Sweet NeoCon

I haven't been given a reason to even remotely like the Rolling Stones for at least 15 years. But they have a new album coming out next month, and it includes a song seemingly about Bush. It's called "Sweet Neo Con." Sample Lyric: "You call yourself a Christian, I call you a hypocrite. You call yourself a patriot, well I think you're full of shit. How come you're so wrong, my sweet neo-con?"

Sweet.

A Nation of English Majors

From the keyboard of my fellow English major Garrison Keillor:

"When I was in college, the smart people were going into engineering, which had solid long-term prospects, and only we dweezils majored in English, and look what happened: Engineers are being laid off, America is losing its capacity to manufacture things (my phone was made in China, of course), but every day we turn out trillions of words about ourselves, bloggers blogging, floods of memoir, daydreaming, carpet chewing, and when eventually the Chinese repo men come to collect on our debt, they will find a nation of highly articulate self-aware people who can't change an oil filter but maintain wonderful Web sites. A nation of English majors."

Out of the Frying Pan...

...and into a slightly less sizzling hot frying pan? Maybe. See, I just heard on NPR that my new state, Illinois, doesn't have the money to pay the pensions of its employees (i.e. me). Here's the report from Chicago Public Radio.

It's Official - Part Deux

I got my Illinois license plates today!

Got Hydration?

So I went to Meijer today, and apparently I am now buying my Gatorade in the ONE GALLON sized containers. See, I realized that I was drinking more than one 32 ounce bottle before and after a run, so then I started buying the 64 ounce bottles. But I soon noticed I was pretty much finishing off ONE of those before and after a single run. So now I'll see if the one gallon jugs do the trick.

Hehe. He said "jugs."

Yes. Yes I did.

In other running news, my right heel is sore. I suppose it's no big surprise, given the recent spike in my weekly mileage. Hopefully it'll go away. In the meantime, I bought some Advil geltabs. I don't really like taking any medication, but I hate the thought of not running even more.

Mmmm, speaking of running, it's almost 6 PM, which means it's time to stare down oncoming traffic on Route 12. See ya!

It's Official!

I'm a college graduate (again)!:

BSED
A1 AWARDED
BACHELOR OF SCIENCE IN EDUCATION
GRD DTE: 08/05

Next step? Michigan and Illinois Teacher Certification.

When does school start again? (Answer: August 23rd, and, yes, I am cutting it pretty close, thankyouverymuch)

Fresh Air: Political Humorist Bill Maher's 'New Rules'

Here is another terrific Fresh Air interview with the so right on Bill Maher.

I was just telling someone about Maher's point that "not everything is a slippery slope," using one of Rick Santorum's steepest slopes as an example. In this interview, Maher uses the same example. Great minds, eh? :)

Bush on Jennings - Redux and Deluxe

Okay, here is the exact text of Bush's remarks "aboot" Peter Jennings.

It still sounds like an 8th grader's oral report.

SLOOOOOOAN!

What're you doing for Labor Day, Jerky? Me, I'm going to see Sloan at the Arts, Beats, and Eats fest in Pontiac, Michigan.

SLOOOOOOAN! SLOOOOOOAN!

All Alone

I just got done watching this week's episode of Six Feet Under. And, yeah, I cried. So what. Fuck you.

So I think there's going to be one more episode, followed by a two-part retrospective. But I can't help but feel that they've already reached a suitable series conclusion with this episode, entitled "All Alone." It feels...complete to me. What will they do for the last episode of the series? Well, Lauren Ambrose, who played Claire Fisher, says in a Salon.com interview that it will be an "enormous" episode. Knowing this show, it'll certainly be something special. Anyway, I think I'm going to watch "All Alone" a second time. Who needs sleep, right? I can sleep when I'm, um...you know.

Bush on Peter Jennings

I can't find any verification of this, so it could be apocryphal. But the following is purported to be George W's eulogy of newsman Peter Jennings:

"I heard about the death of Peter Jennings. Peter Jennings was a newsman. Peter Jennings covered important stories. Peter Jennings will be missed. God rest his soul."

And then he walked off.

Awesome.

Sucks Redux

Earlier today I asked: "Do I actually think that “it’s going to turn out different this time?” Or do I just momentarily forget?"

And then I realized that it's because it doesn't really always turn out this way. It just feels like it.

Here's a self portrait that I took this weekend:



I call it "Thinkin' bout them Duke boys."

Alone Again. Naturally.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I even try, when I ought to know better by fucking now? Yeah, that's right. I got rejected again. And you know something? It really fucking sucks being the eligible thirtysomething male equivalent of the Velvet Underground circa 1968. Of course, according to that comparison, I will be highly lauded in 25 years. But come the fuck on! I mean, how long has it been already? The VU began to garner acclaim 15 years after they broke up! Is it 25 years after my demise?! Because that really won’t work for me.

Seriously, my friend Jason and I have this theory that we, as exceptional (in both meanings of the word) people have a much harder time finding other exceptional people to date. We can’t, or won’t, date just anybody. And there are so many fewer like-minded, appropriate people out there for us to date. Particularly when we choose to live in the sticks, for Pete’s sake! So we go long, long times without dating. And we are both, heh, almost handsome, which only makes it more difficult. :)

Almost handsome. Yeah, I saw that on a shirt this weekend and thought it was perfect for me. Though today I am feeling like maybe I’m flattering myself with even that.

So anyway, back to my latest rejection. Pretty much as soon as I moved here to Wisconsinois, I found this woman (my age for the first time in over four years) who I would also characterize as exceptional (in both meanings of the word). I thought, “Hey, this might be worth investigating.” So I did. And as a bonus, she turned out to be cute as a button and pretty hot to boot. We had many, many things in common, like music, running, politics, etc. On paper, very, very promising.

Yet I wasn’t surprised when she took a pass. No chemistry. Actually, “spark,” specifically the lack of it, was the word that she used. And while I often think that we need to grow out of our overemphasis on chemistry as the sole determining factor for proceeding (or not) with relationships, well, that’s pretty fucking easy for the unattractive person in the situation to say, now isn’t it? And I have to admit that it’s a factor for me too. I am an extremely picky person in this department. Far pickier than I have any right to be, being neither rich nor handsome nor even possessing the kind of self esteem that makes those two irrelevant. Either way, I guess it’s an easy, basically elemental question, isn’t it? Do I want to kiss this person? Yes or no? In this case, once again, someone, in considering the prospect of kissing me, said “no.”

Which brings me back to the start. It always fucking turns out this way, with someone saying “no” to the prospect of kissing me and me being depressed as shit and wondering why on Earth I ever tried in the first place, when it always turns out the same. Do I actually think that “it’s going to turn out different this time?” Or do I just momentarily forget? Please, somebody remind me next time I start talking about some chick. Because…

It’s not going to stop. So just give up. Oh Aimee Mann, why don’t I ever listen to you properly?



Self-pitying rant composed to: Lilys - In the Presence of Nothing

Trying to be a better blogger

First off, this is sad. I've come to abhor the 30-minute TV newscasts, but if I had to watch one, it was always Peter Jennings. Yeah, sure, so he was blatantly pro-Palestine. And he said "aboot" instead of "about." But he's the guy I watched during the aftermath of 9/11. That says a lot.

So anyway, I've been thinking that I will begin blogging more about personal stuff again. Obviously, I got burned out on trying to be (yet) a(nother) clearinghouse for anti-Bush news, editorials, comics, and rants (by me, of course). I mean, every morning, I check this blog, and this one, this one, this one, this one, and this one. And they are all personal blogs, all but one of them written by people I've actually known in my life (you can figure out which is which...or not). So it occurred to me that I have moved to a place where I know no one (unless you give me a 65-mile radius, and then I know less than ten) and people might be wanting to keep up with my shit like I keep up with others' shit. And, you know, I enjoy reading about my long ago GF Wendy's pregnancy. And Tom's ever-growing disgust with Ohio. And Anne's domestic bliss. So I figure maybe you'd like to read about my new life in Wisconsinois (what I am calling the almost-Wisconsin area of Illinois that I blindly moved to). So here goes.

I saw the Judybats yesterday. The Judybats were, and are again, a pop band out of Knoxville Tennessee who had the misfortune of releasing their debut CD right before Nirvana changed everything. But they kept plugging away, even as they lost two members after the first CD, then another, and another, and another, until the singer was the sole remaining original member. And then nothing. But I read recently that Johnny (rhythm guitar) had rejoined Jeff (singer) and they were playing as the Judybats again. Fast forward to North Halsted Street Market Days, a HUGE street fair that takes place in my old Lakeview neighborhood in Chicago. Bands play at Market Days. When I first moved to Chicago in the summer of 1995, I went to Market Days and saw Big Audio Dynamite! I also saw The Posterchildren and Better Than Ezra. But...BAD! I saw a former member of the Clash, man! That was awesome. So anyway, yesterday The Judybats played Market Days. Here's a pic:



They were really good. It did my heart good to see such a huge crowd there to see them, after the non-career that they had. It was like the last scene in a movie. Redemption! :)

Anyway, I've always had a soft spot for Market Days. And it was neat to be back in my old neighborhood again, checking out what had changed (Evil Clown, my beloved record store, closed) and what hadn't (gays and lesbians everywhere, out and proud, which I think is really nice). And to really take me back to '95, I saw my friend Tony and his roommates from that era. All in all, I came away from the day wishing, more than ever, that I lived in Chicago again.

But I don't. I live in Wisconsinois. Wisconsinois, where my shity headset radio cannot pick up anything well. Wisconsinois, where I cannot get Chicago Public Radio. Wisconsinois, where I am forced to run along Route 12. And I'm up to 50 miles a week this summer. So to make my runs more enjoyable, and after considering satellite radio first, I bought an iPod Mini, my first ever iPod. See, they podcast a few of my favorite radio shows (Al Franken, NPR's On The Media, and Harry Shearer's Le Show). I also bought an armband carrying case for my iPod, so I will never, ever drop it. Two runs in and it is AWESOME! Tonight I listened to an episode of On The Media and then, to satisfy my recommended daily allowance, the Sloan singles compilation. I am one happy runner, man. Now I just have to keep from getting hit head on. I'm figuring my odds of that happening are considerbaly higher that they were before I spent nine hours a week on the shoulder of Route 12.

But you gotta go sometime. Just ask Peter Jennings.

And there you have it. Full circle.

Peace

Peace?

Yes, that would be nice.

Andy

PS: Check me out on myspace here.