An Entirely Other Day

Incognito

Sat, 03 May 2008 23:37:43 -0400

Incognito

"The American People"

Sat, 03 May 2008 03:47:00 -0400

The top Google result for the phrase “The American People” — as of this writing — is a project I created years ago that scans political stories on Yahoo for the phrase “the American People.” It pulls out the relevant paragraph and collects them together, in an attempt to show how the phrase (and, presumably, what it represents) is treated by politicians, i.e. like a three-dollar hooker.

That needs to change. There’s a band called “The American People” and they’re great. They actually deserve the top spot, earning it through effort and quality instead of a gimmick. I know Google is supposed to be the ultimate example of democratic participation and meritocracy, but if the abuse of the phrase “the American People” demonstrates anything, it’s that the enthusiasm with which something is cited almost directly relates to how insipidly it’s being used.

The American People deserve “The American People,” and “The American People” deserve your attention.

Things I Learned About My Dad (In Therapy)

Sat, 03 May 2008 03:21:00 -0400

A while back, I was lucky enough to get an e-mail out of the blue from Heather Armstrong, inviting me to contribute to an anthology of stories about fatherhood that she was editing. She’d been pointed at me by Jason Kottke, who has been around long enough to remember when I actually used to write things, and that at some point I had managed to become a father.

And so, to celebrate the release of “Things I Learned About My Dad (In Therapy)” and its inclusion of my essay (against all editorial common sense), I managed to get really, really mad at my boys.

The bit is called “Peas and Domestic Tranquility,” and is about paternal anger. Write what you know. I’ve managed to immortalize — between hard covers, in the Library of Congress — the fact that I’m kind of an asshole.

The first conscious parental thought I ever had — cradling my bawling three-week-old son in my arms, and staring out the window at the grey light crawling over the horizon — was, “OK. Don’t kill the baby.”

The previous weeks had been packed with various adoring unconscious parental thoughts, coming in unexpected and upending waves: so this is what pure love is; I have the most amazing wife in the whole world; he smiled, I swear he smiled, not gas, it was a smile, at me; good God, is that tar coming out of his ass?

But this was a very intentional and seriously considered conscious thought, something I had very intentionally and seriously worked at, very intentionally and seriously forced into my head. It was required in the face of the new and ugly unconscious thoughts that were suddenly welling up from some dark corner of my sanity after a series of long and grindingly slow nights spent cajoling, begging and ultimately attempting to bribe the boy to just goddamned go to sleep, sweet holy Christ, just please go to sleep.

OK. Don’t kill the baby. Breathe in, breathe out. No baby killing. OK.

Raising a child is easily the most maddening thing I’ve ever done. It is, of course, also the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. The latter gets a lot of attention — frozen in time and assembled neatly in picture albums, scrap-books, family stories — while the former, nearly as significant in the big, day-to-day scheme of things, is the subject of only ominous public service announcements and scolding looks from strangers, your parents and your mate. Everybody gets mad at their kids; nobody likes to talk about it.

You bring an infant home from the hospital, and he seems the smallest, most delicate, most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s brand new, a brand new person, and you are there to protect him and nurture him and teach him and mold him and help him to become the man that is everything that he might be. And he grows! He grows so fast. And he acquires a personality, and a will of his own, and he has wants and needs and he matures and blossoms in ways that you wouldn’t have dreamt of those first few special weeks. And as much as you love him and cherish him and are proud of him, you simply cannot freakin’ goddamned believe the massive trail of destruction he’s left in his wake. God! Just once, please just once, will you clean up your room? God!

Do not kill the baby.

It goes on from there, documenting everything Child Protective Services is going to need to put me away for a long time.

Reading the book, I’m astonished at the quality of every essay that wasn’t written by me. Some are sweet, some are heartbreaking, most are funny — it’s a wonderful book, and it truly is an honor to be included. I’m now forever squatting squarely next to some of the best writers on the Web, and they can’t do anything about it, ha ha ha ha.

Told you I was kind of an asshole.

Note to Identity Thieves: It's Worth It to Hire a Copywriter and Use a Spell Checker

Sat, 29 Mar 2008 04:24:08 -0400

Subject: Kind Attention, From (FBI USA)
From: Agent Larry Hans (FBI) [fbi@fbi.com]

CYBER WIRETAP AND FUNDS RECOVERY DEPARTMENT,
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, (FBI).
J.EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
935 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE,
NW WASHINGTON, D.C
20535-0001, USA .

Kind Attention,

We believe this notification meets you in a very good state of mind and health. The FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION (FBI) Washington, D.C United States of America in conjunction with some other relevant Investigative Agencies here in the USA have recently been informed through our Global intelligence monitoring network that you have a pending FUND transaction with a Bank regarding to an over-due Inheritance / Award payment which was fully endorsed to be paid in your favor.

It might interest you to know that we have taken out time in screening through this whole transaction as stipulated on our protocol of operation and have finally confirmed that BARCLAYS BANK PLC, is the authorized financial institution scheduled to make your payment in line with their remittance requirements. Several investigations by us have shown that you have been dealing with some unauthorized persons and banks regarding the transfer of these funds to your bank account.

Our UK attachee agent recently had a meeting with the Manager of BARCLAYS BANK PLC, in the person of MR. NAIL WIHTE along with some other top officials of BARCLAYS BANK PLC, regarding your case and they made us to understand that your file has been held in abase pending when you personally file for your claims. They intimated him that the only problem they are facing right now is that some unscrupulous element are using this project as an avenue to scam innocent people off their hard earned money by impersonating to be STAFF OF BANKS and its affiliates.

We were also made to understand that a lady with name Mrs. Joan C. Bailey from Ohio, United Of America has already contacted them and also presented to them all the necessary documentations evidencing your claim purported to have been signed personally by you prior to the release of your funds to her, though they insisted on hearing from you personally before they could go ahead on wiring the funds to the Bank information provided by the above named Lady. It is basically one of the main reasons why they contacted us, to enable us assist them in carrying out proper investigation and subsequently informing you of their mandate to Remitting your funds.

Most importnatly, We advise that you discontinue further dealings with any person or organization posing as staff or affiliate of any bank or agency concerning the transfer of your funds. In your own interest, You are advised to immediately contact BARCLAYS BANK PLC, LONDON on the following details for the onward remittance of your funds.

CONTACT PERSON : MR. NAIL WHITE.
ADDRESS: P. O. BOX 738, Eagle Court 75 King Street, Hammersmith London, W6 9HY, U. K.
Direct Tel: +(44) 207 1797777.
Tel / Fax: +(44) 7005-942-285.
Private Banking Section: +(44) 703 1818003.
EMAIL: barcylondon@hotmail.com
Official Website: www.barclaysbank.co.uk

Ensure that you comply to all their remittance procedures and also furnish them with your full details (Full names and address, direct telephone and fax numbers, source of funds,Expected Amount, etc) to enable them in their verification processes before the release of your funds.

Best Regards,
Agent Larry Hans.
Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) Washington DC, USA.

Notes from Austin

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 14:40:00 -0400

Of course, the very first actual Texan I saw in Texas had a Zapata.

The phrase “Keep Austin Weird” seems to mainly apply to the design of the Convention Center. I think it’s a tesseract. “OK, you need to talk through that door in the ceiling, turn around and come right back through it. That’s the third level. Then, you need to believe you’re in Room 9.”

Texas apparently still thinks it’s still its own country.

The shoeshine stand at the Austin airport has different rates for shoes and boots. I guess it comes up a lot.

“Star” appears to be the prevailing decorative theme.

Whoever scheduled “Bridal Events of Distinction” to be in the Convention Center overlapping South by Southwest Interactive has a wonderful, evil sense of humor. One ballroom on the ground floor was packed with pert-nosed, steely-eyed Texas belles, working towards the fantasy wedding they’ve had planned since they were four. And just down the hall were frizzy-haired, haphazardly bathed geeks crawling on the floor and playing in the Lego pile.

The bellhops at the Radisson wear big, black, stupid cowboy hats. In case, y’know, someone has to check some cattle.

On the Other Hand, Now They Know How to Mop

Sun, 24 Feb 2008 15:11:03 -0500

Once you have kids, the phrase “syrup fight” is a much less enjoyable way to start a Sunday.

7:15pm: "What Do You Mean Today Is Valentine's Day?"

Sat, 23 Feb 2008 18:21:01 -0500

You know what’s awesome? I’ll tell you what’s awesome. A guy buying the cheap carnation bouquet from Costco at 7:30pm on Valentine’s Day night.

You know why it’s awesome? Because it’s not me doing it anymore.

Roomba Goes for the Donkey Show Demographic

Sat, 23 Feb 2008 17:54:30 -0500

Roomba Goes for the Donkey Show Demographic

Town to Town, Up and Down the Dial

Sun, 17 Feb 2008 12:02:25 -0500

Joanne and I are in the bathroom, getting dressed, and I look up and say, “You know what I’ve had stuck in my head all morning? The ‘WKRP’ theme song. You remember? ‘Baby, if you ever wondered—’”

“Stop!”

“Wondered, whatever became of—”

“Stop it! Shut up!”

And so I shut up, and there’s a pause.

And then she says, “Dammit.”

End of the Sledding Trip

Fri, 25 Jan 2008 01:24:11 -0500

End of the Sledding Trip

Start of the Sledding Trip

Fri, 25 Jan 2008 01:23:52 -0500

Start of the Sledding Trip

It's Fifty-Fifty That a Horse Gets the VP Slot

Mon, 14 Jan 2008 00:29:00 -0500

John Moe, of Weekend America, did a great profile of the head (and only paid member) of Ron Paul’s Montana campaign on Saturday. David Hart is clearly insane, and you can’t help but love him for it.

[H]e sees some deep-seated problems in the country and he feels a sense of urgency. “I began researching things like the Federal Reserve System and some of the elite organizations that are kind of like the man behind the curtain in the Wizard of Oz. You’ve got organizations that have a lot of power in this nation and control the way things work. And when I started digging into that further, I realized that it wasn’t just conspiracy theory, it was reality. And there’s a lot of truth to some of these, quote, conspiracy theories that are out there.”

I asked him which ones.

“Well, like the Council on Foreign Relations,” he said. “Back in 1989 when I first learned about this organization, it was hard to get anyone in mainstream media to even acknowledge that it existed. Now it’s talked about very freely and openly. But their objective is not for the well-being of the American people or the sovereignty of this nation. They’ve got an agenda that erodes our sovereignty and leads us more toward global government.”

The Council on Foreign Relations did not return a phone call requesting comment for this story.

Later, another Paul supporter goes after Big, Um, Linguistic Theory:

Clarice Ryan is retired and has concerns about education. “The first step is getting rid of phonics because with phonics you can’t read. And if you can’t read, you can’t learn. There’s always been people trying to take over the world since the Roman Empire days.”

And:

[L]ibertarianism presents some political challenges. Judy Campbell recalls a conversation with a potential supporter who wasn’t registered to vote. “So I gave him a voter registration card, and I said take care of that, and I’ll see you later. And he said, ‘No. I won’t register to vote because I don’t want the government knowing who I am and what my business is.’ And so this is a problem with Montanans.”

So. The Council on Foreign Relations, phonics, off-the-grid paranoia. You throw chem-trails and precious bodily fluids in there and I think I’ve found my candidate for 2008.

Sad, Sweet One-Act Play, Told Entirely By a Burger King Receipt...

Sun, 13 Jan 2008 22:59:00 -0500

Sad, Sweet One-Act Play, Told Entirely By a Burger King Receipt I Found

Half a Life, Indeed

Sat, 05 Jan 2008 19:13:22 -0500

It rained all last night, and this morning the ground was still wet when I went outside to the car, the air thick and deadening. And when I heard the heavy whump-whump-whump of the helicopter overhead, hidden above the gray clouds, I did a quick circular sweep of the sky and tried to pull out the rocket launcher.

Which, of course, I didn’t actually, y’know, have.

I’m finally playing Half-Life 2 (yes, yes, late), and the goddamned thing is seeping into the real world. I know at some point someone is going to throw a whole, plucked chicken at me and I’ll freak out and start beating it with a crowbar.

The last time this happened, I’d been playing a lot of Battlefield 2 and couldn’t look out the window of my office without seeing a sniper cross-hair superimposed over the people down on the sidewalk.

Which wasn’t all that different than normal, actually.

The Fifteen Second Game

Thu, 03 Jan 2008 22:54:00 -0500

The boys and I have a game we play, every single morning.

I say, “Put your shoes on” and they say, “OK.” I then come back five minutes later and say, “Why aren’t your shoes on?” and they say, “I couldn’t find them.” I then say, “You didn’t even look, did you?” and they say, “Yes, I did! I looked everywhere!”

I then say, “I’m now going to spend fifteen seconds looking for your shoes,” and I do, and I find them, very often in the same room that we’re standing in.

It’s not a very fun game.

Superior Idioleptonemaographed!

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 10:37:40 -0500

Superior Idioleptonemaographed!

Superior Idioleptonemaography

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 10:37:12 -0500

Taking cell-phone pictures of the top of your head to see if you really are as balding as people say.

Also, the Phrase "Merlin's Twitter."

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 00:55:00 -0500

Greg Knauss: You're like the white, male Oprah.
Michael Genrich: Oh, Christ. Do I have to sleep with Stedman?
Greg Knauss: And do that thing he likes.
Michael Genrich: I have but one tongue.
Greg Knauss: That's what the surgery will fix.
twitter@twitter.com: hotdogsladies: Viggo Mortensen has completely changed the way I think about insanely brutal nude fight scenes.
Greg Knauss: You just see Merlin's Twitter?
Greg Knauss: Somehow my various direct and async conversations are lining up.
Michael Genrich: I...
Michael Genrich: Uh, I am not sure what to say.
Greg Knauss: Also, the phrase "Merlin's Twitter."

We’ve Defeated Batman and Col. Mustard, Sir, and Taken...

Thu, 27 Dec 2007 22:15:00 -0500

We’ve Defeated Batman and Col. Mustard, Sir, and Taken Control of the Sprinkles

Tough as Nails

Fri, 14 Dec 2007 22:09:00 -0500

You know how cowboys will jump off their horses and grab errant calves by the horns and bring them down and turn them over and tie their legs up? That’s how I cut my kids’ toenails.

They sit on the divan in my bathroom and I sit on the floor in front of them facing away, and I wedge a leg under my arm and hang on for dear life as they kick and buck and just generally claim that I’m tickling them while I wave what amounts to a knife around. Ha ha! Fun! And if you end up maimed, well maybe next time you’ll sit still.

But recently, instead of leaving heel-shaped dents in my back with their free foot, they’ve found a new way to try to keep me from providing basic hygiene. Looking up and over my shoulder, I had this conversation with Tom:

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you going blonde?”

“Blonde?”

“On the top of your head, in back. Like Lex Luthor.”

“Ah. You mean ‘bald.’”

“Bald!” he says, and laughs.

So I tightened my grip on his leg and tickle away.