I watched the scariest, most horrific, terrifying movie ever made tonight. Something way scarier than Hitchcock or Halloween or "The Shining"-- Jesus Camp. I made it only fifteen minutes through, when the ten year old boy with a bad, rat tail of a mullet and a friend sat there watching a video making fun of evolution before I decided I couldn't watch anymore and switched to something much cheerier- the second to last episode of last season's "the Wire" (otherwise known as the second most depressing episode of tv ever put on the air (the final episode of that season being the most depressing, of course). I'm going to finish watching it, though, but I'm probably going to need some wine to make it through.

Scariest damn zombie movie I've ever seen and I thought "28 Weeks Later" was fantastic.

Notes on a quicky trip to Montana-

-I got stuck in the Denver airport for five hours as my flight was delayed several hours due to snow. Long story, but suffice to say, I'm one of those lucky people who can now say they've spent about two hours on the tarmac waiting to take off.

-While all of this was going on, I noticed that pretty much the moment it started snowing in Denver and things were looking rather dicey, every United official disappeared. There was absolutely nobody with a United uniform to be seen anywhere. It's like the moment they realized the shit was about to hit the fan, they got a call from command central telling them to get the fuck out of there. Where they were, I have no idea (lounge room? bar? at home?) but it wasn't until flights started up again that you started seeing a few at gates.

-United has this new thing where for an extra $30, you can upgrade to "Economy Plus" and get an extra five inches of legroom. I cannot understate just what a great deal this is and just how nicer flying is with actual legroom. Highly recommended.

And now onto the fun stuff

On my way to Montana, I got my shaving cream and toothpaste confiscated. They were both normal size and, yes, I should know that technically neither are allowed, but I still thought it would be okay. I haven't had them confiscated on some flights I've been on and they are toothpaste and shaving cream. Ålso, I'm testing them in a little way, seeing if the people behind the scanner also realize how idiotic all of this is and let it slide because it's only a fucking thing of shaving cream and toothpaste (in reading about security rules, several people point out that all security does when confiscating something is put them in a giant basket, meaning that if one of those things were a bomb, there's not a damn thing done to make sure that bomb goes off)..

As a result, I had to buy those little traveling kits, making me think that most security rules are merely done as a result of the lobbying from airport confectionaries

On my way back out of Billings, security stopped my bag while going through the x-ray machine, met for a few minutes, and then my bag was taken off to be searched. They went through everything to see what the offending item was and pulled out my traveling bag to examine what was in it, mainly the regulation size toothpaste and shaving cream. Upon discovering this, the security person told me that this was an issue because I needed to put this into a plastic bag. So I said that, no, it's not in a plastic bag but that it's in a bag, albeit a black traveling bag. I was then told I needed to put it into a plastic bag anyways and so I argued that not only is it in a bag, but the items in it are all regulation. I was then told again that it doesn't matter because it needs to be put into a plastic bag to which I once again argued that it's in a bag and that it's all small enough to be allowed by security. Once again, I was told that this was all a security problem because they are not put into a plastic bag. Finally, after the third or fourth go round, the security person actually grabbed a plastic bag and put my shaving cream and toothpaste into a plastic bag, put it into my carry on luggage, and let me go, secure in knowing that I could possibly not commit any sort of heinous Al Qeda like hijacking because my tiny case of shaving cream and toothpaste were in a plastic bag.

For a few seconds, I thought it was finally going to be who leads the revolution, the "this is all retarded" revolution, the one that finally frees us plane travelers from the yoke of ridiculous security measures dreamed up by a bunch of mindless bureaucrats and chicken-shit politicians to pacify a largely ignorant mass who doesn't care what ridiculous security measures are implemented just as long as some official tells them that it'll keep everyone safe and secure from the one in a billion chance that some middle-eastern dude will hijack their plane and try and fly it into a large skyscraper. Someday, somebody is going to start the revolution it and maybe it'll be me.

Or maybe not.

The scary thing is that there's a good chance these measures will be the norm for now and forever on. Everybody (well most people who know what's going on) knows these measures are bullshit but what chances are there that somebody will have enough guts to say "you know, this whole shoe thing is ridiculous. From now on, you can leave your shoes on?" If you say almost zero or no way in hell, you're probably right because if they did, there's enough jackasses (who all know better) who'll scream and shout and the vast array of masses will start screaming about how they'll no longer feel safe.

But what happens next? What happens if some terrorist tries to blow something up using a hairbrush? Does that mean hairbrushes will be banned? Or, god forbid, an iPod. Will they be banned too and if so, will that finally be the moment people say "fuck this?"

But then, on one of my flights, I was thinking: you know how before you take off, they run through all those things that airplanes come equipped with in case of an accident? You know, like life preservers and rafts and what not? Are all of those things really necessary? For the life of me, I can't actually remember an incident in which an airliner went down in some ocean and everybody survived by grabbing their seat to stay afloat and hop onto one of those life rafts they always tell you about. On my flight from Billings to Denver, the flight attendants told several people with babies who were sitting on their laps that in case there was a "water landing," they have extra life preservers for the babies. This for a flight between Montana and Colorado, two places in which the chances of having a "water landing" is nearly impossible.

But you know what? I feel safer knowing that if, God forbid, the plane lands over the Pacific Ocean or someplace, I'll be able to use my seat as a life preserver and be able to survive on a raft. Even though I know this is pretty ridiculous.

So maybe just as all that bullshit about floating seats and slides makes me feel better about flying, all that stuff about taking off shoes makes other people feel safe and isn't that what it's all about?

Still, those security measures are fucking bullshit.

It's weird working on Christmas Eve, especially when it's a Monday. And you also happen to live in a place that doesn't look that much different today than any other day, except less crowded. I rode into work this morning, hearing all the Christmas tunes being played-- not the usual stuff, but the serious, never played stuff-- and I wondered why until I realized it was Christmas Eve. In fact, if you didn't listen to the radio and just stayed inside the apartment, you'd never know it's the birthday of little Baby Jesus.

Kinda a strange day. Anyways, off to Montana

I don't want to be in the business of posting my Sfist stuff on here, but I thought this was relevant in light of this week's big news:

Man, that Jamie Lynn Spears story is tremendous. Just stupendously tremendous. It's like the movie "Idiocracy" (which, yes, CJ I've seen)-- It's pretty bad, but it's central premise is that civilization is not "evolving" but "devolving." The reason is because while all the well-educated, intelligent folks aren't having lots of kids because they're too busy with their careers and self-actualizing, all the dumb-ass redneck hillbillies are. In other words, the Spears family.

Today, it's..... Fear and Loathing on the Job Hunt!!!!!!!!!!

-There was this agency for which I interviewed maybe a month ago. Things went really well and I really liked the place but I never got that oh so awesome "we want to hire you" phone call. When I checked in, I was told that they really wanted to give me a job offer, but they wanted to hire someone as a freelancer at first and they couldn’t offer me the job because I only wanted to go full-time. That was, apparently, a hitch. They even told me that they’ll look around for a few weeks and and if they can’t find anybody, they’ll let me know and they’ll bring me in again, the job hunting equivalent of “I really want to date you but I can’t commit to anyone right now so let me go on a few more dates and if I don’t find anybody else, we can totally go out.”

After a week or so, I decided to screw it (partly out of panic, partly because I had a really good feeling about the place) and sent an email essentially saying "Let's Make a Deal." A few days later, I got an email from my contact saying she was going away for a few days but will give me a call to figure something out when she gets back.

Anyways, one thing leads to another and I don't hear back from them when they said they would. Today, I finally heard back from them . Apparently, they found somebody in the past week who they wanted to bring in for five weeks. If it works out, they’ll hire them full time. If it doesn’t, hey, wanna job?

All of which means I am now essentially rooting for somebody to fuck up so I can get their job.

-I have an interview with some agency this week but I forgot when exactly it is. I know-- boneheaded, but they did call me to reschedule the interview around 6 while I was on 101 and didn't have anything to write it down. I was also too busy concentrating on not getting into an accident. So now I have to figure out a way of finding out what time the interview is while not letting them I couldn't remember when the interview is.

-And finally...

Had an interview last Friday morning. Due to various reasons , I went into the interview a little tired, a little hungover and seriously deficient in both coffee and breakfast.

The interview was one of those types where I'm supposed to meet with three different people over a two and a half session, one of those long, grueling type situations. The first interview was pretty good-- she was actually a fan of mine from SFist (one of my few) and everything went well.

The second interview, however, was not so good. The guy I met with basically babbled on for over half-an-hour, telling me everything from his work experience to what he's done at the company to his philosophy on life to what a great place to work this company is. Over this entire thing, he basically asked one question and let me get in about ten words.

It was HELL.

This being an interview, of course, I had to pretend I was totally into it and that it was the most fascinating thing I had ever heard. All of which meant that over the entire thing, I had to exert a whole lot of energy:
1)Ttrying to pay attention
2)Trying not to fall asleep

Towards the end, the only thing I could think of (other than how much I wanted coffee and a burrito) was, essentially "Jesus Christ, get me out of here."

Luckily, the dude went too long, way past his allotted half-an-hour and so when it was over, my scheduled interview time was over. When I was asked if I wanted to stick around and finish up, I told them I had to get back to my job, gave everyone a hand-shake, and ran to the first coffee shop I could find.

Yes, I finally got comments working again so comment away. I need all the comfort I can get. The thing about comments is that I had it all set up but a certain company that is planning on world domination bought blogger and has made it infinitely harder to use primarily because they are making it so only people who use that company for purposes of sending emails can safely navigate the seas of blogger. If you happen to use, say, another company's email account, obstacles are thrown in your way so as to punish you for not using the Overlords of Blogger's email address.

Lest you think I've gotten too serious lately...

I rewatched all the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy for like the tenth time (thank you TNT) and now I'm wondering about how, if Gandalf is such a great, kick-ass, wizard, he doesn't do much actual wizarding. Oh, he occasionally makes some light come out of his staff, knows his shit, and pretty good with a sword but he doesn't actually do much in the way of magic. During all the travails that make up the books/movies, couldn't he do something like affect the weather? Like create a super-powerful wind to knock things over? Or maybe come up with some magic covering to fend off the snow? Or knock people over with some sort of magic spell or curse somebody or just do a little bit of something that actually help more than he's already helping. Couldn't he magically "beam" them out of some tough scrap or make them invisible? After all, you'd think that with him being a wizard, they could have gotten out of some of the scrapes they were in if he actually did some magic.

Althought I haven't seen much in the way of a debate online, but I'm pretty sure Gandalf would beat Dumbledore. Some guy named Gandalf will always beat somebody named Albud Dumbledore. But Dumbledore (and all the other wizards, actually) did things. Like curse people or stun people or change people from animal to human or vice versa or do spells and potions and maniuplate time. The wizards in "Harry Potter" even fly on brooms, appariate, and even shoot things out of their wands. Any number of things that actually helps people when they're stuck in a bit of a spot.

Why couldn't Gandalf do any of that?

Okay, so the answer to the question of why I'm reading the "Left Behind" books-

Because it's cheesy fun?

Definately, yes.

But there's something else to it. These books, despite it all, are hugely popular in the US. Millions and millions of people buy these things. Now, it's hard to tell whether people actually belive half the stuff or whether they're like Harry Potter for Jesus Freaks. Just as people who read Harry Potter do so because who doesn't want to be a wizard, hang out at Hogwarts, and learn all sorts of cool spells that help you defeat bad people, maybe the Left Behind folks read the books because they all want to be Super-Christians, have their paranoid fantasies come true, and fight to help bring back the return of Jesus.

Or maybe they believe it all.

One of the guys who wrote the books, Tim LaHaye is a big figure in Republican politics. He just endorsed Mike Huckabee (who apparently is a big fan) in fact. He is also some big figure in some super shadowy religious cabal with major influence within the Republican Party, especially the Bush administration. Bush himself gave a speech to LaHaye's organization in 1999 that the White House refuses to release as it's expected it's full of crazy. LaHaye, himself, has said that the book is somewhat true, or, at least, possibly about to be true.

So I'm reading it partially because it's important to read because it gives you an understanding of how the Red Staters think.

And what can we see about the people who are into the book: to read the subtext is to give you an understanding of just what lurks beneath all of that. Jews are seen as kind of nice, affable, people who are tragically doomed because they backed the wrong Messiah. They're kind of like those nice, kind of loser friends who you know will be stuck to being losers unless they change their ways (in the books, meaning convert). And then there's all the fear about anything "One World"-like, meaning anything that unites the world. The U.N., after all, is extremely powerful in the book and the Anti-Christ (who is European) achieves his power through the U.N and brings people together for awhile until he starts nuking people). I'm not quite sure why all the one-world paranoia and whether it's just a function of xenophobia or because that's what the prophecies say so things like the U.N. or any sort of agreement that brings countires and people together is seen as evil and wrong because it's a manifestion of the Anti-Christ. All those whacky militias that ran loose in the '90s are seen as heroes in the book.

The group that really takes it on the chin are the Catholics. It is first said that not many Catholics are raptured. The Pope, however, is but it's said that before he got Raptured, instituted a bunch of reforms to Catholocism that made it more Protestant-like. When the Anti-Christ unites all the religions to create one giant religion (somethat that is very, very bad), it is the new Pope who runs it all. And, finally, once the evil bad guy takes over, he is referred to in the same ways that the Pope is referred to.

In other words, these books maybe dumb and maybe stupid, but there's a lot to learn from them.

They still kind of suck, though

Ever since the campaign started in earnest, I've been sitting on the fence, trying to decide what to do and which horse to back. All I knew is that in no way, shape, or form did I want Hillary even near the candidacy. There are many main reasons for this, but the biggest one is that the only reason why she's even in position to do what she's doing is because she was the wife of a very popular and good President. So-- who to vote, then?

I like Edwards vim and vigor and his proposals seem sharper than the others. And when it comes down to it, I don't see a black man or a woman actually winning the Presidency and this makes Edwards the obvious choice.

Still, I can't but help gravitate towards Barack Obama Superstar. I think if I were to come up with a perfect candidate, in terms of integrity and intelligence, it would be him. But mainly it's because I think the idea of electing a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, deep thinking black might just be the best thing for the country. A way of redeeming us for the past eight years as he really represents the best of what America is. Still, I don't think that a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, deep thinking black man will EVER be elected President, or at least now. I just like the idea that we might actually elect one.

And that's reason enough to support him, isn't it?

Had an interview today with what would have been a perfect job. Have been because it was one of those interviews where they obviously don't have any time to talk to you and the one person who meets with you has no idea how to conduct an interview.

Goody.

Anyways, we were talking away and the person I was talking to said "I gotta cut this short because I have a conference call in a few minutes that I have to get ready for. I thought that was normal until I started to wonder if that is sort of the job searching equivelant of "I have to get up early next morning..."

One more thing, I was wearing a suit, although affecting a "business casual" look as befitting talking to an ad agency (I once went in wearing a full suit and was told by everyone in the interview that I didn't need to dress up). Anyways, the HR person who I first met with took me to the lunch room to get me some water and before we went in, she turned around, looked me up and down, and said "oh, I should have told you, no jeans."

What?

As much as I hate to admit, I'm having a lot of problems getting into the second of the "Left Behind" books. The main reason is the just absolutely atrocious writing, but that's only one of a few things.

One of the crazier things I'm having trouble wrapping my head arouns is the logic in all of this. I know this is considered somewhat fantasy/sci-fi, but I think a lot of people kinda believe that this is all possible or could happen or God knows what (pun intended). So, too read it, you have to believe that the UN is actually a powerful force in the world. And that the leader of the UN is actually a really, really powerful person. Also, according to all the End of Days speculation, the Anti-Christ will build his new kingdom in New Babylon, which is pretty much Iraq. Therefore, the reader has to believe that it's a perfectly reasonable thing for the new head of the UN (aka, the Anti-Christ) to decide to move the UN to, yes, Iraq. And not only that, the Anti-Christ is going around making all of the countries in the world to disarm and has decided that he is going to take all the discarded weapons to the HQ of the UN to New Babylon. Which means that to all of the people reading it and actually enjoying the book and even buying into some of it, the idea of some guy taking up all the arms in the world and stashing them in Iraq is no big deal.

Also, you have to believe that Cameron "Buck" Williams, noted bon vivant, rebel journalist, world-famous celebrity, and infamous rebel is, in fact, a 30 year old virgin.

One of the other problems I'm having is that there is now a romance going on between Buck and Rayford Steele's 21 year old daughter (who attends Stanford where there is apparently an airport). The romance is handled so well it makes the romance in "Attack of the Clones" seem like "Casablanca."

And finally, there's the fact that the first book dealt mainly with people who weren't big on Jesus and how they discovered the error of their ways. So now that all the heroes are really religious, I'm finding that the "Left Behind" books now have entirely too much Jesus in them.

And your masturbatory wank-off of the week is from this story on Slate.com about how "Stairway to Heaven" ruined Zeppelin:

Page had developed a new approach to rock, based on a multilayered "guitar army" (his words), ragalike uses of sevens and fives in meter, insistent drones drawn from folk music, and hypnotic, shifting cycles that swirled around you (during the elongated endings to "Celebration Day" and "Out On the Tiles" on Led Zeppelin III), and which sometimes sucked you right under (the sublime closing minutes of "When the Levee Breaks")... Does "Stairway to Heaven" possess these qualities? Absolutely not. The guitar army, yes, that is there. But this song is not just atypical of Zeppelin's music, it is unique among their epic tracks in that it privileges melodic/lyrical development at the expense of rhythmic exploration and timbral/psychoacoustic experimentation."

And all this about a song about a bustle in the hedgerow

It appears that Super Mondo has decided to go Green and as a result, they are now using recycled toilet paper. Now, I don't know about you but that stuff is kind of rough. So, let's just say you're having issues with your stomach, and, well, it can be kind of a painful day.

I'll just leave it at that.

At work, they've added a new snack to the vending machine-- fries & ketchup potato chips. And it's exactly what it says it is-- snack food item that tastes kind of potato-y (like potato sticks and a little like fritos) with the definite, walloping taste of ketchup. It is, as one would expect, just God-awful. Hideous even. The best part? It's a product apparently made by "Burger King" which, I guess, is now trying to break into the vending machine business. What's next? Whopper chips?

Oh, the chips have no "trans fats" so they're healthy!

And speaking of crazy, amazing products, Harlan and I saw some woman on BART reading a book called "Mandingo Love" The cover of the book consisted of a a picture inside a heart of the backside of a big, black guy with what is definately a woman in front of him, in a much lower position, with her hands reaching up his backside. You can see the picture here.

All you need to know about the book is the description given on Amazon: "African natives Martzu and De'shawntu Poitier are proud to have raised such a fine son. Ambitious and levelheaded, De'marco Poitier is on the right track straight out of high school. He and his sweetheart Jennifer are making wise decisions for their future. De'marco has what all the ladies want. After receiving hands-on love making lessons from Connie he is laying it down in between the sheets and loving every minute of it. ...After an unlikely admirer gets a piece of De'marco and sees firsthand that De'marco is packing the notorious Mandingo love-piece, a plot is devised to make De'marco their own."

Now you would think such a book would be from the '70s when things were a bit looser and books looked like that. But you would be wrong-- the book was written a few years ago. And you would also think that this little piece of erotica would be from like Playboy or Penthouse. But once again, you would be wrong: it's by "Penhouse Publishing."

So today at work, this guy walked in at the same time I did. Now this guy is a talker, one of those guys who likes to chat away while at the urinals. But today, he went not to the urinal but to the stall and started doing that business one does when one goes to a stall. The thing was, he did it while also simultaneously having a conversation with me. Now I'm not a talker when it comes to the bathroom. I'm one of those "get in, do your business, and get out" types. But a chat is okay. But not while someone is taking a shit. Among other things, do you have to sit there the entire time carrying on the conversation? How do you end it? And when does his business on a toilet, one tends to make noise so for all intents and purposes, you're conversing with somebody who is farting merilly as he goes.

And the thing is he did it twice today.

So thanks to my purchasing all those "Left Behind" books, Amazon keeps on sending me recommendations for all these Christian books. Like "How to Surive the Rapture." Or "Jesus: Will He Return Tomorrow or in a Week." So now I'm a little worried that Amazon has me pegged as some sort of Jesus freak. So, what should I do? Maybe order that Christopher Hitchin's book about how God is bad? Or maybe the "Golden Compass" which apparently has as it's denoument God being killed?

As those deal with religion, maybe they won't work as they all deal with God in one way or the other. So, maybe I should order some book with lots and lots of sex. Maybe that'll confuse them?

I'm waiting to hear about a job in which last week I was told that I would hear back from them "late" this week. Meaning now. Having been through this thing, I know "late this week" usually means Wednesday or Thursday and Friday means you didn't get it only because they like having an answer wrapped up before the weekend comes. Of course, that could mean they haven't decided but if they said "late next week" that means there's a hitch. And all this despite things going what I thought was relatively well (see posting about hour and a half interviews). I mean, they brought me back to the boss's office to talk about when I could leave Oracle and full time vs trial period.

And then...then... I sent the usual "thank you" notice and since it was Thanksgiving, I added a "happy thanksgiving" to my thank you notice and one of the people I interviewed with sent me a note back saying "thanks, Jon. I hope you have a happy thanksgiving too." Now, they wouldn't respond to a thank you email if they weren't serious about hiring you, right? That's totally leading you on.

But now that I'm in the waiting stage, it's torture. Just torture and I forgot how awful it is. Hell, it's so tortourus (yeah, I know I spelled it wrong-- get over it) that even Dick Cheney would think it's too much. I'm clicking on my email account every minute to see if I got an email and doing the "ring, damnit, ring" thing to my phone.

Today, while going off to the gym, I got a phone call around the time the company usually does their official stuff (after 5). So I nearly swerved my car trying to get the phone out of my pocket and naturally, I missed it but I did get a voicemail. I furiously tried to get the voicemail message but after running into somebody, realized I could wait the two minutes before I made it into the gym's garage.

The voicemail message? A recorded message about carpet cleaning.

So, yes, I finished the first "Left Behind" book, but right now I'm reading a book about life as a pickup artist and the debacherous lives they live. Up next will be the second in the "Left Behind" series. Yes, two books about Jesus sandwhiched between a book about tons and tons of sex.

What can I say, I'm pretty cultured.

Anyways, my latest favorite thing is that show "Everest" on Discovery channel about a group of people trying to summit of Everest. It's pretty great, not the least of which is that it looks awesome on my 27" HDTV. Of course, the drama of the whole thing speaks for itself, picture "Survivor" or "Real World/Road Rules Challenge" except with the very serious possibility of death. Like how many shows actually show real, live, dead bodies on them? Or frost bitten toes that will very probably be cut off when they get off the mountain.

The thing is so good, I'm nervous watching it. And when they show one of those wide shots of the mountain, I can feel my fear of heights hitting me and my palms get sweaty.

Last week, I finished the very first of the "Left Behind" books and, as completely suspected, it's just awful. I mean, just horribly, horribly written. All you need to know about the quality of the writing is the names: the two main characters are Rayford Steele and Cameron "Buck" Williams, and Hattie Williams. "Buck," by the way is called "Buck" because he's a famous journalist who "bucks" the system and when was the last time you heard that word actually used? But besides just the usual signs of bad writing, it's also horribly paced and without one whit of suspense. Like millions of people have just vanished out of thin air and "Buck" and his editors are consumed about some sort of international financial goings ons. You'd figure something like that would be a big deal.

But you know what? It actually was a bit of a page turner and I finished it in about a day. Even crazier, I wanted to finish it and I couldn't put it down. Say what you want about the complete ridiculousness of the rapture (apparently, when somebody gets raptured, their clothes are left behind in a neat, pile, as if God is OCD) and the dicey relationship about the Jews (we help the Rapture get started than are mainly left behind to either be slaughtered as non-believers or have to convert, kind of a damned if you do, damned if you don't proposition), it's a fun story, full of mysteries, death, destruction, wars. Just as long as you don't really pay attention to all the Jesus stuff, it's kind of fun.

So I actually ordered the next two. I know, kinda crazy but you can get it off Amazon, used, for a penny. Throw in shipping, and the whole cost is about four bucks. Plus, how can you not get into a plot that is described as "In this best seller, Apollyon the Destroyer, leads the plague of demon locusts as they torture the unsaved."

Awesome.

Two notes form the weekend-

-I was walking down 16th street wearing my baggy Giants sweatshirt. I like baggy things. Harlan and I pass a homeless guy and the guy actually said "I like your sweatshirt. It looks good on someone as big as you."

Yes, some homeless guy just called me fat.

-Walking down 17th street (or was it 18th street?), Harlan say a sign that said, and I quote: Put Your Trust in "Jesus"-- just like that, with the quotes around "Jesus." As she pointed out, doesn't putting something in quotation marks make it ironic? Like they're saying Jesus with air quotes around it. So, was it just a weird sign put up by somebody not clued in the ways of irony or was the irony intended? It's so hard to tell in the Mission.

I had one of those hour and a half long interviews today. I hate those-- they're an ordeal. By the end, I couldn't speak, my throat hurt, and I had long since passed the point of going from being on-topic and sharp to a blabbering, incoherent idiot.

Ick

You know you're in a weird mood when you hear "Where the Streets Have No Name" on the radio and the line "blown by the wind" makes you giggle


Being at the corner of 22nd of Valencia, we have determined that Boogaloos is the Official Brunch Place of Hipsters. In fact, I think it could be deteremined that it has one of the highest HPSF in the Mission (that is, of course, Hipsters Per Square Foot), something that we noticed the last time we were there and what looked like a 70's rock band, with groupies, showed up for breakfast.

Today's brunch was no exception. In fact, it was pretty hipsterific-- so much so we had a contest (well, kind of) about which Hipster was the most tragic of the bunch.

So let's meet our three candidates-
1)The bus boy with expensive and well pressed black jeans, dangling key chain out of the back pocket (natch), and some sort of comic strip panel sewed onto one of his back pockets. His shirt? Lumberjack, red and black checkered flannel shirt. To top it off, he not only had a trucker hat, but the tip of the hat was pulled upwards. We also couldn't tell, but we think he had a mullet burried underneath the oh-so-2002 trucker hat.

2)The guy in a sideways baseball hat (can't remember if it was trucker or not), cut off jeans, an Iron Maiden t-shirt, and a handlebar moustache. But what made him especially awesome was that he was covered everywhere in tattoos, even going so far as to having a tear drop tattoo under his left eye. For those who don't know, that's the gangsta symbol for doing time in prison. This despite the fact that it was pretty apparent, that in the words of Beavis to Butthead, "you've never been to Compton." We wanted to kidnap the dude and drop him off in the Bayview.

3)Early thirtysomething girl waiting outside with a Shelley Duvall-like body. She wore platform sneakers that were at least six inches high, white knicker pants that went down to her knees and white stockings that met up with the bottom of her knicker pants. She sported a maroon vest sweater and as a topper, a tie. Naturally, she also wore big sunglasses.

And our winner?

The Bus Boy! Why? Because the dude was so committed to his hipsterness that he wore his hipster costume to work. I mean, he was walking around filling people's coffee mugs while still looking like he had just been picked up from the bus station, such was his commitment to coolness.

Bravo, dude, bravo and well played.

Jesus frickin' Christ, Led Zeppelin showing up on iTunes might just be the best thing ever.

Last night, Super Mondo Corp had their big trade show party. And by big, I mean big. Like Cow Palace and parking lot big. Playing that night as entertainment was Lenny Kravitz, Steve Nicks, and Billy Joel, who headlined.

Now, at one point, Prince was going to play. While he was supposed to play, some sort of fight broke out between somebody and one week Prince would headline, the next week Joel. Now this seemed kind of crazy to me because while Joel is deserving of some respect, we're talking about Prince. I guess it was a generational thing with the older execs thinking Joel is their cup of tea while anyone young enough to see "Purple Rain" thinking that nobody, but nobody gets higher billing then the Purple One. And seriously, would you rather watch Joel tinkling on a piano or Prince doing some sort of thirty minute funk jam. I'm not sure, but I wondered if they would both play the main stage and I'm thinking does Joel really think Prince should open for him? And I'm not talking about in terms of who is a bigger star, but I'm talking about the fact nobody can really top prince.

But whatevs-- Prince did not play anyways.

Billy Joel did get the headline and played the Palace central. While I think playing the corporate party circuit is probably a humiliating venture, Joel did manage to fill the place so I'm thinking it's in a way, the biggest audience he's played in front of years. While I'm not a fan (I'm kind of apathetic-- I don't hate him but don't really like him but think he's kind of talented anyways), he did put on a good show, except....

To play with the whole idea of playing in San Francisco, he did a few minutes of "Somebody to Love" and, then, God help us "Purple Haze."

I left the arena immediately in protest.

You know how the old saying was that there's a little Elvis in everyone. Well, you could say the same about Hendrix and there is no Hendrix at all in Billy Joel. Not even close. I heard from someone that they played a few snippets of "Highway to Hell" and, dear God, there is no AC/DC is Billy Joel at all. Ever and never.

So Harlan and I checked out some Stevie. She was actually pretty good-- her voice was phenomenal. She played all the big Fleetwood Mac songs (with Mick Fleetwood on the drums), Dave Mathews' "Crash" (?) and a few solo hits. Towards the end, there was a miny drum solo, then a beat kicked in, the guitarist started wailing, and then out came the recognizable groove to "Edge of Seventeen."

Yes, I was about to hear Ms. Nicks herself sing about the White Dove who sings a song sings a song ...and Sounds like she's singing... whoo...whoo...whoo. She wailed too.

Now I've seen a lot of bands. I've seen a lot of great bands playing a lot of great songs. I've also seen a lot of completely random bands doing randomm songs (the Hooters anyone? Madness?) but that had to be one of the most random moments of my musical life, the fact that I can say I have now seen Steve Nicks sing "Edge of Seventeen."

Top that.

See, the thing is that when I first started listening to rock radio, Steve was HUGE. Her first solo album had come out and every half an hour, the station (WYSP, represent) would either play "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around" (an underrated gem if ever there was), "Leather and Lace," and, yes, "Seventeen." All I needed was Tom Petty himself to hop onstage to sing "Stop Draggin" and my inner twelve year old would have been happy.

And all thanks to Super Mondo Corporation.

In the past week/week and a half

-My DVR went kablooie and I went from being at around 40% capacity to 98%, thus losing all of my recordings and the thrill of spending at least in hour total of time dealing with Comcast

-I've been eagerly awaiting a book from Amazon, the first in the Left Behind series (so stoked) and got it, only to discover that they sent me the wrong book-- a book about Windows Office '97.

-Had my work email go down on one of the busiest days I've had in months

-Lost my ATM card

-The hot water in my apartment went bye-bye late Thursday night and continued that way until today

-Lost power sometime around 5:30 Saturday and was out of power until, again, God knows when as I camped out elsewhere. All of which means, I was without power and hot water for most of the weekend, full on primitive as it were. It also means that tonight, I am spending my time resetting clocks and throwing food out of the fridge.

Oh, and what does one do when there's no power and it's starting to get dark and the person you can camp out with isn't home yet? Watch downloaded shows on your laptop. Thank God for Apple.

Finally, I lost both of my fantasy football games this weekend, thus eliminating me from the playoffs in both of my leagues. In other words, this was one sucky week.

Lately, I've been discovering that I'm moving away from listening to Live 105 and switching more and more to KFOG. This concerns me.

For years, I've always thought of KFOG as the radio station listened to by either white-bred Yuppies or old, aging baby boomers still holding onto the rock. I did not want to be in either category so while I respected the station for it's enormously huge catalogue and variety of songs, I didn't want to be a Foghead. Also, they tend to play either Bonnie Rait or Robert Cray like every hour and I cannot abide by either of them.

But now, I'm starting to creep more and more to KFOG on my radio dial. Now some of it is because I once again find myself hating Live 105's playlist. They tend to play over and over "classic alt-rock" from the previous decade that I've heard already over and over again because I was actually around in the previous decade and all those just craptastic "emo" bands that are out there. Thankfully, they tend to go light on Fall Out Boy, but there's still way too many of those simliar, carbon copy bands out there. So while I like the fact they tend to play music that I might love (like the mighty Wolfmother), those moments come few and far between.

The main thing, however, is that I'm starting to move farther and farther away from wanting, for lack of a better word, "to rock." I'm starting to dig mid-tempo songs more than fast songs, acoustic treatmens rather than overfed electric guitars and kinda digging pretty over raw.

In other words, after years and years of trying to hold true to some sort of edge, I am slowly losing my edge. Is it almost being 40? The girlfriend? My hatred of emo bands? I don't know. All I can say is I'm getting a little concerned here.

Oh, KFOG may have a wide variety of songs and almost impecable taste, but they still, occasionally, bust out 4 Non-Blonde's "What Goes On" and this is absolutely INEXCUSABLE. There is no reason to ever, ever, every play this song. Ever. It's so awful it doesn't stand up as ironically fun due to it's pure suckiness and the yodeling over-and over again of the chorus.

Why is it that when you call a lot of utility companies or any type of service (credit cards, insurance, etc) they ask you to entire all your information over the phone and then, as soon as somebody gets on the line, asks you all the information you just entered?

I have an interview on Thursday and the thing is I've done so many job interviews and the marketing biz here in SF is so incestuous, I'm pretty sure I've already interviewed with this person, I'm just not sure where. I'm not sure that's a good thing-- I've already made my first impression.

The other thing is the job listing is like two page longs and details a whole lot of work that the job requires and as I read it, I couldn't help but think that the job involves a lot of work.

I'm still not sure whether or not that's a good thing.

Today, at brunch, we sat down next to a couple who were obviously either on a first date or an early date. Not sure how it went. This reminds me, however, of a couple who were obviously on a first date that we sat next two a few months ago. Since we were sitting pretty much within a few feet of them, Harlan and I couldn't do anything but listen to the conservation. How could you not?

Anyways, they both worked in some capacity at a hospital, so they had that in common, but it was pretty obvious that it was a mismatch. While the girl looked obviously like a smart, intelligent, capable professional, you could tell she had a bit of a fun, party girl buried down underneath. The guy, however, was one of those bearded, horn-rimmed wearing glasses hipsters who took himself way too seriously. At one point, she started talking about reading US Weekly and his response was "well, we all have our guilty pleasures."

I'm pretty sure that at that point, if it didn't happen then, but the girl pretty much decided in her head that there was no way in hell that anything was going to come out of it.

What a ponce.

And speaking of over-hearing things, we were at Blondies a week ago (don't laugh, when it's mellow and you get a seat outside, it's quite a nice little bar with yummy and incredibly toxic drinks) some girl dressed like Wonder Woman (it was Halloween weekend, and no, she didn't quite fit into the costume) was loudly gabbing on a cell phone to a friend when we swear we heard her say about a friend "that was before she Britney Spearsed her life."

Awesome. She, however, was not as she gabbed and gabbed loudly nearby. In response, Harlan's cousin made sure to blow his cigarette smoke in her direction to chase her way.

Here's a sign I want to make for the next peace march: "What do we want? Apathy! When do we want it? Eh...whenever."

I have become a huge fan of those History Channel documentaries. No, not the endless amount of WWII documentaries, the ones about some historical thing in the past that involves lots of re-enacments. They're interesting yet cheesy, informative yet kind of silly. So far, the one I loved the most was on the Plague. It was actually pretty good.

The thing that fascinates me about them is the actors they get to portray "historical" figures. Are they actors so at the bottom of the acting rung that the only gig they can get is "Plague Victim #3" Or maybe they're just a huge collection of extras. And if so, do they keep on using the same ones so that somebodies resume reads like "Knight Templar #2, King Richard II, Bishop of Lyon."

I saw one on the Anti-Chris the other day, which wasn't very good, but they had this one guy who played the anti-christ the whole way through, complete with oh-so-typical eye tricks to make him look evil. Imagine that poor actor, all stoked because he got a role as the Anti-Christ in a History Channel Doc.

I've also noticed that other channels are getting into the mix, like Doc.TV. Except they don't have the History Channel's budget so God only knows who they use as actors. They must be the one's who are cheaper than the one's for the History Channel.

Oh, I was so inspired by the documentary on the Anti-Christ that I went online and purchased the first "Left Behind" book, a book I've always wanted to read for sheer laugh value. Best part of the purchase is that I bought a used copy for a whopping one cent. And they say pennies can't get you anything these days. In fact, the whole thing costs more just to ship so I spent a well-spent four books to buy this book.

A few weeks ago, Harlan and I went to see the Shins. What I think of the Shins is neither here nor there (more there than here, actually-- it wasn't my idea to go to the show). On the way over, I decided to play one of my favorite pre-show contests "Name Your Fellow Concert Goers."

See, the thing works like this-- you look around BART at who else is on the train and figure out if they're going to the same concert you are. The totally stoned black kids sitting around behind us? Definately not. Stoned skater boys hanging out by the doors. Nope. Tall guy wearing a button down short sleeve shirt with thrift store jacket and wearing big, horn rimmed glasses? Definately.

Coming back from the show, however, we saw some guy wearing a pink John Deer Tractor Trucker Hat. Now, first of all, I thought the whole trucker hat was mercifully over. But what the hell was up with a pink John Deer hat? I mean, on the one hand, wearing a John Deer trucker hat is about as ironic as it gets-- urban hipster rocking the hat of midwestern farm boy. But pink? Is that a play on the masculinity of John Deer by feminizing it and in that case, does that make the hat doubly ironic? But can you be ironic on something already ironic? Can you do that? Doesn't two bits of irony make a positive instead of a negative?

Anyways, the whole thing was LAME.

Oh, and as for the Shins, they made me think of that story in last week's New Yorker written by the dude who thinks indie-rock is too white. Or, at least, don't have any swing or any dint of rockingness to them. Which is my complaint with a large number of bands out there. The Shins have no swing to them. Or anything to them. At some point, a few people started to actually mosh and my first reaction was "Really? To the Shins?"

Of course, I'm madly in love with Radiohead, especially the totaly white and not-rocking "In Rainbows" but if anyone's seen them live, you know there's a little Prince buried deep in Thom Yorke's soul.

And away we go...

I just found out I didn't get a job I interviewed for last week. Not that I expected to get it, mainly because I realized halfway through the interview that I went one way to get the job, only to find out I needed to go another way to get the job. What I mean is that there's a certain amount of "spin" you need to do to get a job and I used the wrong spin.

The thing is that in retrospect, the job was almost exactly what I was looking for. It was beautiful, perfect, ideal. The problem, though, was that I didn't really know that until haflway through the job interview. Because they never really let on to what the job was. Sure there was a job description, one that I probably didn't read as carefully as I should have, but most job descriptions are kind of generic and bland and a bunch of buzzwords. The job had a lot of specifity to it that didn't get mentioned in the description.

But what happened is the interview started with the usual shifty, weasely HR person who basically went through my resume and wanted me to talk about all of my job experience. At no point did he actually say "well, this job is to...blah...blah...blah..." (one job I recently interviewed for actually let off with people drawing me diagrams of what the job would be like) so I bs'ed in the way I thought I needed to BS. It wasn't until the interview was over with the HR guy and I got a chance to kind of guess what the job was did I realize I BSed the wrong thing.

Enter the editor. She actually tells me what the job is and how it works and what I'm supposed to do. She even brings up a couple of things that definately fit right up my alley but, of course, I didn't know this because the HR person didn't bring any of this up. And it's too late for me to backtrack-- the damage was done.

Now the thing is the job might not have been perfect. It could have been for less money than I wanted and it was a bit of a commute and I could have hated it. But, of course, I'll never know. At this point, the job is the shiny, perfect, wonderful job that got away.

And since like job hunting is like dating, it's like this. Every once in awhile, you go out with somebody who just in the first date is awesome and that you'd make a great date. Halfway through, you're thinking "I like this girl. A lot." But then something happens-- bad timing, an inappropiate joke, an embarassing attempt at closing-- something, anything. And she might not have been the one, she might have been crazy psycho or still pining for her ex-girlfriend, or still trying to beat that nasty crystal meth habit, but you'll never get the chance to find all that stuff out.

After all these years, I have finally come upon my million dollar internet idea, involing iTunes and the Ipod. So, if anyone knows or works with Steve Jobs, please pass along this idea.

Anyways, the idea is based on the fact that one of the great things about iTunes is the ability to download all those guilty pleasure songs you have. The reason, of course, is that because most of your listening is done in private so the only person who hears those guilty pleasures are you. The problem is that sometimes you have friends over who are listening to your music or you have your iPod cranked in the car while you drive. What this means is that every once in awhile, those super-embarassing songs occasionally pop up. While we won't admit to which guilty pleasure song we have, we will have to admit that we have leaved over our coffee table and reached our computer in seconds flat to change a song which would bring endless amounts of hell from friends.

So my idea is for Apple to create some sort of way of hiding all those guilty pleasures. Say creating some sort of code or space on your iTunes where you can put all of your guilty pleasures. When you're alone, you punch in a code and those songs get added to your collection. But when you have the possibility of other people listening to your music collection, you punch another code, or put them somewhere, where those songs will never, ever be played. And not only that, they disappear from your music directory so if somebody were to go through your music list, they will never see those songs.

See-- it's brilliant.

So the question to be asked is why am I blogging again. Some of it is because I've stepped back a bit from SFist and am feeling the need to write again. Once you start writing and opening that part of your soul, it's hard to stop it from coming out. And there's another thing-- I'm looking for a job once again. Which means, dear readers reader, it's Job Hunting Time and so, the blogging fun begins.

The main reason is because of my stupid contract situation at Oracle. After being a contractor there for over three years, they have suddenly maintained that all of the contractors have to go bye-bye due to federal rules. While some contractors have complained about their status, thus the rule, most of the contractors at Oracle do not complain. I've had a pretty sweet set up for the past three years, maybe too much so as I admit to have gone way past fat and lazy these past four years. And considering my previous years, fat and lazy is a good thing.

I now have basically five months to get a job or else fall into the Hell that is Unemployment. I do not want to ever, ever, ever be unemployed again for obvious reasons (see every post written on this blog over the years). I only want to be unemployed when I retire which should be, like, never all things considering (due to my financial situation brought on by years of unemployment, I fully expect to be a greeter at Wal Mart when I'm 70). Sometimes that keeps up all night, the thought of running out of money while the highlight of my day is watching "Charmed" reruns in the morning. And sometimes I think how cool it'll be too actually get a new job, an actual job with responsibility and some amount of power, something I've probably earned and something I'm probably due (but not too much responsibility-- I've actually refused to send in resumes for any jobs that mention "managing teams," "work on budgets," or "come up with proposals.")

So there you have it-- it's time to look for a job. And you know how much I love doing that.

If ever there was a reason to contemplate the ridiculousness of those super-huge SUV/trucks that dominate the world, consider my parking garage. Around the corner from me, down a really narrow alleyway, is a parking garage where I park my car. Because it's stuck in a tiny, congested part of the urban world, the parking garage is on the small-side with cars jammed here there and everywhere. I'm not sure, but for the most part, I think they actually shrink the sizes of the parking spots to accomodate all the cars that park there. Some of the cars that are in there, like mine, are for monthly parkers. Others are overspill from the main part of the garage, the one that's set up for people coming into the Mission (mainly I'm guessing from the outlands of outside San Francisco) and park there at night, mainly on the weekends.

Now the thing is it's a tiny parking garage in a tiny, narrow alleyway but the cars that I mainly see in the garage and in the alleyway are those huge, dinosaur-like SUV/trucks. So, when I take Ralphie (my beloved and well loved '94 honda) onto the alleyway to park, I often have to actually go onto the sidewalk to have enough room to move my car around the behomoths. Then, in the parking garage I have to squeeze Ralphie into already tight spaces in between those cars and surprisingly enough (I'm being ironical here), most of the people who drive those big-ass cars are also lousy parkers and don't seem to care at all that a small portion of their car is actually in another person's spot.

Now the thing is that this is all in a city. Cities are tight and condense and not built for big-ass cars. Yet, all I constantly have to deal with those ridiculous, behomoths that don't friggin fit.

I hate those cars.

You know what I hate? When you're having one of those work/shooting the shit talks with people at work and right in the middle of it, you get the urge to go. You know, the one that says "you must go now," especially if it could possibly involve sounds and/or smells. So you have to kind of exctricate yourself from the conversation but you're kind of in the middle of it and you're also having a good conversation so there's no real place for you to make your exit.

I hate when that happens.

One of my huge (HUGE) pet peeves in politics is the constant appearance of Bill Kristol on pretty much anything. In fact, the apperance of him anywhere. If there was any justice in this world, he'd be tar and feathered and run out of Washington, his entire career, reputation, and bank account gone for time immemorial.

But he's not.

What also gets me is when I'm watching "Fox and Friends" and the two nominal liberals, Juan Williams and Maria Liasson (they're liberal because they're on NPR and minorities, so, of course, that means they're liberal) just sit there and accept the fact that they're doing intellectual debates with a man who has been unbelievably wrong about everything since back when the internet didn't exist. I just don't know how either Juan or Maria don't just sit there and whenever he spouts off about something, just say something like "oh yeah, well, how's the Iraq war going?" or "let me know when you actually get something right."

Anyways, they were debating Al Gore's Nobel Peace Prize and Kristol, of course, was disapproving. Now, it can be debated that maybe Al isn't deserving of a Peace Prize or half the awards he's won this year, but not from Bill Kristol. Which is why I got really upset when Juan didn't say something like "well, gosh, how many people has Al killed?" or "you know, he's been pretty much right about things, unlike, say, you." Or even, "shut the fuck up you goddamn idiotic war-mongering jackass. May you roast in hell for a long, long time."

Which is pretty much what I'd say.

Alright, let's try this again

Have you ever put on an album, disc, what have you, and within a minute, maybe more, just sat there and suddenly realized that the thing you are listening to just might be absolutely perfect album for where you're head is at and you're mood and soon afterwards realize that the music is sending chills up and down your spine as you realize you are hearing just about the most perfect thing you have ever heard at this particular point in life? I guess what I'm saying is Radiohead's "In Rainbows" is just about the most perfect, beautiful, awesome, disc I've ever heard. Well, I've had other albums I've said that about and I probably wouldn't have dug this album years ago, but right now I'm thinking this just might be favorite piece of music I've ever heard.

If Faust/Arp doesn't doesn't crawl into your brain and stay there, keeping it all warm and fuzzy, I don't know what would

I watched "Return of the Jedi" over the weekend (in HiDef!) and I have to say, the whole Luke/Darth Vader throw down at the end still bugs me. The thing that gets me is that the Emperor, in chiding Luke, kind of gives the whole purpose away and tells Luke what things will happen to turn Luke over to the Dark Side. You know, the way he keeps on saying things like "good, good, let your hate take over...." The thing is that by telling Luke what would turn him, he's making it far too easy for Luke to resist. After all, if you knew that doing certain things would lead to bad things happening, you'd try to keep from doing it.

So, what I'm wondering is if the Emperor was so smart, why didn't he use reverse psychology? Like telling Luke "oh, you know, the last thing, of course, you'd want to do is to let the hate flow through you. That would be bad." Or lie-- "darnit Luke. If you strike down Vader, you'll never turn to do the dark side." Or hell, if they really wanted to turn him mad, they could have said bad things to him. Like as he was fighting Vader, the Emperor could have said something like "you know why Darth abandoned your mother when she had you? Because she was a whore!"

Also, this hardly gets talked about, but the Emperor tells Luke to kill Darth Vader and take Darth's place next to the Emperor. In hindsight, this was probably a bad mood as this probably led to Darth throwing the Emperor down the energy shaft. Why would Darth help the Emperor out, after all, if the Emperor tried to urge somebody to kill you.

One of the "colorful local folks" in my 'hood is this guy whose not quite homeless but not quite all together. He's usually wandering around, giving this loud "mmmm" honk of a sound wherever he goes. Often, he stands outside one of the local flop houses and smokes what I'm sure is "medicinal marijuana." He is, however, completely harmless and not very crazy and as such is usually let in to all the various places in the 'hood.

A few days ago, in the early morning, I was out in the street and as he walked past me, he held up his hand to high five me. It was a pretty cool thing actually, realizing that I'm such part of the local fabric of the neighborhood that the local color was high fiving me on the street. Sometimes it pays to never ever move.

Last thursday I sat down to watch the news in light of all the stuff going on. Olberman was doing some smart piece about all of the Cheney craziness and the sketchy constituionality of it all and so flipped around to see what else was going on. On Fox, they were busy ranting and raving about all those Mexicans crossing the border. On CNN, the Most Trusted Name in News, Glenn Beck was busy rushing to defend Anne Coulter from those viscious attacks by Elizabeth Edwards while Larry King was busy interviewing Paris Hilton.

Sometimes, I really hate this country.

Luckily, I had V for Vendetta on the ole TiVo and so I watched that and felt better.

In light of both the MTV Movie Awards in which Paris got dissed right in front of her face and her subsequent surrendering to the cops to be jailed, I came up with this interesting little political metaphor, mainly that W. and Paris have a lot in common.

Okay, follow along here....

At this point, Paris is a joke. A punchline. Actually, she's somewhere way below joke. Like a really bad comedian you wish would disappear from the air. Everyone knows she is, everyone says she is, and everyone acts on it, and yet, Paris seems to be completely clueless as to her being such a joke. She goes from gala event to pop culture event as if everyone wants her to show up and doesn't seem to know that nobody actually wants her to be there. And she keeps on doing all that Paris despite it all-- drinking and boozing and whoring and making fun of Lindsey Lohan. Yet whenever somebody calls her on this, she acts surprised, like she has no idea why anybody would hate her.

Which brings us to the President who at this point in his Presidency is also a joke, a punchline, a depressing sad and tragic joke. Yet he appears to be completely unaware of this, still acting with that smirking arrogance that he's had since he was elected. He still thinks he's the President and an authority, a man of credibility, yet pretty much everyone in the country doesn't believe anything he says. And like Paris, whenever he's called on it, he acts surprised that anybody would think he wasn't just the most righteous person on the earth and doubt his word.

And also, like Paris, pretty much everyone wishes he'd just go the fuck away.

Today, as I was exiting off 101 to get onto my offramp, I was tailgated. Now, I'm going at about 65 and need to start slowing down for the offramp and the sharp left turn that immediately comes after the turn-off. But this fucker in one of those SUV's for people who don't want people to think they have an SUV was right on my back the whole way. Again, this is at 65. He was up in my grill as it were so much that I went wide into the turnoff and had to use two hands to get myslef into the lane. And he still tailgated me. Even worse, there's three lanes that I can get into once I go through the turnoff and he was behind me, tailgating still, in the far-left lane that I chose.

Now, I am pissed. I hate tailgaters and this guy was particulary douchey. What moron tailgates on an off-ramp? I wanted to do what most people do in that situation, curse to the heavens and maybe flip him off but I decided to do something else: I slowed down. Really down. As long as he was on my back, I crept through the city streets as slow as possible, even intentionally missing a light. The guy, pissed at me, eventually turned and went up another street to get away from me.

I'm pretty proud of myself, actually, for coming up with this solution on how to handle tailgaters. In fact, let this be a warning to all you tailgaters out there-- get on my ass, and I'm dropping at least five on the spedometer.

Suck it.

Went to brunch in Noe Valley (after navigating the street like frogger trying to avoid all the baby strollers) and saw two things at Savor which pretty much sum up Noe Valley. Well, San Francisco, actually.

One of them is in the outdoor section, there's a sign that says "we appreciate you for not smoking." Because, of couse, saying that anything is verboten is, well, verboten. Notice they don't say "please, no smoking allowed." Or even "we would appreciate that you don't smoke outside." Instead, they say in kind of a passive voice that they're really gosh darn appreciative that you don't smoke. Which also means that, you know, you could actually smoke out there. It's not that you "can't" it's just that they wouldn't appreciate it.

Also, in the bathroom, over the diaper changer, is a sign listing a bunch of rules for "moms, dads, and nannies." I'm surprised they didn't say "non-specific care givers" or "friends of the families' nannies out taking the baby out for a stroll with your kids so the Nanny can get her nails down."

I'm back

Quick little bits that have been bugging me lo these past couple of months

-So I saw "Stranger Than Fiction" over the weekend, the movie about a guy who realizes he's a character in a novel. Which sounds like a cool idea, actually, although I'm a little bummed somebody didn't write me as Harry Potter.

-For what seemed like the first time ever, Freebird beat out Stairway to Heaven for #1 Rock Song of all Time. I could get all Chuck Klosterman on it, about how it Stairway represents the kind of idea that there's a perfect ideal out there which no longer exists thanks to six years of Bush and Freebird represents our desire to get the hell out, but I won't.

-Now out in public situations, the idea of farting out loud is pretty much frowned on, especially in a work environment. But when you go into the men's room and as everyone's standing around the urinals, it's pretty much okay to far away like you've never farted before. So why is it, then, that farting isn't okay if you're around a group of people outside of the bathroom, but pefectly okay if you're in the bathroom? Shouldn't the same rules apply or is it pretty much accepted that all bets are off whenever you enter the men's room?

-I can't believe it took me this long to do, but I know feel that my iTunes library is complete-- I downloaded some Elvis tunes. Because we all need a little King in our lives. And speaking of which, part of the fun of "In the Ghetto" is because in listening to the song, it's totally obvious that fat, jumpsuited, drug-laden Elvis is totally down with what was going down in the ghetto.

Okay, so here's my New Year's resolution-- update the blog more. What can I say, I'm a slacker.

Actually, now that I'm blogging for a living, I feel less like posting because while I don't feel burnt out, I feel like I'm pretty much done writing by the time it comes to the point where I'm supposed to do this blog. I don't know how novelists do it-- I write a few posts a day and I'm done.

But, on the other hand, where else am I going to go to write about the death of Gerald Ford. Is anyone else kind of mystified by all the hullabaloo? I mean maybe it's because I was still kind of young when he was President, but he always came off as kind of an amiable, bubbling accident of a President. You know, he was kind of a B List President. After all, you don't really hear any cries for a restoration of the Ford presidency.

Or maybe it's because he was bald.

And speaking of death, I never got around to the whole Steve Irwin thing. What the hell was up with that. Dude does some show on the Discovery Channel and when he died it was almost like when Princess Diana died. I half expected Elton John to do some song to honor him, you know like "Goodbye Aussie Rose."

Fricking silly if you ask me