. Any band I played when I was a deejay in the `90s.

H - Midwestern State Fair Factor

If an aging band plays in any of the Midwestern State Fairs - Iowa, Nebraska, Indiana, Kansas - they can't be considered the best rock band ever. They just can't. Nothing is more pathetic than hearing a bunch of fifty year old fat dudes trying to rock out. I love Buffett, but, he's eliminated, too.

This eliminates Bachman Turner Overdrive, The Allman Brothers, Skynrd, Cheap Trick, REO Speedwagon and Chicago, plus countless others.

the Beatles - Broke up before it could happen
the Who - Well, this category eliminates one contender...
Led Zeppelin - This would eliminate Led Zep, who played the Wisconsin State Fair, but that was back in 1969, when they were just starting out. That show probably rocked.
The Rolling Stones - San Antonio State Fair (funny, I thought that was a town) back in 1964. Doesn't count.
U2 - Puh-leeeze
The Beach Boys - Bum bum bum, another one bites the dust.
Pink Floyd - Played in Louisiana's State Fair back in the day. Doesn't count, either.
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Died too soon to be washed up and playing that circuit.
Barenaked Ladies - I could totally envision them doing that one day, except it wouldn't be Iowa or Nebraska, but Manitoba and the Northwest Territories.
Dave Matthews Band - Adios. But, they're not washed up yet. So, this may not count.
REM - Not yet, but I wouldn't be surprised...

I - Tribute Bands!

You can't be a legendary rock band without a tribute band, or three!
the Beatles - Apple, Beatallica, the Fab Faux, Rubber Soul
the Who - Who's Who
Led Zeppelin - Dread Zeppelin, Led Zepagain
The Rolling Stones - Satisfaction, Sticky Fingers, The Rollin' Clones, The Stolling Rones...
U2 - Named, appropriately enough, 2U. Unforgettable Fire and Even Better Than the Real Thing. Also, these guys - Clicky!
The Beach Boys - The Sunny Boys and The Beach Toys (worst. name. ever)
Pink Floyd - Bricks in the Wall, Comfortably Numb, Pig Floyd, The Wall and Think Floyd
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Voodoo Child, Purple Haze, FIRE
Barenaked Ladies - Gordon, and, fittingly, the Fully Clothed Gents.
Dave Matthews Band - One Sweet World, The Dreaming Tree, and the perfectly named Dave Matthews Tribute Band
REM - Reckoning, The REM Experience (new worst.name.ever.)

So, when all of these factors are considered, it's obvious that Spinal Tap remains the best band ever...

Seriously, though - if longetivity is rated, bands like Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix can't be counted - they had an incredibly prolific period early on, but later stuff sucked...or, they died. Zep had seven years of rock brilliance (`69 through `76), and then puttered around a few years, and then disappeared. The Doors would be in this level, too - brilliant when they were around, but the magic died in Paris. Dave Matthews and the Barenaked Ladies haven't been around long enough. REMs newest material has been borderline unlistenable, as has been the Stones. Running on reputation and history. The Beach Boys haven't updated their sound, and still do the same tunes they did back in the `60s. Pink Floyd and the Who, while great, were never as popular as Led Zep or the Stones. The Beatles and U2 had a 15 - 20 year recording period of consistently good material, with only a couple of clunkers sparsed between.

So, I'll go with :

1) Beatles - longetivity + brilliance + consitency + good solo projects. Ultratalented individuals.
2) U2 - see above, slightly shorter career, so far. Saving the world one issue at a time.
3) Led Zeppelin - too short a career to be the best, but damned good. Incredible 7 year run.
4) Rolling Stones - long, brilliant career, but a 20 year drought with one so-so hit. Should have retired years ago.

How to Make DC safer

As any good Washingtonian knows, the District is a giant potential terrorist target, and we all need to be vigilant for anything anywhere at anytime.

No pressure or anything.

So, I have developed a quick list of how to make my new town a little bit safer.

1) Move the Pentagon to Nebraska. Use current building for some freakin' SWEET condos.
2) US Capitol Dome armed with that big laser thingie the Rebellion used on Hoth in "The Empire Strikes Back"
3) Replace Washington Monument with Minuteman missle. See if anybody notices.
4) Blame Canada, and let Ottawa deal with this crap.
5) Beatdown these pseudo-street kids who skateboard all throughout Northwest DC and then get pissed at random pedestrians because they can't do a front-side fakey Ollie off a staircase. Maybe if you wore form-fitting jeans you wouldn't fall on your ass, dumb brat.
6) Hire big homeless dudes to run up and yell at suburban drivers who get stuck on Connecticut Avenue around DuPont Circle because "they don't have circles like this in Reston."
7) Tell the local TV news operations to STOP FREAKIN' PANICKING BECAUSE IT MIGHT SNOW 200 FRICKIN' MILES FROM HERE!!!! We don't need Live Team Eyewitness News crews in every part of town because little Madison and Hunter got flurried on while riding in the back of mom's Suburban heading to school. Any station that violates this rule immediately gets transferred to their affiliate in Buffalo in December.
8) Send all Metrobus, taxi, tourbus and delivery truck drivers to the Midwest and teach them some damned manners.
9) Turn the Beltway into a moat. Place dragons in moat. Anybody wishing to enter the region has to go through Squire training and earn their Knighthood by completing a quest.
10) You know how people who commute on the Metro everyday have begun using carry-on luggage to tote around their laptops and stuff? Ban that. Those goddamned suitcases on wheels have tripped more people, and bruised more unsuspecting ankles than what is allowed by law. Gee, sorry you're 80 pounds overweight and you've got a slipped disk, Ms. Getting Off the Metro in Rosslyn, but stop swinging your baggage around behind you like you're 5 years old and that's your little red wagon. Are you going to the airport for travel? No? Then don't bring luggage, ass! The damned trains are crowded enough - the last thing we need is you swishing around your American Tourister. I swear, the next time I get hit with one of those because you're bad at spacial relations, I will beat that bag down like I'm LAPD on a black dude at a traffic stop. Let's see how well your laptop fares when I practice my Jackie Chan on it. Use a backpack or shoulder bag like everybody else - or, here's a concept - get a smaller, lighter one! What the hell are you people packing in those damned things? A frickin' IBM server and UPS system? It's a bloody laptop, not an HDTV. And, to top it off - you're an analyst, not a Senator. You're not that damned important to carry the latest in computing technology with you 24/7. The only reason I keep my mp3 player on John Mayer tunes is so the acoustic stylings of "Why, Georgia" will hopefully mellow me out so that I'll forget the throbbing in my shin as you've clipped me with your Samsonite yet again. I feel like Nancy Kerrigan after meeting Jeff Gillooly just stepping on the Blue Line anymore.

I swear, I'll become friends with Freddy Adu, and we'll kick the shit out of any tow-along that comes near me.

- me

--- ### ---

Wedding Crashers - Reviewed by the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic

I am so not bitter about this movie. Set in Maryland and DC, full of local landmarks but not dependent on them, I laughed, and I giggled, and, indeed, I even snorted. Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson (I can tell Les Freres Wilson apart because Owen's got the busted schnozz) are brilliant as two mid-30s guys who infiltrate weddings and hook-up with comely and lonely bridesmaids. Why I never thought of this strategy beforehand is beyond me. The gratuitous nudity in the beginning is shocking in that it appears casting agents found the last set of 8 real breasts in Hollywood.

Christopher Walken is Christopher Walken - a commanding screen presence in any role. He plays the tough, conservative Cabinet member with a good mix of political savvy and parental responsibility. America's Future Sweetheart Rachel McAdams, as the daughter of the Secretary of Treasury Christopher Walken, plays the love interest for Busted Schnozz Wilson, and does the role with a good mixture of sweetness, sarcasm, girl-next-door sexiness and a heaping dollop of adorable moles and beauty marks. Isla Fisher damned near steals the show as the psycho, but cute, other daughter of SecTreas. Keir O'Donnell is a hoot as semi-closeted gay artist son Todd. Will Ferrell appears for a few minutes - the guy is funny, even in a small role. The still-smokin' Jane Seymour plays the sexually unfufilled wife of the Secretary, Kathleen, and, sadly, was given too small a part. It looks like Dr. Quinn could give Mrs. Robinson an update, should Hollywood decide to remake "The Graduate. "

Crap. Shouldn't have opened my mouth. Access Hollywood is reporting that casting has just now begun, with Topher Grace being considered for the Benjamin Braddock role, and Scarlett Johansson as young, naive Elaine. The White Stripes are being pegged as Simon and Garfunkle replacements, though John Mayer and Nelly are said to have interest in the project.

However, there is one person to hate - Bradley Cooper plays Mizz McAdams' jackass fiance' with a smug prep school boy attitude that would be so fake if it didn't remind me of half the guys I went to prep school with! He's so over the top that the audience seriously hates this guy before the halfway mark of the movie. If I was his agent, I'd get him a role where he's saving cute puppies from AIDS-infected zombies from Syria, or he's doomed to playing smug rich white bad guys in made-for-Showtime specials.

The key to this movie, though, is Vince Vaughn. He is an absolute riot in the movie, and he has maybe 4 lines of unfunny dialogue the entire time, and everything else is damned near brilliant. His motormouth delivery, so vital to "Swingers," is back in fine form here, and while he may be playing "himself", nobody plays Vince Vaughn better than Vince Vaughn.


---- 4 1/2 out of 5 Whammies! A 1/2 Whammy was subtracted due to having Christopher Walken and Will Ferrell together, and no cowbell to be found anywhere. One measly cowbell, dammit! That's all I ask. ----

Day After Tomorrow - Reviewed by the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic

This movie is so bad, I don't think it needs five paragraphs to describe. But, you can't be the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic and not hit the number 5. It's like my trademark, man.

I could devote an entire book to the scientific problems with the movie, but that smacks of overkill, and would warrant more work than the screenwriters obviously put into it. Watching a tidal wave coming from the Atlantic, to the East, hit New York City from the Jersey City side (a.k.a. the West), combined with the killer L.A. tornados. One hit LAX from the south-going north along the 405, the other tornado hitting the Hollywood sign going east to west, then doubling back, and hitting the Columbia Records building south to north, and then the other tornados forming Mecha-Tornado and punking downtown LA from approximately northeast to southwest. As a former storm chaser throughout the Midwest (and, lately, 495 in Silver Spring on Friday night), tornados simply don't do that. Storms move in a cohesive direction - they can change course, but multiple tornados won't simply converge into one spot if spawned by the same storm.

Though watching the reporter get punked by the billboard travelling at 80 miles an hour was pretty cool.

One other thing - who the HELL walks from Philadelphia to New York City in Arctic-like conditions? Dennis Quaid, that's who. Man's been stuck on a bike, shrunk down to microscopic size, crash landed on an Enemy Mine, been attacked by a shark, dumped by Meg Ryan AND been stranded at the Alamo. Brother needs a new agent. At least he wasn't in "Davis Rules."

However awful the movie is, and I'm so completely pissed at myself for watching it on my landlord's HBO, I do appreciate that Dennis Quaid is still getting work. I'd have paid hard currency to watch the young Emmy Rossum continue to blossom into a nearly-perfect-looking woman. I just would have done it during "Phanton of the Opera."

--- 1 out of 7 Whammies, because some SFX were cool and Emmy Rossum is a total babe ---

Charlie and The Chocolate Factory - Reviewed by the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic

A hot, sticky summer evening to be spent in an air conditioned, luxury movie theater, watching a fine director and a fine actor remaking a beloved children's film. What could be better?

Plenty. But I'm the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic.

Don't get me wrong, the movie's great. Director Tim Burton's imagry of the Wonderful World of Wonka is great. Freddie Highmore is a good little actor, and he stood up quite well as the earnest Charlie. Johnny Depp plays the role of Willy Wonka with a certain foppish, yet bitter, family-hating delight. The casting of Count Dooku as Willy's estranged dad is a lovely touch. And the Oopma-Loompa is played by a dude named Deep Roy, the best porn name for a non-porn star since Britney Spears.

Some of the scenes look like they were clearly inspired by the original 1970s film, and others look like their straight from the book. Some of the special effects are quite dazzling, especially the art deco-meets-Le Courbousier chocolate factory. The kids look a lot like the kids from the original, yet they have a more modern twist, like the violent video game lovin' Mike Teevee and uber-competitive Violet Beauregard.

What could be better is Muvico 24 at Arundel Mills. State of the art projection and sound system that is apparently run on Windows 98, first edition. Have you ever seen a movie reboot before? I have now - six times in this fim alone - and I now can safely say I'll take good old-fashioned film projector over a movie being shown over the same PC that some 17 year-old kid is doing a search for pictures of "Deep Roy."


--------- 3 1/2 out of 5 Whammies for the movie ---------
------ ZIPPY out 100 Whammies for the projector --------

Now it's getting ridiculous...

From the DC Post's chat today about the Worldcom fraud case and Bernie Ebbers...
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/discussion/2005/07/13/DI2005071301423.html

Peoria: Because all of these high profile corporate executives contributed heavily to the Bush Presidency, and in more ways than one are responsible for Bush to be appointed president, don't you think that Bush is indebted to these corporations and he will pardon the whole bunch before leaving office? Our present administration seems to be above the law and everyone is afraid to question anything they do, good or bad, fearing their wrath.

Carrie Johnson: It would astonish me if any of these white collar defendants were pardoned by President Bush. The public outcry would be enormous. Average investors still haven't forgotten the hit to their retirement savings three years ago--as many of the comments in this chat underscore.
__________________


Come on, Peoria - you can blame the current Administration for some things, but trying to blame this White House or even attempting to draw a correlation is a stretch! When the MCI/Worldcoms, Adelphias, Enrons and McLeods of this whole sorry mess "reststated earnings" and admitted to "accounting errors," most of them started the fraud in the mid-90s - anywhere from 1996 through 2000. Which, according to my math, is shortly after the Telecommunications Act of 1996 and fairly solidly within the Clinton Administration.

You know, Bill Clinton? The President before Bush? Remember him? The guy who pardoned Marc Rich? Yeah, that Marc Rich guy, alleged of evading 48 million dollars in taxes, and 51 counts of tax fraud AND dealing with Iran on oil deals during the hostage ordeal. Yeah, that dude's a prince.

These 20th Century Robber Barons contributed to Republicans and Democrats both, and in large numbers. Some were more Republican, others were more Democratic, but most of them had both hands in pockets on both sides of the aisle.

Place blame where blame is due - lax corporate oversight by government regulators, an incredibly-speculative stock market, and corporate hierarchies out of control. Accusing Bush of something wrong in situations like Ebbers' is flat-out revisionist history to the point of straight-out lying. Or Peoria, do you blame Jimmy Carter for the Vietnam War?

To Carrie Johnson's credit, she didn't even consider this a possibility. Although, if I were her, I'd have given Peoria a bit more of a printed smackdown.

Sad day in DC broadcasting

http://www.wboc.com/Global/story.asp?S=3578160

The Don and Mike Show has been an institution here in DC for years, and they've gone from being a local morning show to a nationally-syndicated afternoon show. Last night, Don's wife Freda was killed in a car accident on MD Route 90 outside of Ocean City. She was a fixture on the show for a number of years, and this is a heck of a shock to those of us who worked in the industry here.

Also, longtime Don and Mike news guy David Haines, recently of WPGC's morning show, passed away as well, his demise due to a number of illnesses, mostly cancer, he's been dealing with the past few years.

Man...what a sad day. I can only imagine how the whole Sorce family is doing. Losing David was a shock enough, but expected; I can't imagine the pain of losing a wife and mother so quickly like that. I know I'll be saying some prayers for them all, and hope the rest of us who enjoy their show will do so as well.

What I've learned this weekend...

Friday - Just because a place advertises "All You Can Drink" for a happy hour special, that doesn't mean I should view it like a personal affront to my dignity. I was chugging martinis like that lil' Japanese dude at the Nathan's Hot Dog contest. Taking the Metro ride-of-shame back to my car...not my smartest manuever ever.

Saturday - I can totally function on three hours of sleep. Hangover? What hangover? Let's go apartment shopping.

Also, mini-golf can be extreme. http://www.meetinbaltimore.org/gallery/view_photo.php?set_albumName=album01&id=IMG_0329

Sunday - I've finally encountered one of those killer bees I've heard so much about. Lil' bastard attacked my ankle. I smooshed the lil' bastard, though. I am the big winner in the battle of the bee.

Also, I learned that bars around Capitol Hill should have warning labels. Too...much...alcohol. My liver is quickly achieving "Tully" status.

Why it's good women plan weddings...

If more guys would insist on the details of a wedding:

1) Invitations sent out in a tasteful camoflague
2) `80s themed weddings. Bridesmaids wearing Madonna outfits, groomsmen looking like Don Johnson.
3) Using phrases like "If our wedding table doesn't have one of those inflatable NFL chairs depicting my favorite team, this wedding is OFF!"
4) 3-tiered wedding cake by Krispy Kreme
5) No way the bride's wearing white, so he can show his crew he tapped that WAY before the honeymoon, boy!
6)The Wedding March as performed by Aerosmith
7) Matching cumberbunds on the guys? Bah - clean underwear is a good first step.
8) Stand-up comedy show before the service, bridesmaids tripping on X, and a 300 pound performance artist named Extreme Elvis performing after the vows. EE then drops trou and teabags a midget...oh, wait, that happened at a wedding I went to planned by a guy. Good times and merriment abound.
9) wedding gowns purchased at Hooters and
10) No Electric Slide - just lots and lots of lapdances.

Men! Demand your equal share! If she gets to pick out the flowers, you should pick out the strippers.

But, then again, I am a dreamer.

War of the Worlds - Reviewed By The Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic

What a waste of $8.50! For the same price of two frappuchinos, I would have quenched my thirst, my sweet tooth, kept money from reaching the grubby little girly hands of Tom Cruise AND, by virtue of a satisfying urination, gotten a better ending.

It's a summer movie, chock full of loud sound effects and visual treats. The plot - aliens attack, eat humans, and Tom Cruise and his clan want to make it from New York to Boston where Tom's ex-wife (no, not Nicole Kidman) is staying with her family. The movie's special effects range from below average to amazing. Tom Cruise isn't terribly annoying in this role, though Dakota Fanning's going to soon have the market cornered on creepy blonde girl roles. Tim Robbins plays a creepy resistance fighter who takes more than a passing interest on young Mizz Fanning. Tom's angry teenage son should have been vaporized when the division of M1A Abrams Battle Tanks next to him gets vaporized, but he miraculously survives when trained Soldiers next to him die.

The worst part of the movie, though, is Morgan Freeman, and that is a phrase I never thought I'd write. He plays the part of narrator, reading the first paragraph of the book and the last paragraph, and nothing in the middle. His voice helps set the tone for the movie - emotionally gripping, giving a sense of the impending doom - and then truncates a horribly short ending with a mere voice over. The ending is the worst thing about this movie - after two hours of gut-wrenching ass-clenching action, within three minutes, the aliens suddenly get sick and die, and Tom's former in-laws appear from their Back Bay brownstone looking marvelous and rich. Roll credits.

Apparently, according to Hollywood, aliens don't read up on the planets they're about to destroy. In this movie, they have the technology to blast anything and everything, and eat us humanfolk up real good. But they didn't count on bacteria, fungi and molds and other primative life forms that exist in our bodies and air. These aliens have the ability to break through dimensions and go from one end of the galaxy to another, but they can't swing by CVS and pick up some Glade Antibacterial Wipes. Those dumb aliens in Signs - they're allergic to water, so they invade a planet that's 75% covered in water, and eat humans who are over 85% water. Stupid damned creatures - wear some Gore-Tex, slap some Rain-X on the mothership, and try that invasion again, Zoltar! And those bastards in Independence Day didn't anticipate Jeff Goldblum and the power of a Mac laptop. These aliens need to go to a Suze Orman seminar, learn how to plan.

So, in summary, Tom's weird in real life, the aliens are dumb, and the ending sucks more than a porn star trying to pay for a heroin habit. Otherwise, a great movie! Two out of a possible Six Whammies.

-----###-----

Adventures with La Policia Numero Dos

Same trip, 5 weeks later. I'm driving from El Paso, Texas up towards Odessa-Midland. I'm in Texas, again, fairly solidly. Mexico is about 100 miles, 120 miles away. Again, another tollbooth-style roadblock. This time, it's a US Border Patrol station. My car is now full of California swag, LA headshots, mix cds, photography equipment, and the cat who bathes in the River Sytx. The border patrol agent is flanked by several other agents, one of whom is carrying a German Shepard and another with a hand-cannon.

The first agent asks me if I have picked up or encountered any illegals on my journey. Hearing him clearly, I say "No sir." My Maryland tags on the Iowa car plainly identify me as a flag-wavin' American, and I figure this will be quick. The agent with the German Shepard is allowing the dog to smell my car. Beazulkitty then decides that this is the perfect time to pop out of the back seat and look at the dog. The canine goes APESH!T, barking his huevos off, deciding that a cat is infinitely more interesting than a box truck full of Dominicans. Squeaky the Cat, having grown up around large dogs, is not scared of the dog, and swipes at him (but, being in the car with windows up, it wasn't an effective attack). The Border Partol agent with the hand cannon orders me to get out of the car NOW!! The other agent, not seeing the cat, opens the door, forces me out, which causes Cujo's maladjusted cousin to leap into my seat, trying to carpe feline.

Squeaky simply ducks under the seat into his cat-sized hiding space, and the dog and agents go rummaging through my car, with me waving and screaming "You're dog's going to eat my cat!" The agent with the dog yanks the canine out of my car, and -with guns drawn- search my 2000 Ford Focus sedan for any sign of Hispanic folks. The worst thing they find is a white cat scared sh!tless, my stinky clothes from living on the road for two months, and, as the only sign of any contact with Mexico, a half-finished bottle of tequila (which, seriously, was not mine, officer - I'd have FINISHED that son-of-a-gun). When they decide that my 4 door car with less trunk room than a Porsche Boxster is not being used as a tool to ferry migrant farm workers across the Rio Grande, they apologized for the dog/cat incident. No problem, I reply, but, anger and fright has been replaced by curiosity - why do you guys have a Border Patrol station 120 miles AWAY from the border? Y'all ain't called the Two-Hours-Inland Patrol."

Dude with hand-cannons' reply "We've given up on that part."

Moral of the story, kids - stay in school. Eat your vegetables. Don't drown your food.

Adventures with La Policia Numero Uno

A discussion on another forum about things to not say to cops prompted me to post this.

I was driving from Vegas to California in 2002 on my first cross-country roadtrip. I was about 40 miles into the state when I find a roadblock. Mandatory stop, no getting around it. So, I pull up with my Maryland tags on my Iowan car and my Satanic cat in the passenger seat and ask the guard what's up. He asks me, in a fairly odd accent, if I brought any produce from Nevada. It sounded like "are you the recluse from Aveda?" I didn't hear what he said, or, more to the point, after five days in Vegas at my crazy friend Doug's wedding, doing stand-up, car-bombs, sports books and watching a midget get teabagged by a naked Elvis impersonator, I didn't comprehend was he was saying, so I asked "excuse me?" as politely as my possibly-still-hung-over arse could. He said "produce!" like PRO-duce, not pro-DUCE, like "You need to produce that report now!" and I was simply baffled by his request. I asked "produce what? My license?" He then yelled "Fruit!"

So, great, this glorified tollboth collector is calling me gay.

I made the mistake of getting out of my car to ask "What?"

Step one, kids - don't get out of the car, ever.

He reached for his gun. Now, having grown up between DC and Baltimore, two of the more violent cities in the US, I've seen plenty of guns. I've fired a few, and while I'm comfortable around them, I'm not comfortable when they're loaded and being aimed at me. Never had any problems in DC, but had guns pulled on me in Des Moines, Iowa, and Nowheresville, CA. Yeah, this makes sense...

I go "calm down, Fife!" and put my hands up (Doug would have been proud). "I just can't understand a damned word you've been saying." He goes "Fruit! Do you have any fruit in your car?!?!? while holding his side arm. "Fruit?" I ask incredulously. "Nah, I'm allergic to it! Got a cat, though."

Apparently bringing the feline spawn of Hades into California is fine, but not a banana. Off I drove to LA. 30 minutes later, I realized I was pretty solidly into California when this happened. Obviously, California has ceded the 40 miles of state land near Nevada as a fruit-fly buffer zone.

Best. Meal. Ever.

I went to Al Tiramisu's on Friday. Positively glorious meal. Top 3 I've ever had, and, perhaps the best. Mesquite-grilled calamari - wow. Desserts that were borderline perfect. The only way to improve the meal is to serve more of this fantastic food.

Thank you Tom Sietsma in the Post for the recommendation.

www.altiramisu.com

(and some people think I'm only a complainer.)

a theme park where the theme is "suck"

Over the Delaware and through the Jersey woods, to Six Flags Great Adventure we rode. To ride the newest World's Tallest and Fastest Roller Coaster - Kingda Ka.

One small problem with that goal - you gotta contend with Six Flags Great Adventure.

It is really a prime example of what happens when a theme park gets way too big for it's britches. The park's core, designed approximately 35 years ago, is a charming mix of shops, restaurants and boardwalk-style games. The decor is reminiscent of Candy Land, with sconces resembling ice cream cones and gum drops on the building facades. It is situated next to a lovely lake, that they use for a water skiing show. Ferris wheel. Carousel. Fully-grown trees offering shade. It harkens back to a kinder era.

The place has many roller coasters, most of which have been built in the past decade. It's obvious they spent some money on them, as they have all the latest styles - linear launch modes, suspended looping twisting coasters, twisters. They have expanded the park to accomodate these new large coasters, and seem to add a new ride every couple of years.

It all sounds pretty good. Or, potentially, pretty good. But for every Alpha, there must be an Omega. Every Everest has a Death Valley, every rose has its thorn, and every Kurt has his Courtney. Six Flags Great Adventure has more errors than Galludet University's baseball team and more flaws than 3 dollar pants at Marshall's Clearance Rack.

First - with all of the new construction, there are parts of the park that are off limits. I can understand blocking off a section around a ride that's getting demolished, but, they also closed off the adjoining walkway - thereby forcing a 20 minute walk-around when it would have ordinarily a 5 minute walk at worst. In another section, a fake paintball game blocks a walkway connecting park sections, forcing yet another long walk-around. Even the brand-new section, featuring the new Kingda Ka, has rather narrow walkways, with barely enough room to hold 8 adults wide. In theme park world, that's next to nothing. Bad, bad theme park feng shui.

Second - I know theme parks don't attract only med school students and suburban high school teachers, but DAMN there were some ugly fat hateful people there. One of the advantages of being a theme park halfway between Philadelphia and New York City is the ability to draw from a population pool of nearly 25 million people within a 90 minute drive. However, it seems only the people with missing chromosomes and bad body piercings were able to attend. The line for The Chiller was full of gangbangers and the women who love them. The midway area near the Great American Scream Machine featured large, flabby women screaming "oh no you DI' INT!!" to other large, flabby women when expressing disbelief in either the other large, flabby women riding the ride or even attempting to squeeze their gargantuan pooh banks into the ride's cars.

What is it about theme parks attracting the fat and ugly? I have to admit, that after a Saturday night full of seafood and Jaegermeister, I was feeling less-than-perfect at the park. Not looking nor acting my normal gorgeous self. After spending a day being surrounded by folks that the men's and women's grooming magazines have yet to attract, I felt downright loving and pithy. Five-foot-tall Jersey boys wearing New Jersey Nets hats, bandanas and jerseys. 400 pound women in tank tops. Greased-back crew cuts on mongloid pizza cooks still bitter they failed their Sopranos' audition. More fake bling than a Chinese street vendor. People with more tattoos than job prospects.

The scariest site I saw was of a disgustingly fat woman, walking by the log flum ride, walking with two other pure examples of delicate femininity, wearing a black lace top - I swear, it was a low-cut black lace wifebeater - with these two deflated, sprawling, sagging airbags that may have once upon a time been human breasts, hanging under her armpits, with two large, black Iron Crosses tattoo'd where there used to be cleavage. Happy Valley, this wasn't. Her fat demonic offspring ran in front of her, rushing to the log flume for his monthly bath, and probably, secretly, hoping to reclaim his birthright as the Satanic spawn described in the Book of Revelations.

Theme park rides are designed for people UP TO, not over, 6'3", 260 pounds. Europeans seem to be the best coaster designers - Intamin, AG comes to mind - and Europeans are usually smaller than us hearty Yanks. Anyone above that weight limit stresses the bolts, servos, gears, wheels, bearings and inborn sensibilities of any college-educated person who has to see these biped cows squeeze into size 6 spandex shorts. It looked like somebody was trying to smuggle a Bhudda under a camisole.

For some reason, I'll never be able to look at Pillsbury's cookie dough tubes the same way again.

Third - The park is dirty, and could easily be cleaned. When ya get to a theme park at 10:20AM, ya don't expect to see overflowing trashcans, but damn, if that's not what ya get at Six Flags, Great Adventure. Great first impression - trashcans overflowing into the bushes and flowers around the front gate.

Don't even get me started on the bathrooms. Apparently, people in New Jersey either don't know how, or can't be bothered, to aim. Suffice it to say, the bathroom scene in Trainspotting when Ewan McGregor dives into a toilet seems a little less disturbing.

Fourth - I had no idea it was so hard to be a roller coaster mechanic. Obviously, an advanced degree in complex Euclidian geometry and Newtonian Physics are needed to make sure wheels stay on a track. I didn't realize that a knowledge of quantum mechanics was required to be a mechanic. I'm sure they have to have basic ideas on hydraulics, machinery, collision avoidance - but shouldn't they work on the rides after hours?

I'm not talking about life-and-death type repairs, mind you. The whole day was marred with Cletus and Earl, who, if those aren't their names, then they should be - as they took their damned sweet time checking over the rides.

Cletus and Earl were watching the Great American Scream Machine - as the coaster goes through the first series of loops, it hits a flat stretch and a braking system is activated. For testing purposes, the ride is closed and the cars are emptied. On that flat stretch, the brakes were too strong, stopping the car. Apparently, Cletus and Earl were BAFFLED by this, and the idea of adjusting the brakes, or, adding weight to the car (where more weight would equal more momentum. Basic physics folks, try to keep up) were shocking to them. So, when the empty train hit the flat part, and the overactive brakes kicked in...the car came to a stop. So, either Cletus or Earl - couldn't tell, but it was one of them - had to walk up an access stairway, roughly 8 stories up, and push the train free. He then walked back down the steps; they launched another train, and forgot to adjust the brakes, thereby repeating the cycle.

And sadly, Stephen Hawking is the one who's dying...

MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE PARK - the park is filling up well-past-comfortable levels of New Jerseyians. The park simply was not prepared to handle the massive amount of people who would (shockingly!) visit a convenient theme park located with a 90 minute drive of 20 million folks with the world's newest fastest and tallest roller coaster on a lovely day. I can't see why anybody would go to a theme park on a 79 degree, sunny day. Which leads me to...

Fifth - if you're going to run a theme park, don't run out of drinking water. And, if you do, don't have your little peon employees snap at the customer when it's clearly the park, and not the customers', fault. I wanted a small bottled water - don't have the nerve to serve me a large water and charge me the exaggerated price. YOUR fault you ran out of stuff, not the consumers. Not cool. Which leads me to...

Sixth - if you're going to clear-cut the old-growth forest to make room for a new ride, thereby getting rid of the natural shade, how about supplying some? Direct sunlight, high sun angle - and you've got 1000's of feet of line out of shade. To quote Homer Simpson, S-M-R-T. That leads me to...

Seventh - if you're going to have lines with time estimates at the ride's gates, make them at least somewhat accurate. This leads me to Major Problem # 1 with SF-GA - The line at the Superman ride said two hours. We entered the line at 3:15pm, as the park was being examined by Cletus and Earl. Multiple coasters were shut down, and the lines became ridiculous all over. However, Superman, one of the few coasters that remained open, was running on ONE train. It took almost 8 minutes to load the train, launch it, let it ride, then disembark, and repeat. The train holds 32 people. The mental midgets who ran the ride allowed empty seats, not asking for single riders and double riders and those who just didn't care anymore if they wanted to ride, at least making the trip that much more bearable. One one loop, they let 7 empty seats on the train - and there were about 800 people in line.

Trust me on the numbers. I had time to count.

At the two hour mark, we were still not halfway to the station. People in line, who were either tired, sun-baked, thirsty and/or desperately in need of urination, were leaving and rejoining the line. It was an informal group rule to allow folks to do this - after all, we were in this together. Of course, SF's Security Guards could let no amount of common sense go unpunished. I watched at least three occasions where SF's Geshtapo berated young children and their parents for allowing them to go pee in a bathroom. One guard even got in the face of a 12 year old girl near us, telling her he could have her thrown out for this evil transgression. Bear in mind, we'd been in line for 3 hours in a 2 hour wait. Instead of apologizing for their lack of management and math skills, the Six Flags' vendors came through and gave us lemonade...at full price, and the ice was mostly melted, to boot.

At 7:25, we finally reached the platform. From our vantage point, we could see where various rides were shutdown, tested, and restarted. We were two trains away from finally riding this damned thing. Of course...they shut it down for maintenance. No estimated time for repair. We waited 15 minutes longer before leaving for a last shot chance on Kingda Ka.

Of course...that line was closed.

We managed to get on the Great American Scream Machine, of which it is none of the above, and cut our losses. Of course, in line for the Scream Machine...Superman reopened.

We had planned on 2 rides, Superman and Kingda Ka, with over 7 hours remaining in the day. We got on neither. Apparently, you need to schedule a week to ride these two.

What bothers me about Six Flags-Great Adventure, was the complete and utter lack of empathy or customer service that the staff related to the patrons. Having a crush of people is one thing - but not making sure lines are moving, rides are working, and kids aren't getting harassed when they need to urinate. I wouldn't be nearly as mad if the park did the little things right when the big things go wrong. In the normal world, when a business makes a mistake, it goes out of it's way to make the customer feel better. "Sorry we botched the time estimate - here's a free lemonade."

And, here's what REALLY galls me - my friend Gina, a recent transplant to DC from Jersey, after recounting my SF-GA experience to her, said that it's typical SF-GA behavior. The place gets dirty, the rides are always broken, and the water in the log flume becomes...oily during the course of the summer.

There are about a dozen theme parks within a two-hour drive of Six Flags. Granted, most don't have as many rides - BUT AT LEAST THEY WORK!!! I challenge all of the billionaires lining up to buy a stake of the Washington Nationals to please divert some of that cash into a REAL theme park in the area. George Soros, you liberal Republican-hating machine - you don't have a chance of getting on the winning ownership group. Take that 400 mill and build a theme park that works. PLEASE!!

So, chalk this up to a lousy day at the park. Six Flags, the Anti-Busch Gardens! Come to Six Flags, Great Adventure, and Leave Your Standards at Home! Six Flags - At Least Our Shows Aren't Broken. Six Flags - We're Closer than Kennywood!

However, The Cletus and Earl Follies sounds pretty good.

And Kennywood and Dorney Park seem better and better.

- out

mangia mangia

Besides being Italian for "eat," it is also a term used in India to put glass shards and other sharp items on the string for their kite fighting competitions. Mangia is used to ruin the other kite's string, or the kite itself.

No wonder my two Indian coworkers shuddered when I told them "mangia! mangia!" when presenting them home made cookies.

Cookies of the week:

cranberry walnut
white chocolate hazelnut caramel
s'mores
chocolate chip A (white chocolate/chocolate swirled chips)
chocolate chip B (caramel / chocolate swirled chips )

+ surprisingly delicious low-carb peanut butter/chocolate brownies.



- Mr. Fields.

H2 Update

I parked on the top floor of the Largo parking garage today. Plenty of spaces on the level. Open space next to mine. H2 man was a couple of cars behind me. He parked in an empty space with plenty of open spaces around him.

Humans are so adaptable. See how they learn, and make changes according to the environment. Such a smart lil' thing!

Riding on the Metro-o-o-o-oh

Every week or so, the DCPost does at least one chat session about commuting on the Metro system - a tangled web of train and bus routes that theoretcially get you from point A to point B in a relatively safe, efficient manner. The DC Metrorail system has only been in place for 30-ish years - the design of the trains emotes a certain 1970s Disney World - monorail vibe, and the orange, brown and yellow train interiors simply SCREAMS "post-`60s design hangover." But, the trains themselves are graffiti-free, kept pretty clean, and homeless people are kept to a minium.

Except everybody on these chats is just BITTER - spittin' bile over some slight that they believe the Lords of the Rails perpetuated on them, individually, to make them late for some event - either getting to work, going home from work, or making them woefully late for a Nationals' game. The questions are fairly repetitive in nature - "When will the Potomac Avenue stop get it's elevator repaired?" "Why can't Metro keep the escalator at Braddock Road working?" "What's up with the crowds at the Metro Center?" "Who's that cute Asian girl who gets on at McPherson Square?"

The chat hosts respond as best they can - Metro is woefully underfunded by the regional governments, that the system has tried in vain to propose to new lines in different parts of town, yes, some people have lousy Metro etiquette - or, Metroquette, as I'd propose.

Sadly, nobody seems to know about the cute Asian girl at McPherson Square. I only see the same scruffy mechanical engineer from the Pentagon City stop. And I hope he's not giving me the eye anymore.

As I first began my commuting opus to Crystal City last month, I marvelled at how effectively Metro can move thousands of people throughout the Nations' Capital. Trains arriving and departing every 5 to 10 minutes, not too shabby. Having formerly lived in such mass transportation hotspots like Boston and Chicago, where trains have been around since the Roosevelt Administration (Teddy, not Franklin), and most of the stations are woefully undersized and the rails are in only slightly better shape than George Wendt - those are cities that deserve to gripe about their mass transit systems.

Last week, however, I came up with my first real complaint about Metro - why oh why don't you have a bathroom ANYWHERE? It's bad enough that once the initial crush of rush hour traffic is done that they go on a 15 - 20 minutes per train schedule, but to not have a pisser, a spot-a-pot (a.k.a. a caibow for my Iowan friends) , a trough or even a dark corner - that's just mean. By the time my journey from DuPont Circle to Largo was over, it was almost 72 minutes of bladder torture. Every bump in the tracks between the Stadium/Armory and District Heights was like a stab in the spleen.

And now, this A.M. - again, at the Largo stop. I pulled my Vibe, Raider, into a parking space on the top floor, next to an open spot. There are dozens of open spaces near me. I open my door, and open my back seat door, attempting to fill my gym bag with all sorts of working-out goodies, like shoes. A man in a shiny new Hummer H2 starts to pull into the open spot next to me...where most of my open rear door and my arse are. I turn around and give him a look that says "I'll be done in a second."

He keeps pulling in to the spot...closer...closer...soon, I can feel the H2's air intake tugging on my pants leg. He guns his engine. Impatient, is he.

(do you have any idea how long it's been since I've been able to say I could feel the air from a hummer on my leg?)

I take this man and machine's passive-aggressiveness for an opportunity to give some active aggression. I get my torso out of my Vibe, Raider, and yell at him "Give me a second, would ya? Why don't you park somewhere else!" He lowers his passenger side window, and asks "what did you say???" I said, again "Either give me a second, or park somewhere else!" I continue with my packing.

He pulls in more. The H2 is about 3 inches from me. I can hear individual belts spinning in the engine. Gotta give them credit - the timing belt sounds good.

I slam my Vibe, Raider's rear door and start yelling at the guy. I walk over to the other side of my car, and finish my packing. At this point, it has taken him almost three minutes to park his SUV.

The idiot finally parks his Planet Raper, and walks by me saying "There was plenty of room." I asked him "Why didn't you park some place else? There are tons of spaces around here. You wasted your time and mine." He counters with "Why didn't YOU park someplace else? I'm going to be late." He starts walking closer to me while I'm in my car.

At this point, Radio Ray came back from hiatus...except not nice voice Radio Ray who did funny commercials, but Radio Ray who got fired for dropping the F-Bomb - twice - on one show...Radio Ray gets out of my Vibe, Raider, and into his face.

"Because, dumbass, I parked here first. Jesus, you've got the money to afford the Hummer but no common sense, shithead. You wasted a gallon of gas AND...(as I waited for Metrorail's distinctive 'ding-dong' to announce the departure of a train) *DING DONG* you just missed your train."

It was at that moment when I realized what he was. In Owings Mills, the guys who drive H2s are Baltimore Ravens and the guys who wish they were Baltimore Ravens. In Largo, the guys who drive H2s are about 5'4", 135lbs, and scared shitless because they just angered an obviously-unstable 32 year old, 5'9", 204 pound guy who physically dwarfed them. He hustled off for the elevator, muttering something.

There's a Metro garage camera system over there, one of those multiple camera set ups. I hope they got that on tape.

I was looking cute this morning :)


- ---####--- -

Over the moon and under the influence

So, saw the Trashcan Sinatras last night at the Ram's Head in Annapolis. Intimate little place, and a nice change of pace from other clubs. I sat about 10, 12 feet maybe away from the band, and, other than one faulty monitor speaker that was quickly repaired, they sounded amazing.

It was funny to see them be funny. Francis, the bespectacled lead singer, was rather stifled the first two times I saw them. Last night - much looser. He was hilarious in parts, commenting on what people ate, complimenting the meals, and making a new Pope joke that wasn't really offensive. He made a small toast to the new Pope, and said "Here's a song he has no clue about." They launched into "What Women Do To Men," a tune about the befuddling, criminally sexual behaviour of these temptresses.

See, the band's primarily Catholic. That joke would be mean if it was done by System of a Down.

For those keeping score, this is the third time I've seen them in 7 months. Didn't see them for the previous 31.57 years of my life. This time, I actually brought money for swag.

2 t-shirts
3 CDs
1 autographed by the band.
1 of the guys recognized me from Austin.

For the old UNIX guys, @set me=!mad

I am a very, very content dude right now. I might also still be a little drunk from last night, and definitely hungry.

But oh so content!

- mi

That sound you just heard...

...above the din of bells ringing and smoke pouring from the Vatican's chimney, was the sound of thousands of Catholics shuddering at the prospect of Pope Benedict XVI. Feminism is a curse, priestly pedophilia isn't so bad, and, Mein Gott, descension shall not be tolerated! This guy makes John Paul the Sequel look open-minded. Women - it's a good thing Benedict XVI is 77, otherwise, y'all'd be all knock'd up and pregnut! The menfolks is goin' to the church! Take care of th' youngins'.

Personally, I think he should drop the dict and just go as Pope Benny. Sounds much friendlier, and would help him put a happy tone on his otherwise dour personality. He's got to do something - it boggles my mind at how the Vatican has turned a blind eye to US Catholics during this priest pedophilia scandal. Do they think this is just going to "go away?" Probably - that was their MO during the `40s,`50s and `60s when the majority of this abuse happened anyway.

If I ran any other religious congregation - synagogue, temple, strip mall worship center - I'd put out a sign "Any Catholics Looking for a Change? Come on in!" I'd have a big ole' lapsed Catholic open house, with bingo, hot cross buns and fish on fridays. To make them feel at home, I'd yell at them for being bad Catholics.

But let's face it - there is a huge gap between modern American Catholics and the uber-conservative tone the Vatican has taken over the past quarter century. We're jaded, bitter, and really would like to believe in our beliefs. Our beliefs are just not shared with the men who run the place. Let's do a recap:

1981
America thinks Iran is bad.
Vatican thinks Iran is bad.

America and Vatican are friends.

1984
America thinks Soviet Union is really bad.
Vatican thinks Soviet Union is really bad.

America and Vatican really are friends.

1991
America thinks Iraq is bad
Vatican thinks Iraq is kinda naughty.

America and Vatican are still friends.

2004
America thinks pedophiliac priests are really bad.
Vatican thinks pedophiliac priests are just "misunderstood."

That's the same fuzzy logic that galls me about Michael Jackson's supporters. Dude made three good albums 20 years ago, and has been diddling little kids ever since. At what point does "Thriller" even out the loss of a child's innocence and soul? One child? Two? Five? When do you say "No more kids for you, Michael, even if you did make "Smooth Criminal?"

Same thing with the priest scandal. If the pedophilia wasn't institutionalized, buried, repressed - hell - tolerated and accepted - by the Church, this would have easily been the case of a handful of bad priests with bad urges and bad actions. But when the whole organization is implicit in the scandal, what does that say about any of it?

So, welcome Pope Benedict XVI, of Germany, the country known for keen, progressive thought. Welcome to the current state of the Catholic Church, and please make some amends, otherwise it's going to be awfully lonely in that Vatican City apartment, with just a bunch of paintings and sculptures to keep you company.

--------------------------------

Benedict XVI - what does this guy think he is, a Super Bowl?

Parking by Braille

After spending half of my teens and all of my 20s auto accident free, I popped my car-smashing cherry last year in a spectacular spin-out on 695 near the B-W Parkway. Much like holding your urine at a night out, because you know what happens when you break the seal...I banged up my one year old car while attempting to park.

I was checking out a place Sunday in DC - nice place, near Cap Hill and a dog park. I was attempting to parallel park into a spot when I hit the car in front of me. How - I have no idea. I've been parallel parking since the Nixon Administration. I was born during the Nixon Administration. I have squeezed cars twice the size of my Pontiac Vibe, Raider, into spots half as small.

I have become, simply, a bad parker. I can not handle this.

My quarter panels and front bumper are scratched up. The car I hit has a scuff on the bumper. My car definitely took the brunt of the assault.

My ride needs pimped.

I wonder what my Vibe, Raider, would be like pimped. I watched Xhibit do his thing once - I don't need a fish tank in the floorboards, but I would like a new quarter panel. Maybe a nice Thule roof rack would be keen. Uh...I guess I could use a XM receiver, and an iPod interface for the stereo. Put in a subwoofer while you're at it, X. If I'm moving to the city, I could use those urban steel bumpers that protect my delicate little Vibe, Raider. We could get some shrapnel from Iraq, glue it on. Wouldn't take much. Think about it, MTV - the pimping of my ride would be the cheapest of any pimps so far.

Pimp my ride.

Just call me "swami"

Read yesterday's entry, and then read this...

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A47814-2005Apr12.html (registration might be required)

Close on the Horizon, Plans for Taller Rosslyn
By Annie GowenWashington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, April 13, 2005; Page A01

Arlington County officials are backing a plan to significantly increase building heights in Rosslyn, making for a more dramatic skyline but raising concerns about airline safety and the future of the sweeping vistas along the Potomac.
At issue is a proposal to build a 39-story office tower in Rosslyn that would rival the Washington Monument in height and soar above the 300-foot-tall buildings that were equally controversial when they went up nearly 25 years ago.

(snipped)

I have my finger on the pulse of the region, baby.

- moi moi moi

Do I really miss Des Moines????

The short answer to that improbable question is, sussinctly, no. I don't miss sub-zero weather nor the 200+ mph winds. I don't miss the smell of cow crap everywhere. I definitely don't miss restaurants like Red Lobster being termed "exotic."

What I do miss (short of Cajun Prime Rib at Buzzard Billy's and super markets the size of Boston) is the affordability. I had a 2 BR, 1 BA apartment in a fairly pricy part of Des Moines in 1998 and `99. I paid $575 a month for it.

My fantastically cheesy rowhome in Canton (Baltimore, Not Ohio), circa 2001, was $675 a month. Other places in Canton (Baltimore, Not China) were renting for 800 to 1100 a month. Some fantastically-restored places were 1300 a month, but were usually 3 bedrooms.

I haven't found A SINGLE PLACE in DC or Northern Virginia less than $800. That was for a basement apartment. Slightly damp. The rental home's washer and dryer are located IN the basement apartment, meaning the other housemates need to walk through the basement apartment to use the laundry. The house is shared by two women, and we all know how the ladies are prone to doing a load of laundry every day. So...hmmm...I can smell the privacy concerns from here.

A single bedroom place can be found for 900-ish, but, here's the kicker - they have MAXIMUM INCOME REQUIREMENTS...so, if you make more than, say, 38k a year, you can't have this place. Where in any mathematical sense does this make any sense? Wouldn't a HIGHER income make it more likely for the tenant to be able to afford the rent? If somebody's making 38k a year, they're actually making 26k a year - let's be honest. And 900 a month is really 1000 a month. 12 thousand a year in rent, leaving 14 thousand for things like car, insurance, food...that's not much in an area where gas is almost as much per gallon as a Frappucino.

So far, I have not turned my status as a new Washingtonian (and my complete and utter lack of shame or self-awareness) into himboness. Though it would be fun. The embassies alone churn out enough single lasses to keep any self-respecting American male in the gym 20 hours a day to work off our diet of burgers and beer. And there's so much more - I could sleep my way through Washington's female power structure, from lonely Hill staffers to middle-aged lobbyists who realize their child-bearing years are fading away faster than the viability of Skeet Ulrich's acting career. The man's a dead ringer for Johnny Depp, people - somebody give him a role, please!

I'm not sure when DC became Midtown Manhattan, but it seems to have happened when I wasn't paying attention. It wasn't that long ago when people were moving out of the District faster than U-Haul could get trailers to the city.

DC's traffic sucks so bad because so many people couldn't even dream of living in the city, so they need to move 60, 90, 120 miles away just to afford a decent place at an affordable price. You wanna clean up the traffic and the environment in one fell swoop? Knock down 3 dozen strip malls and replace them with housing. With the multi-billion projects going on the Beltway, with the new bridge and the regroom of the infamous Mixing Bowl, couldn't a bit of those funds go to improve conditions WITHIN the Beltway? Try knocking down a crackhouse and putting up a townhouse.

And get rid of that stupid rule limiting building height to that of the Capitol Dome and the Washington Monument. That law may have been all cute when the area had room to sprawl. This is the 8th biggest metro in the US, and Madison, Wisconsin has taller buildings. Build some skyscrapers, put in 80th floor condos, and increase the population density. Voila' - problem solved.

You may say I'm a dreamer. But I'm not the only one.

It's not like DC is *THAT* glamorous, either. New York, LA - they're both expensive, but you actually get something you pay for - in NYC, you get the joy of living in a city that never sleeps, with unparalleled culture, entertainment, excitement, Woody Allen and 2 baseball teams. LA - you get a chance to drink chai with George Clooney and be discovered while stopped in traffic. People are really pretty out there, and most of us would be willing to pay for better scenery. DC - let's see...you might run into a page from the junior Senator from Montana at a softball game. If you're lucky, you might get cut off by Alan Greenspan. You will be cut off by a bike messenger.

New York was home to Sex in the City. LA is home to Vivid Video. Washington has crowded Metro cars where you *might* get an accidental grab-and-poke, but it's even money if it's from a girl or a guy.

There's lot of single women here, no doubt, and many of them are foreign and spectacular. Here's the J.Lo - BUT all the hot ones have boyfriends back home. The ugly ones gripe about the lack of single men. The slutty ones write about their hook-ups on their blog, and turn their cut-rate trollopness into a book deal (this means you, Jessica Cutler). Every one of them fashions themselves as a policy wonk. The ticking of the DC area's collective biological clock is amazing - deafening, omniprecent, tangible. So many women concentrate on their career that they forget about social lives. They all wake up at 38 and go "CRAP!"

Their first question to a potential mate is "What do you do?" which is answered in Denver with "skiier" or "hiker" or "kayaker" and in Austin as "guitarist" or "drummer" or "acoutstic singer-songwriter." None of those would get you anywhere in DC., boys. The correct answers here are "lawyer" or "doctor" or "lawyer." Men in those professions are considered "good husband material." Anything is worthy of only contempt or a pity one-night stand.

Much like "Dr. Strangelove," Pickens is Slim.

The town is so pent up, so me oriented, so lost-in-its-communal-iPod that Craigslist's Missed Connections gets more hits than Elle MacPherson's webcam. Read the posts - I double dog dare you - you will see a town that thinks it is so powerful in its worldview, but powerless to say hello to an attractive stranger. Put down The Examiner and Examine her, Washington!

If I could work my mojo into free lodging, you know I would. When I find "Bitter Divorcee Night" at the Bethesda Yacht Club, I'm all over it. Otherwise, I'll just scan the rental ads like the Zapruder film and hope I fall into a dog-friendly place to live, close to work. And if that cute brunette I made eye contact with at Zola's the other night reads Craigslist's MCs, too, and recognizes herself, all will be glorious.

When it gets down to it...I just really miss Skeet Ulrich.

telecomic out.

more slower thans...

... than an Iowan with a Palm Pilot
... than CVS in flu season
... than a government employee on break
... than a Pentium 133/16MB RAM trying to run SuSE Linux 5.3 ( I mean, seriously, who would do that???)
... than a Mexican restaurant during the Atkin's Diet craze
... than a ghetto movie theater playing "Sideways"
... than a redneck family wondering how they got a free trip to Chicago, only to be "shocked" when they appear on Jerry Springer
... that same family wondering why their trailer home gets punk'd by every tornado in a four state radius
... than a Georgian watching Dennis Miller
... than Muhammad Ali reading a limerick
... than a Colorado surfer
... than Samuel Beckett's sequel "Godot STILL Ain't Here Yet"
... than a drunk guy ordering at Denny's at 3:12AM
... than a stripper on Jeopardy!
... than a Star Trek fan on a date

How Slow Is My DC Commute?

slower than...

1) a redneck in college
2) a Japanese taxi driver
3) an old guy in the buffet line
4) a fat kid in gym class
5) George W Bush in a spelling bee
6) Bil Clinton in a sorority house
7) Larry King in a marathon
8) a Jamacian bobsledder
9) a Nebraska slalom
10) a fire drill at a nursing home (slip-sliding away...)
11) an amputee doing sign language
12) Stevie Wonder speed reading
13) the Robert Blake jury
14) the keynote address at the NORML convention "Hey, man...who's hungry?"
15) Ozzy Osbourne doing math
16) a made-for-Lifetime movie
17) introductions at the first meeting of Stutterers Anonymous
18) Mexican Basketball League's Slam-Dunk Contest "it's day three and nobody's tall enough to touch the rim!!!"
19) You know that guy in the `86 Escort doing 20 MPH under the speed limit willingly on an other-wise empty road? Well, slower than that.
20) a stoned barista at Starbucks "A decaf maci-what, man?"
21) a southerner trying to give directions
22) a southerner in med school
23) an Amish rave
24) a turtle porno
25) pretty much any Kevin Costner movie since Bull Durham
26) Bingo night at the Tourette's foundation
27) a southern library
28) a Wal-Mart greeter
29) the relative airspeed of the Aruban horsefly in given revolution to the PRX-49 asteroid rotating in the 4th ring of the Van Claussen belt.
30) double-coupon day at Shopper's Food Warehouse

others...?

this just in...

the Pope is still dead. Stay tuned to CBS News for the latest developments.