Nothing Shits Bigger Than Subway
I don't know what it is about Subway sandwiches, but man, you can count on one behemoth of a dooger the next day, or at least I can. I planted myself on the can and I thought for a moment that I may have, in fact, been losing my intestines. That Jared guy must spend the better part of his life sitting on the crapper.
A Little More From the blogging Iraqi
I have a feeling that I'll be visiting the blog of Salam Pax fairly regularly. Whether you support the impending war or not, you have to recognize the human equation, and Salam Pax, I believe, is representative of the Iraqi human equation. This little bit, lifted from his comment section, got me to thinking (emphasis mine):
If you ask the people most of them just want to live thru this, no one wants to fight. but don't expect white flags, it will be more locked doors and peeping from holes to see who is walking in the street. everybody is cracking jokes about hiding american flags and drawing little flags with crayons just in case. NO ONE WANTS TO FIGHT, there is no "cause" why die? for whom? really everybody is just concerned with how to stay alive thru the comming madness.
the fedayeen? can't tell, i don't know anyone who is. again i can't see the motivation for them to die for anyone. they know they are going to be canon fodder.
if anyone had answers to all these questions it would be less frightning, you don't know what you should be afraid of.
If there is one single thing the UN should be proud of concerning the whole mess it has created in Iraq (smart sanctions? haha) it is the food distribution network that is supervised by the UN. the coupon cards and how they are checked and distributed is so efficient and well organized the Iraqi governmnent depends on it for proof of where you live and other info. the iraqi governmnet just had to keep a good system running after it was established and they only kept it running because it was an excellent way to keep everything in check. control is the word, and they love it.
there is no rational explanation why we are not leaving baghdad. this is our home and we are NOT going to spend the next 3 months in a tent somewhere or be dragged in or out of "fronts". i can tell you a million reason none of them will make any sense or explain why, but we are staying. leaving the country wasn't even discussed, we did have long talks about going to Karbala or to my father's relatives but after the first gulf war they didn't do much better than the people in baghdad. and staying together as a family (aunts,uncles,friends) was in the end more important, we will need each other.
It's amazing, really. Just 12 years ago, such an intimate glimpse into the world of an average Iraqi would have been almost impossible to imagine. Now, the world can just click a link and see how Pax is doing, and even leave a comment on his blog, and join in discussion. amazing. Simply amazing.
War is hell. Let us hope for a speedy and relatively bloodless one. And let's hope Pax makes it through.
Let's hope.
And Now, I'm Off To Colorado
Yet another journey on an airplane awaits me tomorrow, this time bound for Colorado. But, because this time it's purely for vacation, not work, I'm looking forward to it immensely. Melissa will be travelling with me too, so her company, and all the sex we will have, ensures that this will be a stellar vacation. Mmmmmm, sweet wonderful vacation sex. *Grgglglglglg*
The downside, of course, is that I won't be able to blog very often, if at all. I'm not kidding when I say I actually go through blog updating withdrawal, complete with DTs and hallucinations about leprechauns. I don't typically blog on weekends, because I'm usually off having a life outside of cyberspace, and blog traffic plummets on weekends anyway, so that won't be a problem. But, the whole Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday absence will really test me. I'll just have to concentrate on vacation sex I guess.
So, I'll be skiing, and drinking beer, and picking on my brother and sister-in-law, and gauging how the sibling side of my family regards the introduction to Melissa. She's won over all the family and friends she's met so far, and I'm pretty sure my brother will be putty in her hands, and to my sister-in-law Melissa will seem like her long-lost sister.
At any rate, I apologize in advance for the lack of blogging you'll be seeing, or not seeing, or whatever, over the coming days. I may have one post left in me today, but we'll see how work goes first, of which I have a ton (I actually weighed it).
A Silent Voice Shrieking From An Abyss
I have an audience for this blog, I'll admit it. I regard this with a certain amount of "ehh", because for every individual visiting this site for something compelling, there are about, oh, 7,000, looking for "exposed thongs." I kid you not. There is a serious exposed thong fetish sweeping the nation. I'm pretty sure Colin Powell, and of course Bill Clinton, have visited my site searching for exposed thongs.
I get more readers each week, probably, from my weekly newspaper column, which, to date, runs exactly in two rural Minnesota newspapers. As you may guess, I am considerably more open and, um, vulgar, in my blog than I am in my column. But, let me assure you, that's only because the newspapers pay me.
I'm not sure why I started blogging, except that Jen, my former officemate, talked about it like it was some sort of literary masturbation. Since I'm all about masturbation, I couldn't wait to try this blogging thing. For the record, let me just again register my disgust about Jen silencing her blog. That pisses me off to no end. She gave birth to this blog, my blog, me, this silent scream into the World Wide Web. Jen, get back online, now, lest I take your umbrella noir ass and. . . and. . . I don't know, but it will be unpleasant.
Seriously though, this blogging thing has proven to be amazing. I can't tell you how many column ideas I've just copied and pasted from this blog, just from a random brain dump that was bothering me, or amusing me, or making me itch my crotch.
I tried a personal journal once, you know, the pen and paper variety, but writing to myself was about as fulfilling as French (er, Freedom) Kissing a pillow. I mean, I know how I fucking feel. The real test of me was finding out how others gauge me. And, I found out, I don't really give a flip how people gauge me. It was an awesome epiphany to realize that, oh, there are people who disagree with me, probably to the point of jamming a knife in my left eye, preferably missing sensitive sight-related nerves so it can be repaired. blogging gives a voice to all; the war proponents, the war opponents, and those odd people who oppose violence yet attack, physically, those who do. Odd, that.
This is the blog world. May it live forever, or at least until I get recogized and can spout meaningless shit, like that Ted Rall guy. Geez, is he a dick or what?
Anyway, I'm not sure why this post came up, except that a weird commenter, of French nationality, pissed me off once, or twice, and I'm waiting on the day when I'm bigger than he or she can imagine, so I can rip on them. I figure I have about a few years. Then, watch out Frenchie.
U.N. Considers Resolution To Unite Elizabeth Smart With Parents
France, Germany, China, All Threaten Veto
NEW YORK (Rhodes Media Services) -- The United Nations found itself deadlocked yet again today, with member nations unable to see eye to eye regarding a proposed resolution to reunite kidnap victim Elizabeth Smart with her parents.
Although such a case was believed to be well outside of U.N. jurisdiction, the world body felt compelled to introduce the resolution after finding that it didn't make the front page of every major U.S. media outlet.
The resolution, submitted by the Belgian minister to the U.N., reads in part: "Forthwith and notwithstanding, as per the understanding of the world community, and with full support of the world theater, this body resolves to reunite Elizabeth Smart with her mother and father. The reunification process will be monitored by an as-yet-to-be named team of reunification experts which will be headed by the country of Uzbekistan."
Opposition to the resolution was swift, with France, Germany and China all threatening to veto the measure.
"We can't have the United States working unilaterally on this issue," said French foreign minister Dominique de Villepin. "If it were up to the U.S., they'd just unite the family without a second thought. We firmly believe that family unification should always be a last resort, and that Sandra Bullock has really pretty hair!"
The U.S. ambassador to the U.N., Bill Richardson, was troubled and confused by the actions of the U.N.
"What the hell did Villepin just say?" asked Richardson. "Who are these people? What the hell is going on in this crazy shithouse? I need a drink."
An Iraqi Blog Worth Reading
Want a perspective of the impending war from an actual Iraqi? Then I suggest you go here. Thanks to The Daily Bleat for steering me there.
I'll let you decide the person's viewpoints, but they sure don't like the human shield joke. An excerpt:
Human Shields Bashing #124
"Basically, they said we are not going to feed you any longer," said John Ross, an American who has been active in radical causes since he tore up his draft card in 1964.
Excuse while I wipe the tears from my eyes. Outoutout. He could have at least say something more in line with his "radical cause". This is a bit insulting actually for some reason I feel offended. FEED YOU? Why does the Iraqi government have to friggin' feed you, you have volunteered to "help" in country which can't feed its own population properly (well it could if it spent a bit less on itself and on people like you). There is another good bit:
The activists accused the Iraqi authorities of trying to use them as pawns in the war with America.
oh, shockhorror, what a surprise. Back to where you came from. Don't wait for thank you speeches, outoutout.
The bitter flight from Iraq follows a showdown with the Iraqi authorities who demanded that they decamp from their hotels in central Baghdad and take up their self-assigned roles as civilian protectors.
No no, just stay in your hotels, buy souvenirs and make fun of the backward ways of these Iraqis, hope you sent all your friends postcards telling them about the pita and tahini you have been eating while strolling around Baghdad, you tourists. Did you take enough pictures of children begging in the streets to show your friends back home how much you care about the plight of the poor in the third world. Bet they were all shaking hands and promising to see each other at the next "worthy cause" party.
An Iraqi Rambling Rhodes? Perhaps.
A Not-So-Great Conversation
After a long three days of shmoozing with technology vendors, all hawking their latest products, my body and mind simply wanted to shut down. My curiosity about Indianapolis had run its course. I wanted to be home, sipping a beer, reading Time Magazine. And, most of all, I wanted to trim down my freaking goatee, which had long since hit the prickly length that made my mouth feel as if it was encircled by a stubborn layer of Oreo crumbs.
For awhile, I thought I was going to enjoy a flight without anyone sitting next to me. I was envisioning sprawling out on two seats, sleeping heavily. Then, she arrived.
She was, perhaps, 50-years old. An unremarkable woman with short blonde hair, and a decent body that she wanted to show off by wearing brown leather pants. I wouldn't have noticed her at all, except she cracked the bridge of her nose on her carry-on luggage when she went to stow it in the overhead compartment. Stuff like that amuses me. She sat down next to me and asked, in a slight southern drawl, whether her nose was bleeding. It was red, but it wasn't bleeding. She seemed neither upset nor relieved about that. I dismissed her entirely and folded my jacket underneath my head and fell asleep against the window almost immediately.
About a half hour later, I awoke. I awoke because the blonde woman was talking. And talking. And talking. And talking. She was talking to the woman across the aisle, and it was obvious to me that the poor recipient of the conversation did not want to be the recipient of the conversation. I wasn't sure what they were talking about, but what I gathered seemed trivial. I tried to go back to sleep, but, just as I slid my head back down, the woman grabbed my thigh, an act that practically jolted me through the seat in front of me.
"Oh, I'm sorry" she said. "I just wanted to ask you if it would bother you if I turned on my reading light."
First off, who asks a question like that? It's her reading light. It's her seat. Why would I honestly care if she turned on her reading light. The question, of course, was just a pretext. She wanted a person to talk to, and she had exhausted her previous target, so I was next.
"Are you from Minnesota? I used to be from Minnesota, but I'm not any more. I live in Indy, but I spent 30 years living in Missouri. I'm just going to Minnesota to see my grandson. He's turning two in two days. His mother, my daughter, she's 28. Actually, I have two other daughters. One's 23 and the other is 20. Well, I have to sons, too, twins actually. They're both 25."
None of this I asked for. I didn't prod her for information about her family. I really didn't want to know any more about her beyond the fact that she cracked her nose with her carry-on while stowing it in the overhead compartment. Now, I understand that there are people in the world who are obsessive chatterers, and I usually have a way of dealing with them, usually by feigning the need to go to the bathroom, or pawning them off on some unsuspecting soul. But, on an airplane, I'm stuck. She was right there, right next to me. Even if I went to the bathroom, she'd still be there when I got back. I was stuck. I tried to be polite.
"Wow, that's a big family," I offered, hoping that would somehow end her soliloquy. Nope.
"My husband, well, soon-to-be ex-husband, he keeps in touch with them when he can, but he's pretty worthless. I was gonna drive up to Minnesota, but I have such a heavy foot, I would have eight speeding tickets before I even get out of the state. I don't understand cops pulling over speeders anyway. They're always speeding, so why the hell should they care if I'm going 90? I just don't get it. I also don't get the whole racial profiling thing. It's not about this. . . *pulls up shirt sleeve and points at skin*. . .skin color has nothing to do with anything. They need to find a way to racially profile a person's heart."
You can about imagine how I wanted to react to that little bit of. . . whatever you want to call that. Yes, the next great breakthrough in law enforcement: Heart Profiling. By this time, I think, my ears were bleeding. She kept talking, and talking, and talking. I wanted so desperately to be back asleep against the window. Why had she been so silent for about half an hour before becoming Mrs. Chatterworth? The answer:
"I was in the bathroom when they came by with the drink cart. I almost missed it. They came back and asked me if I wanted anything, and I said, 'you better believe it.' I asked for two vodkas and a Pepsi. Those drinks cost $4 each, but they're worth every penny. Flying makes me nervous. I need to relax. My boyfriend, well, former boyfriend I guess, he wouldn't fly for anything. Hated flying. He wasn't afraid to fly, but he didn't like taking chances with all the people who fly. You never know who's gonna get on an airplane."
"And sometimes the weird ones sit right next to you," I finally said, pitching an easy one across the plate for her to take a swing at, but she missed.
"Exactly. There's some pretty wacko people out there in the world, and it's scary to think they could be sitting right next to you. I tell my children all the time, even at their ages, to watch out for strangers. This is a tough world we live in, and you don't know what's coming around the corner. Like my upcoming divorce. Who sees that kind of thing coming? You try to build a life, and suddenly, bam, everything goes haywire. It's like this economy. My boyfriend, well, former boyfriend I guess, got laid off last month. Never even saw it coming. He kind of deserved it though."
By this time, I was desperately hoping for a distraction. Even a box-cutter wielding madman yelling "Allahu Akbar" would have sufficed. I would have been first in line to tackle him, and I would have silently thanked him as we grappled.
ME: Dude, I can't tell you how happy I am that you tried to hi-jack this plane. After we beat you senseless and tie you up, I'm going to take your seat, and you can sit next to the chatterbox from hell.
HIJACKER: That's cruel and inhumane! I'd rather be sent to the Guantanamo Bay detention center.
ME: Tough shit, my man. Wait until she starts telling you about her soon-to-be ex-husband, and her former boyfriend, and her litter of unfortunate children.
HIJACKER: Allah! Allah! Why have you forsaken me Allah?!!
Well, I won't further bore you with the droning details of her one-sided conversation, except to say she kept at it until we walking through the terminal, and I made a dash for the bathroom, even though I didn't actually have to go. So desperate was I to get away from her, and ensure she wasn't waiting for me, I sat in a stall, reading a Discover Magazine, for 10 minutes. I didn't go to the bathroom or anything. I just sat there, reading and silently praying that she would be gone.
And when I emerged, she was gone. Thank you God.
Blix Defends Iraqi Drone Omission
Chief U.N. Inspector Says "You Didn't Ask"
NEW YORK (Rhodes Media Services) -- Chief U.N. Weapons inspector Hans Blix, under pressure after failing to mention the presence of illegal Iraqi unmanned drones, brushed aside criticism by explaining to the U.N. Security Council that it had never asked him about drones.
"Listen," said Blix. "I'm supposed to tell you about all the weapons of mass destruction that I find in Iraq. You never told me to go into detail about every other piece of banned technology Iraq is developing. I'm looking for nukes, and chemical and biological weapons, and that's pretty difficult all by itself without magically discerning that you also want me to report about drones. I mean, if you had simply asked me to tell you about the drones, I would have. Honest."
The drones, which are clearly a violation of U.N. demands on Iraq to halt weapon development, are capable of delivering chemical and biological weapons over far greater distances than even Iraq's banned Al Samoud missiles that are reportedly being destroyed. The U.S. has thus far dismissed claims by Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein that the drones are just part of his ambitious model airplane hobby.
"Work with me people," added Blix, scolding the U.N. Security Council. "Help me, help you. Help me. . .help you! If you want me to tell you about drones, you have to ask. And if you want me to tell you about Iraq's stockpile of ebola virus that I found a couple of months ago, you're going to have to ask about that, too. I'm not a mind reader."
That Homeless Guy
Jacinda mentioned Indy's homeless, and, oh my, there are plenty of homeless. You can tell the homeless because they don't have homes, and they're quick to hit you up for a handout. I'm usually steadfast in turning down most beggars, but only because I can't afford to give money to every outstretched hand. But within one hour of landing in Indianapolis, I found myself handing over some cash to a truly disheveled soul.
He was missing a leg, was blind in a yellowish, creamy left eye, and got around on a dilapidated wheelchair. He hit me up as I came out of a pharmacy after buying toiletries I didn't have due to missing luggage (long story). After taking one look at that guy, I decided he was having a far more difficult day than I was. He mumbled something about being starving, and, since I didn't want him to have to gnaw off his other leg, I gave him all the ones I had in my wallet: $8.
I have it pretty good. Luggage or no luggage.
So, yeah, Indianapolis
Well, here I am in Indianapolis and, despite dire warnings to the contrary, it's actually pretty damned cool. Well, it's pretty damned cool where I'm staying, which is right downtown, about a block from the RCA dome.
Indianapolis is weird, though. One second you're driving through the slummiest slums that ever slummed, and the next second you're among high rise buildings and plush hotels. My hotel, the Omni Severin, is right on the borderline, but there's a really great mall right across the street, and obscene number of restaurants all around, and a good mix of bars. All in all, I landed in a pretty fortunate area.
And there's a cheerleading competition going on here, too. Now, before all you guys get jealous, I should note that it's a JUNIOR cheerleading competition, which means little elementary and middle school girls bouncing around, so it's actually disappointing. It's weird though, being crammed on an elevator with all these young girls wearing more make-up than Tammy Faye Baker, and enough perfume to drown out even a Marshall Fields perfume spritz tunnel. I'm also told the Penn State NCAA women's basketball team is staying at our hotel, but I have yet to see any players. At least I don't think I've seen any players.
Anyway, I must go attend a press conference. More updates as time and events warrant.
