Byflist

2006-08-06T04:32:00.000-04:00

Susan Butcher

1954-2006

Out of the office

2006-06-04T11:38:00.000-04:00

Most of you, if you're still checking this at all, have noticed I haven't been posting. I'm out of lists. So I'm shutting down my blog until further notice. Don't hesitate to check back.

Love, Byf

Underrated actresses

2006-02-28T12:04:00.000-05:00

In the spirit of Academy Awards season, I'm presenting my own list of nominees for lifetime achievement in the underrated actresses category. You see them as supporting characters in big-budget films, or as generally uncelebrated character actresses. Perhaps some of them are not beautiful enough to be accepted on the red carpet. At any rate, they're all No. 1 in the Oscars in my head.

• Rusty Schwimmer. The blue-collar woman's actress. You've seen her as minor characters in countless TV and film projects. She invests her characters with no-nonsense sensibilities and non-sentimental sentimentality. This is your Aunt Joan. Don't miss:
The Perfect Storm, as the widow of one of the lost seamen
Six Feet Under, in an episode in which she plays a biker widow
North Country, as one of Charlize Theron's mine co-workers

• Swoosie Kurtz. She can do anything. Her timing and delivery are invariably perfect. And I can't believe she hasn't been nominated for an Oscar yet. Don't miss:
Dangerous Liaisons, as Madame de Volanges, worrywart mother of Uma Thurman's character. Best line, delivered to villainess Glenn Close, who is working to corrupt her daughter: "You're such a very good influence on her."
Cruel Intentions, appearing in yet a second version of "Les Liaisons Dangereuses"
Citizen Ruth, as a spy for the pro-choice movement

• Jennifer Coolidge. She's so good at acting dumb that it's hard to believe she can imbue her comic characters with such depth. Don't miss:
Legally Blonde, as Reese Witherspoon's hairdresser. Best line, as she advises Witherspoon's character on how to get her man back from a romantic rival: "What's she got that you don't? Three tits?"
Best in Show, as the heiress-cum-lesbian dog aficionado.
American Pie, in a brief appearance as Stiffler's mom.

• Conchata Ferrell. She talks as if she always has a Milk Dud in her mouth. This helps to make her endearing and sympathetic, yet she also oozes quiet authority. Dont' miss:
Mystic Pizza, as Julia Roberts' boss at Mystic Pizza.
Erin Brockovich, as Julia Roberts' co-worker, nicknamed "Krispy Kreme."

• Martha Plimpton. She's been around for a while, and you've undoubtedly heard of her, but for some reason she doesn't get the respect she deserves. Don't miss:
200 Cigarettes, as an Elvis Costello fan and discombobulated host of a New Year's party who wakes from an alcohol-induced slumber only to find that Costello has visited her party.
Pecker, as a bartender at a gay bar. Signature line: "No teabagging!"
Parenthood, as an ultra-believable teenage mother.

Brokeback Shopping

2006-02-17T12:47:00.000-05:00

Somebody sent me this. It gave me a good cackle, even though it's not exccedingly clever. Thought I'd share.

Weekly Grocery Lists for Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist, Summer 1963

WEEK ONE
Beans
Bacon
Coffee
Whiskey

WEEK TWO
Beans
Ham
Coffee
Whiskey

WEEK THREE
Beans
Bacon
Coffee
Whiskey
K-Y

WEEK FOUR
Beans
Pancetta
Coffee (espresso grind)
Whiskey
2 tubes K-Y

WEEK FIVE
Fresh Fava beans
Jasmine rice
Prosciutto, approx. 8 ounces, thinly sliced
Medallions of veal
Porcini mushrooms
1/2 pint of heavy whipping cream
1 Cub Scout uniform, size 42 long
5-6 bottles good Chardonnay
1 large bottle Astro-glide

WEEK SIX
Yukon Gold potatoes
Heavy whipping cream
Asparagus (very thin)
Eggs
Lemons
Gruyere cheese (well aged)
Walnuts
Arugula
Butter
Olive oil
Balsamic vinegar
6 yards white silk organdy
6 yards pale ivory taffeta
Case of Chardonnay
Large tin Crisco

Journalese

2006-02-02T13:40:00.000-05:00

There are certain words and phrases you read only in the newspaper. I hate most of them.

• Tout. A headline writer's favorite. "Bush touts oil independence," etc.
• Vigil. Not necessarily restricted to newspapers, but this is what I hate about it: Whenever people get together to hold some candles, they call it a vigil. Newspapers generally follow and call it that. But a vigil is a matter of keeping watch. If they're not waiting for something, like Coretta Scott King's soul to rise to heaven, it's not a vigil. It's a whole bunch of people standing around holding candles.
• Massive. I hate it when I read about a "massive" protest or some other "massive" effort. How can it be massive? It has no mass.
• Tony, Posh. How often are these words, used to describe something upscale, used in ordinary conversation? (By the way, the word posh is an acronym for "port out, starboard home" and refers to the best passenger cabins on a ship.)
• He/she/it/they is/are not alone. A lazy writer's transition. An example from The New York Times: "Digital photos, of course, never have to see paper to be shared, or even tossed out. Mr. Beacham notes that he prints only about one of every 20 pictures he takes. He is not alone. About 80 percent of digital pictures taken are never developed, Mr. Lesley of Hewlett-Packard said."
• Local hospital. How often do you read about an accident and someone was taken to a "local hospital"? As if they're going to be taken to a remote or out-of-the-way hospital.
• Halt. What's wrong with the word stop? How often do people say "halt"?

I could go on and on, and probably will at some other point.

Newspaper names

2006-01-31T02:44:00.000-05:00

A quick newspaper lesson: The federal Newspaper Preservation Act established the joint operating agreement, or JOA, in which competing newspapers in the same market are allowed to combine business operations while maintaining separate newsrooms. Examples would be the Detroit Free Press and The Detroit News, and The Denver Post and The Rocky Mountain News. The act may not be doing a lot for news quality, but it did manage to slow the pace at which newspapers are merging altogether. Those full-on mergers are why many of your newspapers have hyphenated names. They can result in some interesting mastheads. Not all of the names that follow are the result of mergers, but some of the juxtapositions are interesting. It must be an art in itself deciding which newspaper name goes first. So here are my favorite newspaper names, in no particular order. This is all off the top of my head. Call me a newsnerd.

The Commercial Appeal (Memphis)
The Plain Dealer (Cleveland)
The Daily Dunklin Democrat (Kennett, Mo.)
St. Paul Pioneer Press
The Morning Call (Allentown, Pa.)
Hungry Horse News (Columbia Falls, Mont.)
Austin American-Statesman
Seattle Post-Intelligencer
The Jackson Citizen Patriot (Michigan)
Newsday (Long Island)
The Times-Picayune (New Orleans)
The Trail-Gazette (Estes Park, Colo.)
The Argus Leader (Sioux Falls, S.D.)
Tulsa World (Oklahoma)
Deseret Morning News (Salt Lake City)
The Daily Mining Gazette (Houghton, Mich.)
The Mining Journal (Marquette, Mich.)

Any favorites out there, domestic or otherwise?

To do this year

2006-01-07T16:46:00.000-05:00

Hi, I'm back.

I don't really believe in New Year's resolutions, mostly because I can never keep them, but I have resolved one thing this year: to see more of New York. I live in one of the world's great cities, and all I do is go to the bar and see an occasional movie. So this year I'm going to get out and do shit:

• Visit Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx and take pictures of the graves of famous people, including Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Miles Davis and Gertrude Ederle. (Extra points for the person who can, without consulting Google, say why Gertrude Ederle is famous. Don't cheat; I'll know.)

• Go to Coney Island. The closest I've ever gotten is watching Cyndi Lauper's "Twelve Deadly Cyns" video collection, in which she narrates from atop the Ferris wheel.

• Go to gay bars in the Bronx and Staten Island (are there any on SI?). Then I will have visited gay bars in all five boroughs. Also, one in Jersey. I have a weakness for beefy Italians. Any recommendations?

• Visit Poe's cottage.

• Go to the Statue of Liberty.

• If I weren't a cripple, I'd go skating at Rockefeller Center. But I can't, so my friend El said she would and I could watch her fall on her ass.

• Visit Inwood Hill Park, Manhattan's last remaining forest, and perhaps see a falcon.

• Visit Ellis Island.

• Go horseback riding in Central Park. I'm not married to this idea, but it might be nice. Though I haven't been on a horse since I was 8 and nearly got bucked off one at a real-live ranch in a Wyoming valley.

Anything else I should do? Any ideas?

Ole and Lena jokes

2005-12-09T14:18:00.000-05:00

A couple of posts back, I mentioned something about Ole and Lena jokes. In Minnesota, there's this fictional old Norwegian couple we tell jokes about. Ole and Lena. (Sometimes Ole's friend Sven is involved, too.) Anyone who listens to "A Prairie Home Companion" is familiar with Ole and Lena. Some of them are dirty, but for the most part it's just good, clean, quirky fun. I love these jokes. Unfortunately, when I tell them in New York, I'm often met with an uncomprehensive stare. Please humor me and laugh.

*******

Old Ole was in bed dying. Downstairs he could hear Lena rattling pots and pans. Pretty soon he could smell the sweet smell of potato lefse wafting up from downstairs. And Ole thought, "Oh, my darling Lena, she's making me potato lefse for my last meal before I pass on."

Ole could hardly wait as the smell kept getting stronger and stronger. But Lena, she never came upstairs, even though Ole thought the lefse should be ready by now. So, with the last of his strength, old Ole rolled outta bed. He crawled across the bedroom floor. He crawled down the stairs, real careful. He crawled across the parlor floor. He could see Lena's skirt swishin' by the stove.

Old Ole was nearly delirious by now, so he made his way across the kitchen floor and started clawing his way up the stove. But Lena slapped his hand with a spoon and said:

"Ole! That's for the funeral!"

(Thanks to Catherine Jensen)

*******

So old Ole finally died. Lena had to go to the newspaper office to get his obituary written. She went up to the lady behind the desk and said she needed an obituary for Ole. The lady said, "What should it say?" So Lena, worrying about how much it might cost, said simply, "Ole died."

But the lady behind the desk said, "Well, Lena, you know, you get five words for free." So Lena sat down to think. And she thought and thought and thought. Finally she went back up to the desk and said:

"Ole died. Boat for sale."

(Thanks to Holly Collier)

*******

One day Lena says to Ole, "Ole, I think I'm gonna get me some of them breast implants." Ole says to Lena, "Well, Lena, why would you do that? You don't need 'em." Lena says, "Oh, Ole, you're very nice, but just the same, I been saving me some money from the household fund, and I'm gonna get those breast implants." Ole says, "Well, Lena, you sound like you've made up your mind. But I know a cheaper way to do it." And Lena says, "Oh, Ole? How's that?" And Ole says, "Well, Lena, you take some toilet paper and you rub it up and down on your breasteses, and in the morning when you wake up, they'll be bigger." And Lena says, "Oh, Ole, that does sound cheaper, but I don't understand how it works." And Ole says:

"I don't either, Lena, but it seems to have done wonders for your behind."

(Thanks to Catherine Jensen)

Can't get enough Ole and Lena? Go here.

Mis palabras favoritas

2005-12-07T10:05:00.000-05:00

My recent post about limpiaparabrisas made me think about my favorite Spanish words. I'm far from fluent, but I've had enough instruction that I love the language and its quirks of pronunciation (of which there are few). My favorite words in Spanish:

• Limpiaparabrisas (windshield wipers)
• Flebitís (Phlebitis)
• Gastroenterología (Gastroenterology)
• Diptongo (Diphthong)
• Hamburguesa (Hamburger)
• Los blue jeans (Blue jeans)
• Reloj (Clock)
• Equipaje (Luggage)
• Putería (Queeny slang for gay bar; literally, whore store)
• Encebollado (With onions; literally, onioned, which I think should be an English word)
• Ganaría (I/he/she/it would win/earn; say it and you'll see why it amuses me)

As Cool As I Am

2005-12-04T12:16:00.000-05:00

Why I am cool:

1. I am a Teamster.
2. My father was a gravedigger. For some reason this impresses people.
3. I have had cancer. For some reason this also impresses people.
4. I am gay, and gay is cooler than straight.
5. My husband is an award-winning rugby player. This makes me cool by association.
6. I drive a Jeep Wrangler.
7. I have a biker jacket.
8. I've lived in Minnesota, so I can walk down the street barely dressed while mere mortals shiver in their down jackets.

Why I am not cool:

1. I belong to the communication wing of the Teamsters and am not even allowed a jacket.
2. My father was a gravedigger.
3. I have had cancer, yet continue to smoke.
4. I am really, really gay.
5. I couldn't play rugby if my life depended on it.
6. I can barely afford my Jeep Wrangler.
7. Among non-bikers, biker jackets went out sometime in the late '80s.
8. I've lived in Minnesota, so I'm prone to telling Ole and Lena jokes, which only a handful of people outside Minnesota find hilarious — or even get.

¡Limpiaparabrisas!

2005-12-02T11:39:00.000-05:00

I actually got up at a decent hour today. Working late hours as I do, I rarely get a chance to see New York in the morning. It's splendid. Plus, it's amazing how much one can get done when one has a whole day to work with. Here are my plans:

1. Pay bills online. Done.
2. Pay rent. Check is waiting on the table.
3. Mail out car insurance renewal form. Stamped envelope is on the table.
4. Buy windshield wiper blades. Not done. I went to an auto parts store here in Jackson Heights, and after a cursory exchange in Spanish discovered I have "special" blades and will have to go to a store in the ghetto that is Corona or order them online. I did get to say my favorite Spanish word, "limpiaparabrisas."
5. Order limpiaparabrisas online. Not done.
6. Ask my friend P. if I can take him to happy hour in celebration of his new job. Awaiting reply.
7. Scrub the toilet. Looking forward to it.
8. Cleanse hands and arms thoroughly.
9. Do some Christmas shopping in Manhattan.
10. Drink.
11. Eat.
12. Drink some more.

Happy Friday, everyone!

What's on the menu?

2005-11-24T11:05:00.000-05:00

I'm cooking for a few Thanksgiving orphans today. So I gotta run. Briefly, here's what I'm making. Some of this shouldn't come as much of a surprise:

Mediterranean pumpkin-carrot soup
Turkey breast, brined and honey-basted
Mashed potatoes
Sage and onion stuffing
Buttermilk-mashed rutabaga
Corn

What friends are bringing:
Beans we like (green bean casserole)
Pumpkin cheesecake
Rolls

I can't wait.

Women of the world

2005-11-22T11:22:00.000-05:00

Now that Angela Merkel has officially taken over as chancellor of Germany, I thought it would be appropriate to visit some other women who rule. (I'm not talking monarchy here, either.) We like to think the United States is years ahead in progress for women, but places like Pakistan, Nicaragua and the Philippines have beaten us to the punch.

Corazon Aquino
President of the Philippines, 1986-92, and Time's Woman of the Year for 1986.

Gloria Macapagal Arroyo
President of the Philippines, 2001-present.

Violeta Barrios de Chamorro
The western hemisphere's first elected female president. Nicaragua, 1990-97.

Benazir Bhutto
Prime minister of Pakistan, 1988-90 and 1993-96. Also the first world leader to give birth while in office.

Gro Harlem Brundtland
Prime minister of Norway, 1986-89 and 1990-96.

Mary Eugenia Charles
"Iron Lady of the Caribbean." Prime minister of Dominica, 1980-95.

Helen Clark
Prime minister of New Zealand, 1999-present.

Igdis Finnbogadottir
Iceland, 1980-96. The world's first popularly elected female president.

Indira Gandhi
India, 1966-77 and 1980-84. Known as Mataji, or "respected mother."

Tarja Kaarina Halonen
President of Finland, 2000-present.

Mary McAleese
President of Ireland, 1997-present.

Golda Meir
From Milwaukee to the Middle East. Prime minister of Israel, 1969-74.

Mary Robinson
President of Ireland, 1990-97.

Margaret Thatcher
Prime minister of England, 1980-91. To quote from "Absolutely Fabulous": "Margaret Thatcher was prime minister for A) 900 years, B) 3,000 years, C) 11 years. ... Well, that's a trick question. ... It was a very long time."

Do Videos Divulge? (DVD?)

2005-11-22T10:52:00.000-05:00

I remain convinced that one's DVD collection tells tomes. What do these selections tell you?

Absolutely Fabulous, Seasons 1-3
Absolutely Fabulous Season 4
Absolutely Fabulous Season 5
Absolutely Fabulous: The Last Shout
Adventures in Babysitting
All About Eve
American Beauty
Bambi
Beavis and Butt-Head, The Best of
Bend It Like Beckham
Best In Show
Contact
Erin Brockovich
Everybody's All-American
Feeling Minnesota
A Fish Called Wanda
Fried Green Tomatoes
The Golden Girls, Season 1
The Goonies
Heathers
Hedwig and the Angry Inch
A Home at the End of the World
Cyndi Lauper: At Last, Live
Ma Vie en Rose (My Life in Pink)
Mujeres al Borde de un Ataque de Nervios (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown)
Muriel's Wedding
The Outsiders
The Princess Bride
Show Me Love
The Simpsons, Season 1
Steel Magnolias
True Lies
Twister
The Wedding Banquet
Winged Migration
Wonder Woman, Season 1

The Edmund Fitzgerald

2005-11-11T23:29:00.000-05:00

The Edmund Fitzgerald sank off Whitefish Point, Michigan, on Nov. 10, 1975. The crew:

Ernest M. McSorley, 63, Captain, Toledo Ohio
John H. McCarthy, 62, Mate, Bay Village, Ohio
James A. Pratt, 44, second mate, Lakewood, Ohio
Michael E. Armagost, 37, third mate, Iron River, Wisconsin
Thomas Bentsen, 23, oiler, St. Joseph, Michigan
Thomas D. Borgeson, 4l, maintenance man, Duluth, Minnesota
John D. Simmons, 60, wheelsman, Ashland, Wisconsin
Eugene W. O'Brien, 50, wheelsman, Toledo, Ohio
John J. Poviatch, 59, wheelsman, Bradenton, Florida
Ranson E. Cundy, 53, watchman, Superior, Wisconsin
William J. Spengler, 59, watchman, Toledo, Ohio
Karl A. Peckol, 20, watchman, Ashtabula, Ohio
Mark A. Thomas, 2l, deck hand, Richmond Heights, Ohio
Paul M. Rippa, 22, deck hand, Ashtabula, Ohio
Bruce L. Hudson, 22, deck hand, North Olmsted, Ohio
David E. Weiss, 22, cadet, Agoura, California
Robert C. Rafferty, 62, steward, Toledo, Ohio
Allen G. Kalmon, 43, second cook, Washburn, Wisconsin
Frederick J. Beetcher, 56, porter, Superior, Wisconsin
Nolan F. Church, 55, porter, Silver Bay, Minnesota
George Holl, 60, chief engineer, Cabot, Pennsylvania
Edward F. Bindon, 47, first assistant engineer, Fairport Harbor, Ohio
Thomas E. Edwards, 50, second assistant engineer, Oregon, Ohio
Russell G. Haskell, 40, second assistant engineer, Millbury, Ohio
Oliver J. Champeau, 4l, third assistant engineer, Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Blaine H. Wilhelm, 52, oiler, Moguah, Wisconsin
Ralph G. Walton, 58, oiler, Fremont, Ohio
Joseph W. Mazes, 59, special maintenance man, Ashland, Wisconsin
Gordon F. MacLellan, 30, wiper, Clearwater, Florida

An album to remember

2005-11-11T10:07:00.000-05:00

OK, I'm definitely on a Cyndi kick now. Every time a favorite artist of mine comes out with a new album, I have to revisit their old stuff. Same with Cyndi. I was curious about why she didn't include anything on her new CD from her most unsung album, "A Night to Remember." I realized it's because "A Night to Remember" is already perfect. Unfortunately, it didn't get the kudos it deserved, and she had only one hit from it, the Roy Orbison-inspired "I Drove All Night" (later desecrated by Celine Dion). Yet it's her best work: meticulously written, produced to perfection, catchy, creative. Chock full o' her best ballads.

1. Intro. "If you think you're hearing something ..."
2. I Drove All Night. Her pipes have never sounded better. And she won a Grammy for it.
3. Primitive. "I feel the fever in your hands; we feel things we don't even understand ... it's primitive." A pretty accurate description of how attraction works.
4. My First Night Without You. A beautifully Grease-esque take on striking out on your own.
5. Like A Cat. "When you threw me out the window, I landed on my feet; like a, like a, like a cat." As my friend Dillard said, "Only Cyndi could write a song about a cat and actually get away with having a cat actually growling in it."
6. Heading West. "I'm like a letter with no address; just like a book I read, I'm heading west."
7. A Night to Remember. I never understood why this song never went Top 10. It has everything. Listen and you'll see.
8. Unconditional Love. Another winner ballad. Her break-it-down part at the end showcases her voice like no other song.
9. Insecurious. I love puns, and this song captures a great one. When your lover says you're asking too many questions and wonders why, you can say this: "You say I'm insecure, I say I'm just curious ... I guess I'm insecurious."
10. Dancing With a Stranger. A song about dancing. Nothing more, nothing less. And a pretty good dance song.
11. I Don't Want to Be Your Friend. The shock of my life: I was at open mic. night at Mayslack's, a meat pub in northeast Minneapolis, when a girl with buck teeth and a guitar stepped onto the stage and began belting out an acoustic version of this song. She later played "Jolene" by Dolly Parton, and I fell in love with her. She also concurs that this is Cyndi's best album.
12. Kindred Spirit. "If you think you're hearing something ..."

You've come a long way, Cyndi

2005-11-09T13:30:00.000-05:00

Few things excite me more than a new Cyndi Lauper album. "She's So Unusual" was my first tape, purchased in 1984 at Kmart with babysitting money. Cyndi brought my boy and I together; we bonded upon meeting by complaining that her album "Hat Full of Stars" was going nowhere. A friend of ours in Minnesota once sang "Time After Time" as a duet with Cyndi at the Minnesota State Fair. Cyndi's always been there for me. And now — an acoustic album of Cyndi favorites! This is not "MTV Unplugged," folks. The arrangements are genius. I urge you to purchase/download "The Body Acoustic" at your earliest convenience.

I'm still listening to the album so can't provide a complete review, but so far I'm amazed. The tracks:

1. "Money Changes Everything" with Adam Lazzara
2. "All Through the Night" with Shaggy
3. "Time After Time" with Sarah McLachlan
4. "She Bop"
5. "Above the Clouds" with Jeff Beck
6. "I'll Be Your River" with Vivian Green
7. "Sisters of Avalon" with Ani DiFranco
8. "Shine"
9. "True Colors"
10. "Water's Edge" with Sarah McLachlan
11. "Fearless"
12. "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" with Puffy Ami Yumi

Labels

2005-11-07T13:25:00.000-05:00

I hear people go on all the time about how they eschew labels. (I hear this most often from bisexuals.) My question is, what's wrong with labels? We live in a time where labels are necessary to form a world view. Moreover, being gay, I'm proud of that particular label. When people say they don't believe in labels, they're essentially invalidating my own sense of identity. However, within the gay "community," there are many labels. I used to be a twink — a young, thin gay man. However, now that I'm firmly entrenched in my 30s, I don't think I qualify as a twink anymore. Trouble is, I can't find a label that fits, and I'm flailing about in a gay vacuum. Here's a list of some gay labels (I didn't include lesbian ones). If you see one that fits me, or if you have one to add, let me know. I might be off on some of the definitions; also, I tried not to include some of the more pejorative or offensive ones, especially the racially charged ones.

Twink: We've been through this one.
Bear: A large, usually older, hairy gay man.
Muscle bear: Add muscles.
Cub: A bear-to-be.
Daddy: An older gay man, usually with authority issues.
Muscle daddy: Add muscles.
(OK, let's just say you can put "muscle" before any moniker. Ditto "leather.")
Otter: A tall, lithe, hairy gay man.
Chicken: A young gay man.
Chicken hawk: An older gay man who seeks out chicken.
Tandoori chicken: A South Asian twink.
Troll: An older, usually unattractive, gay man. Pejorative.
Wolf: A gay man who mingles with bears but who lacks the weight to be one.
Aberzombie: A guy who primarily dresses in Abercrombie & Fitch.
Chub: An overweight gay man.
Chubby chaser: One who seeks out chubs.
Fug: A gay thug or homo hip-hopster.
Gaysian: An Asian gay man.

I could go on and on, but you get the picture ... I'm definitely not a Gaysian. Not hairy enough to be an otter. Who am I?

Also born on this day

2005-10-30T10:39:00.000-05:00

Alas, because President Bush has new plans for daylight-saving time, this is the last time my birthday will be 25 hours long.

Happy birthday also to the living and the dead:

John Adams
Charles Atlas
Johnny Carson
Christopher Columbus
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Edge, The
Ruth Gordon
Harry Hamlin
Michael Landon
Louis Malle
Andrea Mitchell
Ezra Pound
Gavin Rossdale
Grace Slick
Henry Winkler

Making headlines

2005-10-26T19:04:00.000-04:00

I write headlines for a living. (And that's not all.) Going through some old clips, I realized how inanely fond I am of puns. Here a few gems:

• For a story about a church bell tower empty for 80 years:
It's about chime: Church tower finally gets its bells

• For a story about a woman from a town called Roseville who got to fill Barbara Walters' chair on "The View" for a day:
'The View' through Roseville-colored glasses

• For a story about parts of a T. Rex fossil that had been separated years ago but were about to be reunited:
Fossil followers feel reunion in their bones

• For a story about Garrison Keillor leading a church musical service:
A prairie hymn companion

• For a story about a meeting at Disney World in which scholars were probing American religion's relationship to pop culture:
And an oversized mouse shall lead them

• For a story about a rummage sale held as a fund-raiser for an opera company:
The flotsam of the opera

• And one of my missteps:
Police shoot man with knife

Rosa Parks

2005-10-25T01:04:00.000-04:00

You've probably heard by now that Rosa Parks has died. I once met Rosa Parks at an event I was covering for my college newspaper. It was so fleeting that I wasn't left with much of an impression other than this: What a tiny woman to have done something so important. (There is a picture of Rosa and me buried somewhere; I need to find that.) Rosa Parks and her life and legacy could teach us all a lot, and these are a few of the things they've taught me.

• To begin with a cliche, the power of one.
• The reinforcement that physical stature and courage are not linked, something any gay boy who grew up as a slight teenager has probably wrestled with.
• How much your past can catch up with you. I'm certain that if Rosa Parks had had any sort of criminal record or some other blemish on her record, she wouldn't have been able to -- or rather, given the chance to -- propel the civil rights movement forward. In fact (and I should do my research, but it's late), I believe that one earlier bus rider had done the same thing, but she or he was proven to be an unwed mother or a deadbeat dad or something. Anybody got anything on this?
• Events will warp your memory. Whether Rosa Parks was a plant or not is not important. Even if the NAACP did determine her to be the perfect candidate for kindling the Montgomery bus boycott, that doesn't diminish her courage. Besides, I doubt that she knew what an icon she would become; she had no way of knowing how well-aired her story would be.
• People will try to take advantage of you, illustrated by allegations that her supposed caretakers might have tried to profit on her name by suing Outkast over their song "Rosa Parks." Unfortunate.
• And, lest this appear to be too negative a list, I have learned that humility combined with conviction can be a powerful tool. Now if only I can learn to apply that to myself.

UPDATE: This from the New York Times obit: "Blacks had been arrested, and even killed, for disobeying bus drivers. They had begun to build a case around a 15-year-old girl's arrest for refusing to give up her seat, and Mrs. Parks had been among those raising money for the girl's defense. But when they learned that the girl was pregnant, they decided that she was an unsuitable symbol for their cause."

Remember to floss daily, kids

2005-10-14T15:44:00.000-04:00

I didn't, and now I am paying the price. I had some sort of procedure today — I'm still not exactly sure what occurred — involving the extraction of bone from my jaw and its transfer to a spot around the roots of a couple of teeth. I was fully conscious the entire time. Here are some of the sensations and/or emotions I have experienced today:

Getting soaked on the way to the train, as it's been raining nonstop for more than a week.

Amusement, as always, when met by Doris, the receptionist, who wears fake eyelashes that always appear to be on the verge of falling off.

Pain when the dentist hit a nerve (or something) while administering the Lidocaine, to which I am somewhat resistant.

Apprehension when he said, "Now, you won't feel anything, just a lot of pressure and a crunching sound."

Disgust when I heard the sound of scraping (crunching, indeed) against my jawbone.

Further disgust when I heard the squeal of spinning blade against bone and saw pink saliva arcing above my head.

Slight amusement as I heard the doctor and assistant trade stories about fasting for Yom Kippur and Ramadan, respectively, and pictured them passing out from hunger as they worked on me.

Intrigue as I pictured what my glistening jawbone must look like, the gums peeled back like in a horror movie.

Disgust as the silk thread was pulled taut against my lip, my doctor suturing like my mother used to work on her quilts.

Now I am experiencing the beginnings of throbbing as the Lidocaine wears off and I wait for Rite-Aid to fill my prescription for Tylenol 3. I have another hour and a half to wait. Will I make it? Tune in and find out.

Linklist

2005-10-12T13:18:00.000-04:00

Some Web sites I've visited recently that made me happy, wistful, restless, whatnot.

Harriet Miers's blog!!! OMG! This is so so so FUNNY! I like it. No, I mean I LIKE like it.

The Subservient Chicken. Thanks to Charles. What did I tell the chicken to do? 1. Stand on your head. 2. Do a shot. 3. Pray. 4. Lay an egg, which he attempted to do despite being a rooster.

Movie Trailer Cliche Theater. I find this hilarious, but when I share this it seems it's not as funny to everyone else as I think it is. I don't care. Using the "Price is Right" theme is a stroke of genius.

Free Band Name Service. That'd be a good name for a band.

Private Islands Online. They say no man is an island. Not so. Unfortunately, the one I want is already sold.

The joys of the LIE

2005-10-11T02:59:00.000-04:00

Ah, the LIE. Interstate 495. The Long Island Expressway. The Midtown-to-Riverhead link that gives me this day, every day, my daily bane. I drive from Queens to Melville on it. (For those of you concerned with horror movies, yes, I take the Amityville exit daily.) I drive on the LIE more happily now that the 11-year construction of the HOV lane is over, but it still drives me crazy. Not the roadway itself, mind you. It's a rather well-constructed and thought-out little thoroughfare. There are sufficient exits; four full lanes in the city, three lanes and an HOV lane in Nassau/Suffolk; sweeping curves; ample signs. It's New York drivers who suck. I lived in Minnesota for several years, and I have to admit, Minnesota drivers are the very worst. And bad driving happens everywhere. But I've driven in a lot of places, and the sheer volume of traffic on the LIE and the nature of New Yorkers makes the LIE especially devilish. Here's why:

The HOV SOB. A little lesson: Don't drive slower in the HOV lane than the speed of traffic in the other lanes. (Within reason, of course.) There is a reason why we're all in the HOV lane, and that's to get a move on. If you see traffic lining up behind you, press a little harder on the accelerator, Millie.

The line driver. Here's some remedial driving instruction: Dotted lines mean you can cross them. Solid lines mean you can't. Two solid lines means you can't cross from either side. A dotted line on one side means you can cross from that side but not the other. So, when you're exiting the HOV lane, make sure the dotted line is on your side. Do the same if you're entering. And if for some reason you feel you have to make your ignorance known, please check to make sure I'm not there before crossing into my lane.

The road Hogs. You know those bumper stickers that say "Start Seeing Motorcycles"? I'm all for the concept. But it would help if motorcyclists didn't travel at the speed of love, sneaking up behind me, snaking between cars, and in general violating all traffic laws as if they're immune. If you want me to start seeing you, give me time to know that you're there.

The flying wedge. This occurs when three vehicles travel at the same speed, three abreast, blocking all three lanes of traffic. It's at this point when, I believe, tailgating should become legal. Sometimes threatening behavior is the only thing that'll do the trick. (Though I never tailgate, of course.)

The Ernestine. I'm glad New York lawmakers decided to make driving and talking on a handheld cell phone illegal. Myself, I never (no, really) talk while driving. I know I'll get distracted. It would be nice if it were enforced. It concerns me when I'm behind someone who's happily chatting away, speeding up and slowing down with no rhyme or reason, and I don't know whether they plan to slam on their brakes or turn off their blinker anytime soon. Please, put down the damn phone. A quick, urgent call is one thing; discussing nail polish colors is quite another.

The ramp snails. I realize that, especially in the city, the entrance ramps are not that long. But remember, they are not just entrance ramps: They are also acceleration lanes. Unless it's a tight curve, please get up to speed as much as you can. Expressways are not supposed to be entered at 30 miles an hour. Life will be much happier for the other travelers if you don't wait until you're in the middle of 70-mile-an-hour traffic to get above 50.

The rubberneckers. How many times have I been stuck in traffic, only to realize the accident -- or whatever -- is on the other side of the highway? It makes me want to scream. In fact, I do scream.

The drug dealers. This must be the only reason you slow down to 40 miles an hour the moment you see a cop parked by the side of the road. Remember: It's legal to go the speed limit. And you look much more suspicious at 30 miles an hour than at 70.

The Old Yeller. A little rain is no reason for you to drive 40 miles an hour. If rain makes you nervous, get over in the right lanes, at least. Don't drive in the left lane simply because you don't want to get behind a truck. Because if you don't, you'll make me very angry. And you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

Journalism and death

2005-10-06T12:19:00.000-04:00

It strikes me that many terms used in the newspaper world are associated with violence or death. Many of these are familiar to anyone with a word processing program. What's the connection? Maybe we are just a jaded lot.

Slug: A story's name.

Bullet: A symbol in front of each entry in a list.

Morgue: Where back issues of newspapers are kept.

Deadline: The time at which a story or page must be filed.

Kill: To cancel a story's publication.

Widow: Less than a full line of type at the end of a paragraph.

Orphan: Less than a full line of type at the top of a column of type.

Cutline: A photo caption.

Cut: To trim a story.

Beat: A particular genre; e.g., the education beat.

I'm probably forgetting something. But you get the picture.

Dallas: the movie

2005-09-29T12:22:00.000-04:00

I just heard that there's going to be a movie based on the nighttime soap "Dallas." I was a huge fan of "Dallas" and will be first in line for the movie. Here are my casting picks:

J.R. Ewing: Supreme Court Justice John Roberts
Bobby Ewing: Mark Ruffalo
Sue Ellen Ewing: Laura Linney
Pam Ewing: Kate Beckinsale
Miss Ellie Ewing: Cybill Shepherd
Lucy Ewing: Britney Spears
Cliff Barnes: Jason Lee

I can't wait!

Same-sex marriage

2005-09-29T12:07:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about the drive to legalize marriage for same-sex couples. Thing is, it's not just like they can legalize marriage and boom, there we go. There are lots of potential complications to think about, and it will be interesting to see these issues wend their way through society and the courts.

1. What do you call a gay man or lesbian whose partner has died? To call a gay man a widower would fundamentally change the word, because widower means "A man whose wife has died." Plus, widow or widower just doesn't seem right. If gays and lesbians are allowed to take part in marriage, does that mean they get to assume marriage-related vernacular, as well?

2. Say Bob Queer works at a company in Massachusetts, and of course his spouse has benefits through Bob's job because that's state law. But the company doesn't offer domestic partner benefits as a policy. Bob gets transferred to Idaho. Does Bob's spouse lose the benefits?

3. Courts generally (though this is changing) grant child custody to the mother after a divorce. (I'm making no judgment on whether this is correct or not.) With gay/lesbian couples, this clearly isn't so cut-and-dry. Will courts have to begin applying different standards in assigning custody?

4. Along the same lines as widow/widower, will there ever be a standard way to refer to one's married partner? Some people think partner sounds too stiff; husband/wife sounds a little pretentious; spouse is too clinical; etc. Who gets to decide?

I'm sure there are many more issues to consider, but I haven't had enough coffee yet. Any thoughts?

Pound cake

2005-09-22T10:38:00.000-04:00

I think a recipe counts a list, doesn't it?

1 cup butter, at room temperature
1 1/3 cups sugar
4 eggs
2 teaspoons creme de cacao (or vanilla extract, but the liqueur seemed to work out for me)
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 3/4 cups flour
1/3 cup milk

Preheat oven to 350. Butter and flour a 9x5-inch loaf pan. With an electric mixer, cream the butter. Add sugar and cream the mixture. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add liquer, baking powder and salt, and beat well. Reduce mixer speed to low and add flour. Add milk and beat until well blended. Pour batter into pan and bake about an hour and 15 minutes. Cool the pan on a rack before serving. Serve with fruit or compote if desired. Or eat fistfuls of it; I don't really care. Yum.

When I couldn't sleep

2005-09-21T10:50:00.000-04:00

Sorry I've been absent for so long, faithful readers. I've had some stuff on my mind that makes this blog seem not that important. The same stuff has been keeping me up at nights. I've never been able to fall asleep easily, and it's just been compounded lately. The other night I managed to fall asleep for an hour but then awoke and couldn't relax again. Here's what I did while I waited to get tired:

Decided to make a pound cake. God knows why I had to bake something, and if I did, it had to be a pound cake.

Went down the block to the 24-hour Rite Aid in the hopes it would sell vanilla extract. It didn't.

Began mixing the pound cake using creme de cacao instead of vanilla (a stroke of genius, I thought), and then realized I didn't have baking powder, either. Had another stroke of genius and made my own baking powder using baking soda and corn starch. It appears to have worked. E and I are now making our way through a thick, starchy pound cake.

As the pound cake was baking, I watched an episode of "Little House on the Prairie." It was the one in which Ma's new baby dies and Laura feels bad because she didn't pray for its survival. She talks to the Rev. Alden about how to win God's forgiveness, and he tells her she must try to get closer to God. She runs away to a mountain and finds Ernest Borgnine. (Never mind that there are no mountains in Minnesota.) Interesting side note: I thought that the guy who played the Mankato doctor looked familiar, so I looked for his name in the credits: Bill Cort. Then I looked him up on imbd.com, and sure enough, he played Veronica's father in "Heathers."

Cleaned and clipped my toenails.

Removed the pound cake from the oven and left it to cool. E woke up to a fresh, warm pound cake. Unfortunately, he didn't eat any. Perhaps he thought I wanted it all to myself. I must say, if I were to wake up to a pound cake, I probably wouldn't know what to do with it, either.

Book passages

2005-09-05T03:01:00.000-04:00

Every once in a while, I'll just be sitting there — working, picking my nose, doing the dishes, whatever — and a passage from a book will pop into my head. What prompts these moments? Why are these passages filed away in my mind, closer to the front than others? I kind of like the idea of this post; I might do others. (Plus, that means I don't actually have to think, just transcribe.)

From "My Marriage to Vengeance" by David Leavitt, from the collection "A Place I've Never Been":
And then, as I was driving home from Nordstrom's, for the first time in years I had a seizure of accident panic. I couldn't believe I was traveling sixty miles an hour, part of a herd of speeding cars which passed and raced each other, coming within five or six inchies of collision and death every ten seconds. It astonished me to realize that I drove every day of my life, that every day of my life I risked ending my life, that all I had to do was swerve the wrong way, or look only in the front and not the side mirror, and I might hit another car, or hit a child on the way to the wedding, and have to live for the rest of my life with the guilt, or die. Horrified, I headed right, into the slow lane. The slow lane was full of scared women, crawling home alone. It was no surprise to me. I was one with the scared women crawling home alone.

From "The Long Winter" by Laura Ingalls Wilder:
It seemed that the cold and the winds, the noise of the winds and the blinding, smothering, scratching snow, and the effort and the aching, were forever. Pa had lived through three days of a blizzard under the bank of Plum Creek. But there were no creek banks here. Here there was nothing but bare prairie. Pa had told about sheep caught in a blizzard, huddled together under the snow. Some of them had lived. Perhaps people could do that, too. Carrie was too tired to go much farther, but she was too heavy for Laura to carry. They must go on as long as they could, and then .. Then, out of the whirling blindness, something hit her. The hard blow crashed against her shoulder and all through her. She rocked on her feet and stumbled against something solid. It was high, it was hard, it was the corner of two walls.

From "Prodigal Summer" by Barbara Kingsolver:
From inside her dark cocoon Deanna listened to the racket of a man in her cabin: the door flung open, boots stomping twice to shed their mud at the door, then the hollow clatter of kindling dropped on the floor. Next, the creak of the stove's hinge and the crackling complaints of a fire being kindled and gentled to life. Soon it would be warm in here, the chill of this June morning chased outdoors where the sun could address it. She stretched her limbs under the covers, smiling secretly. Getting up to a warm cabin on a cold morning without having to go outside for firewood first, that was tolerable.

From "Ladder of Years" by Anne Tyler:
Her book that night was The Sun Also Rises, but she didn't manage to finish it because she kept getting distracted. It was Friday, the start of the weekend. The traffic beneath her window had a livelier, more festive sound, and the voices of passersby were louder. "Hoo-ee! Here we come!" a teenage boy cried out. Momentarily, Delia lost track of the sentence she was reading. Around eight o'clock someone crossed the porch — not Belle but someone in flat-soled shoes walking slowly, as if weary or sad — and she lowered her book and listened. The front door opened, he entered the house, the stairs creaked upward one step at a time. Then the doorknob across the hall gave a rattle, and she thought, Oh. The other boarder.

My weather

2005-09-01T00:31:00.000-04:00

Katrina has gotten me thinking about a lot, including some of the weather events I've endured. Most have been unexceptional. A couple were not.

The Flood of 1986. I was in the seventh grade, and it began raining about September 9. It didn't stop. School was canceled for two days. I was living with just my mother and one older brother at the time, and we were an island for those two days. No access in or out. The river through my hometown, the Tittabawassee (say that three times fast) crested at 34 feet, with a flood stage of 24 feet. Raw sewage backed up in people's basements; whole neighborhoods were inundated. It was worse elsewhere, mostly in rural areas, like where I grew up. (I have a photo of my front yard from then, but I can't get my damn scanner to work. Maybe I'll post it later.) It was around harvest time, and farm families that had been depending on the income were out of luck. Whole square miles of soybeans and navy beans drowned, then rotted. I'll never forget the smell of the wind that greeted me upon awakening for days after the flood. Two farmers committed suicide. (The photo above was taken in the nearby town of Vassar; it was fucked.) This was a fairly localized flood, so it's not something anyone who didn't experience would probably remember. But for those who lived in my area, it will always be "The Flood."

Hurricane Fran. I'm not sure whether it was a hurricane by the time I experienced it, but I sure have never experienced rain like that. So windy, too. (Yes, apparently hurricanes are windy.) It was the first time I've had an umbrella blow inside out. I was a young buck, an intern in Washington, D.C., hoping to make a good impression at one of my first days of work, and I showed up with soaked pants.

The Winter of 1993-94. I was attending Michigan State, and it was cold, so cold. I think one day the windchill reached 60 or 70 below. Who knows what the actual air temperature was. I was working at the campus paper at the time, and I remember waiting up really, really late, much past deadline. We were holding the paper to find out whether the university president would cancel classes. (Every other Big Ten university had already done so.) And Michigan State has a HUGE campus. It's at least a 45-minute walk from one end of campus to the other -- not a fun thing when it's colder than the dark side of the moon. Some students gathered on the lawn of the president's house and built a bonfire in protest. (U-M grads, and you know who you are, spare me the condescending remarks about how only a Spartan would go outside to protest the cold.) Finally, classes were canceled. For a day. The next day it warmed up to like 30 below, so back to class it was.

Random storm, June 2004. My friend Amy was having her annual lake party in northern Michigan, and I was up there along with about 20 other people. It's basically a weekend of anything goes. The weather took that literally. A storm blew up. Amy's family has an adage that "as soon as you can't see the bridge on the other side of the lake, you have 10 minutes." That proved true. About 10 minutes after the bridge was hidden by the mist, it hit. I've seen worse storms, but with a whole bunch of drunk (and who knows what else) 20-somethings trying to have a beach party, it was both disappointing and euphoric. Kind of like a hurricane party. I was standing in the garage when it hit. I went to look out, and the wind nearly pulled me out, rain painfully pelting my face. Soon the worst of it blew over, and I went to the shore to look out for any damage. I saw faint gray funnel clouds pulling themselves out from the ceiling, dancing like ghosts. Several would drop and pull up, only to be followed by several more. They were weenies, but for a weather freak like me, it was exhilarating to see my first kind-of tornado. To quote Sally Field in Steel Magnolias, "It was the most precious moment of my life."

The Halloween Blizzard of 1991. I didn't experience this one, but I heard so much about it while living in Minnesota that I feel like I did. Minneapolis got 28 inches of snow on Halloween. Yes, that's more than two feet. (It was also the storm that went on to become "The Perfect Storm" of literary and Hollywood fame.) Amazingly, the city didn't shut down. People skied to work.

Outback meals that aren't but should be

2005-08-24T00:32:00.000-04:00

Eric's dad gave us some gift certificates to Outback Steakhouse. I would've been content to let them expire, but Eric's sense of frugality weighed heavily on me, and I crumbled. So we took a friend to Outback Steakhouse at 23rd Street and Avenue of the Americas, Manhattan. How classy. It was truly terrible. The food was only OK, and clearly overpriced, but hey, we didn't have to pay for $30 of it. Turns out, the menu is Australian-themed, and very hokily so. Here I have decided to cultivate my love for puns and my disdain for themed restaurants into a list of items that should be offered at Outback Steakhouse. I'm aware that some of these are groaners. If you have any additional ideas, please, don't hesitate.

Olivia Newton Flan
Great Barrier Beef
Muriel's Wedding Cake
Oysters Ayers Rockefeller
Soup of G'Day
Roast Turkey with Canberra Sauce
Lemon Minogue Pie
Priscilla, Queen of the Dessert

Heathers

2005-08-22T00:45:00.000-04:00

I love the movie "Heathers." I think it's genius. It's mostly known for its excellent one-liners, including "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw" and "What's your damage?". It's also long on symbolism, and it seems each time I watch it I find another stream of it. Here are some symbols I've identified:

The colors. Heather No. 1 always wears red, a symbol of power. Heather No. 2 wears green because she is green with envy, and also, perhaps, because she is "green," or unprepared to take over the role of top Heather. Heather No. 3 wears yellow because she's cowardly. Veronica, the passive one, wears more neutral colors like blue or black. Also note that when the "suicides" hit and the social order is upset, everybody begins wearing the wrong color.

The names, of course. Heather No. 1, Heather Chandler: I'm unsure of what the significance, if any, of the name Chandler is. Some quick research reveals that Alfred Chandler Jr. is an influential economist who has written about corporate management. Raymond Chandler is author of a widely read essay titled "The Simple Art of Murder." Both of these are feasible symbols but unlikely. I suppose Chandler could also refer to the powerful family in "All My Children." Also unlikely. At any rate, the name Chandler has a ring of nobility to it. Heather No. 2, Heather Duke: We all know that duke is an English title of nobility, and also a verb meaning "to fight." Heather No. 3, Heather McNamara: I'm guessing McNamara is a reference to Robert McNamara, Kennedy's secretary of defense, who pushed a policy of deterrence rather than offense.

Croquet. A game of the aristocracy, much as the Heathers are the aristocracy of the school.

The name of the town. Heathers takes place in the fictional Sherwood, Ohio. The first killings take place in the woods behind the school. This is clearly a reference to Sherwood Forest, where the robbers steal from the rich (the Heathers and the rest of the popular class) and give to the poor.

J.D. Just like James Dean. A little too obvious.

Veronica Sawyer and Betty Finn. Veronica's name isn't grouped with the Heathers, because she is supposed to be aligned with Betty Finn. They are two peas in a pod, much like Tom Sawyer/Huck Finn and Betty and Veronica of the "Archie" comic books.

"Moby Dick." Heather Duke's possession of this tome is a symbol for her own ambition and fate: Like Ahab, her quest for victory will ultimately destroy her.

Westerberg High. A gentle homage to the soundtrack of '80s teen angst, The Replacements, led by the venerable Paul Westerberg (of Minneapolis, I might add).

So, there you have it. Now you know what I spend my time thinking about. Anybody have any ideas about what Chandler means (please avoid any references to the long-running TV sitcom "Friends"), or any other symbols they'd like to reveal?

Why is my profile at the bottom of the page?

2005-08-17T20:26:00.000-04:00

This is strange, because there is no width problem with my photo, none of the coding appears suspect, etc. I'm sure it's some little thing. Anyone with any ideas feel free to enlighten me.

Because I'm posting on both a PC (on IE) and a Mac (on Safari).

Because my photo is shameful and is hiding itself.

The people I'm linking to are embarrassed to be connected with me and have sabotaged my blog.

Because if there were no problems, that would just be too easy.

My blog is dying of diabetes.

Celebrities who have died of diabetes

2005-08-15T20:56:00.000-04:00

Nell Carter, Sept. 13, 1948 - Jan. 23, 2003
Johnny Cash, Feb. 26, 1932 - Sept. 12, 2003
James Cagney, July 17, 1899 - March 30, 1986
Ella Fitzgerald, April 25, 1918 - June 15, 1996
Ginger Rogers, July 16, 1911 - April 25, 1995
Waylon Jennings, June 15, 1937 - Feb. 13, 2002
Esther Rolle, Nov. 8, 1920 - Nov. 17, 1998
John Ehrlichman, March 20, 1925 - Feb. 14, 1999

I felt it was time for a bit of a non sequitur.

Songs I'm listening to

2005-08-15T10:57:00.002-04:00

I've been tagged by Marybad and must list my songs. Good thing this is a list, otherwise I wouldn't comply. Follow these instructions:

List five songs that you are currently digging - it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions and the five songs (with artist) in your blog. Then tag five people to see what they're listening to.

1. "Love Song" by Tesla
2. "Le Bel Age" by Pat Benatar
3. "Precious Things (live)" by Tori Amos
4. "Barracuda" by Heart
5. "Mr. Brownstone" by Guns n' Roses

Yes, I do realize it's 2005.

I tag:

Andy
Aaron
Danius Maximus
Terence
XTine

Dreams I had last night

2005-08-15T07:16:00.000-04:00

I don't retain my dreams very often anymore, perhaps a symptom of my advancing age, but my subconscious must have been making up for lost time last night. A possible explanation: I took a Prevacid pill about 7 p.m. to assuage the ravages of a stomach condition that also plagues me in my old age. If anyone has any analyses of these dreams, please fill me in.

I called Miss Louisiana a "pussy" because she wouldn't wear her evening gown while parading around the deck of my friend Amy's northern Michigan cottage in a snowstorm after being crowned Miss America. She was a brunette and had frizzy hair — not at all Miss America material.

I visited my sister K at her "work" in downtown Midland (never mind that she doesn't work there), again during a snowstorm. We left her workplace and ran to her car, which was parked on the courthouse lawn and was half Delta Ninety-Eight, half some Honda hatchback model. Suddenly we were driving toward a lake north of Midland, Sanford Lake, and setting sail. We passed a secluded dock where a middle-aged man was being given head by a slightly younger blonde (it was not explicit). We then arrived at a house whose interior was painted bright white and headed down a hallway toward a door. K opened the door and showed me her back-porch herb garden, filled with small, cascading pots of herbs hanging from the ceiling. "Oh, your herb garden!" I exclaimed. She pointed to one — I didn't really see what she was pointing at — and said, "That's the cookie!" (Note that, in reality, my sister is a born-again Christian, and the courthouse in Midland has a nativity scene on its front lawn every winter. Also in reality, one of the cars I drove during driver's ed was a Ninety-Eight, a model also once owned by my maternal grandparents.)

Eric's youngest brother was marrying Tina, the younger sister of an obscure childhood classmate of mine. Never mind that he is only 17 and she would be probably 28 by now. I saw their relationship evolve in flashes: The two of them teasing each other in line in school, etc. Then, at the wedding, my childhood classmate bitched out her husband for not finding a maid of honor for her friend (suddenly the classmate's best friend was the bride). I wasn't really in the dream, just observing.

Thoughts, anyone?

Liberal cities

2005-08-13T18:19:00.000-04:00

The Bay Area Center for Voting Research has published a study ranking the most liberal cities in America. Without getting too overtly political, something I'm trying to avoid on this site, let me say that its methodology is simplistic and flawed. Race was essentially the most-weighed factor in whether a city is liberal or conservative. I also note that such cities as Berkeley and Cambridge, largely white, are high on the list. But why is Minneapolis — with a City Council split between the Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party and the Green Party (no Republicans), and with four openly gay members — only at No. 23? Just because it's only 12 percent black? Come on. Surveys like this not only stereotype blacks and whites, they fail to capture the political flavor of a city. Detroit, for instance, may vote Democratic, but the city government is fucked. And Flint, liberal? There might be a big labor presence there, but I'm not about to walk down Saginaw Street holding hands with my boyfriend — something I have no problem with in Minneapolis. And Birmingham, Ala., more liberal than New York, Ann Arbor or Portland? Please. Liberalism or conservatism in a vacuum doesn't say much.

1. Detroit
2. Gary, Ind.
3. Berkeley, Calif.
4. Washington, D.C.
5. Oakland, Calif.
6. Inglewood, Calif.
7. Newark, N.J.
8. Cambridge, Mass.
9. San Francisco
10. Flint, Mich.
11. Cleveland
12. Hartford, Conn.
13. Paterson, N.J.
14. Baltimore
15. New Haven, Conn.
16. Seattle
17. Chicago
18. Philadelphia
19. Birmingham, Ala.
20. St. Louis
21. New York
22. Providence, R.I.
23. Minneapolis
24. Boston
25. Buffalo, N.Y.
26. New Orleans
27. Ann Arbor, Mich.
28. Jersey City, N.J.
29. Portland, Ore.
30. Daly City, Calif.

Road trips

2005-08-12T02:48:00.000-04:00

Ah, the open road. Everybody seems to have these romantic ideas about road trips. In reality, they usually turn into long, boring or stressful times remembered less for their fun than for their angst. I've made quite a few in my time, and here are some of them, for better or for worse:

Michigan to Colorado, January 1994: I was in East Lansing, living in a student ghetto house with 12 or so other people, and my roommate Jen and I were sitting around, bored. It was about 8 p.m. One of us had the idea of taking a road trip, and somehow it was decided that we would just take off and visit my brother in Estes Park, Colorado. All I had was an address; no phone number. We took off about an hour later with a modicum of preparation. I don't remember much about the trip itself, but you can imagine: two college students in a Ford Probe, hurtling across the frigid Plains. We got to Estes Park in the evening, found my brother's house and had a neighbor give us directions to the restaurant where he worked. When we walked in, I said, "Hi, brother!" He didn't recognize me immediately, despite the fact that we look quite a bit alike. Nonetheless, we had a pleasant stay for a few days, then went back that summer to work as waitrons in his restaurant, which brings me to my next road trip.

Colorado to Michigan, August 1994: Jen had totaled her Probe earlier that summer. Not fun, as it was our only ticket back to Michigan. My benevolent brother, who hadn't been home to visit in a few years, bought a 1977 Ford Thunderbird (a ship, really), with the plan that we would drive it to Michigan and he would fly out later that year and drive it back. Simple enough. So began one of my most memorable road trips. Have you ever been to eastern Wyoming? It's the most desolate place on Earth. We took some "shortcut" between Cheyenne and Gillette. Came upon a construction site in the middle of nowhere. Went through one town: Bill, Wyoming, population 2. Probably Bill and his wife. About 75 miles from Gillette, with no other souls in sight, the generator light went on. We made it to Gillette, let the car rest, and had the best Chinese food I've ever eaten. Next day we visited Mount Rushmore and slept in a parking lot in Huron, South Dakota, amid dense fog. We made it to Tracy, Minnesota, before steam started billowing from under the hood. So there we were, two Michiganders with, ironically, no knowledge of cars. We took it to a place, where we were told it was just a burst hose and we'd soon be on our way. We went to a little cafe and had lunch. Just before we left, everybody in the place pulled out a pair of dice and started rolling them on their tables. Simultaneously. It was like something out of "The Lottery." Freaked out, Jen and I fled.

We got the car and stopped a few miles down the road to visit the Laura Ingalls Wilder museum in Walnut Grove. Then we went to the old homestead, where Jen fell on her ass in Plum Creek. Then we turned north. The steam thing happened again outside Munising, Michigan. We took the car to another place and got a motel room. At some point we ran into another young "couple," and we split the room with them. Next morning it was over the bridge and through the woods to our new house in the Lansing ghetto. And the T-bird made it back to Colorado that winter.

Barcelona to Barcelona, August 1999: Mike, Claudia, Eric and I decided to go to the tomato fight in Bunol, Spain, which is held the third Wednesday of every August. It was the centerpiece of a 17-day road trip that had so many ups and downs I can't even encapsulate them here. Mike and I were the only ones who could drive a stick shift, so we had to drive. No biggie. Our route took us to: Barcelona, Sitges, Valencia, Bunol, Alicante, Granada, Sevilla, Cordoba, Toledo, Madrid and Barcelona again. Oh, if that rented Citroen could talk. Or, rather, those rented Citroens. The first one got broken into and all our luggage stolen in Sitges, a gay resort. We had been making one last visit to the beach, and all we had were the bathing suits on our asses and our money and passports (thank God). We were supposed to be staying at a golf resort outside Bunol that night, and we called it to explain our plight. We got there very late at night after somehow filing a police report in the Valencian dialect and getting a new car. This is what gives me faith in the human spirit: When we got to the resort, the concierge chick, or whoever she was, gave us castoff clothing. I felt like baby Jesus.

Next day, after the tomato fight, we went into El Corte Ingles, the JC Penney of Spain, and got new wardrobes. Thus began my love affair with Spanish underwear. Other highlights: Seeing the most beautiful nightscape possible, a haunting moon in a purple sky over an Andalusian mountain; seeing the most beautiful man possible in Madrid, a Brazilian, and he actually talked to me (we had to speak in halting Spanish because I didn't know Portuguese and he didn't know English); and getting a tape from one of Mike's road tricks of one of my now-favorite bands, La Oreja de Van Gogh. Ah, Spain.

Minneapolis to New York, June 2004: The worst time of my life. Everything was fine for a while. I left Minneapolis in my Jeep Wrangler, which was packed full of clothes and futons, and stayed overnight with my friend Brian in Chicago. We partied, perhaps, a little too hard. I was on the road again by noon. By the time I hit Kalamazoo, it was raining harder than I ever thought possible. People were pulling over. That soon passed, in time for me to get stuck in construction traffic on I-94. I had made it north of Lansing and was just to the east of St. Johns when my car just lost power. Kaput. It didn't stall. It was just like, all systems stop. I pulled over, with my phone rapidly running out of juice, and had to make five separate calls to Triple-A until it could connect me to Triple-A Michigan instead of Triple-A Minnesota, Florida, Mississippi or Maine. (I am not making this up.) Tow truck finally came, I dropped my car off at a place, and walked down the road, where I got the "honeymoon" suite at what I think was called the St. Johns Motel. It was fetid. I took a shower but felt dirtier after I got out than before I went in. Next morning, I was told there was nothing wrong with my car. Whatever. I made it up to Midland and visited my family before setting out for Detroit, where I was to visit friends before heading to my final destination: the Big Apple. Had a good time in Motown (I partied, perhaps, a bit too hard) and was on the road by noon.

If you've ever driven across southern Ontario, you'll know the monotony I endured for the next several hours. I was three miles from Buffalo when my car broke down again. I managed to get a tow truck and had to stay overnight in Niagara Falls. At least I got to see the fucking falls. The place told me the same thing. "Can't find anything wrong with your bloody car" sounds very odd in a Midwestern accent. Next day I made it to New York by midnight after several careful hours of driving, letting my car rest, driving, letting .... I was staying with a friend in the Bronx, who very nearly got me lost as she directed me via cell phone, but I finally made it to her apartment and fairly collapsed, near tears. We then ate pizza, drank wine and smoked cigarettes. The kicker: When I got my cell phone bill that month, it was more than $600 because of all the international charges in Canada. Keen! And I still don't know what's wrong with my car, but it hasn't acted up since. I don't think I'll be making any road trips with it anytime soon, though.

Well, those are the highlights, kids. Any warm fuzzies/horror stories of your own?

My nieces and nephews

2005-08-10T02:32:00.000-04:00

I try to get excited when friends tell me they have a new little niece or nephew, but inside I'm just bored. I became an uncle at 29 days, courtesy of the oldest of my seven siblings. When I was done competing for attention with the ones my own age, I had to start babysitting the younger ones. New ones keep being born. I have no hope of knowing when their birthdays are; I gave up long ago. I haven't even met some of them. But I love them! Here they are, from oldest to youngest (more or less). I'd include ages, but I don't know most of them. And I'm not including the four or so step-nieces and -nephews who have left with the dissolution of a marriage, as I don't see them anymore. Such are the blessings of a large family.

Sherrie
Molly
T.J.
Philip
Ben
Andrew
Erica
Josh
Courtney (step-niece)
Evan
Christy (step-niece)
Cameron (step-nephew)
Sam
Brandon (great nephew)
Haley
Kirk
Spencer
Catie
Brooke (great niece)
Julia
Gabriel

I think that's it. I seriously had to sit here, stare off into space and think about it. Perhaps that means I'm a bad uncle. But this is the reality in a large family, especially for the gay uncle who lives far away. You just have to trust in the concept of unconditional, familial love.

For instance, I've met my nephew Kirk only once or twice, and he was an infant. He's about 10 now, and one of my brothers called from Colorado -- we talk maybe twice a year -- to ask whether I would donate a few dollars for Kirk's youth group event. I did, then got a photo of the new jacket I helped buy him and a thank-you note that is now displayed on our refrigerator (under a Golden Girls magnet, of course). That's what family's all about!

Things on my coffee table

2005-08-09T00:45:00.000-04:00

The laptop on which I am writing this post

Four remote controls

A pack of Camel Lights (box) and a lighter

An ashtray containing seven butts

A book of matches

An empty glass

A container of Reach Fluoride dental floss

"The American Vegetarian Cookbook"

A used piece of dental floss (Gross, I know. The scary thing is, it could be either mine or Eric's. We sit around, watch TV and floss our teeth. Right after clipping our toenails and exfoliating our feet. Usually we try to throw away the used floss, but this one got away.)

A clean napkin

A container of "Antique Maps of the World" coasters with the lid askew

A ceramic tray given to us by Cindy, holding a Swiss Army Knife, two business cards, a remote control manual and a Time Warner Cable brochure

Two copies of Next magazine with my picture in the back, taken at the Eagle during a night of rugby revelry

A separate stack of magazines. On top is the Henry Street Settlement newsletter, written by Eric. Also in the stack: several copies of The New Republic and one copy of Minnesota Law & Politics

A VHS copy of "Tori Amos: The Complete Videos 1991-1998"

A rubber snake

A Netflix envelope

Sucky IG songs

2005-08-07T20:31:00.000-04:00

Even da Girls (as I imagine they're known in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan) aren't infallible. Sadly, Emily is usually the culprit. Here are their greatest misses:

The Girl With the Weight of the World in Her Hands. What a shitty song. It's like they tacked it onto the end of "Nomads Indians Saints" just to have a full album. Usually the worst of the Indigo Girls songs are better than what anyone else can do, but this song is just BAD. Tritest line: "Is the glass half full or empty/I ask her as I fill it/She says it doesn't really matter/Pretty soon you're bound to spill it."

Leeds. Emily's voice sounds like hell, and could the piano notes be more unimaginative? The melody seems contrived. Tritest line: "On a bed of anxiety over a deep dark drop/Down into nothingness/Into withoutyouness."

Collecting You. "Call me when you breeze through/To your appointments/The work you do/Call me, I’m collecting you." As my friend Mark put it: "I hope she's not trying to do a play on collect calls."

Andy. So sappy. The music is pretty, I guess, but it just makes me embarrassed to listen to this molasses. And Emily falls into her bad habit of trying to stretch her voice too far. Emily, take note: You will never be Maria Callas. "I have watched you watch an empty road/Is it only her upon which all of you's depending/To fill your twenty-hour work day/While all the fences in this county still need mending."

There aren't that many IG misses. Anybody else have any IG songs they can't stand? Does Amy have any really bad ones? I think that even when Amy's at her worst, at least she's not banal, like Emily. Maybe someone can prove me wrong.

Underrated IG songs

2005-08-07T20:17:00.000-04:00

Some IG songs get all the glory. Some are barely noticed, or beloved but rarely played in concert for whatever reason. Here are what I think are the most underrated ones, in no particular order:

Love Will Come to You. Ask any IG fan and she will say she loves the song, but for some reason I've heard it in concert only once. Does anyone have any clue why? This song gives me chills, especially the last few lines: "And I wish her insight to battle love's blindness/Strength from the milk of human kindness/A safe place for all the pieces that scatter/Learn to pretend there's more than love that matters."

Walk Away. Amy sounds great. I think I suspect why they rarely, if ever, play it live: Somebody requested it when I was at a concert, and I could swear Amy rolled her eyes and mocked the song by saying "Baby, baby." The song is heavy on "Babys," but it's hardly trite.

Cut it Out. Could Amy sound sexier, more desperate? Was discord ever so well-orchestrated?

Secure Yourself. One of my favorite songs to sing along to, and one of their better songs overall. Why do I never hear it in concert?

Nashville. Probably one of the best industry fuck-offs ever written. (How many are there?) And their harmony has rarely sounded better than when they sing, "I fell on my knees to kiss your lambs/You are so far down, I can't even see to stand in Nashville."

Anyone else have any thoughts?

Indigo Girls concerts

2005-08-07T18:57:00.000-04:00

Our friend Chris, also a 'Gohead, was up visiting this weekend from Philly. After the bar last night I found myself in a familiar, yet comforting, situation: Drunk off my ass, trying to harmonize with him and Eric to Indigo Girls songs. ("I'm Emily!" "No, I'm Emily!" "You do the Amy part!" "I can't sing that part!") Once again sated in the upper echelons of cantabile mediocrity, I now offer some IG lists. Here are the IG concerts I've been to, in order:

Breslin Center, East Lansing, Mich., April 21, 1993

Playlist:

Strange Fire
Cold as Ice
Love's Recovery
Let it Be Me
Welcome Me
Pushing the Needle too Far
Crazy Game
Watershed
Chickenman
Closer to Fine

It's strange to look back so far and know that all of these are simply classics now, but they were relatively new back then. And I didn't know all of the words! (Note that they didn't even play "Galileo"; it wasn't a standard yet.)

Red Rocks Amphitheater, Golden, Colo., August 13, 1994

Strange Fire
Wood Song
Reunion
You and Me of the 10,000 Wars
Hand Me Downs
Power of Two
Virginia Woolf
Fugitive
Ghost
Land of Canaan
White House Blues
Mystery
This Train Revised
Chickenman
Least Complicated
Kid Fears
Galileo
Language or the Kiss
Touch me Fall
Closer to Fine
Finlandia

The most amazing concert I've ever been to. It's hard to describe if you've never been to Red Rocks. It's a natural amphitheater in the mountains above Denver. In an indoor theater I would've been in the nosebleeds, but at Red Rocks sitting that far away just made it a different, yet wholly satisfying, experience. We were up high enough that we were above the level of the top of the stage, and we could see the lights of Denver stretching into the distance along with the curvature of the Earth. The concert itself was just a part of this amazing picture. At one point it was raining on us, but not on the Indigo Girls. I came to understand things about their music that I had never before considered. When they played "Ghost," perhaps the finest song ever written about lost love -- and the version that appeared on their live "1200 Curfews" double album -- my spirit soared higher than Emily's soprano.

Hill Auditorium, Ann Arbor, Mich., October 8, 1994

Wood Song
Welcome Me
Galileo
Reunion
Power of Two
Joking
Love Will Come to You
Fugitive
Mystery
This Train Revised
Least Complicated
Center Stage
Ghost
Crazy Game
Prince of Darkness
Chickenman
Language or the Kiss
Touch me Fall

I don't remember much about this concert. But what a playlist! The only time I've ever seen them do "Love Will Come to You," a song they don't perform nearly as often as they should.

First Avenue, Minneapolis, August 28, 1998
Suffragette Sessions Tour

Under Your Skin
Gabrielle
Roll the Dice
Tengo La Vida
Faye Tucker
Pullin a Cloud
Wood Floors
Love is Everything
Pale Light
Go
Unknown
Vestigos
Chez Virtue
Way Below Radio
Soon to be Nothing
Cannonball
Power of Two
Fisherman
Midnight Train to Georgia

A pretty darn good concert, but not exclusively Indigo Girls, as it was part of the Suffragette Sessions tour. Shonen Knife, a Japanese punk girl group, opened. They might've been the best part.

Northrop Auditorium, Minneapolis, December 4, 1999

I can't find a setlist for this, but I know it was for the "Come on Now Social" Tour and was a very good concert. One memory: During "Closer to Fine," Lisa Germano fucked up on the pennywhistle solo and ran out of air, then collapsed in embarrassment. No problem. The Girls and the crowd just laughed, and the show went on. I remember great performances of "Johnny Rottentail," "Ozilline" and "Faye Tucker." One downfall: This is when I began being annoyed with other Indigo Girls fans -- you know, the kind who don't know when it's proper to listen rather than sing along. I'm sorry, girls, but "Ghost" is not a singalong. I attribute the problem at this particular concert to being a symptom of its setting: a college.

Roseland Ballroom, New York, June 16, 2005

Fill It Up Again
Devotion
Power Of Two
Heartache For Everyone
Get Out The Map
Clampdown
All That We Let In
Joking
Hammer And A Nail
Starkville
Closer To Fine
Wood Song
Dairy Queen
Winthrop
Let It Ring
Least Complicated
Kid Fears
Virginia Woolf
Galileo
Land of Canaan

I'm getting too old to stand up for hours on end, but even so, this was a pretty good show. It felt very intimate, and they spent a lot of time playing standards. Curiously enough, I had never seen them do "Hammer and a Nail," so that was a treat. And I'm glad they did the "Wood Song," because it was our wedding song. Eric got teary-eyed, and I must admit to getting a little misty, as well.

Until next time!

Setlist credits go to IndigoGirls.com and the Trader's Database.

Oldest friends, Part II

2005-08-03T21:51:00.000-04:00

Expanding on my previous post of the people I'm currently (at least somewhat) in touch with, whom I've known the longest. A brief history of how these friendships came to be:

1. Pam (1986). I don't remember meeting Pam, per se, but the first time we hung out was after school. I was supposed be on the bus home but decided to be irresponsible. It may have been one of my first times being consciously rebellious. Pam and I walked downtown, where she bought Madonna's self-titled LP. She took me back to her house, where I met her family and endeared myself to them by writing a horror-story spoof about them. It was also the first time I had seen a child flip off his/her parents. (I'm not saying which child.) Then they drove me home.

2. Mary (1987). The gal who nicknamed me Byf. I named her Phys. (The back story isn't terribly interesting.) I met her on the first day of school in eighth grade as she was walking down the hall with Pam. I recall asking Pam, "Who is this creature?"

3. Mark (1989). Met him in Spanish class in the tenth grade. Realized he was as big a smart-ass as I but better at hiding it. The first time I ever sneaked out of my house I went to Mark's. I don't remember what we accomplished. We probably just smoked on his back porch or something.

4. Jenn (1989). Phys introduced me to her at a high school football game, during which I proceeded to sexually harass her. Strangely enough, she kept coming back for more. (More Byf, not more sexual harassment.) She's the one who popularized Byf as my nickname.

5. Nick (1990). Jenn's onetime boyfriend. I had a crush on him. How stupid. I think the first time I met him he was in his football gear. Maybe that's why.

6. Laura (1991). I'm switching the order a little bit here because writing about all this jogged my memory. I met Laura at journalism camp at Northwestern. (Is there a thing nerdier than band camp? It appears so.) Another kindred smart-ass. On the first day we were looking at the list of rules and puzzling over why there were only 19. So we added a 20th rule: "Do not make fun of the rules." By the end of the summer we had come up with a list of 500 rules and were National High School Institute-Journalism legends.

7. Mara (1991). I remember seeing Mara when we were at Central Intermediate together, but I didn't get to know her until she was a senior in high school and we were on the school paper together. I recall a water fight in the halls, I think, or maybe we were spitting on each other. It involved clear liquids, at any rate.

8. Amy (1991). Another newspaper friend, and today my dearest. She actually had a crush on me. We really got to know each other the summer after my senior year, when she, Mark, another girl and myself would hang out at various lakes, restaurants or parks. (The only places in Midland for teens to play, essentially.)

9. Amy, Danielle, Jessica and Ruth (1992). I met them all at once, for the most part, when I went off to college. I was on crutches and so unable to socialize and meet new people with ease, so I hung out often at a casual high school friend's dorm. They lived on the same floor. Wild times ensued. One especially fond memory is of running up and down the halls of the dorm late at night writing on everyone's dry-erase boards, "Albert, Albert, what are you doing with that big paper rock you made?" (An obscure "Little House" reference.)

10. Dillard (1992). He was also a friend of another girl on that dorm's floor. I was fascinated with him because he wrote militant gay columns in the college newspaper, and I was a burgeoning gaywad myself. I crutched into the girl's room obnoxiously, and he sneered. I don't rightly remember the first time we properly hung out, but I'm sure it involved beer.

OK, now, give me your stories! (I'd especially like to know how some of you recall meeting me.)

Oldest friends

2005-08-02T21:12:00.000-04:00

I'm certainly not one of those people who is still in touch with his kindergarten playmate, but I've managed to keep a fair number of friends in my life. I offer this list so that some of you who read my blog may be reminded what a fair presence you are. Here are the people I've managed to keep in touch with -- periodically, at least -- the longest and the year we met:

1. Pam (1986)
2. Mary (1987)
3. Mark (1989)
4. Jenn (1989)
5. Nick (1990)
6. Mara (1991)
7. Amy (1991)
8. Laura (1991)
9. Amy, Danielle, Jessica and Ruth (1992)
10. Dillard (1992)

From there on out it gets kind of complicated, so I'll leave it there.

How about you? Who's your oldest friend?

ADDENDUM: I just realized how lame this post is. Later tonight or tomorrow I'll update and tell you the stories of meeting these lucky folks! In the meantime, lend yours.

Why is my cat getting so fat?

2005-07-29T14:51:00.000-04:00

10. She feels small and alone in that big Crock Pot.
9. It puts the lotion in the basket.
8. Cushing's syndrome
7. Immaculate kitty conception
6. She's a Palestinian militant.
5. She's just dressed in layers.
4. Unhinged jaw, ate entire sheep
3. Filled up on cockroaches
2. Pooping, sleeping and licking her own butthole don't provide enough exercise.
1. She's doing it to make me look bad.

Minnesota inventions

2005-07-21T02:23:00.000-04:00

Everything has to start somewhere, right? Heard of the 3M Corp.? Stands for Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing; it's responsible for some of the Gopher State's most celebrated contributions. And where would we be without the Mayo Clinic and the medical researchers at the University of Minnesota? Poor Minnesota, often invisible, clings fiercely to the knowledge that it gave the world:

Masking tape
Scotch tape
Rollerblades
Wheaties
Bisquick
HMOs (woo-hoo)
the Better Business Bureau
the Bundt pan (it's a trademark)
Aveda products
Green Giant vegetables
the stapler
open heart surgery
bone marrow transplants
water skis
the automatic pop-up toaster
antilymphocyte globulin (to ward off donated-organ rejection)
armored cars
snowmobiles
the enclosed shopping mall
NordicTrack
Post-Its
the cardiac pacemaker
the flight data recorder
the heart-lung machine

Famous Minnesotans

2005-07-19T21:43:00.000-04:00

People who were born and/or reared in Minnesota and left their mark, for better or for worse. These are in no particular order. If I left anyone important out, lemme know!

Tammy Faye Bakker (b. March 7. 1942, in International Falls)
Sinclair Lewis (b. Feb. 7, 1885, in Sauk Centre)
F. Scott Fitzgerald (b. Sept. 24, 1896, in St. Paul)
Anne Tyler (b. Oct. 25, 1941, in Minneapolis)
Peter Graves (actor, b. Peter Aurness, March 18, 1926, in Minneapolis)
Garrison Keillor (b. Aug. 7, 1942, in Anoka)
Laura Ingalls Wilder (lived in Walnut Grove as a child in the 1870s)
Prince (b. June 7, 1958, in Minneapolis)
Bob Dylan (b. Robert Zimmerman, May 24, 1941, in Duluth)
Judy Garland (b. Frances Gumm, June 10, 1922, in Grand Rapids)
The Andrews Sisters (b. 1910s in Minneapolis)
Charles Schulz (b. Nov. 26, 1922, in St. Paul)
Jesse Ventura (b. James Janos, July 15, 1951, in Minneapolis)
Warren Burger (b. Sept. 7, 1907, in St. Paul)
Walter Mondale (b. Jan. 25, 1928, in Ceylon)
Jessica Lange (b. April 20, 1949, in Cloquet)
Winona Ryder (b. Oct. 29, 1971, in Winona)
Al Franken (grew up in St. Louis Park)
Joel and Ethan Coen (grew up in St. Louis Park)
Thomas L. Friedman (b. July 20, 1953, in Minneapolis)
Richard Dean Anderson ("MacGyver") (b. Jan. 23, 1950, in Minneapolis)
Loni Anderson (b. Aug. 5, 1946, in St. Paul)
Rachel Leigh Cook (b. Oct. 4, 1979, in Minneapolis)
Josh Hartnett (grew up in the Twin Cities)
Lea Thompson (b. May 31, 1961, in Rochester)
Kevin Sorbo ("Hercules") (b. Sept. 24, 1958, in Mound)
John Madden (b. April 10, 1936, in Austin)
Craig Kilborn (b. Aug. 24, 1962, in Hastings)
Louie Anderson (b. March 24, 1953, in Minneapolis)
Charles Lindbergh (grew up in Little Falls)
Peter Krause (b. Aug. 12, 1965, in Alexandria)
Eddie Cochran (grew up in Albert Lea)

Minnesotaisms

2005-07-19T00:47:00.000-04:00

In celebration of my upcoming trip to my beloved Twin Cities, for the rest of the week I am offering the "Lists of 10,000 Lakes." Please enjoy this list of Minnesota terms and their English translations. I probably could have come up with one on my own, but it would have been about the same thing, anyway. So, a thank-you to Barbara DeGroot and Jack El-Hai, authors of "An Insider's Guide to the Twin Cities." (Though I did add a couple of my own observations.)

Dale (suf.): Shopping center (e.g., the Quarry Shopping Center on Dzeidzic Avenue is informally known as "Dzeidzicdale.")

That's interesting: That's stupid

Cool: Freezing

Hot dish: Casserole

Rusty bucket: Rusty car

Ish: Yuck

Rubber binder: Rubber band

Salad: Jell-O

Scandahoovian: Scandinavian

Uff da: Oy vey

Outstate: Within Minnesota, but outside the Twin Cities area (Some outstaters prefer "Greater Minnesota.")

Sliding: Sledding

Real good: That's fine

Duck, duck, gray duck: Duck, duck, goose (I am not making this up. Minnesotans insist they are right and everyone else is wrong.)

Breathtaking accidents

2005-07-17T20:16:00.000-04:00

Some of these might be better classified as disasters, but as you'll soon see, they ain't all of 'em disasters. (Some of these might sound familiar to those of you who watch "Seconds from Disaster" on the National Geographic Channel.) I'm sure this list will have many sequels.

Cuyahoga River fire. (Here I go, picking on Ohio again. But I'm a Michigander, born to pick on my former southern neighbor.) The Cleveland river was so polluted that it caught on fire in 1969.

In 1989, 24-year-old Leslie Ann Pluhar had the short-lived pleasure of being the driver of the first (and so far only) car blown off the Mackinac Bridge -- a Yugo. She died 150 feet later. The beautiful bridge, an icon of Michigan, spans the 5-mile-wide straits of Mackinac and links the state's two peninsulas. Last time I drove over it, there was a wind advisory and I nearly freaked out. The weather-induced speed limit was 20, so I had plenty of time to gawk at the lake and picture myself flying over the freakishly low guardrail in my Jeep. What a terrible way to die.

Lake Peigneur, Louisiana. An oil drill in the lake punctured the shaft of a salt mine in 1980, and the lake drained into the shaft and created a temporary waterfall and a new channel to the Gulf. The lake is now salt water. Idiots.

Freeland, Michigan. You probably haven't heard of this one because it's not too spectacular. In 1989 a CSX train carrying dangerous compounds on the way to Dow Chemical derailed, and some cars exploded. My mother and I had to leave our home for two days, as we were six miles directly downwind. When we returned, there was a fine dust on our lawn that authorities assured us was harmless and that we were told to simply hose off.

The Star Tribune of Minneapolis once had to run this correction: "Elmer Fudd was mistakenly identified as Porky Pig in a photo caption on page E6 Thursday."

I've also been told of a misprint (but never saw it with my own eyes) in a Midwestern newspaper in which a prominent but reticent local butcher was finally persuaded to run an ad. He chose to emphasize his juicy, tender waterfowl, and unfortunately the ad ended up running in big type as "Plump Dick: $2.99/lb."

I saw Bea Arthur fall off the stage during a performance at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis. Spunky Bea, despite her 77 years, got right back up and gave us what we came for with nary a maude-lin moment (yuk, yuk).

The urban legend about the actor who shot and killed himself with a blank is not an urban legend at all. It actually happened to Jon-Erik Hexum, who was playing what ended up being the last practical joke of his life. Too bad; he was pretty cute.

My favorite words

2005-07-14T12:30:00.000-04:00

10. Sagacious
9. Supercilious
8. Creosote
7. Fix
6. Unctuous
5. Marmot
4. Indefatigable
3. Legume
2. Moist
1. Vole

The best state quarters

2005-07-13T23:51:00.000-04:00

I'm sure someone guessed that my next post would be the best state quarters. I nearly wasn't able to come up with a superlative 10 to keep my structure parallel, such is the state of American design. There's a general rule in design, the same as in many professions: Less is more. Clutter up something the size of a quarter and it's just going to look like a big hairy wart. These states kept it simple, for the most part, and are worthy of my praise:

10. Iowa

It's just so nice. And true to Iowa's heritage. The only other option would have been a feedlot, or a picture of Tom Arnold.

9. Virginia

I wish so many states hadn't chosen to put ships on their quarters, but at least Virginia does a pretty good job. And it's more pleasant than depicting the kidnapping of Pocahontas.

8. Kentucky

Granted, there's quite a bit of stuff on this quarter, but it works because it's a single scene. Though I do find it kind of strange that "My Old Kentucky Home" had to be depicted with an actual edifice. I thought maybe it was supposed to be Loretta Lynn's ranch, but it's apparently where the guy who wrote "My Old Kentucky Home" lived. Whatever. Even though nobody but a Kentuckian would know that (and that's debatable), it works.

7. West Virginia

I'm glad Virginiatucky didn't fall back on the old "Mountain Mama" thing. I'm fascinated by bridges, so I'm biased, but I think this does a good job of contrasting yet complementing the manmade and the natural.

6. Mississippi

Simple. A flower. I can almost smell it. I'm glad Mississippi didn't opt for [hum Billie Holiday's "Strange Fruit" here].

5. Alabama

Simple, but powerful. The Braille is a nice touch, too, but so small you'd have to be a vole for it to be useful. I like to think the "Spirit of Courage" is also a nod to the civil rights movement.

4. North Carolina

Unlike Ohio, which some readers have suggested (privately) that I've unfairly maligned, North Carolina has genuine bragging rights to flight. The coin design is pleasant, but probably unintentionally reminiscent of that cropfield scene in "North by Northwest."

3. Rhode Island

Another triumph in that it has multiple images but good focus. Though I'm unfamiliar with the bridge. Personally, all I know about Rhode Island is that it's small (but the feds wouldn't let them make the smallest quarter) and it's run by the mob (the former mayor of Providence is named Buddy Cianci). Who knew it was the Ocean State? Thanks for speaking up, Rhode Island. A couple of nits: The boat appears to be dangerously close to the shore, and is that foam or dead fish on the sand? (Not to keep picking on Rhode Island, but whoever wrote the caption should be fired. If the boat were on the open sea, it wouldn't be beached, with a fucking bridge behind it.)

2. Connecticut

At first I thought it was kind of weird to have a tree, but I had to admit it's a great design. Turns out the charter oak has a fairly interesting story.

1. Michigan

You might say I'm biased, since I'm from Michigan and all, but remember that I don't live there anymore -- because I can't stand it. Nonetheless, the Michigan quarter gets my highest marks for accomplishing what most other quarters tried to do but failed at -- integrating the state's outline into the design. Hell, Michigan knew what it had when it looked at its outline. It doesn't need to be dressed up! I saw draft versions that variously showed an automobile, the Mackinac Bridge, Madonna, etc. I'm glad that it went with the mitten and the rabbit (can't slight those Yoopers, can I?).

The worst state quarters

2005-07-13T04:12:00.000-04:00

Being a cynic, I want to list the worst state quarters first. There are so many of them, chosen by governors or committees who were clearly never taught the laws of design, that it was a tough decision. But here we go:

10. Pennsylvania

First of all, we care about the shape of your state only if it's unusual or interesting, like Michigan's or Colorado's or Florida's. And what's up with the Columbia Pictures lady next to a piece of floating rock? Next.

9. New York

We all know what Lady Liberty looks like. What's wrong with just that? And why the frickin' state outline?

8. Wisconsin

Reminds me of Borden Glue. Plus, I hate the Packers.

7. Indiana

Racecars aren't supposed to fly. Especially over the outline of a state.

6. Louisiana

Couldn't decide what to depict? How about a one-toothed governor? Nope, better go with the floating trumpet.

5. Tennessee

Trrrruuuuummmmmmpppettttts innnnn spaaaaaace!

4. Minnesota

Having lived in Minnesota for nearly seven years, I have something to say about this. Why the motorboat, if what you're depicting is a wilderness paradise? Oh, because it's the land of a bazillion lakes and you're loving them to death. Who gives a shit about pollution? And could you fit more crap onto this quarter? Whoever designed this must've been a loon.

3. Arkansas

Ever seen "Close Encounters of the Third Kind"? Remember the spaceship floating over the mountain? Spielberg must've designed this quarter.

2. Ohio

Nobody of any import who was born here decided to stay here, so let's give them a shittily designed quarter while we're at it.

1. Florida

We have science, palm trees and galleons. Let's discover how far apart we can put them!