Dispatch from the Metro: Orange Line Art Edition

What a privilege it is to ride the Orange Line everyday from the far reaches of Virginia (don't worry, it's not REAL Virginia, I'm not that far out)! Nearly every day I get to experience one of the greatest pieces of art ever created. Actually, I'd say that I get to hear it many times per trip as the train rolls from station to station. You might be thinking to yourself "Self, what art can exist in such a cramped and utilitarian place?" Or you might be thinking to yourself "Self, it's almost time to eat lunch, isn't it?" Or even perhaps "Self, I can't wait until summer when fresh corn on the cob sells for, like, $2 per dozen!"

All you need to do is listen.

It's beautiful.

Rememberance of Things Past

BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON
BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON
BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON

You know, I was just thinking, it’s been three years since went to one of the best parties I’ve ever been to. Almost exactly three years ago, we were preparing to leave DC for the northern wastes of Detroit, Canada. So our great friends in the current snow capitol (well, actual Capitol, too, I suppose) of the country threw a pretty great going away party. There was karaoke and some of it was even custom written for us! There were some beers, some scrapbooking, some kids.

It’s kind of hard for me to believe that it was three years ago that we left. That’s half my son’s life (almost)! Hell, my daughter has NEVER been there and she’s almost a year old. I feel like this post is getting a little melancholy, so I’d better wrap it up (in Bacon, so it’s more delicious).

Anyway, it was a great party three years ago, and I’m afraid our going away party in Michigan won’t be quite as good. Hopefully our “welcome back” party in DC next month will make up for it.

BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON
BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON
BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON

A Tale of Two CDs

So I've now listened to the latest Avett Bros. album approximately a baker's dozen times while driving to and from work and/or stores and I've come to the conclusion that I have to call it a total sell-out. It is basically a mainstream wannabe that lacks the pure poppiness of actual mainstream music without the vibrancy and banjo that made their past efforts (see Gleam and Emotionalism for example) so awesome.

Now this is hard for me to say, and I come by this after many hours of deliberation. You see, I've never heard any other Avett Brothers albums before in my life. However, I am aware that many of their "true" fans do not like the latest offering. I definitely don't want to be one of those Ralph-come-latelys because then I totally lose all my credibility (sort of like how I feel about people who have only heard the Kings of Leon's newest album, which sucks and is a total sell-out). So I am forced to pretend that I don't think this newest album is very good so as to look like someone hip and in the know. You wouldn't think being hip should be so difficult, but you are wrong. It's a lot of work.

The great thing about this decision is that even though I claim to think "I and Love and You" is a total cop-out, major-label, Rick-rubin suckfest and how they were WAAAAAAY better back when, I can still listen to it in secret. If I listened to it in public without shame, I would be opening myself up to all kinds of mockery by the real deal fans.

Basically, I just want to make sure I'm hipper than anybody else at work, which is, let's be honest, in the northern Detroit suburbs, like shooting a barrel with a gun specifically designed to shoot barrels with barrel-seeking missiles.

You Might Remember a Little Thing Called THE FRENCH JEAN SHORT REVOLUTION!

At this most wonderful time of the year, I often like to recollect things. Last year I tried recollecting all the 1987 Topps baseball cards, but then I remembered that collecting things is pretty lame, let alone REcollecting.

So I decided to reminisce instead. It was way more satisfying. I reminisced so much that I threw my back cortex out! First I reminisced about ye olden times when I used to wear jean shorts. That was pretty cool. Then I reminisced about The Dark Ages (birth - 4), but that didn’t take very long. It turns out that all my memories from that period are actually just photographs. I guess you could say I have a 100% photographic memory of those ages!

Finally, I reminisced about Saturday when I took los kids (that's Mexican for "the kids") to the Henry Ford Museum. They had this Lego Castle Adventure exhibit that had big ol’ bins of Lego bricks for any/everyone to dig their hands into and build stuff with. In retrospect (which is what reminiscing is all about), these bins seem like a bad idea. Unless Lego bricks are naturally self-disinfecting. In retrospect, I’m pretty sure they are not.

Verbal Abuse

So, for the second time this year, somebody yelled at me from a car while I was riding my bike home from work. The first time was very predictable. Some kids driving an old, beat up Pontiac passed me going the opposite direction. One of them leaned out the window and yelled "FAGGOT!!" I was very disappointed. I mean, come on! That's some of the laziest name calling I've ever heard. No class, no panache, no originality. I don't mind being called names by dumb kids, that's what they do. I just wish they would add some flair to their insults. Maybe next time, try yelling "

But yesterday was much stranger. Some dude in his mid-to-late 20s leaned out of the passenger window of a Dodge Charger and yelled "Nice helmet, Lance!" My feelings were not hurt, but I was confused. I assume he was being sarcastic because if there is one person on earth who doesn't look like Lance Armstrong it's, well it's this guy..


But next to that dude, it's gotta be me.

And why did he choose to mention my helmet? I palp a very normal/cheap helmet. It's just a Giro Indicator in the black colorway, like this one.


If I were wearing this thing, I could see him mocking me. I would mock me.




But I'm pretty sure I look pretty normal. True, I do have a road bike and so does Mr. Armstrong. But I don't wear lycra, I don't wear bibshorts, and I don't wear bike jerseys, though I will admit that, yesterday, I was wearing a homemade Apple computer t-shirt, and maybe that's worse than lycra.

My only conclusion is that the guy doesn't like helmets, which is like a trail rabbit not liking pomegranates; no matter how you look at it, it doesn't make sense.

A Stitch in Time Saves Money

Thanks to all the hard work I've been doing I can finally relax and tell you all a story of yesteryear.

Once upon a time, I woke up feeling an uneasy combination of guilt, pride, fear, hope and pants. It was today, and the first question I asked myself was "why are my pants still on my body?" The second question I asked myself was "what am I so afraid of?" The third question was "Boy, I sure hope I can eat some fun-size Snickers today! I wonder if anybody will bring some to work in a bag full of other candies? The first answer was that I climbed into bed with my pants still on and fell asleep. The second answer was that the whole of my life lay before me like an open book, only instead of words leaping off the page, fire leaped off the pages.


Then I put the fire out and took a shower and went to work. Just like every other day save Saturdays, Sundays and election days.

The third answer was "yes."

Speaking of election days, I worked at town hall on Tuesday counting absentee ballots. I learned a lot of things about the way our democracy works. First of all, there are many stringent qualifications to be a team leader of the Absentee Voter Counting Board. They are

• Age: 60+


• Little to no basic math skills


• Ability to consistently function incoherently


• No sense of urgency or civic duty

At first I was all proud to be doing my part in our electoral process. Then, when I realized who actually operates our electoral process, I cried a few alligator tears. Then I counted some ballots and listened to people talk about their favorite subjects: TV, idiots, fear, TV again, celebrities, other idiots, and food. Hooray democracy!

Oh yeah. I'm going to be the father of a girl in another 20 weeeks, so I've got that going for me.

Seven Minute Socks

So, today is the fourth day that I've ridden my bike to work. From my house it's about twelve-and-a-quarter miles to my trailer. Last Thursday, I made the ride in 1 hour and 6 minutes. Today I made the ride in 1 hour and 4 minutes. So, one day, 2 minutes off my time. I gotta keep that up because, well, check out the chart.



After only 34 days of riding I will be getting to work in, literally, no time at all. Saving gas money and time! How about that!

A Day Late and A Day Short

Man, if I would have just made this post yesterday like I planned on. I would have won.

Stupid NPR, now everybody (everybody white, at least) knows about Stuff White People Like. And while I'm not an official White Person, I hope to be someday when I get a job at a non-profit that helps/knows what's best for poor people.

I think my favorite thing about the site is that it lets white people feel either more or less white than other white people, which are both things that white people like! You can't lose!

But deep down, the blog (do white people like blogs?) gives really good advice about how to interact with white people to make them feel good about being white, which is a very kind thing to do, really. With this help, I might even be able to pass as a white person now.

The Miracle of Flight

The other day I was just doing my usual thing, you know, driving home from work when I saw something that literally made me fall out my chair. Well, not literally, but figuratively literally. I couldn't literally fall out of my chair because there was a door to my left and a stick shifter control knob thingy to my right. But anyway, I figuratively literally fell out of my chair because I saw this dude just walking along on the side of the road! By the Buffalo Wild Wings at 26 and the Van Dyke Expressway! Who does that??? I almost rolled down my window and asked him if he needed a ride. I didn't though, because it was pretty cold out there and nice and warm inside my car. I didn't want to let the warm out. Global warming is bad enough as it is.

Sixteen Tons, and What Do You Get?

So, I was reading this book the other day. It was pretty good.

Then, after I finished reading the book, I listened to a new CD. It was pretty good, too. Then I listened to it again and it was a little better.

After that, I went to work. It was pretty good.

After I got home from work, I went to some store or another. I was pretty good. Not as good as NOT going to the store, but better than eating a shit sandwich.

Then I started finishing another book. It was pretty good in a different way from the other book that I finished.

Then I went to work again.

I've Always Told Lies For Love

The other day, actually yesterday I think, my son told his first ever approximately correct joke. It went like this...

Person Telling The Joke (PTtJ): Knock Knock
Person Not Telling the Joke (PNTtJ): Who's there?
PTtJ: Popcorn!
PNTtJ: Popcorn who?
PTtJ: Popcorn Chicken!

Granted, it's not very funny but it's way better than what he usually does, which goes something like this...

PTtJ: Knock knock!
PNTtJ: Who's There?
PTtJ: Jiffy Pop Train to pick up a dog at the station!
PNTtJ: Jiffy Pop Train to pick up a dog at the station, who?
PTtJ: I screwed it up!!!

And now that that's out of the way, how was your weekend? Uh huh, uh huh. You're kidding! No, he couldn't have! OMG. Yeah, the weather was nice around here, a little cold at night, but I think my tomato plants survived. Yep, still going good, I've got more basil than I can shake a stick at. Well, half a stick anyway. They are doing fine. The little one is a little sick today, so he stayed home from school. Yeah, well say hi to them for me. Okay. See you later!

I'd say 75% of my interactions with other people are like that. The rest can be tabulated below:

5%: Conversations with my office-mate (an actual person, not inanimate office supplies that I talk to. Don't worry) about how screwed the world is that rapidly veer off course to conspiracy theories that he want to convince me of, many of which are proponentated by David Icke (follow the link, I dare you).

3%: Sports-related conversations in which I try to feign non-ignorance. I typically try to check some scores before coming to work on Monday during football season so I can sound normal. "Whoa, lot of overtime games yesterday huh?" See? It works.

7%: Discussions with my son about what he did at school, whether or not something is cool, what he wants for his birthday, what he did 2 years ago that he appears to actually remember somehow, and jokes (see above).

10%: Discussion with my wife about, literally, any subject imaginable. Once we discussed our mutual interest in a scientific paper on how many bullets it would take to kill a cow based on caliber, shot location, muzzle velocity and firing distance. That's probably one of the more straight forward conversations that we've had. ***Update: I'd just like to confirm that this conversation was purely hypothetical.***

ca. 0%: TV, because I've finally been able to become, as has been a lifelong dream, one of those annoying people that everybody hates who, whenever somebody starts to talk about some TV show or other, says "Oh, I don't even own a TV." Well, that's a slight lie. I do own a TV, but we can't afford cable and we only get one fuzzy channel (ABC, I think) so I'm kind of one of those people by default. But still, I can check that one off my lifetime "To Do" list.

All My Lies Are Always Wishes

HOW TO TURN A USDA CHOICE SIRLOIN STEAK INTO A SALT LICK

Follow all instructions very carefully

1. Buy some USDA Choice Sirloin steaks on sale at Meijer.


2. Gripe about having to shop at Meijer where everybody is rude.


3. Think, "Wow, it's just like being back in DC except everyone (including me) is fatter!


4. Walk down the baking aisle and note that it is the only part of the store that isn't a zoo.


5. Think, "what is this country coming to when nobody bakes their own food anymore. At least we are not like that. We at least bake our own bread.


6. In a bread machine.


7. At home, 90 minutes before grilling time, take the steaks and pat them dry to remove excess water.


8. In your Crate and BarrelTm granite mortar and pestle, mash together some fresh, homegrown rosemary and some minced garlic.


9. Spread garlic-rosemary mash liberally on one side of the steaks.


10. Cover the steaks on both sides with non-iodized salt so that you can't even see any red hardly ,in order that the water in the steaks gets drawn out by the salt to dry them out so that they taste like prime steaks instead of choice.


11. Let steak sit there for about 75 minutes.


12. Half-assedly rinse the surfaces of the steaks to remove the excess salt and garlic-rosemary mash.


13. Grill to taste.*


14. Taste will be salt.

*At least 4 Rolling Rocks (or similar) must be consumed while grilling. Includes grilling time for dishes other than steaks.

Bullets From a Revolver

If there's one thing this crazy world needs, it's more information about what I eat. You could write a book about the food that I eat. Chapter last week's lunches would be called "Futility."

Monday: Weight loss shake.

Tuesday: 4 Jimmy John's mini sandwiches and Salt and Vinegar chips.

Wednesday: McDonald's

Thursday: Wendy's value menu special

Friday: Weight loss shake

But this weekend, the food was really good, and better yet, it was all home grown! You see, I decided that the imminent collapse of the US economy and the attendant hyper-inflation will soon make most food either unavailable or prohibitively expensive. Thus, I decided earlier this spring to learn how to grow my own vegetables. The first thing I learned was that I'm not very good at growing things. What nature somehow manages to do literally billions of times every year, I cannot accomplish, even with extensive effort. Not a single one of my seeds sprouted. I almost gave myself up for doomed. But then I remembered that you can totally just go down to the local fancy-pants grocery store and buy all sorts of plants that just need to be transplanted. The second thing I learned was that I am one awesome transplanting SOB. Not a single one of my plants died and now I've got lettuces out the head and tomatoes growing like crazy and 4 or 5 different varieties of peppers, I don't remember exactly. I hope I don't confuse a bell pepper and an habanero pepper, because that won't end well.

But back to the food we had this weekend that was all homegrown. Last night we had a fresh romaine and black-seeded Simpson lettuce salad topped with chicken sauteed with minced garlic, olive oil, a dash of vinegar, dried oregano, dried thyme, fresh cilantro and fresh basil. Then, tonight, we had fried eggs with cheese and a fresh basil leaf on top and a fresh black-seeded Simpson lettuce and green bean salad.

By the way, when I said everything was homegrown, I was not including the chicken, the garlic, the olive oil, the vinegar, the oregano, the thyme, the eggs, the cheese, the salad dressing, the toast or the beer. Other than that, it all totally was!

Minimum Wage. HEEYAAAAAAH!

The other day, I was walking around the neighborhood when....ah, who am I kidding, I never walk anywhere. I mean, there aren't even sidewalks. By the way did you ever notice that just the name "sidewalk" is car-centric? Why is walking relegated to the
"side?" Why don't we call roads "sidedrives?" Anyway, what was I talking about?

So in our neighborhood we've got this meat store called Nitsche's Meats. Imagine my disappointment when they didn't have any, not even one, Ubermensches. The meat is pretty good though, if you're into that kind of thing.

We're Just Trying to Bug You

Hey, did you hear the one about peak oil?

No?

Okay!

So, this guy walks into a bar and he sits down at the bar and the bartender says to him, "Hey Bar, what can I getcha?"

The guy looks up and he says "Give me a long, tall, cold glass of Light Sweet Crude, Black Gold, Texas Tea."

And then the bartender says, "Dude, we ain't had that here since 2009."

So the guy is all, "What???? Why the hell not?"

And the bartender (his name is Jake, by the way) says "Well, due to the rapid growth of several third world economies, the demand for Light Sweet Crude is rapidly out pacing the dwindling production of the same. This leads to obvious macroeconomic consequences worldwide from rising transportation costs to widespread social and political turmoil. Millions have died so far and the worst is probably yet to come as we reach the section of the global Hubbert's Peak curve of oil production with the steepest negative slope. We won't see any improvement until the second derivative of the curve hits a zero."

"Okay, fine," says the guy that walked into the bar at the beginning of the joke. "I can has cheezburger?"

The bartender pulls out a gun and shoots the guy in the left ass and says "There's some social turmoil for you!"

LOL!!!!11!!!


Please forward this joke to 10 of your best friends. Otherwise you will suffer economic, social and political turmoil

Bad Poetry Thursday

Today's genre is hopelessly pessimistic self-aware wallowing in self-pity from a suburban american perspective.



Where Do You Want To Go Today

by SJSTL


The plastic cups of coffee
And glittering overhead track lighting
Smother our glorious auras in
Modernity

Escape is not feasible.
Resistance is futile.
As if by hidden signal
We jump how high

Oh well.
Let’s just go to Home Depot.
I hear they have some washers on sale.
We can buy one with our home equity loan.

Bad Poetry Thursday

Today's genre is Angsty Suburban Teenager Melodrama/Misunderstood Genius Poetry. Enjoy!

I Am Echoes
by Schuyler

My parents can
Not comprehend me
I am
To them
I think
A mirror
Of what they once
Wanted to be
And which they
Now can see
Quite clear
I am
Youth
Fire
Strength
I scare them in
Their old age
Their boring jobs
The end of the world
They must keep
Me at arms length
Or fear
My wrath which
I lay down when
Others claim me
As their own.
This house will
Falter when I
Am gone.
They are alone
And sad
Distraught
That I have seen fit
To leave this hole
That they
So lovingly
Claimed as home.