overheard

by mg at 10:12 PM on March 31, 2002

act 1, scene 1
the setting: a greek restaurant
dramatis personae: a waitress and a male patron. the waitress recognized the patron as someone in an acting class she once took. they've now been talking for about five minutes.

and the curtains open...
patron: I dropped out of schooi
waitress: why?
patron: I got to be in an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical!

Get a roll of stamps and mail it in....

by northstar at 09:31 AM on March 31, 2002

"Here’s what happens when you make too damn much money (not likely a problem that I’ll ever have)", or "People pay thousands of hard-earned dollars to see this??":

A relative who has Houston Rockets season tickets went out of town with his family, so he left his tickets for Susan and I. These were decent seats- the tickets have a face value of $112.00 each. There is no way I would ever pay that kind of money to see a basketball game- even IF the Laker girls were in town and they were playing naked. We were about 25 rows up from the floor, which only made me wonder how much courtside seats cost. I finally decided that I didn’t want to know.

It was truly a strange evening all in all. The promotion du jour for the game was “Moochie Norris Bobblehead Night”, which meant that several thousand people queued up early for the dolls, and then left the arena immediately upon getting theirs. Some of the dolls were likely on Ebay 20 minutes later. If the goal of the promotion was to put butts in seats, it was a horrible failure. By game time, the arena was half-full- or, if you’re a Rockets fan, half-empty; it’s been that kind of a year. The people who left before tip-off may have had the right idea.

The game itself was almost anticlimactic. The Rockets played the Phoenix Suns, another team going nowhere, especially the playoffs. What looked like two teams playing out the string was in fact exactly that. At one point in the second quarter, the Rockets were shooting 17%. Ahead by 10-15 points for most of the game, Phoenix let the Rockets back into the game in the fourth quarter, but held on to win 90-88.

I enjoyed the tickets, and it was a much different vantage point from the $13 nosebleed seats we usually pay for- if we go at all. As I left, all I could think of was how I'd just been given a close-up view of overpaid, under-motivated athletes sleepwalking through another day at the office. People pay thousands of dollars for season tickets to see this kind of sorry effort? Unbelievable.

Death to the Infidels

by jesus at 03:39 AM on March 31, 2002

Ahhh, 'tis that time of year again. 'Tis the time of year when we pull homeless IV drug users and pedophiles off the streets, dress them up in humorous bunny costumes, and invite parents to sit their small children on the laps of said vagrants. And then the children are taken home, put to sleep, and when they wake up in the morning they find the pedophile in the bunny suit has left them baskets and baskets of candy. And the children are happy. And the children, in some wonderful Pavlovian twist, learn to love pedophiles.

"But Jesus, this tradition seems so odd. Please, can you tell us about traditions in other parts of the world?"

Yes, strange random voice in my head, I can.

In Korea, for instance, the Korean parents take their children out in the dead of night to look for the Easter Bunny. They all carry flashlights and plastic bags, and wander through fields and rice paddies looking for the ever elusive Bunny of Easter. Once located, the Bunny is savagely beaten and placed in the plastic bag, then taken home and carefully skinned, strung up, and eaten.

"Wow, Jesus! I'll have to tell that one to my Grandchildren! But are there any more?"

Well, Germans go to their local "Bunnenstach", or as we say in Ingles, "Shop of hoppity bunnies", and purchase several rabbits of varying genders. They then lock those rabbits in a small enclosed area, provide them with ample amounts of porn, and let nature take care of the rest. Once the rabbits have bred, they choose the whitest, most hoppity bunnies of the batch and dress them up in miniature SS uniforms. These super bunnies are then paraded along the "Autobon", or "highway of firey death", for all of the passing motorists to see. Those that are not run over or eaten by vacationing Koreans are then sent back to their pens where the process is repeated for the following year.

"And what about the inferior ones?"

They are sent to America, where bunnies are so scarce that homeless men are often dressed up in their likeness.

rock the casbah

by mg at 02:52 AM on March 31, 2002

I'm not sure I could ever hope to explain the following question, so I don't think I will even try. Basically, I am taking a survey. "Should I stay" and suffer the abuse of someone who has treated me nothing but badly over the past couple years? Or "Should I Go", no matter how painful it might be, and no matter how bleak the prospect of ever being in love again might seem right now?

I really shouldn't be posting this at all, but I've just completed four solid nights of drinking. Considering four nights is about as many night as I've gone out drinking in the past month or so, I'm seriously cashed.

Still, I'll be sober tomorrow, and the question will remain. Should I stay or should I go?

I'll have the ChooChooChili

by michele at 07:34 AM on March 30, 2002

Dear restaurant owner:

I would like to know one thing. Why, oh why do you insist on giving your entrees cute little names? Does your waitstaff get a kick out of seeing a grown woman order a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity? Do you sit in the back room and snicker to yourself while a middle-aged man in a suit and tie stares at a waitress and asks for a Leapin' Leprauchan Burger?

I don't want a LocoChoco. I want a chocolate shake. I don't want a Yodel-Egg-Hoo. I want a swiss cheese omelette. Keep your We Be Clubbin' Sandwich and your Ole! Ole! appetizer. Just give me food. Normal named food.

I want to have a burger or a steak or nachos without having to sound like a infant to get it. Wipe that grin off your face! I am not going to come to your establisment any more if you insist on making me ask for dessert by ordering a LicketySplit.

The cute names for your meals and desserts and drinks reads like a kiddie menu. You may as well ask me to order the ChooChooChili or the LuckyLion or the YummyYak. We are adults. We want our food to be called things that sound like food, not crayon colors or circus animals.

And while I have your attention, please change the puzzle placemats once in a while. I found all those hidden words like two months ago, ok?

take me home and call me shirley

by chunshek at 12:26 AM on March 30, 2002

Talk about delinquence. It has been almost a month since I last made a contribution to Bad Samaritan. I have been a bad Bad Samaritan. Is that redundant?

You see, seeing someone does weird things to you, as does stopping seeing someone. As much as I enjoy having someone to think about whenever I can, it almost feels like a relief when it's over. I feel much more at ease, much more at home, when I am single.

I said it before, I will say it again: sometimes, I am very glad that my life is not a reality TV show. Many a times I thought it would be an interesting idea, and my life is dynamic enough to warrant viewing. But letting the world see it as it happens? Not really my cup of tea.

Of course, for all those who are looking forward to live vicariously through me, hold your breath. Some friends of mine have suggested the idea of "Being Chunshek Chan" — the movie that reveals the portal to my mind. They insisted that it's out there somewhere. Of course, I would not know about it.

What it means, obviously, is that someone as attractive and dangerous as Maxine could be very close to me at this point in life. Except that I'm not really seeing anyone or "getting any", if you know what I mean. Exactly how my life is headed, if there is a portal to my mind, I wouldn't know.

Although, someone did leave me a note on a banana that says, "take me home and call me shirley".

i'll be all in clover, and when they look us over

by mg at 07:19 PM on March 29, 2002

For those of you going to hell and completely unaware of today’s religious importance, let me school you. Today is Good Friday.

Good Friday is one of Christianity’s high holy days. It is such an important day that catholic priests everywhere have stopped fondling young boys. But just for the day.

Good Friday is a high holy day because it is the anniversary of Jesus’ death. By itself, that doesn’t really seem like an event appropriate for celebration. But, Good Friday is one of the most important religious holidays because it is the set up for the resurrection. It’s sad and all that Jesus died, but if he didn’t die, he couldn’t have come back to life, see?

Jesus died on Good Friday, and then rose from the dead on the third day, Easter Sunday. So, it is really Easter, which is the big deal, church wise. Easter is probably the most important Christian holiday, even more so than Christmas, though it doesn’t quite get the airtime, unless the guy dressed in a bunny suit that wanted me to sit on his lap and tell him what I wanted was holiday-related, rather than just sick and twisted (but I sat down anyway, of course).

I was never very religious growing up. I’m not sure we even went to church on Good Friday. But, we sure did go on Easter. But what I really remember about Easter is the non-religious stuff. Like Christmas, Easter has gotten to be much more a commercial holiday than a religious one.

When I woke up on Easter morning, my mom would leave a great big Easter basket at the foot of my bed. Inside, there would be Easter Grass, a big chocolate bunny with eyes made of pure sugar, a couple boxes of Peeps, a couple small toys (nothing big, since my birthday was close), some jelly beans and other assorted candy.

I’m not sure what any of that had to do with Jesus. Sure, God is everywhere, but is he even in the creamy filling of a Cadbury Cream Egg?

We’d had out to Mass and then over to my Aunt’s house where all the cousins would search the house for the Easter eggs we’d painted the night before. Our hands would be stained with the food coloring for days. Then, my mom, who has never been much of a cook, would make here one specialty; roasted ham with clove and pineapple. Whenever she opened the oven, I’d pick a clove off the ham and stick it in my mouth until I couldn’t feel my tongue anymore.

I’m don’t know what chocolate rabbits and colored eggs had to do with Jesus either. And, I’m pretty sure he’d have had a problem with the ham.

Easter also ends the 40 days of Lent. It meant you could go back to doing whatever it was you gave up to be more like Jesus. Because, you know, Jesus didn’t touch himself down there, and if I can go 40 days without doing it, I can sit at the right hand of the father too.

I actually meant to talk about Jesus, about how he died for my sins and how in honor of Him I’m going to die and be reborn this weekend. But as I started writing, I realized that, come Monday, I’m just going to be the same old MG. At least I’ll be able to get some 50% off after-holiday Jelly Bellys.

link of the day

by mg at 06:53 PM on March 29, 2002

Periodic Table of Funk (link via six different ways)

Letter to Self

by snaggle at 04:35 PM on March 29, 2002

Dear Self:

I know you've been stressed lately. In fact, you've been so stressed that the week before Spring Break you got a total of ten hours of sleep, mostly on Friday. But now that's no excuse to go about neglecting your duties. You had a great Spring Break in New York City where you did nothing but party like a rock star. Now you're back home and you need to get your ass together and be productive. Don't let graphic design rule your life! You need friends, drink, and BadSam!

Sincerely,

Self

link of the day

by mg at 04:21 PM on March 29, 2002

Olsen Twins' Countdown to Legality (this is so wrong, but don't forget to look at the pictures)

i'd hammer out love between all of my brothers and my sisters

by mg at 05:43 PM on March 28, 2002

It’s been a week and I haven’t heard back anything from the place I interviewed. I’m guessing it might be safe to post this now without jeopardizing anything, because, hey, there is no potential job to jeopardize.

Actually, it is sort of silly to post this at all now because it isn't a) terribly topical or b) terribly entertaining. But, I wrote it and I have nothing else to write about today, so, put your helmet on and strap yourself into the not-really-too-way back machine. I’m setting the dial for seven days ago…

---
So, I had a job interview today. Strange, I know, but it had to happen sometime. In this economy, interviews have been coming less frequently than your mom. Things seem to have gotten a bit better over the past couple weeks, but still; it’d be doing much better with a job than I am without one.

I didn’t mention the interview beforehand and ask ya’ll for the usual good mojo because 1) I didn’t know about it until the day before, and 2) you guys suck at sending out good mojo. Sorry. It’s true. I wouldn’t count on your mojo sending abilities to get me cavity searched at an airport if I walked through the metal detector carrying a Saturday night special and a copy of the Quran, much less to get me a job.

The interview is over now, and I’m sure you are all wondering how it went, and what I’d be doing and whom I’d be doing it for. Sorry, but I can’t tell you; not exactly anyway.

To begin, the job isn’t exactly something I’m terribly qualified for, and the interviewer told me so. He told me that I’m the oddball in the interviewee pool, the guy who if someone started singing “one of these things is not like the other,” a gaggle of toddlers would run up and point at me. Still, he said he was impressed enough (I write great cover letters) that he called me in. Cool.

I can’t mention the place I’d be working because I signed a Non Disclosure Agreement. Besides, it’d be very unprofessional of me. I probably shouldn’t even be writing this, to tell the truth. Yet, I’m compelled to write this and I promise to remain well within ethical boundaries.

I can mention the company is a start up, and a start up with a fantastic idea. Even if I don’t get the job, I will be a big proponent of the service; it is just that strong an idea and that useful a product.

I can also say that the fellow starting the company, the interviewer, is a bit of a web celeb. He was the CEO of a company I greatly admired, and is considered to be on of the most influential personalities in Silicon Alley. Forget how cool the job is, and how behind the product I am, I would want this job for merely the chance to bask in his warm glow. And I’m not saying that just to kiss up.

How did the interview go? Pretty well. I think.

Experientially I may not be the best candidate for the job, but I am certain I have the skills and personality to get it done. And what I don’t know, I’ll learn. Even from the short meeting, I have a pretty decent handle on what I need to do to help make the organization a success. I think I suggested a couple of good ideas that they might not have considered before (plus I thunk up some more ideas on the subway ride home), and guessed (correctly) at one of the company’s long-term goals.

My interviewer reiterated that I wasn’t the most obvious choice for the job, but that he was impressed. Whether I get the job or not (and I really, really hope I do), I am honored to have impressed someone I am impressed by.

I’ll let you know more when I know more, but if you don’t hear about this again, consider your questions answered by my silence.

i'd buy you a green dress

by mg at 12:09 PM on March 28, 2002

I forgot to mention it, what with all the new update hullabaloo yesterday, but Bad Samaritan just reached some sort of milestone. Sometime yesterday we got our 1,000,000th page view. I sort of feel like Dr. Evil saying that, considering some of the big boys can do that in a day, but it means something to me.

Other upcoming milestones:
      April 3rd: Bad Samaritan hits 18 months live.
      April 18th: the original Bad Samaritan (me) hits 26 years live.

When do we stop looking back??

by northstar at 06:02 PM on March 27, 2002

A federal lawsuit has been filed against, among others, FleetBoston Financial, CSX, and Aetna, accusing them of profiting from the slave trade. Now, if memory serves, Abraham Lincoln abolished slavery in 1863. If my math holds up, that's 139 years ago. So what is this about, really? Well, given that attorneys are talking about billions in reparations, it's clearly about money, and that is what upsets me.

Slavery was a horrible, inhuman system; of that there can be no argument. Even so, there has to be something, call it a statute of limitations if you must, to prevent this sort of egregious abuse of our legal system. No one who works at any of the plaintiff corporations was alive in 1863. Neither was anyone who would potentially benefit from any payment of reparations.

"These are corporations that benefited from stealing people, from stealing labor, from forced breeding, from torture, from committing numerous horrendous acts, and there's no reason why they should be able to hold onto assets they acquired through such horrendous acts," said Deadria Farmer-Paellmann, the main plaintiff in the lawsuit.

Those are all terrible things, and if any victims were still alive, Ms. Farmer-Paellmann would have a legitimate argument for reparations. That is not the case. Reparations in this instance represent nothing more than the possibility of some serious lifestyle enhancements for distant relatives of victims.

If Ms. Farmer-Paellmann and others were really interested in making a statement, they could require that reparation money be used to establish scholarships, endow museums, fund educational and health programs- things that would actually make a difference. Filing a lawsuit on behalf of 35 million African-Americans is a joke. Using this precedent, I and my millions of Irish brethren should seriously considering suing the British government. After all, the Irish suffered years of oppression under their rule. Sounds silly, doesn't it? It is, just as Ms. Farmer-Paellmann's lawsuit is.

Until African-Americans lose what they seem to view as their God-given right to victimhood, they will never be able to move forward. Slavery happened, and yes, it was a terrible thing. Thankfully, it ended 139 years ago; isn’t it time for all of us to move on and begin working towards making this country a better place today? Sadly, playing the race card is still a very lucrative proposition, and playing the victim means never having to take responsibility for yourself. Enough already.

goodbye to love

by mg at 01:41 PM on March 27, 2002

"I'll say goodbye to love
No one ever cared if I should live or die
Time and time again the chance for love has passed me by
And all I know of love is how to live without it
I just can't seem to find it

So I've made my mind up I must live my life alone
And though it's not the easy way
I guess I've always known
I'd say goodbye to love

There are no tomorrows for this heart of mine
Surely time will lose these bitter memories
And I'll find that there is someone to believe in
And to live for something I could live for

All the years of useless search
Have finally reached an end
Loneliness and empty days will be my only friend
From this day love is forgotten
I'll go on as best I can

What lies in the future is a mystery to us all
No one can predict the wheel of fortune as it falls
There may come a time when I will see that I've been wrong
But for now this is my song

And it's goodbye to love
I'll say goodbye to love"

Living alone sucks.

by quicksilver at 11:07 AM on March 27, 2002

You never quite realize how empty a place feels until you are the only one standing in it. My apartment is hardly cavernous. Its just a big box, really. Three rooms, two of which are called bedrooms, and a larger rectangle which contains my kitchen and living room-in-one. When I'm the only one there I become even MORE paranoid than usual. The slightest noise will send me into a cat-like state of awareness. There's also nobody to watch the stove while you go out and carry two huge bags of laundry down the block to the laundromat. I was wondering if I'd step out of the place and look down the block to see flames shooting out of my window. My soup was happily simmering away. Yes, I know you should never do that. =P And my bed is so big. And so quiet. At least this will only last until Sunday.

Oh yeah, to the bitch who owns the Laundromat on Broadway, fuck you.
You've been washing people's underwear for twenty years. Congratulations.

i said "welcome to the me world"

by mg at 02:17 AM on March 27, 2002

So, here it is, the next phase of Bad Samaritan. Welcome. As promised, this is so much more than a mere redesign.

This redesign has been in the works for months. No one really liked either of my previous mock-ups, so I gave up on it. And then, a couple weeks ago, I had an inspiration. If you are into that sort of thing, you can check out some of the stops ( 1 | 2 | 3 ) along the way.

Actually, I’ve been done with the design, code, and templatization for more than a week. There is an actual concept behind this redesign, and I want to explain it, but I’ve had so much trouble putting the hows, whats, and whys into words.

And you’d still be staring at that yucky 6 month-old design today if weren’t for someone (who’s wisdom is only surpassed by her beauty), slapped me across the face, Moonstruck style, and told me to just go ahead get it done already.

So, I got it done.

Besides, everything should make sense; everybody who got a sneak peak understood what I was going for before I explained a thing. But, please, leave a comment if you’ve got any questions, concerns or praise. Especially if you’ve got some of the praise. Additionally, I think everything is reasonably cross browser/platform friendly, but if it isn’t, please let me know.

So, again, welcome to Bad Samaritan.

link of the day

by mg at 11:02 PM on March 26, 2002

Wrecked Exotics - pictures of expensive car crashes, exotic cars, car accident photos, car wrecks (link via daypop)

i feel pretty, oh so pretty, i feel pretty and witty and WILD, man!

by effenheimer at 06:44 PM on March 26, 2002

In the category of "moving one step closer to dominating the known universe," my publisher had the very good idea imho of asking me to write my column "running thoughts" twice a week with an eye toward running three times a week in about a month which is about how often full time columnists run.

of course i said YouBetcherASS, mister! after a year of banging out features and the weekly column the people of the omaha/council bluffs metropolitan area are about to experience my BS on a much more regular basis. prepare yourselves for the end of world is nigh and new age beginneth(sp).

i am one more step toward becoming bullet-proof,in any case. eventually, i will be able to get up in the morning and go to work naked because no one will dare say I am unclothed. i am a jolly green giant striding across the earth, a notebook in my left hand, a Pentel RSVP medium point pen in my right ready to slay the beast. no one will be able to touch me.

and i'm pretty to boot!

link of the day

by mg at 06:32 PM on March 26, 2002

Social Issues Research Centre Guide to Flirting

...a subversive, anti-capitalist, anti-free enterprise philosophy...

by northstar at 04:42 PM on March 26, 2002

David Michael Smith was granted tenure yesterday at the College of the Mainland in Texas City. Normally, such information would be beyond mundane, but Smith is an avowed and outspoken Marxist, and there are those in hide-bound south Texas who are very frightened by Smith’s beliefs.

One critic had this to say: "I believe his views and philosophy are incompatible with a public institution of higher learning….It seems clear to me that Dr. Smith espouses a subversive, anti-capitalist, anti-free enterprise philosophy that I believe is out of place in a public institution of higher learning and is detrimental to the basis of our freedom in this country….There is no doubt there is a large number of the staff of the College of the Mainland that is very liberal, which is a shame, but I think Dr. Smith is moreso than any others and is a leader of the left-wing agenda that many at the College of the Mainland oppose….Dr. Smith is an admitted Marxist and has written extensively of his beliefs and his opposition to U.S. government policies and to American culture in general."

Of course, my first question is why being liberal is such a shame, but this is rural Texas, where narrow-minded conservatism is the norm, and a respected one. (Just try running for any political office as a Liberal Democrat. I dare you.) What the hell is “the left-wing agenda”? Is Smith going to tie up Republicans and throw Emma Goldman quotes at them??

I also fail to see why opposition to US government policies is defined as something just short of heresy. Unless I miss my mark here, this country was founded by people who left England because they wanted to be free for practice their religion as they saw fit, since the English government would not allow them to do so at home. There have always been people opposed to government policies in this country. Opposition is a way of life here, and a healthy one for a democracy. That is hardly news, and it certainly isn’t a crime.

No, the real problem here is a narrow-minded, fearful minority who view anything less than blind acceptance of government policy as anti-Americanism. All David Michael Smith is “guilty” of is presenting his students with an alternate viewpoint. Teaching someone to think and ask questions should be rewarded, not penalized.

To all of those who opposed Smith’s tenure, crawl back into your caves. Or better yet, move to Afghanistan. The Taliban (what’s left of it) will love you.

What's A Battle?

by jesus at 01:16 AM on March 26, 2002

I usually sit down at night, in my comfy black leather chair I found in a dumpster behind Sears, and think random li'l thoughts to myself:

"Hmmm, I could write a post for Bad Sam!"
"Wow, I can play with the type!"
"Should I take over Nicaragua now or later?"
"Why do my socks always develop holes where the big toe is?"
"Is blankly staring at a computer screen a productive use of my time?""No, thank you. I don't like cheese.""What boring crap can I babble about for a post?"

So I'm sitting here with thoughts similar to those running through my head. I usually don't have anything particularly interesting to write about, and today is no different.

Soooooo...did anyone watch those Oscars? Wow! What a show! The people! The lights! The cameras! I didn't actually watch it, mind you, but I'm sure there were people there. And I'm assuming cameras were there, since people are endlessly fascinated by pictures of those with more money than themselves. And that would make lights necessary. And so on.

I did see a clip of Halle Barry on the news though, and that sufficiently pissed me off. I'm not sure how to say this in a kind, loving manner, so I'll just come right out with it: I HATE HALLE BARRY. I hate her I hate her I hate her. I wish she would just shut up about being black and how proud she is of being black and black this black that. You're half white! Why aren't you dedicating your award to a poor white girl?

Jesus Christ, I think I have like a quarter of a percent German in me; it doesn't mean I'm flying the old Black, Orange, and Yellow from a pole, or collecting Nazi memorabilia, or dining on sauerekraute and celebrating Oktoberfest. And was there a memo sent out awhile ago informing us we could arbitrarily choose which ethnicity or race we want to represent, because I think I missed that one.

And if you did get it, please forward it to me. I really wanna become more Japanese--they're so smart and efficient.

better living through t.p.s. reports

by antwon at 10:19 PM on March 25, 2002

So my place of employment has been on a bit of a morale-boosting kick as of late. Which is kind of nice, I suppose. What with folks like me being apt to fret about "Q1 revenues" this and "potential wage freeze" that, it's probably for the best to have a coordinated attempt to keep us from pondering such matters too deeply. Gotta be cheaper than recomping us for Valium prescriptions, anyway.

One of the latest ideas implemented in our War Against Woe was a company-wide accrual of peer feedback. Essentially, some Power That Be would circulate a mystical sheet of paper amongst the co-workers with whom you most closely work; said co-workers would then write up anonymous paragraphs about how you were stupendously outgoing, generous to a fault, freely giving of your time, magnificent in the sack, etc.

How did you know that your peers were going to think so highly of you? Why, by official edict, of course! Since this exercise was about "morale building" and not "informing Bob in Accounting of the bitter blood feud he has initiated by stealing my goddamn Lean Pockets from the kitchenette," it was requested that you leave only glowing and positive contributions about your fellow officemate. Which, as one might expect, led directly to heartfelt revelations roughly on par with high school yearbook signings. ("Boy, for having such a long commute, Tim sure is punctual! Stay cool & have a good summer Tim!!!! XOXO marissa")

Anyhow, once this information had been assembled, we had a happy little get-together and as a group, tried to divine who was being lauded from any given page of accolades— you know, so that everybody could hear for themselves about all the awe-inspiring things you ostensibly did. Some folks were pegged within a sentence or two, instantly associated with some big-name product feature or endearingly quirky anecdote; others took a little more prompting for the rest of us to clue in. But kitschy though the event may have been, goshdarnit, it was kind of harmoniously uplifting.

'Course, then came the reading of my sheet. "Oh, OK, here's another puzzler, one without too many details for y'all. 'Hard working.' 'A real team player.' 'Eager to please.' 'Adapts well to change.' 'Undaunted by looming tasks.'" And so on and so forth. You get the picture. In short, a long string of platitudes completely devoid of any concrete examples of do-goodery. "Boy howdy, Antwon!" the statement intonated. "You are far and away one of the most crushingly boring individuals whom we have ever had on the roster here at our fine organization!"

Not that I think it's a particularly inaccurate statement or anything. I don't go out on Friday night beer bashes with the guys. I haven't attended a weekend barbecue commemorating so-and-so's housewarming or such-and-such little-known holiday. Even sticking with primarily work-themed activities, I haven't done anything especially showy or high-profile: I've been assigned low-visibility tasks that I've quietly performed with workmanlike efficiency. My solitary claim to fame is that I rolled with the punches in the face of high-churn task-thrashing and reorganizational whirlwinds. Clearly, I am the dullest employee ever to be brought forth into creation during this modern day and age.

So their analysis was starkly accurate... but not really the sort of thing I much wanted to hear, and certainly not the sort of thing I would use to spur me towards new motivational heights. Morale-boosting activity indeed....

Which is, of course, why I spent the last twenty minutes on the clock, sitting here in my cubicle and telling the good folks of Bad Samaritan about all my worldly woes. I'll design my own morale-boosting little schemes, thankyouverymuch. And hey, I feel better already. :-)

i never thought i'd see you naked: oscars edition

by mg at 07:27 PM on March 25, 2002

I haven’t done an addition of I Never Thought I’d See You Naked in so long that I’ve almost forgotten what Bea Arthur’s naked flesh of looks like. Oh wait, now I remember, it looks like an elephant’s ear.

Still, in honor of women everywhere, and especially those under appreciated women of Hollywood, I present a very special Oscars edition of I Never Thought I’d See You Naked.

Apparently, Academy Award winner Halle Berry is black. I’d never noticed before. I was much too busy staring at her amazing rack. Two words: hubba hubba. Berry won for her role in Monster's Ball, a movie I will never see since it also starts Billy Bob Thornton. I find it very difficult to believe Berry’s performance was Oscar worthy considering that during the last movie I saw her in, X-Men, I had more trouble believing she could change her facial expression than the weather.

Whether she deserved it or not (and who am I to say?) Berry is the only African-American woman to win the Oscar for Best Actress in the academy’s 74-year history. Her speech, which clocked in at almost 5 minutes, was so long that she is now officially the only African-American woman to have won Best Actress in the academy’s 75-year history.

When Berry took the stage to accept her award she began crying. Maybe crying is appropriate when you, say, get into car accident, but her weeping bordered on hysteria and made me feel more than a little nervous. One look at her succulent breasts quelled my uneasy heart. It did the reverse for something an organ a little lower.

Nicole Kidman’s performance in Moulin Rouge is one of the only two I actually saw. I thought she was brilliant. Not only is Kidman a fantastic actress, but she is a nine-foot tall, redhead from Australia. She did a wonderful job, exposing herself in a way most actress wouldn’t. No, I don’t mean she got naked, you perverts. Kidman’s performance was goofy and comedic in a way you’ll never see another “serious” actress even attempt. She also happens to have a wonderful singing voice. That gal has got a great set of lungs. Really.

The truth is, Kidman should have won the Oscar. But, shoosh, come closer and I’ll let you in on a little Hollywood secret: Kidman had no chance of winning this year. Why? Because of her race. You see, the Academy just isn’t ready to let an Australian woman win the award. Maybe, years from now, our kids and those spawn of convicts and paupers will all get together to share some shrimp on the barbie. Sadly, American just isn’t ready for that. Until that day Kidman will have accept that while she may never have Oscar, at least she isn’t saddled with the ‘mo Tom Cruise.

Sure Dame Judi Dench has got a century on me, at least, but I’ve always found her quite attractive. There ain’t nothing wrong with that. Right?

Before I’d ever seen her cinematic abilities, I became familiar with Dench because of her role on the early 90s BBC series As Time Goes By. Now, she was a decade younger then, but, so was I. That must have been about the same time I first saw Harold and Maude. Even now, there is still something about her eyes that really gets me. She certainly has a nice pair. Of eyes.

I’d read both the Bridget Jones diaries well before I saw the movie. So, walking into the theatre I could never have imagined Renee Zellweger pulling it off. But she did. Unfortunately, she hasn’t ever pulled off her clothes for the camera, but hopefully that is close enough.

As for her performance, well, I certainly wouldn’t say it was Oscar worthy, but her karaoke to "All By Myself" during the opening credits is probably among the greatest moments of pathos in cinematic history. Watching Zellweger belt out Eric Carmen’s one and only hit, you just can’t help but get drawn into Bridget Jones’ world. And unless you had a camera in my apartment, you will likely see nothing more pathetic, yet funny, in all your life.

I haven't seen Sissy Spacek performance in In The Bedroom. But from what I've seen, I can think of two things wrong with that title. I’m sure it is a very fine film, but it seems as if there is quite a bit of talking and not so much in and out in the bedroom. I'm sure I'll rent it when it hits DVD, or maybe I’ll just rent Carrie again, 'cause, remember, crazy chicks are hot. 'sides what could possibly be sexier than a girl covered in pig's blood?

I've actually got pics of all the Best Supporting Actress nominees too, but does anyone really want to see Maggie Smith naked? If so, you should leave a comment and if there are enough, I’ll post them tomorrow.

Let it Sun, Let it Rain, Just Don't Snow

by eric at 06:42 PM on March 25, 2002

I couldn't be happier, but the whining will start any minute.

We celebrated the first day of spring here in New England with a mini-blizzard that dumped 4 to 6 inches of the powdery white filth upon our homes, yards, streets. I know, because I had to drive in it. Twice. Then I had to shovel it.

I loathe and hate snow.

On the upside, this winter has been one of the mildest I've been through in this state. After just about every snow fall, and I admit there haven't been many, the snow has receded back like the Taliban defense, as the bizarre heat waves melt it into the ground where it belongs, with the moles and the grubs and the nightcrawlers. I do so love this global warming. It's the only Republican thing about me.

I've reveled in this lack of snow, thrilled to how nice my back feels with the lack of shoveling, been elated that I don't really give a shit if my lawn tractor with the plow even starts, since I don't need the stupid thing.

But soon it will begin, the comments:

"Oh, we're going to have a drought."

"There's going to be a water use ban because we didn't get enough snow this year..."

To which I say good, god dammit. I'll gladly skip a few showers or only do the dishes every other day or only flush once a day if it means not having to put up with god-forsaken evil of snow!

Besides, I hate washing my car, too.

THIS is entertainment??

by northstar at 06:20 PM on March 25, 2002

I am endlessly amazed at the degree of media whorage that surrounds the Academy Awards. I find it difficult to understand why I should care about a group of spoiled, pampered, overpaid group of therapy cases- but apparently enough people due to make my point of view irrelevant. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy movies as much as the next person, but what does any of this have to do with art? I’ve always believed that cinema is an art form, and that art and competition are mutually exclusive. Ah, but this is America, where everything is about competition and money.

I think what turns me off the most about Hollywood is the sheer volume of commercial crap that is churned out and slapped onto movie screens. Movies have become purely commercial enterprises; what is valued is not the quality of the product but the quantity of dollars generated for investors. As it turns out, Americans will flock to see just about anything that is hyped enough to make it seem interesting. We are, apparently, a nation of cinematic Philistines.

My personal whipping boy in this respect is “Training Day”, which is to cinema what dog excrement is to haute cuisine. Denzel Washington got “Best Actor” for that? Please…. Unless the Academy has an award for a script using the phrase “punk-ass bitch” the most, there was nothing in “Training Day” that seemed worthy of anything but going straight to video. Of course, it did have full-frontal nudity, but I doubt the Academy uses that as a voting criteria.

But, I digress…back to the media whorage. I did marvel at the volume and shamelessness of the ego-stroking that took place during the “pre-game” show: "Hey look, it's Cameron Diaz! Cameron, women adore you and men want to tie you up and put it to you; where DID you find that FABULOUS dress? How does it feel to be the idol of millions of adoring, sybaritic fans tired of their own miserable, pointless lives??" Don’t we all have better things to do??

Apparently, we as a nation have little else to do but critique the dresses, hairstyles, and cleavage of movie starlets. Yawn. Will someone wake me up when Kate Winslet’s boobs fall out of her dress??

do cell phones dream of electric sheep?

by mg at 01:50 PM on March 24, 2002

Have I ever mentioned how cool my cell phone is?

Because it is. Not only can it play mp3s, but I can also use it to connect to the wireless Internet. Isn’t technology amazing?

Sometimes, when I’m out and about and feel the need to get connected, I do. I check my email, compare store prices with those at Amazon, or just surf. Back in the days when I worked I had many a boring meeting to sit through. If I knew I could get away with it, I’d hook up to AIM, and chat with people to pass the time as Power Point presentations whizzed by over my head.

So, last night, I, for some reason I can’t quite remember, hooked up to AIM on my phone. Then I went to bed, or passed out if you want to be semantically correct. All night long, I kept having these strange dreams. No matter what I was dreaming various objects would periodically start vibrating.

I’d wake up a bit, and see that my phone was blinking at me. I picked it up and tried to read it, but every time all I could see was “shjfh sdflkfsk sflkhfd.” I kept thinking to myself, “there must be something wrong with my phone. I should really just turn it off so I can get some shut eye.”

But then I worried someone might be trying to call me. Maybe that were in a car accident or something and needed me to help gnaw off their arm so they could extract themselves from the wreckage. And, if I am nothing else, I am always willing to engage in cannibalism to help out a friend.

So, when I woke up this morning, I picked up my phone to see what in the hell was wrong with it. Seems I had forgotten to log out of AIM and all the night owls and early risers on my buddy list decided tonight was the night to chat. I had messages from seven different people. The first message in every conversation began “Out late or up early?”

After failing to respond (I was passed out, remember, and even if I wasn’t I wouldn’t know the proper response to shjfh sdflkfsk sflkhfd.”), most folk gave up. A couple continued to send me three or four more messages. For you people, I just wanted to say that I wasn’t ignoring you I was merely sleeping. THE END.

no one should take themselves so seriously

by mg at 12:37 PM on March 23, 2002

What’s next, crows feet?

During a cursory glance at myself in the mirror this morning (cursory? I spent nearly 45 minutes gazing lovingly upon my own reflection), I found not one, not two, not even half a dozen, but seven gray hairs. I’m sure if I had looked a little harder, I could have found even more.

Now, I have spotted a gray strand or two before. That is nothing new. I started noticing them years ago, when I was still a teenager. Usually, it’s just the one silver-gray rebel, and after I pluck it, my head goes back to its brown uniformity (with reddish gold highlights after I’ve spent a little too much time in the sun).

One or two strands, I can stand. But finding seven in one day is almost too much to bear. I think it might have something to do with the fact I haven’t dyed my hair in almost a year. In the past five years, I haven’t gone much longer than a few months without dying my hair. I’ve probably had gray hair all this time, but never noticed it until now.

It’s almost enough to make me want to renege on my pledge to go natural. And my pledge to save money (hair dye is expensive). And that pledge to not do things that might cause me cancer (besides smoking, because that’s too cool to ever give up. And also my pledge not to do things that leave stains all over my bathroom (which means it’s a good thing my apartment building has a basement, or else I’d have to give up my prostitute dismemberment hobby too).

At any rate, this is a sure sign that I’m getting old. Also that Snaggle was in New York this week, but I didn’t get a chance to see him because he only ever wanted to get together past my bedtime (hey, maybe that means more than I think it did?). Really, I’ve never been much into partying to begin with, but as I’m approaching middle age, the thought of starting the night at 11:30 just makes me tired. So very very tired.

Gray hair, needing to get at least 13 hours of sleep, hemorrhoids, and the urge to shake my fist and yell “You kids!” whenever a teenager speeds by me on their skateboard are all sure signs of aging. Sure, I’m only 26 (well, in a couple weeks anyway), but I feel very old.

What is really weird is that I also feel very young. It’s Saturday, and I woke up to watch cartoons this morning. The other day, I happened to walk past my old Junior High at around 3 o’clock. The kids were just getting out of class, were running around and doing all those things that I did as a 12 year-old; talking about comic books and video games, playing handball in the park, and teasing girls.

I wanted nothing more than to join in with them.

And it didn’t seem that long ago when I was them, but it’s been almost 15 years since I was in their tiny little shoes. I was looking at these kids and they all looked so small. I shouldn’t still be doing the same things I was doing when I was their age, should I? I even thought better of offering the girls in my “candy” the other day. “Maybe I should be looking for girls born in the same century as me,” I thought. And maybe I thought right.

Either too old, or too young; maybe I should act my age. But, what’s my age again?

The real problem with March Madness

by northstar at 10:40 AM on March 23, 2002

The madness that is the NCAA Division I men’s basketball tournament is drawing to a close. Thrills, chills, heroes, and goats (et tu, Jason Williams??) abound. For sheer entertainment and excitement value, it’s tough to beat. As I’m watching the tournament, though, I can’t manage to shake a few questions.

F’rinstance, why does everyone seem to be making money off the tournament except the main attraction- the players? The NCAA has a multi-MILLION dollar contract with CBS, who makes money from selling advertising at premium rates. The universities, the coaches, the cities who host games- they all make money, as does everyone from T-shirt vendors to the beer guys. Everyone, that is, except the players.

Now, I know what some of you are going to argue- the players are on scholarship, and that should be considered just and adequate compensation. That argument might hold water- if schools kept the emphasis on the “student” in “student-athlete”. When you look at the deplorable graduation rates of many schools in the tournament, it should become clear that education is simply not a value. Besides, coaches are hired and fired based on won-loss records- not graduation rates.

What other industry is allowed carte blanche when it comes to exploiting 18-22 year-olds, most of whom have no legitimate shot of ever playing for pay beyond college? While you're perusing your brackets and trying to figure out how much money you’ve lost, let’s not lose sight of the fact that those “student-athletes” are in most cases willingly participating in indentured servitude. Their willingness does not necessarily diminish the injustice.

What Has the World Come to?

by jasmine at 04:30 PM on March 22, 2002

Apparently the world has ended and I was not notified. There is a way for women to pee standing up at a urinal, sans penis. There is a whole entire site dedicated to this and other bathroom behavior at Restrooms.org.

According to the site there is two ways of going about this. One is a plastic tube device, and the other is called the "Two Finger Method"...use your imagination. They are actually building female urinals in places.

The worst part is that there is people who actually do this. I though I was lazy, but this is taking it to a new extreme. I'll stick to hovering in a public bathroom, thank you.

nothing to see here, move along

by mg at 01:09 PM on March 22, 2002

This will eventually be the site of mg's personal blog. Wait, why am I refering to myself in the third person?

This will be the place for all the stupid stuff that doesn't belong anywhere else, and I'd really not want anyone to see, but would still like to write and post because I'm crazy that way.

At any rate, nothing is here now. I may make a few tentative posts now and then, but I probably wont be posting here regularly for another month or so. Don't worry, I'll let ya'll know when to come by and check this place out.

It's a good time to be.

by quicksilver at 12:39 PM on March 22, 2002

I was just promoted in my martial art. By surprise.

The test, as it always should be, was life.
Its a good feeling. But an odd feeling.
Someone out there will always be measuring, evaluating,
and judging you. Do the best that you can do with what you've got.
On any given day. No more, no less.

Thank you Mark. Thank you Oliver. And thanks to my peers.
It's a good time to be.

thank you doctor zizmor

by mg at 08:27 PM on March 21, 2002

Normally, I'd hate to post up an AIM convo. But, for reasons that will quickly become apparent, I am not posting what I intended to write for today. I wasted all my wit and charm on the interview, and writing about the interview, and then a couple of long AIM convos. I've got nothing else to say today.

So, AIM log it is. Besides, for those who haven't instant messengered me yet, this will be an interesting look at another side of the original bad samaritan. Or something.

miss b: hi. how'd the interview go?

mg: it went well, i think

miss b yeah??

mg: yeah, it went well.

mg: i wrote something about it, but i signed a non discolusre agreement, and i'm not sure how much i can get away with

miss b: they liked you? you liked them?

mg: the guy said i was the oddball interview, i wasn't like the other people they had in

mg: that is either really good, or really bad

miss b: heh. right.

mg : well, he said even if i wasn't right for the one position, he might have a place for me, which is a good sign

miss b : that is very good. congratulations.

mg: hopefully

mg: it'd be a great chance

mg: so, since i signed an nda, and this company is supposed to be stealth, do you think i could post something about it if i don't mention the company or their idea at all?

miss b: i wouldn't. it'd make me too nervous.

miss b: but that's just me.

mg: i know. i'm nervous too

miss b: then don't do it.

mg: its a shame, because i already wrote the whole post

mg: before i started thinking better of it

miss b: you can always post it later maybe.

mg: i don't know what else to write about today then

miss b: i know!

mg: i've got all these partially written things that i don't have the heart to finish anymore

miss b : what was that thing i told you to write about?

mg: i don't remember. i was trying to think about what it was you said earlier

mg: and i couldn't

miss b: being a trendsetter.

mg: yes. right. how everyone steals from me

miss b: you can even say michele and i stole panic attacks from you.

mg: heh. i was the first to mention that.

mg: hey, has space had any panis attacks?

mg: maybe it was something we ate or drank

mg: or our waiter!

mg: he has some sort of mind control

miss b: penis attacks?

miss b: that waiter!

mg: jean luc!

miss b: hahahahahaha

miss b : space hasn't had any attacks though

mg : hmm. maybe it is space then!

mg: the bastard!

miss b: ugh

mg: my life was fine until i met him

miss b: i don't have anything to post either.

miss b: what am i gonna post????

mg: i don't know. i'm struggling myself

mg: if you do come up with something, you should write it for bs

miss b: that's a good point.

mg: it is. i do have a good point

miss b: alright. i'm going home now and i'll try and think of something.

mg: okay. you've got a train ride to think

miss b: thanks for your comment from today.

mg: well, no, thank you for saying what i've been struggling with saying too

miss b: i'm glad it had the affect that it has.

miss b: i mean, that it's resonated for people.

miss b: it's nit just about me.

mg: nope, it is nit

miss b: hehe

mg: its strange that everyone within this smaller part of the bigger community is going through the same thing

miss b: yes. but it probably has something to do with why we were drawn to this in the first place.

mg: did we come together because we all had this inside us, or are we causing it in each other. or does seeing it in another person, help it out of us?

mg: it would be an interesting pyschological study

miss b: for sure.

mg: i once did a linguistics paper on chat speak, but a pyschological study would be really interesting

miss b: i just don't want us to be stereotyped like that.

mg: well, i don't think you could be stereotyped

miss b: what ever would make you say that?

mg: i think some people don't have much substance to them. they can be made to easily fit into a stereotype. but there is more to you than that.

mg: i've read your site for months now, met you a couple times and talk on aim a lot, but i still don't think i know you. or ever could know you completly. thats what i meant.

miss b: that's interesting. i'm definitely not an easy person to know.

mg: i think the people i like in real life, and the people i love to read are that way

miss b: you strike me as being not unlike that.

mg: i hope i am.

miss b: i think you are

miss b: in fact, who the hell are you????!!!!

mg: i'm doctor zissmore

mg: or however you speel that

miss b: ew

mg: that second one was on purpose

mg: mostly

miss b: hehehe

miss b: okay. i gotta get out of here. i'll talk to you later.

mg: right. okay then, later doll.

miss b signed off.

PS: edited for brevity, and annotated for added value

your world must have very dry literature

by mg at 04:02 PM on March 20, 2002

I so very much want to go back to the carefree and happy-go-lucky days of Bad Samaritan. Back when I posted nothing more serious than hangnail. It seems this site has become nothing more than me bitching about this and that, and frankly, I’m sick of it. I’m sure you all are too.

I’m ready to go back to being frivolous, but I’m not sure how.

It’s hard to seem like I don’t have any worries in the world when all I do on this world is worry. If I were in love, I could joke about sex without it seeming bitter and resentful. I’d be back to making cracks about J Lo’s ass, if only I had one of my own to grab onto at night.

And if I had a job, I could go back to, well, eating for one, but also go back to railing against corporate America like the younger, skinner, much handsomer Michael Moore I used to be. Now, I look upon my days in corporate America with colored glasses thicker than Rosie O’Donnell. Sure, if I had a job, it’d probably back in corporate America and I’d have to sign some sort of anti-defamation clause that would force to stifle my radical actions, but I’d still be thinking my radical thoughts, and could finally afford the subscription to Ad Busters.

I’m not even feeling creatively satisfied. Sure, this site is doing well, hits are consistent, comments are consistent, even people beside myself have been posting recently. But I feel like I’m not doing enough with it. The site isn’t what I meant it to be. It isn’t what it has been when I loved writing here most. It isn’t a disappointment, either.

It just is.

And if it wasn’t I wouldn’t have a place to exercise these demons, and I suppose that is a good thing. But, I’ve still got an itch somewhere deep inside that I haven’t been able to scratch. As mentioned previously, there are big changes in the works, changes bigger than simply a new design (though there is a new design). This change should have been made weeks ago, and will be done soon, whether I like it or not.

Nothing like making external changes when what’s really bothering you is inside here (this is the point where you have to imagine me pounding my chest with my fist).

Anyway, the whole point is, if you, my devoted readers, would all get together and help me find a job, a girlfriend, and a creative muse, then we can get back the Bad Samaritan that brought everyone here in the first place. You’ve been loyal through these down times, now show your love by hooking me up with some love, and I guarantee things will get back to normal. I promise, really, you just have to hold up your end of the bargain.

Tiresome Twaddle

by muaddib at 04:01 PM on March 20, 2002

I have grown increasingly tired lately of hearing the President called a moron when it is so obviously untrue. It is, of course, an article of faith for his detractors that he's stupid - so much so that they have to contrive elaborate theories about who actually makes the decisions in the White House since they've convinced themselves he's barely capable of tying his shoes. Occam's Razor argues against such contrivances, but if you're preoccupied with recounting ballots (again!) I suppose such fine distinctions get lost in all the freshly loosened chads.

But I've resolved not to let it bug me. First off, the locus of actual stupidity is a genuine question considering such things as Bush's 1206 on the SAT. FYI: that's just 44 points short of qualifying for Mensa. Secondly, members of the left-wing opposition only do their own cause a disservice when they underestimate Dubya. He has a such long and consistent track record of rope-a-doping such unthinking opposition and turning it to his advantage, you think they'd learn. They'd be a whole lot better off assuming he's deviously brilliant and planning accordingly, but that would require abandoning the cherished principle of subnormal intelligence. Which, as a fan of the President, suits me fine, thank you.

I can easily agree that Bush is not an intellectual (in the sense that we usually use the term) and that - say - Gore certainly is. But so what? Not being bookish does not mean he can't understand the issues. It doesn't even mean he doesn't read books (he is reported to be a voracious consumer of books, actually). No-one who is actually familiar with how his Administration operates will contend that Administration policy comes from anywhere other than Bush himself. There's a huge difference between delegation and lack of comprehension. OTOH, one can be too intellectual. Gore might very well be President now but for the fact that he came across in the debates as such a condescending pedant. There's no telling how many voters decided they'd rather not be lectured by him for four years and voted accordingly.

So, yeah, it's hard sometimes to listen to the same mindless drivel, endlessly repeated. But I remind myself of something William James once said, "A great many people think they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices." One sees it everywhere.

From the stream of consciousness files....

by northstar at 11:52 AM on March 20, 2002

Still More Random Thoughts:

The folks at Bob Jones University (you know, the ones who put the “fun” in fundamentalist) have decided that they are no longer happy describing themselves as “fundamentalist”. In their view, “fundamentalist” connotes bigotry, intolerance, and divisiveness, so they need to find another adjective. Hmmm… what’s another word for bigotry, intolerance, and divisiveness?

The Vatican has finally figured out that pedophilia is a serious problem among priests. DUH…. Thanks for getting out in front of the story this time, guys….

So Andrea Yates faced her sentencing alone while her husband Russell was off hitting the talk show circuit? Well, a man’s gotta make a living, right? Besides, it’s not as if he’s not going to know where to find her for the next 40 years….

Gen. Manuel Noriega (remember him??), former hefe de Panama, had a parole hearing yesterday, but his attorney thinks it is doubtful he will be released. Something about drug trafficking, racketeering, and money laundering….

Shrub’s advisers are asking him to merge the Customs Service with the INS. Apparently, the idea is to collect all of the incompetence and inefficiency in one place….

According to this week’s issue of The Onion (the only news that’s REALLY fit to print), Al & Tipper Gore are enjoying the best sex of their lives. I believe that one will get filed under “WAY too much information”….

Shrub has turned into the Second Coming of Ronald Reagan. He has developed an uncanny ability to attract credit for policy successes, while at the same time being held blameless for failures. I suppose you can do that when you have no original ideas of your own….

i think god must be mad at me for not unwrapping his presents

by mg at 12:58 PM on March 19, 2002

Take yesterday’s post how you will.

I probably meant something by it at the time. In fact, I’m sure I did.

Maybe it is about a girl. Maybe I’m getting my chain pulled and I’m sick of it.

Maybe you should replace the word “you” with the word “blog.” I fall in and out of love with this stupid pastime more than I ever have with any person.

Maybe it isn’t about any of those things. That is the crazy bit about “art,” whatever the author may have intended, each person checking it out will have their own interpretation. It’s called an open reading.

So, I’m not going to explain anything. I probably should, but I don’t feel like it. I don’t feel like explaining much of anything lately. I’m tired of making sense of things, because life just doesn’t make any damn sense. Great thinkers, prophets and pot-heads have spent entire lives in deep meditation, and none of it has gotten humanity anywhere.

I’m tired of thinking so damn much. I want to look without leaping. I want to do something stupid. I want my brain to shut off.

Which is why you haven’t seen me around much. All I’m doing is blindly sending out resumes, watching movies, and playing with my palm pilot. And when I say palm pilot, that isn’t even a euphemism.

I’ve been planning and scheming my whole life, and look where it has gotten me. Seemingly the same place I would have gotten if I’d done nothing at all. So, from now on, I’m going to do nothing at all. Let’s see what happens.

Buddy, can you spare a dime?

by northstar at 08:43 PM on March 18, 2002

Today will not be remembered as one of my better days. The consulting firm I work for has had trouble drumming up new business since 9.11.01 (and Enron). Since operating capital doesn’t grow on trees, something eventually had to give. Today that something was me. I’ve been put on a two-week “unpaid leave”. There is the (likely remote) possibility that I’ll be called back, but the reality is that I’m probably out of a job. Now, I realize that there are a lot of other people out there who are in worse shape, so I’m not going to cry in my beer. I’ll save the self-pity for later. Financially, we’ll be OK for the time being, although playing golf at Pebble Beach anytime soon is looking much less likely than it did a few days ago.

What struck me today was how powerfully most of us come to identify with their chosen career. I know I do. Upon meeting someone for the first time, one of the first questions is invariably “So, what do you do for a living?” And how do we define ourselves? “Well, I’m a neurobiochemical metaphysicist, Bob….”

Losing that connection, that sense of identity, can be a devastating thing. I suppose it’s only natural when you consider how much of your life you spend getting to, being at, and coming home from work. It’s OK, though; I already have a plan in place. When someone asks me what I do for a living, I’m going to tell them I’m a freelance writer (which is a not incorrect description). Of course, I’m not actually making any money, but that seems so…crassly commercial. I’m all about the art. I know; it’s total bullshit, but it’s the best I could do on short notice. I’m not going to pretend this is going to be an easy time for me, but after today, I’m going to make a concerted effort not to feel sorry for myself.

In the meantime, anyone out there looking for a writer???

this joke has gone on long enough

by mg at 07:11 PM on March 18, 2002

I didn't mean to keep you in suspense so long.

Anyway, Dodd was right (as he usually is). I was interviewed by a journalist from the AP about the Fighting Whities story. I gave the interviewer a lot, and implored him to actually mention Bad Samaritan, but in the end all I got was one measly quote (at the very end of the article, no less) and no link slutage.

Ah well, still pretty cool. Since the article was on the AP wire, it was published a lot of places, and here is one of them. If it happened to be printed in one of your local papers, please let me know, I'd love to get a copy for scrap book.

fallin', w/ respect to alicia keys

by mg at 01:58 PM on March 18, 2002

I keep on fallin'

In and out of love

With you

Sometimes I love ya

Sometimes u make me blue

Sometimes I feel good

At times I feel used

Lovin you darlin'

Makes me so confused

I keep on

Fallin'

In and out of love with you

I never loved someone

The way that I love you

Oh, oh , I never felt this way

How do you give me so much pleasure

And cause me so much pain

Just when I think

Ive taken more than would a fool

I start fallin' back in love with you

I keep on

Fallin'

In and out of love with you

I never loved someone

The way that I love you

Oh baby

I, I, I, I'm fallin'

I, I, I, I'm fallin'

Fall

I keep on

Fallin'

In and out of love with you

I never loved someone

The way that I love you

The New McCarthyism

by northstar at 05:30 PM on March 17, 2002

One of the aspects of the war on terrorism that I find particularly frightening is the militant aversion some Conservatives have for criticism of Shrub and/or the war on terrorism. I always thought that one of the things that distinguishes this country from places like Iraq or Iran is that we can say what’s on our minds. That’s not to say that whatever is said will be met with universal approval, but at least you don’t have to worry about being summarily executed. I think that’s a good thing.

Well, now that there is a war on, Conservatives like John Ashcroft and William Bennett have taken to viewing legitimate criticism or questions to be giving aid and comfort to the enemy. Right; how will someone living in a cave benefit from someone like me asking why Shrub wants $36 billion for homeland security and how he is going to spend it?

A scary new watchdog group called Americans for Victory Over Terrorism is Bennett’s latest attempt to introduce fear, intimidation, and self-censorship into the American political landscape. Using the “loose lips sinks ships” school of thought, AVOT will “promote the democratic ideals of freedom, liberty, equality, and human rights”- just as long as you don’t actually try to exercise any of those rights by criticizing the President or the war on terrorism. Try that and some right-wing nutcase will be comparing you to John Walker Lindh.

I’d always thought that McCarthyism was a legacy left to me by my parent’s generation- something to be studied and understood, but only for posterity. I never thought that I would see the Senator’s ghost re-emerge again, particularly after 9.11.01. Well, there are those of us who live to be a thorn in the side of ignorance, fear, and reaction. I’m here to tell you that as long as I walk the earth and have access to a keyboard, I’m going to do my best to piss off the Radical Right. I consider it my sworn duty, and I’m pretty good at it. If more us would do the same, perhaps people like Bennett and Ashcroft will come to understand the true power of freedom of speech and expression.

Party on, Garth!!

Let's Get It On

by melly at 10:52 PM on March 15, 2002

Yes, it's been awhile. I'll fill you in on what's happened to me in the last three months: I had the baby. There, we are all up to date and can move on to how I am horny as this is my favorite topic in the whole wide world.

kd said I wouldn't even think about sex for a good six months after I had the baby. I have found this to be as true as the rumor that labor is painful. The fact that I am more and more bitching to Gordon about my panties being attached to my ass as opposed to a nice hardwood floor, tells me that I am ready to get back to matin' and creatin'.

And why shouldn't I bitch? I'm twenty-three years old. I figure my panties should be on the floor at least twice a week. I am missing the old days when I'd wake each morning and have to hunt the little fuckers down. I'd always find them some place like the kitchen or thrown on top of his web cam or swimming in a pool of Kama Sutra tickle powder.

One morning my bra actually had to find it's own way home! I opened the door and there it was, neatly folded in a plastic bag with a note saying,"We found this on the front lawn and thought you'd might like it back."

My underwear is bored people! Sometimes late at night I find myself perusing Victoria's Secret . Com looking for something, anything that will again make my pantie drawer the hoppin' joint that it once was. It's gotten so pathetic that my cartoon cotton's are intermingling with my black lacies and my snappie fronties. It used to be, with the exception of a few days out of the month, that I'd open that drawer and choose which sexy bitch I was going to be that day. Now anything that's got any amount of sex appeal is so wedged back in the drawer that I can't get the damn thing completely shut.

Let's not even talk about the underwear that goes up to my navel, which should have been burned a long time ago, but is now making a come back as I have become more into comfort than looks. Why? Because it isn't going to be neatly displayed on anyone's floor or couch or desktop photo of their parents, so why should I even bother?

I am not an ugly chick. Sure my breasts are a little floppy and my belly may noticeably protrude over my Levi's, but I am still as pretty as I ever was. I still have the same deceptively demure face. I still have legs so long my feet rest in Houston. I am still a worthy port of entry! Dammit, I say "chicks" and "port of entry"!

Some may think that now that I am a mom I should sit back and accept the fact that I am picking Hanes out of my ass at 4am, but that just isn't going to happen. I miss the tie-dye. I miss the eyelet. I miss the closeness and the passion and the sweat and the hair pulling and the spanking and the counters and the occasional bite on my inner thigh. I am a human being, and human beings need to have wild, barbaric sex!

I was sure that this whole thing had a point. Funny how it doesn't.

Public Grooming Strikes Again

by jasmine at 06:53 PM on March 15, 2002

If there is one thing that is high on my pet peeves list is public grooming. Not just fixing your hair that been messed up, or something to that extent. But the grooming that should go on within the confines of your home.

First example there is this girl in my 9.00 class who proceeds to put her "face" on each morning. It takes a half and hour, thats half a class hour each day. Imagine how many hours in her life she must spend putting on makeup. Makeup that makes her look quite dead.

My prime and second example happned yesterday in the same class, by a different girl. I assume that class got too boring for her so she proceeded to whip out her nail file, which I had no problem with. But next I know, she pulls out her fingernail clipper and starts clipping a filing right next to me. Not only was I grossed out, but I do believe that one of her thin, floppy, ugly nails flew on me.

I wanted to throw up, this was worse than the girls I see who use thier curling irons in the public bathroom. More worse than the people who pick thier noses while driving. Although not as worse the people who brush thier teeth in public bathrooms. These public groomers have no respect for the people around them, especially in close quarters.

They must be stopped.

more now, save it for later

by effenheimer at 01:35 PM on March 15, 2002

short story long, I'm on the phone with "the woman" and she is in bed just calling me while she tries to go to sleep. I don't get that. Just go to sleep and leave me alone. Well i guess my job was to talk to her and waste my cell phone minutes until she passed out. as you can well imagine, left on my own to rant i started bitching about whatever suits my fancy until she challenges my rant. "How do you know? you do tend to be awfully hard on people...blah blah blah."

so i gave here three good reasons to support my rant which i wont go into here, suffice it to say she irritated me by challenging explain WHY i felt the way I did about my own personal business. Then I asked her if shewanted any more proof that I knew what the hell i was talking about.

Apparently she felt cowed because she gave me some weak "ok, all right, don't get mad" business and then started in with the silent treatment. I decided if she wanted silence she could have that without my waiting on the other end fo the line. "Well, i guess I'll talk to you later." it is my experience that the ladies don't like it when you arent willing to talk for four hours until they feel comfortable going to sleep after what was surely the most minor of tiffs.

was all i heard. not "bye" not "good night" just

screw that. hang up on me will you? go talk to your cat you big-headed old maid. i then spent an hour and a half on the phone with my buddy Jocelyn screwing around and having a good time talking about things that interst both of us. I like my friends, I don't mind being alone. I hate cutesy nonsensical baby talky love me love my cat relationship BS.

I'm sure she expected me to call her back and aplogize, but forget it. I dont like play games. I dont like being made to wait weeks and weeks for just the first kiss so some woman I wouldnt have for a friends tests me to see if I am boyfriend or marriage material before we have any kind of fun. "Want to go out?" I would ask. "No let's just stay in and watch a movie." yeah, like I couldnt do that on my own.

I am not afraid of intimacy so much as I am repulsed by it. I want a best friend THEN a lover. This is not a job, it is life and it is getting shorter every day. I don't have time to waste on people who see me as raw material for the relationship gristmill. Do I have areas I could stand to improve? No doubt. But I determine what those are, not some woman i just met a month ago.

Don't tell me my depression, the source of my writing and the dysfunciton i control just fine on my own thank you, should be completely eradicated by smiling more and writing less. writing is the only thing keeping me sane, baby.

I'm free, to do what I want. Any old time. Love me, hold me. Love me. Hold me, cause I'm free!

finally, the respect I deserve

by mg at 11:51 AM on March 15, 2002

I was just interviewed by someone at Associated Press over something that was written here a couple days ago. Aren't you all just dying to know what?

bad news: Fed Releases Donald Rumsfeld

by mg at 08:05 PM on March 14, 2002

Washington D.C. –– A cabinet member’s desk it is a sacred place – the one private place in his very public world. Donald Rumsfeld learned that invading that sanctum is a most serious offense.

Once one of the most promising prospects in politics, Rumsfeld was placed on unconditional waivers by the United States Governments after stealing a stapler and three-pack of legal pads from cabinet-mate Colin Powell’s desk, a government source said Thursday.

"That type of thing is a shock," President George Bush said. "It's sad. It's unfortunate."

Unlike many in-the-bedroom transgressions that often can be overlooked, Rumsfeld was not given a second chance by the government.

"We look at this as our house and this is our family," Secretary of Housing & Urban Development Mel Martinez said. "We spend more time here than we do with our real families. This was something that had to be dealt with quickly and as discretely as possible, but that's not possible in this age."

None of the cabinet members would publicly say why Rumsfeld was let go. But a lawyer familiar with the decision, speaking on condition of anonymity, confirmed that Rumsfeld took the equipment from Powell’s desk and sold it to a political memorabilia agent.

Rumsfeld later returned the stapler and legal pads, which he reportedly sold for $2,500, but it was too late to save his career with the United States Government.

"The Whitehouse is a special place," Bush said. "It's our sanctuary. It's big part of what we do. Trust is very important."

Secretary of Health & Human Services Tommy Thompson said stuff disappears from his desk all year, but he has never suspected a cabinet member of doing it. "I try and protect some of my important game stuff," Thompson said. "It happens all the time. I don't think it's the cabinet members."

This time it was.

Like that of most cabinet members, Powell’s desk is filled with pens, paper clips, important papers and staplers– which he considers his most precious stationary item. Other valuables are usually locked away.

Powell sells most of his office-used equipment – including 20-to-25 pens a year – through Steiner Political Memorabilia to raise money for his America's Promise charity.

Brandon Steiner, the head of the company, said the sales generate more than $250,000 a year for the charity, including between $2,500 and $10,000 per paper clip. But there's one item Powell never sells.

"I know those staplers are very personal," Steiner said. "He never parts with them."

But no matter what Rumsfeld took, the outrage likely would have been the same.

The team confronted Rumsfeld after players learned of the theft last week. Rumsfeld had a closed-door meeting Saturday with Bush, vice president Dick Cheney and Chief of Staff, Andrew H. Card, Jr.

Cheney met with Rumsfeld again Monday morning and, later that day the cabinet was told of the decision.

"We have always been able to discuss things as a team," Secretary of Labor Elaine Chao said. "That's one reason why we've been so successful because we've had such good chemistry. We tend to act as a unit and talk things through." Rumsfeld’s actions tore at the fabric of that chemistry, creating an element of mistrust.”

Powell declined to comment on the theft or the release, saying he didn't "want to add fuel to the fire." Rumsfeld, who received a $200,000 settlement of his contract, said he's negotiating with other country’s governments, "even though right now things are a little more difficult.''

---

it's called satire people

Things Happen

by eric at 04:56 PM on March 14, 2002

Today is one of those days where things happen. I'm glad they're happening to others and not to me. For example, my sister-in-law's father died last night. Two of my best friends got laid off today, and at least one of them really can't afford that. My friend's brother died last week, seven years to the day after getting a heart transplant.

These are things that happen.

These are not things that happen like, say, the sun rising, the harvest moon shining, or the tides getting sand wet kinds of things. Those are natural and predictable and good things.

Instead, these things that happen are things like, say, the sun overheating a car so much the dog inside dies, or the harvest moon shining just enough so you can see a rape happening on the street below your window, or the tide causing an undertow so big it drags you under with such force you feel like you have ropes tied to your ankles and you hit your head on a rock.

These are bad things. Things I don't wish on even a Republican.

It's a relief me, on a day like today where things happen, to be living such a boring life, where it feels like nothing happens. May nothing continue to happen for a long time.

Happiness is sometimes easy to find

by quicksilver at 02:55 PM on March 14, 2002

Take, for instance, the story of these two demon-slayers. Rune-worded handaxe in one hand, triple diamoned studded shield in the other, our hero hacked and slashed his way into the heart of his bow bearing bride as he attempted to save her from the hordes of gibbering flayers and thorn hulks. Yet she needed no rescuing, for her unique Storm bow was her savior as she put arrows through the eyes of each of her assailants. Finding love in this strange world is hard enough. Be happy for those who take videogaming seriously. Even the ArchAngel Tyriel is wishing them good luck. Check it out.

Those who can, do. Those who can't become critics.

by northstar at 01:51 PM on March 14, 2002

Today I experienced an ugly side of the weblog community, and I’m none too happy about it. I suppose I should have expected that someone would rain on my parade sooner or later. I probably shouldn’t be surprised that I am not universally loved and admired for my wit and intellect. Whoda thunk it?

My website was reviewed yesterday in The Weblog Review, and the reviewer, one Kiffin, was none too kind. In fact, he was a real asshole. I’ve known for some time that my site, as it currently exists, will not win any awards, but it’s never been about that. I began my site last September as a way to teach myself HTML and web design, and to provide myself with a forum for my writing. I suppose I was arrogant enough to think that someone would actually read what I have to say. I don’t get a lot of hits- generally between 50 and 80 per day- but there are a few people who visit my site regularly. That alone is gratifying. To have someone belittle what I’ve devoted many, many hours to, and to do it in such a condescending manner, is not an easy thing to accept.

I feel good about what I do, especially since it is all hand-coded. I’ve worked hard at it, and while it is clearly and admittedly somewhat amateurish, it is 100% mine. At some point, I will graduate to some sort of content management system, but this is very much a shoestring operation, and doing anything more elaborate takes money.

Kiffin, as far as I’m concerned, can kiss my ass. I respect his right to form his own opinion, and he did actually have a few observations worth following up on. Nevertheless, there is no reason to be condescending and insulting. Is it really necessary to build yourself up as an expert by demeaning and denigrating the work of someone else you will never meet? If you are reviewing the work of someone else, and you don’t like it, say so. Back up your argument with concrete observations, not vague ill-defined generalities on what a weblog “should” be. Above all, remember that the tables could be turned on you. Therefore, following the old Golden Rule is always a good idea.

As a writer, I do realize that I need to have a thicker skin. I will work on that. This is a free country, and everyone is free to hold his or her own opinions. What we should not have is the freedom to freely denigrate someone’s work without accountability. There will always be people out there who find it easier to criticize than to actually do. Thankfully, I have a very special place for them in my own personal Hell.

Cheers, y’all….

shrimp is the black man's lobster

by mg at 12:14 AM on March 14, 2002

I hate being ominous (no, wait, I actually love it) but there are big changes in the works here at Bad Samaritan World Domination Headquarters, and I can’t mention a word of it.

I will offer you this little hint: the Federal Trade Commission has finally okayed our merger with a company that’s name rhymes with AOL Time Corner. I can’t divulge any more information than that because I signed a confidentiality agreement that gives their lawyers the right to stick something in it if I open my big fat mouth.

I can, however, show you this grainy picture, I took after smuggling a camera past security by hiding it up my, well, you don’t want to know. If that isn’t enough to get you all enticed and tingly, here is a picture the camera took while it was up there.

last man standing

by effenheimer at 06:44 PM on March 13, 2002

well my latest foray into romance is over. I spent the better part of saturday night diddling this chick I've known for about a month now and come Sunday moring could NOT wait to get rid of her. Now I know what you are thinking, what a typical misogynist male, use em and lose em type, right?

Well, not entirely. I started off with the best of intentions and honestly thought I was in the mood for a relationship. I did the phone calling thing and the sweet talking thing and the making plans to do it thing after the go out, see a movie and eat nachos thing, but in the end I realized that I just can't stand being that close to people.

I have loads of friends I am close to and would cut off my arm to help if need be, but this whole girlfriend out of the blue deal.

It all started when my newspaper gave its employees free personal ads to run in the paper on Valentine's Day. I thought, what the fuck, why not make a joke out of it. So I ran this: Ladies, is your biological clock ticking? Do you have low standards? Then call me at [my phone number].

It was cool. I got calls from high school girls and grandmas looking for the source of such an obvious attempt at humor. Oh sure, there was a freak or two and one person who thought she could take out all of her frustrations on the anonymous donor of this bit of humor, but overall it was just a good "I hate V-Day lark."

one of the calls was from Pam, this chick thought it was hilarious and just wanted to tell me so. turns our we went to high school togehter as well. Damn small town shit anyway. So we talked and decided to get together and 0f course she liked what she saw because you can see my picture... I'm hot.

One thing leades to another and she pissed me off the other night by trying to change me. like i need changed and like she can do it. fuck that shit. my personality, rank though it may be, is mine and nobody who has only known me for about a month has the right to change my ass.

more later.

“Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!” (Part Deux)

by northstar at 09:54 AM on March 13, 2002

In one of my very first posts, I quoted the immortal Mark Slackmeyer: “Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!” Well, since then, things have changed a bit, and I’m going to be man enough to admit that I may perhaps have been guilty of a lack of compassion. Perhaps.

For those of you who may have been trapped in a cave in eastern Afghanistan, Andrea Yates was found guilty of capital murder yesterday. Essentially, the jury said that Yates was aware that what she was doing was wrong, and as such did not meet the (archaic and outdated) legal definition of insanity.

It should go without saying that the