Sorry for the light posting. My Dad had hip replacement surgery yesterday, which was kind of a sudden procedure, seeing as how just one month ago he was pretty much just fine. I guess this stuff hits like a sudden shit sometimes.
Both my folks are back from Tokyo now, and Dad was about as out-of-it as you can imagine after invasive surgery. Helpless, too. Never saw him like that. Fed him ice on a plastic straw. Love him enough to do that for the next 40 years, if he decides to live to 105.
Being human and fragile sucks.
Bias?
I don't know if this shows bias, so much as a photojournalist trying to get THE interesting photo, but it sure is misleading, and it certainly doesn't convey the whole truth.
Overall, I think most rallies and marches nowadays are more theater than is probably healthy for whatever cause is supposedly being advocated, with too many competing idealogies vying for attention.
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.
My Middle East Madness Menu c. Ryan Rhodes, Oct. 17, 2001
An Old Post That Seems Appropriate Once Again, And Again, And Again
After a long day of avoiding a U.S. led airstrike over your war torn country, hunger is no doubt the first thing on your mind. You desire something fast and inexpensive, something that the whole family can enjoy. So, come to Osama’s Fast Food Emporium, your Mecca for affordable family cuisine.
At Osama’s, you’ll be treated to a virtually bomb free atmosphere, and you’re encouraged to enjoy Allah you can eat. And, Osama’s extensive menu guarantees a pleasant and different dining experience every time you visit.
“Osama’s has declared a holy war on hunger,” said a satisfied customer. “When I first heard of a franchise in the area, I didn’t walk, Iran.”
Yasser, you betcha, this is no joke, this Israel. With Osama’s restaurants springing up throughout the Middle East, you’re probably just a camel ride away from a hearty Osama’s meal. So, make a pilgrimage to your nearest Osama’s today. Remember, a rolling stone gathers no mosque.
So, what culinary delights can you find at Osama’s? You’re encouraged, of course, to start off with a nice garden or caesar Saladdin before moving on to the main course. How about a nine piece order of Taliban Tenders. These tender white Gaza strips of chicken breast, rolled in Osama’s secret blend of herbs and spices, are sure to satisfy even the most hardlined fundamentalist. Or, enjoy a rosemary and Yemen chicken breast (with a slight sprinkle of Sultan pepper), a sure hit with your wives.
Feeling a little Mexican? Then order our delicious chicken El Queda Quesadillas.
But wait, you aren’t limited to chicken at Osama’s. You can also enjoy a vast assortment of mutton dishes. In fact, at Osama’s, our specialty Islam.
Osama’s also provides several side orders, including, for a limited time, ripened ears of Koran on the Kaaba.
“Oman, that Koran on the Kaaba was excellent,” said another appreciative diner. “I almost feel bad that I ate four ears. I sincerely apologize.”
No need to say you’re Saudi at Osama’s. At our affordable prices, we understand when you eat more than your share.
Of course, Osama’s didn’t forget the early risers. For the breakfast crowd, Osama’s provides small and large stacks of Pakistani Pancakes smothered in bin Ladenberry syrup. Other breakfast items include Hezbollah Hash Browns, Baghdad Bacon, Syrian Sausage, and Beirut Bagels.
Wash down your Osama’s meal with any of our beverages, including juices, sodas, and our famous Shiite Shakes. All refills only cost a Qatar.
So, you’ve finished your Osama’s meal, and you still have room for more? Perhaps something on the sweet side? Not to worry; Osama’s also provides a number of delicious desert desserts, including our Sahara Sundaes and Empty Quarter Eclairs.
Like most families, you probably have some unruly children who are hungry but difficult to satisfy. No problem. Simply load up your little terrors and bring them to Osama’s, where they can enjoy our low priced Angry Meals. Upon hearing that they’re headed to Osama’s, your children will no doubt start yelling and shieking with glee. You may have to Muslim.
Yes, Osama’s has lifted the veil on affordable family cuisine. See for yourself. Come to Osama’s Fast Food Emporium today!
Ryan says: I just had a Super Burrito from the cafeteria.
Caroline says: did it live up to its name?
Ryan says: It was REALLY big.
Ryan says: I feel like I ate a puppy.
Caroline says: How does that even feel?
Caroline says: Satisfying?
Ryan says: Pupperific.
I did indeed sit through the premier of "Commander-in-Chief," starring Geena Davis as the first-ever female president.
To put it mildly, it's no "West Wing." And, yes, I used to enjoy the "West Wing" very much, until it started becoming sanctimonious to the point of lunacy. Maybe that's changed: I haven't seen it in awhile.
Anyway, CiC just didn't resonate with me. Part of it was because they should have picked an unknown actress for the role. Every time I see Geena Davis, I think of my first real celebrity crush in that scene in Tootsie where she's in her bra and panties. It's hard for me to get past that.
Secondly, could the show have BEEN any more predictable? I think I foretold that the teleprompter would go on the blink in mid-speech last Wednesday.
Oh, and a vice-president with her husband as her chief-of-staff? Unlikely. Telling her 7-year-old daughter not to tell anybody that the President suffered a stroke? Ummmmm, unlikely. The U.S. strong-arming Nigeria to release a female adulterer? Unlikely. The extraction team consisting of an overweight dude with no helmet, looking as uncomfortable with a rifle as a hemmorhoid sufferer sitting on broken glass? Un-fucking-likely.
Overall, it was a lot to swallow, with too many one-dimensional characters, too many implausible scenarios, too much cheesy dialogue, and not enough depth. Chances are good I won't tune in again.
Now, HBO's series "Rome". . . there's a show that kicks some serious ass, with Indira Varma being one of the hottest actresses I've seen since Salma Hayek. Polly Walker's pretty hot too, but I'm biased on that because she did full-frontal Bareishness in the first episode. Where was I again? Oh, right. . . work.
FURTHER THOUGHT: It occurs to me that, if CiC were to tank, as the first episode seems to indicate it will, a lot of people will steadfastly maintain that it's because knuckle-dragging Americans can't accept the idea of a female president, and they'll be totally oblivious to the obvious inadaquacies of the show itself. CiC has some potential, but they have a lot of work to do, that's all I'm saying.
Oh, and also, watch this movie. It's surprisingly good, and the little dude delivers an outstanding acting performance.
Caroline says: Michelle called me yesterday because she was reading the Employee Handbook. She said there was a hilarious section about dress code.
Caroline says: "Employees shall not wear items that reveals their buttocks."
Ryan says: You're kidding.
Ryan says: So, my ass-less leather chaps are out of the question then.
Caroline says: Michelle said she was planning on wearing her chaps today, but couldn't after reading the handbook.
Caroline says: You're also not allowed to wear beach-wear to the office. Guess that ruins beach-wear Fridays.
Ryan says: Thong Thursday comes to a screeching halt.
Dear International Media Organizations:
Okay, this is the last time I'm going to say this, so pay attention; all of you. I'm looking at you, CNN, and MSNBC.
People protesting war are WAR PROTESTERS. They are not ANTI-WAR PROTESTERS. An anti-war protester would, by the rules set forth in English and grammar, in effect be a war supporter.
So, again, people protesting war are. . . war protesters. They are protesting war. They may be organized by anti-war groups, but once they start actually protesting, the "anti-" should be dropped, like a naked Karen Dejo.
I don't know how to make this any more simple, yet you continually refer to people protesting war as anti-war protesters. Please stop that. Or, alternatively, you can refer to them as pro-war protesters, because that would also be correct.
That is all.
