I recently began publishing an RSS feed, something I had been seeing on various other sites for quite some time now. I started noticing more and more of my favorite blogs had these feeds. I guess the peer pressure finally got to me.

As is my traditional, I got myself wound up in the minutiae of it, basically obsessing over which button to use, until I finally set out to create my own image link, which can be found below the regular links on the side.

"Let's try to find a happy game to play.
I'm not supposed to be like this, but it's okay..."
-R.E.M.

I was absent from the hometown for most of the past two days. I went to visit my sister and brother-in-law, as well as the assorted nieces and nephews. I got to play roadie for a musical gathering last night, which was pretty cool, and the music was good. It was a two man acoustic performance in a moderate to large coffeehouse setting, featuring a guy named Mike Roe.

Anyway, that wasn't my main point today. I wanted to briefly discuss sad songs. My brother-in-law was commenting on a song that he deemed the saddest song ever. The song is off of Pearl Jam's debut album, and it's called "Black."

I initially agreed with him on that, but after a couple minutes, I thought I had a sadder song in R.E.M.'s "The Wrong Child" off of Green. I get the overwhelming impression that the scenario of the R.E.M. track is more worthy of sympathy, but I settled on the notion that there are few things more pathetic than the melodramatic attitude of a guy who's just been dumped.

Well, I guess that's what I had for today. Who knows? Maybe I'll have a few more depressing selections for tomorrow.

"Everything you would be
passed you like a ghost.
Kind words are scarce at best
when you need them most."
-Better than Ezra

Okay, so the Hawks are done for this year, but it was a pretty good run.

I remembered a moment as I sat watching the St. Joseph's players in various stages of stunned disappointment. Since I never played basketball competitively, the closest personal comparison I could conjure was a regional championship game loss my high school team suffered to end one of our soccer seasons. That was a bit different, in that the outcome was less suspenseful than the end of the St. Joe's vs. Oklahoma State game last night -- but I recall the desperation that welled up in us as the match drew to an agonizing conclusion. I think that's why I like watching sporting events in general, because I'll probably never lose the essence of what it was like to succeed, and of course, to fail. I think I savor both of those feelings -- a reason why I don't usually get as upset with a home team loss as Philadelphia fans are stereotypically known to.

It's a fascination that a lot of people I know can't seem to understand. I don't know that it has anything to do with having been an athlete, because I know others who were athletic who have no fondness for the last few minutes of tense games, much less losses.

I like to soak in the drama of a great athletic contest. That's why I like to see even hopeless games down to the end; I like to feel a connection with both ends of the spectrum, but maybe part of it is that I like to think I still have something in common with these athletic young men, as well as the athletic young man I used to be.

The oft-disrespected Atlantic-10 Conference now has two of the final eight teams in the NCAA Men's Basketball tournament. This weekend, the St. Joe's Hawks will vie for a spot in the final four, and so will the Musketeers from Xavier.

I was sitting at a red light early in the morning. There were no other cars in sight.

It was a residential area, and as I sat in the car awaiting the green light, I looked over to the right and noticed a cat standing on the corner of the sidewalk -- just standing there, looking across the intersection.

Then, I looked back toward the traffic light. I saw the light turning green, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement. Before I stepped on the gas, I looked to the right again. There was the same cat, leisurely trotting out onto the crosswalk. All the way across...

"Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline."
-R.E.M.

I came across this piece, thanks to Anthony's weBLOG, who had linked to it. It's about the government of the People's Republic of China banning access to servers that host personal journal sites. In other words, they are trying to ban blogs.

The webmaster at Glutter has asked other bloggers around the world to help spread the word, and I've noticed a multitude of other sites that have been willing to do so.

It's sad from my perspective, perched safely here in the U.S., but sometimes we need reminding that there are so many people out there still battling for the freedom to be heard. I figured the least I could do is post an entry to help draw attention to this unhappy news.

I don't mean to say that all blogs are inherently valuable works of art, but they are the 21st century way of speaking our minds -- and apparently the Chinese government feels sufficiently threatened by common people having such communication capabilities. It's a schizophrenic stance for a government that has recently embraced (in word, at least) the concept of human rights -- apparently they just don't want any suggestions from the citizens on how to go about it.

"There are two weapons in the writer's arsenal...The first is stamina and the second is uncompromising belief in yourself."
-Leon Uris

I guess I'd like to believe the lead-in quote above, but I think what I have to say will reject it more than it will endorse it.

I have never been particularly patient or confident in the practice of writing. And what's more, I'm not sure either of those qualities would help me.

While I imagine there is a certain arrogance in anyone believing his or her words deserve to be read by others, I have always second-guessed my own writing, even after it has been distributed for others to read, and in fewer cases, even when it has been accepted by others. If I didn't trick myself into letting things out, I don't think anyone would ever see most of these words.

And on the subject of patience, I often kill young drafts only to later wish I'd nurtured them a little longer. And I've gotten anxious many times when I've submitted writing in the past, whether it be for some meager publication or in the course of school work. I always think there's something better to be written (which is probably a universal truth to tame anyone's wild ego). That's one of my reasons for trying to keep up with this blog thing -- to pressure myself to write more and second-guess less.

But it does give me a sense of satisfaction when my writing is accepted as worthy of someone else's interest. That is, after all, why people generally write -- as far as I'm aware. To paraphrase Morrisey, I am human, and I need to be read -- it's all about self-expression, which is always more gratifying when someone's paying attention. To be honest, the thought of this all sprung into my head because another blogger used the term "attention whore," which I find somewhat appropriate for any of us who feel this need to expose our thoughts and ideas for the world to see.

And the other thing that fueled this little entry is that I forgot a part of what I meant to say in my post yesterday. I meant to describe the mixture of flattery, satisfaction and disbelief I felt when the girl told me how the poem made her feel. That was the first time it had ever occurred to me that anyone could be so affected by something I created. (This isn't counting any girlfriends to whom I'd previously given poetry -- I have re-read enough old drafts of such poems to realize how stupid most of them were absent the fog of romance, and I'm sure the rave reviews they got from those girlfriends had a more than a bit to do with that same fog.)

Anyway, going back to the comment I started to make earlier in this post, I think it's better sometimes not to be too confident; I think we should all want to do better, but I'll admit I could stand to work on the patience a bit.

"Honey, you are the sea
upon which I flow"
-Coldplay

Yesterday I was going to recount the first time I ever composed a poem about a girl I didn't know, and then actually gave the poem to the girl about whom it was written.

It was several years ago now. I can't quite recall the season, or the exact year even. I do remember it was late Sunday afternoon, and I was sitting in my favorite coffeehouse at a table with a cup of tea and a notebook, my favorite posture for writing.

Across the room there were three other people, all three approximately in their mid-twenties: a loud girl with long brown hair, a jovial spirit, and a voice as grating as her demeanor was cheerful -- to me at least. Near her was a young man who appeared to be with her specifically. He wasn't as engaged in the conversation, but not for a lack of effort. The third person was another girl with brown hair, but shorter than her friend's hair. Her face was graced with a pleasant smile, and she was wearing a yellow t-shirt with "Brooklyn" across the front in cursive lettering. As near as I could figure, she was the other primary in the conversation, but her responses were in a dramatically softer voice. The other thing that caught me, probably before I noticed all the rest, was the color in her eyes -- indescribably green, and I can't honestly remember them well enough anymore to even begin drawing them verbally. Suffice it to say, I was preoccupied by the eyes.

I thought about approaching her and introducing myself, but her loud friend was somehow intimidating to me, so I waited for an opportunity to approach, maybe in a moment when loud girl and her guy weren't so nearby. No such luck. After a few minutes more, they left the coffeehouse in unison. I stayed there for another fifteen minutes, during which I started scribbling a poem about the green-eyed girl.

For about a week after, I lamented to myself that I hadn't even approached to ask her name, much less tell her that her eyes were so beautiful I couldn't help but write a poem about them.

The next weekend, however, found me in the same coffeehouse with a friend of mine who lived near the establishment. I was slightly surprised to see green eyes working behind the front counter. I guess I must have been planning subconsciously for such an eventuality, because I had a folded up copy of the poem stuffed in my wallet.
I separated from my friend for a few minutes, and I introduced myself to the green-eyed girl and asked her name. Siobhan, she informed me, was her name (for the non-Irish reader, pronounce that "Shivvon"--and for the record, I had to ask her to spell it for me).

I told her I liked the name, and then I related a brief account of having seen her the week before, and having written a poem about her eyes. She seemed taken aback for a brief moment. I asked her if she wanted to see the poem. She said she would, as long as I didn't mind. I handed her the crumpled copy of the poem, I half apologized for the sloppiness of its presentation and I walked back to my table. I wasn't sure I wanted to see her response to it anyway. Business was brisk for the rest of the evening, and I ended up leaving without talking to her again.

The next time I was in the neighborhood, I tentatively stopped by the shop and saw her cleaning tables there. I got my tea as usual, and found a seat, where I began my customary scrawling. Within a few minutes of sitting down, she approached my table and said hello. She told me she liked the poem a lot, that it had almost made her cry while she was reading it. I told her I was happy to hear she liked it, and that I just felt she was entitled to read the poem herself because she had been the catalyst for it. We talked for a little bit (it must've been her break), and then that was it.

We remained friendly and had several other conversations after that, but it never amounted to more than friendly banter and the occasional free cup of tea. I'm not even sure if there was any flirtation going on -- to be honest, I was just recovering from an ill-fated (and mostly ill-conceived) relationship, so I'm not sure I would have noticed if she had been flirting. I hadn't even thought about asking green eyes out; like I'd said to her, I really just thought she should get to read what she had inspired.

I can no longer locate the actual poem, but I do remember I used the word "Brooklyn" as a title -- probably the only reason I can still remember that shirt she wore.

I have only presented a poem to one other stranger since then, and I had almost wanted to talk more about her than about Siobhan, but it's okay with me,

so long as something keeps me from writing yet another post about politics. I can save my Ume story for another time...

"It's getting to be downright amazing how former White House aides tell the same tale -- a case, the White House wants us to believe, of hysteria or unaccountable betrayal."
-Richard Cohen

The above quotation is taken from this morning's Richard Cohen piece in the Washington Post. I'd encourage you to read it, but I also respect those who will not want to submit the information the Post requires to access the column. But it is free, and the column makes some interesting points.

Since I realize there are those who won't be reading the whole thing, I'll go on and tell you what I think of it.
I was beginning to harbor serious questions about the President's sincerity on certain issues when I heard Paul O'Neill's criticism, but alas, I did agree with the White House that O'Neill (while an accomplished business executive) had no real expertise in the field of terrorism. So, I wrote that off at the time.

Now, however, the administration is attempting to dress down Richard Clarke, a highly respected, hand-picked counter-terrorism expert. And if I had to bet on who's telling the truth, I can't say I'd gamble on the White House in this match-up.

It seems a shame to think this way, but beyond the two high profile dissenters (Clarke, and O'Neill before him), I don't feel entirely at ease with the credibility of an administration that has for some time now accused dissenters of being irresponsible or unpatriotic. I would feel better if there were fewer questions, and more examples of the White House being open and/or correct with its assumptions.
(Having written that, I lament that I didn't ignore the news sites today -- I had been thinking of going totally non-political for a day and writing about a strange girl to whom I once gave a poem. I guess it'll wait, because I'm off my rhythm for that now.)

Hollywood can rest easy again.

It appears the little movie about a man who was resurrected from the dead has finally been dethroned, strangely enough, by another movie about people being brought back from the dead (though not quite to the same effect).

"You can fool some of the people all of the time, and those are the ones you want to concentrate on."
-Pres. George W. Bush

You can leave it to the speech writers to expend the most energy finding the simplest (and often least precise) way to say something. And unfortunately, you can leave it to far too many Americans to equate simplicity with truth.

A case in point is the President, during his campaign stop in Orlando yesterday, criticizing John Kerry:

Kerry, Bush said, voted against tax cuts and "voted over 350 times for higher taxes on the American people." That comment elicited a chorus of boos from the crowd.
"He's going to tax all of you," Bush said, adding, "Fortunately, you're not going to give him that chance."

Many have recognized the threat that John Kerry's nuanced approach poses to his chances of being elected, but to take the completely opposite approach, one where nuance is not even remotely present, is equally misguided, regardless of political expediency. The simplest truth about Congressional politics (house and senate votes, etc.) is that they are rarely ever as simple as a stumping candidate wants voters to think.
To hear Bush speak of it, you might come away thinking that the process of assembling and voting on tax cuts goes something like this:

And now for Resolution 123, The 2004 Tax Hike Initiative...

But sadly, many voters don't need to be convinced of this false premise by the President, or anyone else; this notion exists in a majority of voters' minds almost by default. In the real world of the U.S. Congress, it's a little more complex than the old School House Rock jingle about a "Bill on Capital Hill." The vicious reality is that worthy causes get bundled with not so worthy causes, and so the compromise goes. And don't tell anyone this, but sometimes politicians even vote against bills they would normally support, because they don't want the less worthy "tag-along" provisions to get through. And many such provisions are added as a way to weaken the main provision of a bill.

The reason this sort of compromise works so well is that congressional politicians are effectively extorted by threats or reasonable fears that they will be accused of opposing the more honorable sounding, publicly-stated purpose of a bill.

So often when you hear about a politician either opposing a measure that sounds as American as Mom and Apple pie or supporting a measure that sounds as if it was hatched in the depths of hell, you aren't hearing the whole story -- especially when the part of the story you're hearing is coming from someone who has an ulterior motive.

It's not that I necessarily give nuance the unconditional edge over clarity -- I'm just suggesting that nuance can be vital to the meaning of an issue, so we shouldn't toss it out the window just to avoid the discomfort of thought.

The Jesuits strike again, disposing of Bobby Knight's Red Raiders -- Wake Forest is next.

Linford's Angel

"So many moments,
like ghosts,
slipping through my hands in vain;
you were 80% angel,
10% demon -
- the rest was hard to explain."
-Over the Rhine

There are three women whose voices absolutely slay me. I stumbled across the third voice just a couple years ago, when I first heard Norah Jones on the radio. The second voice, which I discovered about ten years ago, is that of Sarah McLachlan. The first voice belongs to Karin Bergquist, the songbird of the husband/wife songwriting team for Ohio-based group Over the Rhine.

I first heard heard Over the Rhine because one of my closest friends insisted this woman was an incredible singer, and that she was hopelessly beautiful as well. I listened to a dubbed copy of their second album, Patience, and I soon agreed with him about the voice. Then a while later, I saw them playing in a college campus lounge, and I agreed with him about her appearance. My girlfriend at the time, shortly after her first Over the Rhine concert, commented that if she were a lesbian, she'd also be attracted to this woman.

But that was almost a dozen years ago. The aforementioned girlfriend is long departed, but Karin still sings -- and I still think she's got the most soothing voice I've ever heard.

Anyway, if anyone reading this would like to sample their music, they have a few MP3's that can be downloaded for free, including a live cover of The Beatles' "Let it Be."

Sorry, for the intrusion here, but that last link will no longer transport you to an MP3 of Over the Rhine performing "Let It Be." It was actually just a link to their website's "MP3 Rarity of the Month." -I guess I should have anticipated that it would change, huh? Anyway, someone kindly notified me that the MP3 rarity currently residing there (month of July) is called "Poopsmith", which may either be hilarious, foul or completely useful if you are currently trying to potty train your child. That's all.

Here's a sad story, partly because of what was being attempted, but mostly because the guy apparently didn't see the inherent flaw in his plan. Notice the following passage in the article:

"When he realized that he was unable to nail his other hand to the board, he called 911," Boucher said.
It was unclear whether the man was seeking assistance for his injury or help in nailing down his other hand.

I came across this "Public Service Exam" on Anthony's weBLOG. It's good to know some things are the same everywhere.

"The Hawk will never die."

That is the traditional cry from the St. Joseph's University faithful. Over the past couple months, they have been the most compelling sports story in the Greater Philadelphia region. Evoking sentiment similar to The Little Engine That Could, St. Joe's rambled startlingly close to a perfect pre-NCAA tournament record, only to stumble early on in their conference tourney. -hence the falling sky seen by the quick-tempered hometown fans.

I even heard some co-workers the other day predicting the top-seeded Hawks would fall to Liberty University in the first round, as they did to a strong Xavier team a week ago. But alas, there was no first round letdown this time around. The sixteenth seeded Flames gave an admirable effort, but in the end, the team from one of the smallest schools to ever hold a number one ranking came through unscathed.

Sorry, I sometimes forget I'm not a sports writer; I just wanted to acknowledge my own fascination with underdogs -- a class to which St. Joe's has been relegated by all sorts of "experts." And since I can't recall ever picking a NCAA basketball champion correctly, I'll refrain from my sentimental preference here. But it would be nice to see the a team of Philly underdogs (like Villanova in '85) win big this year. Just give us something to talk about besides Allen Iverson.

I was mulling the Spanish thing, along with several other opinions I've read on the column I commented on yesterday, and I was sure I had something to say about it -- but I haven't managed to corral those thoughts just yet.

So, in the meantime, I wanted to offer two perspectives I have read recently regarding the Spanish and/or other segments of the European community, as to their reactions to recent events. One is from Den Beste who is always a worthwhile read, and the other is from Fred Kaplan at Slate.

And now, on to the important stuff...

"I would rather die standing
than live on my knees."
-Emiliano Zapata

To continue today's theme of keeping an eye on world events, I came across this Op-Ed piece on the New York Times website. In today's column, Thomas L. Friedman shared his thoughts on the dangers of Spain abandoning their post in Iraq. He makes reference to three axis in his commentary: the Axis of Appeasement, the Axis of Evil and the Axis of Incompetence.

He raises some interesting points, though I haven't figured out whether I agree with him or not. I am pretty sure that he's right to discredit the presumptive conclusion that cow-towing to terrorists will somehow pacify them in the long run -- if that's what Spain would be trying to accomplish.

I received an email from a Korean friend of mine. Apparently, Sunday marked an occasion known in South Korea as White Day. White Day is similar to St. Valentine's Day in the U.S., except that in Korea, the girls give candy to the boys on Valentine's Day, and White Day is time for men to return the favor. According to my friend, the 14th of every month marks such an occasion. I don't know how the tradition differs from month to month, but it seems to begin with January 14, which is Diary Day. Then, on February 14, they celebrate St. Valentine's Day (of course), in March, it's White Day, and in April, it's Black Day, etc. I found this online piece that briefly explains at least the White and Black days.

I guess it could get tiring, but it's interesting to have so many occasions to give gifts and express adoration to others. My friend seems to feel that these occasions are driven by the desire of candy manufacturers to sell more candy, a sentiment with which a few online Korean periodicals seem to agree. I'm glad we don't do that with our good old American holidays...

I had previously emailed her, asking for her perspective on the impeachment process going on over there. I had wondered if people were as against it over there as people here had been during the Clinton impeachment. She didn't say much of it in her response, except that it was a shame to her.

It seemed she was surprised that I would know about the news in her country, which I guess isn't too strange a reaction, as most people here in the U.S. pay little attention to foreign affairs that don't directly correlate to terrorism.

Okay, no more black on green format -- that should solve the readability problem a couple people out there have had.

"For all the things I've left behind,
I'm positive that I'm not blind."
-Toad the Wet Sprocket

I was recently reminded of the inspirational importance of "what if."

On November 30, 2003, I posted an entry reminiscing about the origins of Smedley. In this winding account I ended up dwelling on suppositions about a former junior high classmate.

In a conversation I had a couple days back, it was suggested that such a story might inspire further creative writing on my part. I confess that most of what I write, as far as poetry goes, is initiated by some sort of wondering, either about what might have been, or about what may be happening beneath the surface in situations where the details are unfamiliar to me.

I have a girl; her name's Betsy. I don't talk about her much, but she's truly impressive. She's been with me for quite a while. People have asked me what I see in her, because they see her as plain and unappealing.

Sure, she doesn't glow the way she used to, but her beauty is, and always has been, beneath the surface -- a sort of quiet, steady strength she possesses that escapes the observation skills of most folks. I've been thinking about her recently because I know our time together is slowly coming to an end. Eight years, and I don't think I can imagine what life will be like without her.
Betsy's 16 now. While 16 may sound young, it's like 110 in car years -- especially nowadays. And while the younger, faster and flashier models on the road today might notice how she's a couple steps slower and her finish is more faded than ever, most of these automotive neophytes will be hemorrhaging fluids and spewing foul exhaust long before they ever reach 200,000 miles.

But Betsy, she just rolls on, ever graceful, if not so fast anymore. She's seen the hard times, and she's driven through them. She's got character you can't manufacture; it only develops over many years and thousands of miles. She was never a trophy car. She just gave what I needed, often more than I had any right to expect.

Though it smacks of betrayal (especially considering her faithful companionship), I began seriously gathering a dedicated savings cache earlier this year, and by the time her current registration and inspection sticker expire at the year's end, I fully expect to finally bid her farewell, as I go on the ever painful journey of finding a new vehicle. But I'll miss her.

I have once again made a few incredibly minor adjustments to the layout and coloring of the page. Anyone who may have been having trouble viewing this log previously, please let me know if the subtle change in the shade of green helps. Thanks.

"If I could, through myself, set your spirit free,
I'd lead your heart away -- see you break, break away..."
-U2

I have wanted many times to help people who don't especially want to be helped. This can be frustrating, to attempt (without success) to convince certain people they can even be helped.

Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking.

I haven't much to share publicly today -- yet.

I have added one meager rhyme, however. Call it the "new" poem. It occurred to me as I was publishing that it may come off as one of those mushy romantic pieces, but that's not really what it's supposed to be. I was going to explain it, but I don't want to constrict anyone's interpretation of it. God knows these things tend to mean different things to different folks.

I have been contemplating the McCain-Feingold campaign finance reform passed not too long ago, in the wake of charges from the White House that certain ads are in violation of soft money / hard money rules -- violations the Republicans tout as obvious, even though the Federal Election Commission seems a little slower to level such accusations. And the FEC's position on these allegations will probably clarify very little.

I understand that the limitations set forth in McCain-Feingold are quite specific, and the commission is taking its time with its decision. The White House quite understandably wants to retain a huge advantage in campaign funding, so it is asking that organizations such as MoveOn.org and the Media Fund be classified as political committees. This would place them in a category that could be effectively reigned in by election laws.

The issue that's burning in my mind is this: If the Media Fund and MoveOn.org are determined to be political committees, then what would stop any group with the will and ability to stump for specific issues from being similarly restrained? Of course this restraint has already occurred to a large extent, but the distinction here is that the advertisements aired so far do not call for the removal of an elected leader; they are simply issue ads. That the position advocated in the ads does not favor the President does not necessarily make them election ads.
The Log Cabin Republicans have also launched ads critical of Bush in recent days, but such grand accusations have yet to be leveled against them. This may be due to their general support for Bush. To be fair, the Log Cabin Republicans differ with the White House on more than just gay rights; they have been critical in the past of Bush's less than conservative fiscal tendencies, as well. But clearly, White House advisers don the kid gloves when dealing with the gay Republicans, and politically, it makes sense. A mass defection by the largest gay and lesbian group in the Republican party could cost George W. Bush his reelection bid.

But in reality, there is only one difference between ads from MoveOn.org and the Media Fund and ads from the Log Cabin Republicans: the first two groups obviously would like to replace Bush, even though this desire is not literally present in their ads, while the Log Cabin folks have not indicated, in ads or otherwise, any desire to unseat the President -- yet.

In my humble view, all three organizations should be permitted to air their views on specific issues with no fear of litigation or sanction by government agencies. I am not totally confident that the FEC, or some federal judge, will necessarily agree with me. But it scares me to think that only people who can raise hundreds of millions of dollars in campaign funds should get to voice an opinion for the public to see and hear. It would be different in my mind if any of these ads in question actually advocated action by voters, but they do not. There should be no law against airing opinions on specific issues, even if the opinions aired don't cast specific politicians in a particularly good light.

For my personal stake in this fight, I will add that I hold the same line as MoveOn.org when it comes to Protecting Overtime Pay, though I agree with them on precious little besides that.

"This is my world, and I am
world leader pretend."
-R.E.M.

The rule is perfect:
In all matters of opinion our adversaries are insane.
-Mark Twain

Too often we... enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought.
-John F. Kennedy

Few people are capable of expressing with equanimity opinions which differ from the prejudice of their social environment.
Most people are even incapable of forming such opinions.
-Albert Einstein

"I have trouble with the persons with the signs,
but I feel the need to make my own;
There are two ways to be,
and truth does not depend on me."
-King's X

I came across a clever quote regarding opinions, which drove me to search out more quotes about opinions, by which time, I decided I have nothing to say right now that will add to the value of said quotations. Thank you very much.

I had something important to say, until I came across this news item while browsing the online stacks for an entirely different article.

Then again, the article I found is a bit different, yet somehow, it's kind of familiar. Hmmm...

Mr. Den Beste has returned to his excellent blog, which I've known for about a week, but for some reason I neglected to mention it. I guess I assumed everyone else was also checking out his site to see when he would be back.

California legislators have proposed a constitutional change that will allow minors as young as 14 to cast votes in elections.

Now, many adults would be alarmed by such a measure (as I am, knowing what a fool I was at the legal age of 18, let alone at 14). The catch is that minors would only be permitted to vote in races involving local and state offices, so as not to impose the will of fourteen year old's on anyone outside the state of California, which would be unquestionably unconstitutional. Also, at ages 14 and 15, one would only be entitled to quarter votes, while at 16 and 17, one would be able to cast a half vote. Hmmm...

(I'm imagining a future election decided not by a single vote, but rather by a literal fraction of a vote. This could get interesting.)

But the motives of this measure seem to be honorable. This is being proposed as a way to get younger people "interested in the voting process." In that effort, it may well be effective, but I still have to wonder if there aren't other ways to get the youth of America involved in the electoral process.

I saw a movie this weekend called The Fog of War. Apparently only two of the people who showed up to see it knew it was going to be a documentary (judging by the group exodus of about a dozen other relatively young moviegoers after only a few minutes -- I guess they came in expecting an action flick). Anyway, regardless of the prejudgment by some of my fellow spectators, I thought the movie was quite good; but then, I have always enjoyed boring movies, depending on who you ask.

The movie is basically a narrative by Robert McNamara (Secretary of Defense during the Kennedy and Johnson administrations), guided by questions from the unseen film maker, whose name, I'm sorry to say, I can't remember just now. All the visuals are from film and news reels, still photos, and well strung-together stock footage, as well as video of Mr. McNamara himself being interviewed.

I can't remember half of what I found fascinating about the film, but it was thoroughly intriguing to me, and the fact that there were more points of interest than I can readily recall tells me it was a good film. I am stuck with a video clip in my mind of Lyndon Johnson trying to explain the Vietnam conflict in a manner eerily similar to some explanations I swear I've heard from George W. Bush. But maybe that was just the folksy, Texas accent affecting my perception.

Anyway, I just wanted to mention that, for anyone who, like me, enjoys boring documentary films.

I have finally begun my fifth page of online rhymes by posting two relatively new poems. The second is an expansion of one that appears on the fleeting glimpses page, and there may be more expansion of that one to come.

To be honest, I knew it wasn't done when I first posted it a few months ago, but I just couldn't help myself...

Please click on over and see for yourself.

"How this administration handled that day, as well as the war on terror, is worthy of discussion. And I look forward to discussing that with the American people. And I look forward to the debate about who best to lead this country in the war on terror."
-President George W. Bush
(defending his recently released campaign ads)

Well, as usual, I've waited a good two or three days before even attempting to offer my opinion on the controversial new campaign advertisements from the President. At first, my gut reaction willed me to say I thought the ads were in poor taste, as would be any attempt by the Bush administration to politicize the events of and following 9/11. But then reality sunk in.

So, after a couple extra days and some light discussion of the topic with a handful of friends, family members, and acquaintances, I still don't think the politicization of 9/11's aftermath is right, and I would have more admiration for the President if he chose not to do so himself, but I feel a little less condemnatory towards the administration when I put the matter into context.

These matters are worth discussing, and I'd be naive to believe these things haven't already been politicized beyond the limits of good taste. So, in that vein, I say we should let the discussion run its course, but the President shouldn't feign shock or disappointment when the discussion turns down a path that doesn't favor him so much. And nobody in the administration should offer condemnation for opposing political forces that want to pose legitimate queries concerning the failings of the White House's policy and execution of the war on terror. After all, dissent is a healthy, necessary element to effective democracy.

President Bush is right; the discussion should continue to occur. I just hope he doesn't try to quell it when the discourse goes against his campaign strategy.

As one of those people who regularly checks to see if my phone number qualifies for DSL service, I have desperately awaited any little thing that increases my slow online surfing/downloading speed. Well, about a week ago, my internet service provider introduced its new accelerator download for dial-up users. I figured this would at least be a little helpful.

So I went to download it and I was instantly dismayed to see that the information on the accelerator program referred specifically to only two browsers, Internet Explorer and Netscape. I am a Firefox man myself, but I had a glimmer of hope, in that a lot of things that are labeled for Netscape are compatible with Mozilla browsers in general. So, I gave it a shot.
Upon completing the download I configured it according to the instructions as I understood them, but nothing changed when I browsed in my normal Firefox browser. I then launched Netscape to see if that worked; it didn't -- not even a little. So I resorted to trying Internet Explorer to see if this new thing worked at all. Finally, in IE, I did notice a difference. But after just a few minutes, I noticed the difference in navigational speed made IE merely comparable to the speeds I was already getting in Firefox without the accelerator. So I just threw up my hands in disgust and went back to my normal routine.

Then tonight I decided to uninstall this new accelerator, since I had nothing better to do. As I was about to uninstall it, a suggestion appeared, urging me to go to my ISP's help site if I was having trouble with the accelerator. And since I had no better activity to occupy my time, I followed this suggestion.

It was here that I discovered the proxy settings to make the program work in Netscape. So I changed my Netscape configuration accordingly, and it worked. Then, of course I did the same with my Firefox settings, and it also worked. So now, the Firefox browsing speed, which was already far superior to IE and Netscape, is even faster.

It's pretty cool, even if it's not DSL -- I just can't believe I took almost a week to bother with the help site. Well, I am a man, and you know what the women like to say about men asking for directions...

Last Saturday, I posted a somewhat wistful entry about the thought process of someone dwelling on relationship struggles. Though it was written in first person narrative, I was inexplicably surprised the other day when a reader commented via e-mail as though the entry was an autobiographical piece.

Though it was based on an conglomeration of personal influences, it was not factual. Any sympathies readers may feel compelled to send me are, oddly enough, still appreciated.

I have used the same basic route home from work for much of the past eight and a half years. Last night, apparently, something had changed.

I was sitting at a traffic signal, waiting to turn right. I noticed there was no traffic approaching from my left, and so, as I had done at least a hundred times before, I made a right turn on red, and started on my merry way again. About a half mile down the road, I noticed an SUV with police markings and flashing lights gaining on me in the rearview mirror. Thinking nothing of it at first, I slowed down and pulled to the right to let the officer pass.
Imagine my shock when I realized the officer was pulling off the road right behind me. My mind raced trying to figure what I had done wrong -- I didn't think I was speeding, or driving in a way that could be described as erratic. So, in anticipation of the officer approaching my car, I turned on the interior light, retrieved the pertinent documents from my wallet and visor, and placed my hands in plain sight (-I read somewhere that this was what police officers appreciated, especially when making traffic stops at night).

The officer's first words were, "I guess you didn't see that 'No Turn on Red' sign back there, did you?"

I said, "No, I wasn't aware there was one back there."

She responded by telling me there was, and that it was clearly posted. After which, I apologized and said something like I'd been driving home from work this way for almost nine years, and I'd never noticed a "No Turn on Red" sign.

She just flatly replied, "Well, there is one." Then she took my paperwork and retreated to her vehicle.

Several minutes later (presumably after she'd verified that I wasn't wanted for any juicier violations), she returned with my documents and a nice new traffic citation. She graciously explained that it was one of those neat tickets where they don't actually tell the insurance company about it, so I won't get an increase in my car insurance, but that I still have to pay it within ten days.

I then asked her, "Have I been blind all these years, or were those signs just put up recently?"

"Yep, they just got put up about a week ago."

Now, at first I could only beat myself up about missing clearly posted traffic control devices, but then I started to wonder about it. So, as you might have guessed (if you're still reading this), I decided to circle back to see it for myself. What I discovered was there were, in fact, two fresh "No Turn on Red" signs; one on the cross beam of the traffic light post across from where I'd made the turn, and another on the base of the light pole to the right of where I was sitting, waiting to turn.

Then it struck me as I turned around and made my way back to the exact spot from which I had made my ill-fated turn on red. There I was, sitting at the light, just behind the broad white line on the pavement, when I realized I had a clear view of neither sign.

The overhead sign on the far side of the intersection was not only to the left of me (due to the angle taken by the road I was turning from), but it was also obstructed by the non-transparent items that make up my car's roofline and front left pillar. And the sign to my right was also at least six feet behind the white line that marked how far I was permitted to advance before the light turned green; so, sitting right where I was, I would have had to lean forward to look up at the overhead sign, or else recline in my car seat to catch a good peak at the roadside sign.

Mulling this only made me more indignant, as I then compounded my displeasure by thinking they had no right to change one of my favorite intersections after all these years. And then the nerve of this officer to give me a ticket when she must've known how good a driver I've been for all these years; and she couldn't just offer me a warning?

I know it won't affect my ultra-low insurance premiums, but still, a hundred dollars for this?

So, I came in the door, seething with righteous fervor to correct this grave injustice. I proceeded to sit down and write a check for the cost of the citation along with the extra six dollars court cost, because I was pleading not-guilty to such a bogus charge. But now, in the cold light of a new day, I'm not sure anymore.

I still think I'm absolutely right about this, but what are the chances I'll get my way in court? Maybe I should just write a nice note suggesting they put both signs in more easily visible spots? Never mind that I can't think of one safety related reason to have installed such a restriction after all this time -- I'm sure it has nothing to do with any local fund-raising efforts, right?

I don't normally try to recruit people for activist purposes, but this issue is one that I think matters to millions of people who won't even realize it until it's too late to reverse. It's about the soon-to-be-imposed Labor regulations regarding overtime pay. If you oppose the effort to scale back on overtime pay rights or you want to read a little more about it, click here, and consider signing the online petition.

All that, and I completely forgot to comment on the documentarian so driven by artistic fervor that he found it necessary to eat nothing but McDonald's for an entire month. He really must love his craft...

"A word to the wise ain't necessary;
it's the stupid ones that need the advice."
-Bill Cosby

Skipping through the headlines at CNN.com, I stumbled across this bit of good news(?): The world's largest restaurant chain has decided to do away with the "supersize." The powers that be have reportedly made this decision to help strip down their menu and to "give customers choices that support a balanced lifestyle." But here's my favorite passage in the whole article, I think:

"Two lawsuits claiming McDonald's hid the health risks of eating Big Macs and Chicken McNuggets were thrown out in federal court in New York last year."

I know I am just piling on with the rest of the incredulous throng, but do we really need McDonald's to detail the health risks of eating double-decker hamburgers and deep-fried pieces of chicken? Worse yet, do we need a federal judge to tell us that this case has no merit?
Okay, so apparently we do…

And if any fast food chain needs to be sued, it's probably KFC, for running those advertisements that suggest eating fried chicken is somehow healthy -- their ad campaign seemed to target followers of the late great Dr. Atkins. My affinity for fried chicken rivals that of any guy reaching the age where he can no longer eat with impunity, but please! I know somewhere out there, some poor soul is trying to convince himself that the folks at KFC ("Kitchen Fresh Chicken"?) just might be onto the next health food trend.

For the record, I'm not much of a KFC man myself. I've been a Popeye’s fan since my early college days -- if you're going to risk your life for a few pieces of chicken, you might as well go all the way. At least the Popeye’s people don't seem intent on deluding themselves, or the public, about the "health benefits" of the fried chicken diet.

"The concrete broke your fall -
- to hear you speak of it."
-R.E.M.

Hey, remember those incessant commercials from technical institutes? The ones that assured us these were the jobs of the future? You know, because the days of working in large manufacturing plants had faded?

Right they were about the shriveling manufacturing industry in America (well, the northern part of it, at least). But who would've thunk it? The high-tech promised land of the future went the way of the manufacturing sector, and in a much shorter time, too. Funny how it seems like only a couple years ago they were still touting the IT sector as the next safe haven for U.S. workers. Oh that's right, it was only a couple years ago, wasn't it?

So what