First, take a look at this, which is a screen capture saved by an alert Web slinger.
Then, head on over and read this, which basically shows how bloggers, yet again, act as the watchdogs of the Associated Press.
Was it bias? At first glance, I'd have to say yes. But then, I can also imagine an ambitious reporter filing the story, and maybe they did hear an isolated boo or two, and they decided to play up that angle. I don't know.
What I do know is that sensationalism sells, and the headline "Audience boos as Bush offers best wishes for Clinton's recovery" has a lot more punch than "Bush Offers Best Wishes For Clinton."
If there is a tape of the speech, it could lay this to rest rather quickly, and it could be a pretty damning indictment of the AP, and Big Media in general. Or, it could be proven right. Who knows?
UPDATE: Audio can be heard here. Whoever filed that report to the AP had best be reprimanded. Strongly reprimanded.
My blogging has basically sucked recently, I'll admit it, and I do apologize for the suckiness. I do, however, have an excuse, and that excuse is that I have an actual job that, particularly during the last couple of weeks, has required a considerable amount of my time. And, since I get paid to do work, and I don't get paid to blog. . . well, you can see the bind I'm in.
If it means anything, I highly prefer blogging to my actual job. Perhaps someday I'll be called upon to blog for actual money. I won't hold my breath, of course, but hope springs eternal and all that.
In the meantime, of course, you can always play this.
UPDATE: *S-M-I-L-E*
If you haven't dropped by Arrancia's site for awhile, as I hadn't, please do so now. A little strength and support, even of the bloggish variety, can go a long way. Right?
Soooooo, you know how, awhile back, I wrote about how I shaved my arm pit hair down to a more manageable level?
And remember how I jokingly said I planned to conduct similar grooming operations on more private areas?
Welllllll. . .
Last weekend, the girlfriend showed up at my house after a visit to a local salon, where she also, unbeknownst to me, got a wax job, which was a great and happy surprise, let me tell you.
So, we were sitting around, and she started giving me crap about how I never did any grooming down around my area. Thus the gauntlet had been thrown down.
I went to the bathroom, fired up the clippers, and proceeded to go all Jason Biggs-American Wedding on my pelvic region. I should note here that, even though I laughed hysterically during that scene in American Wedding, I had no idea how true to reality it all was, except I didn't get my hairs stuck to a wedding cake or anything like that.
Still, today, I'm on day three of itching like crazy down there. I can't believe how much of a protest returning pubic hairs put on. It's like I'm being punished for something.
However, I'm told that it looks good down there, so there's that.
And yes, I know, you people are probably all grossed out by this. Now, if Plain Layne had written something like this, everyone would be turned on and commenting ferociously.
Admit it.
I've never been in debt. Okay, that's not entirely true. Yes, I've been in the kind of debt where I had to make car payments, and I'm currently in the kind of debt that says I have to make house payments.
I've never been in credit card debt, however. Truth be told, I've never even owned a credit card. I don't trust them. I've been conditioned not to trust them thanks to many years of living with college roommates.
Most of my college roommates had this weird outlook on credit cards. Basically, they thought credit cards were magical pieces of plastic that just magically paid for things and that they were somehow immune from the the ensuing debt that came about due to excessive credit card spending.
I'll admit it: I was sort of jealous of my roommates and their magical credit cards. After all, they always seemed to have money and, if they didn't, they just whipped out their credit cards. Books? Put them on the credit card. Food? Put it on the credit card. Night out at a strip club? credit card.
And yet there I was writing checks and budgeting like a fool. I remember thinking that I was doing everything all wrong. I mean, there I would sit, meticulously lording over my finances, while my roommates went waltzing all over town swiping their credit cards with the careless glee of a six-year-old with a loaded pistol.
Then, one year, I was a roommate with a guy named Chad. Chad was actually a former high school classmate of mine. He was, and is, a tech-head. He's one of those guys who was born to know technology. Way back in elementary school, he taught me how to write simple programs for the Apple IIc, and he always just seemed to know everything about computers.
But he didn't know shit about personal finances. He whipped out any one of his many credit cards with the swiftness and ease of a Old West gunslinger. By the time we became roommates, he had already accrued over $10,000 in credit card debt.
I remember thinking what an incredibly large amount of money that seemed to be, especially when I factored in the understanding that he also received financial aid, and that he also worked. Granted, he worked at the local Brach's candy factory on the Gummi Bear line, which paid about as well as you might imagine, but it was still money, so I came to the conclusion that old Chad was a pretty carefree spender.
Well, one day, I popped into Chad's outrageously messy room where I noticed, tucked between two huge bags of pilfered defective Gummi Bears, a credit card notice that was slugged "Urgent!" and another that was slugged "Immediate Payment Required" and still another that read "We Break Fingers And Toes."
Then the calls started coming in, usually two or three a day. "Is Mr. Haugen available? We really need to speak with him." No, he's not here. "Are you sure you're not really Mr. Haugen?" Yes, I'm sure. "Well, when he comes in, have him call Mike at Discover immediately." *sound of shotgun cocking* Will do.
Chad was masterful when it came to avoiding creditors. He always seemed to leave the apartment just two or three minutes before a creditor called. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense. Which was all fine and dandy, except that I ended up being the intermediary between Chad and the creditors, so I got to absorb all the impatient anger and suspicion of basically every credit card company on the planet.
It was the day a creditor appeared, in person, at our doorstep that I realized Chad's debt situation was probably more dire than Chad cared to admit. There was a knock at the door, I answered, and a gentleman in a suit that looked both impressive and threatening stood before me. He asked to see a Mr. Chad Haugen, at which point I heard a little scuffling emanating from Chad's room as Chad scurried out the back entrance which, conveniently, was located at the far end of his bedroom.
We chatted together, the ominous creditor and me, for about an hour, waiting for Chad to get home, even though, of course, there was no way in holy hell Chad was going to make an appearance while that guy was in our apartment. I even had to produce my ID, so the creditor was satisfied that I wasn't, in fact, Chad Haugen.
After that, I believe, Chad ended up getting a loan from his parents, or somebody, so he could pay off his credit card debt at least enough to keep the creditors at bay. He eventually got a job working at IBM, which was a long-assed commute from Winona to Rochester, but paid a whole lot more than the Gummi Bear line.
As for me, Chad's experience with credit cards pretty much scared me away from plastic for good.
Well, it's time, once again, with the Republican National Convention underway in NYC, to watch repeated loops of frenzied protesters protesting things, which is what protesters are apt to do in this charged political climate.
After watching the drama unfold first at the Democratic National Conventions, and now again this time around, I’ve come to the conclusion that protesting is the in thing to do.
Even though a lot of today’s protesters don’t appear to have any real coherent message, and sometimes they come up with such laughable concepts as the Lysistrata Project (which, contrary to popular belief, has nothing to do with Listerine), I have to give them credit, they’re out there anyway, marching, marching, holding up signs, marching, and, perhaps most importantly, getting on T.V.
Despite the apparent difficulties inherent in being a protester, I can’t stand on the sideline and watch the latest fad pass me by without whipping up my own protest. Therefore, I spent a considerable part of last week carefully orchestrating my own protest movement.
First and foremost, I needed a cause; something so profound that I would be guaranteed to garner a loyal following of like-minded protesters. I considered starting a “Make Ryan Rhodes Rich Beyond His Wildest Dreams” protest movement, but I decided a movement like that would probably only benefit me. No, I needed to organize a protest that could, in the end, help other people as well. That’s just the kind of protester I am.
I briefly flirted with the idea of an “Anti-Junk Mail” movement. All my fellow protesters would strip completely naked, glue junk mail to their bodies, and march through U.S. cities chanting catchy slogans like “We don’t approve of being pre-approved” and “Sweepstakes are the tool of the devil.”
Again, fearing that I would have a tough time rallying a large enough number of protest troopers to my anti-junk mail movement, I decided to dig even further into my protest bag.
Finally, I meticulously crafted a protest certain to bring millions of people within my protest fold. Let it be known today that I am officially establishing the "Anti-Protest Movement." All who join will be asked to work tirelessly to bring an end to the protest web that is spinning its way across our country. We will protest day and night until the last protester throws up his or her hands and surrenders. If you wish to support my fledgling movement, I simply ask that you adhere to the following rules.
First, as a protest protester, you cannot reveal your identity to anyone. To do so will mark you as a protester and, under my movement, all protesters will be protested against.
Secondly, all members are asked to work tirelessly, at risk to their own safety, to not do anything even remotely protest-like. In other words, simply go about your daily routine as if you never even heard about the anti-protest movement. However, you are free to think all the anti-protest thoughts you want. You can even think of the anti-protest signs you won’t be making and the protest gatherings that won’t take place. This is a very tight-lipped movement.
Third, I’ve noticed that every good protest movement has solid lines of communication with its members. But, since all my protest members are anonymous, I ask that no protest protester talk about their non-actions to anyone. This rule coincides closely with the first rule, but it’s so important I thought it should be underscored again.
Finally, I have to mention the difficult area of donations. After all, maintaining a protest movement like this is an expensive pursuit. All I ask is $5 per member, a fee that you obviously cannot pay because to do so would mark you as a protester, and we just can’t have that in an anti-protest movement such as this. We don’t want to be labeled hypocrites after all.
Let me take this moment to thank all of you who have just now joined my anti-protest movement and, judging by your silence, I can only assume there are millions upon millions of you. And thank you for your $5 non-donation. I can assure you that any money I don’t receive won’t be spent on anything even remotely anti-protest in nature.
Of course, I’m sure such a popular protest movement as mine is bound to give rise to copy-cat movements who will no doubt try to steal my thunder.
If that happens, I can only assure you that I will strenuously protest.
*This is a somewhat rewritten column from way back when, and it was also a blog post from March, 2003.
