September 2005 Archives


Bought a Carl Crawford jersey today, one of the nice authentic ones, for $40. Steal deal, if you ask me, they were on closeout at one of the sports stores at the Mall. I'll wear it to the game tonight. Last Friday night game of the year; last $3 tickets, last $1 beers. Sad. I've missed so many Friday games due to being in the play. I have a feeling my eyes will be on the out-of-town scoreboards more than the field, in any case.

If any Tampa people want to watch the USF-Miami game tomorrow night, give me a head's up. 8pm, at either Barnacle's or the Clubhouse on Fowler. Would be fun to hang out. Time for laundry.

Must reads:
Kathleen Reardon on real-world persuasion
Tara Reid wants to know how much longer the media plans to "pick on her"

Maybe this is karma, for years of chasin' tail

So I suffered through watching another Indians loss last night.

I was excited about this series with the D-Rays. For four years or so I watched pretty much every Indians game on the tube; either from home or at my bar in Zanesville, which was either The Barn or, later, BW3. Then I moved to Florida and couldn't watch my Tribe, so I became a secondary fan of the Devil Rays. The only time I get to watch my hometown Tribe is when they play the D-Rays, and thus I was excited for this series.

Only to watch us play the worst baseball known to man the last two nights.

Last night was particularly painful, watching us get shut out by phenom (if the word phenom means 'sucky pitcher') Seth McClung. There's plenty that's been written about the game, particularly by Ryan and Rick so I won't go into details, except to say that I'm seriously considering not watching tonight's game at all, in hopes of some kind of butterfly effect leading to the Indians finally winning.

I have something like three hundred pages to read for class tonight. Usually, I'd do this in the three hours I have between teaching my persuasion class at the mall and going to class at six. Unfortunately, I have a lecture to attend in the afternoon, from 3-4, which will seriously cut into my reading time. I'm brainstorming how to navigate getting everything done right now. I suppose I could fit an hour of reading in right now, instead of reading my daily blogroll... like that's gonna happen.

In other news, our shorthanded Team Trivia team of Brian, Dave, and I torched the Hangout last night en route to a dominating win. When there's only three of us, it's pretty much like making ten bucks for a few hours' of work. Covered my tab. Won't complain.

Oh, and I finally have an advisor. FINALLY. No committee yet, but it's a step in the right direction.

You should be reading:
Darren's Gatorade Blog
Roxanne's Tom DeLay haiku contest

Bizarre emails, part six

So I am sitting in my computerless office, drifting to sleep while reading The Protean Self for class in an hour, and I decide to wake myself up by checking my email on my phone.

I open an email titled "hey" and it's the following:

From Tom Layfield Wed Sep 28 08:42:32 2005
X-Originating-IP: []
Return-Path: <>
X-Originating-IP: []
From: "Tom Layfield" <>
Subject: hey
Date: Wed, 28 Sep 2005 15:42:32 +0000

yo meight,
i just read your post about the richard taylor thing.
and tbh i think your a prick/geek/pussy/virgin/fat cunt etc etc.
i cant belive you actually laugh at things like that and in fact i hope you and your family all die in a fire prick

Now, I have no idea who Richard Taylor is, so I check my recent_comments.bml to see if I've made any mention or posted about him lately. Nope. Baffled, I google [bubbaprog "richard taylor"] and come up with one hit:

So, apparently this guy was reading Fark headlines FROM A YEAR AGO and got pissed that I made the obvious Kurt Cobain reference. And decided to email me, and wish my family to "die in a fire prick." That sounds painful. A fire prick?

The lesson: learn proper grammar before sending hate email. And if you are reading year-old articles on Fark, you really need to get more of a life.

Back to reading for class.

Photos are up

As promised, photos from Joseph are up. Those of you unfamiliar with frequent dream character Jeanine (kinky_carpet's mom) will get to see what she looks like, for what it's worth., Men's Weekly reports USF is the 10th fattest campus in America. I can't say I disagree. The only campus I've ever been on where there are more out-of-shape people is EMU.... which was #7. Ick.

Singin' those campfire songs

Women don't want their men to be smart.

They might think they do, or they might tell us they do, but they don't.

What do women want?


See, if there's anything that exclusively listening to country music over the past three weeks has taught me, it's insight into the psyche of the average woman. And that woman is not into a smart white-collar guy type. They want cowboys. They want guys who are quiet, strong, and tough. Guys who don't talk back, but do what they're told loyally and in order. This shouldn't be a surprise; in fact, [info]langster's been telling me this for years. But it never really clicked with me why until recently. It's way more simple than anyone ever thought. Perhaps I can let Lee Ann Womack explain:

Don't have to wow me like a long beard Shakespeare/Just talk plain talk right here in my ear
If you aspire to sophistication/I'll tell you now you're in the wrong location
Get out of here before this country girl gets to you

(written by Mark Sanders & Ed Hill), wait a minute. Why are two men writing about what a woman wants? See, that just complicates things even further. Clearly, Sanders & Hill have gotten over that barrier of female psychology. After all, they also wrote Faith Hill's "It Matters To Me."

Anyway, my point is, I'm totally in the wrong business, and have been from the beginning. Not like I can help it; our personalities shape our careers more than anything else, natch, and I'd just be the bookworm cowboy Lee Ann Womack wouldn't want anyway.

"But Tim," you say. "You're an academe. You're more into the intelligent, bookwormish girls anyway. In fact, you even have a thing for girls who wear black plastic frame glasses!"

...okay, so I do have a thing for the glasses. But if you think I'm not the Cowgirl type, then you don't know me very well.


Happy 100th birthday to the equation e=mc^2. Read more about it.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

1) Saturday was a great day. My Ohio Bobcats won. My EMU Hurons Eagles won. MY USF BULLS BEAT #9 LOUISVILLE. Suck it, [info]novenine.

2) Saturday was a terrible day. Jim, who played Simeon and sang the cowboy song in Joseph, never arrived for our Saturday night show. We went on as usual, and one of the kids sang his song (and did it surprisingly well; I'd always sung when Jim wasn't in rehearsal and was fairly perturbed at handing over the reins to someone I'd never heard sing before, but to Cody's credit, he pulled it off). Come to find out afterward he, well, let's just say he was suffering a medical problem and needed to go to a hospital. Except he hadn't gone, because he's self-employed and doesn't have insurance.

That's a rant for me to go on another day, and it was the topic of the best conversation I've had in a year, the kind of conversation I've been missing, with a person I've been missing. But Saturday night was really upsetting, because we didn't know where Jim was, or why he wasn't answering calls. And it sucks when you can't find a friend like that.

3) Saturday was an ugly day. Er, night. While things are semi-resolved, suffice to say that I, for once, did the right, responsible thing and made a decision based on the ethical guidelines by which I was resolved to make it. Yeah, it upset someone who I really like. And it sucked to drive home knowing that. I'd write more, but you know my policy on writing a story before the story's done. And this story is definitely not over. Anyway, it was the right thing to do. For now. All I know is, the last two months or so have seen a whole lot of acts of arson on my psyche, and the firefighters are either from the wrong department, in the middle of a shift change, or, uh, too far away.

So I burn, baby, burn. And I can't be held responsible for my behavior while fire-hot. I need to have custody of myself taken away from me. I'm an unfit parent.

Paul Phillips' entry on the word 'penultimate' and how no one uses it correctly
Mark Cuban on what makes an investment
Meaghan on why the return of hockey is so important
Dr. Pauly, just because it's a hilarious story

Off to class. This book is hurting my head.

Teaser pic for the full array of Joseph photos coming soon:


I have a lot to write about. While you're waiting, read this HTMLed version of a great special section in today's St. Petersburg Times, about a woman who was Jim Morrison's first girlfriend and (possibly) the inspiration for the first two albums by The Doors: great, engrossing section... prompted by the tearing down of a home in which Morrison lived for several years in Clearwater. Why? To make room for condos.

Getting a little sick of this

Got home five minutes ago. Took an hour to get home -- raining like hell out there and traffic's backed up for miles. Now I have to leave again in about a half hour, and I won't get home until who-knows-when. The problem with having a summer spent blowing entire days on other people's sofas playing video games (or more accurately, watching them play video games) is that it makes everyone else's lifestyle seem hectic when you have to start living it yourself. And I still need my back cracked. I'm taking applications.

Congratulations to:


...and others on their recognition in the annual Best of the Bay.


Today's Tampa Bay Times features, well, just about everyone Tampa-related who is linked to your right (you know, under "links") in a cover story... all about Tampa blogs. So congrats to Tommy, Rachel, Sarah, Dave, Lisa, David/Jim/Patrick, & Daryl. You're making us all look good!

Time to fix dinner and hit the road, getting gas along the way. You know, because those damned criminals running the oil companies will use every excuse to rip you off.

Things that pretty much ruin it for you, #12

...when you're doing your roommate's laundry and you notice skid marks in her thongs.

I'm givin' up on love, 'cause love's given up on me

My back is basically broken. I concluded that my back pain was what has been keeping me up nights, so I slapped on some generic Icy Hot on the side that hurt and it threw the entire other side of my back & neck out of alignment. So now, instead of a little soreness on my right shoulder blade, I now can't turn my head, tilt it, or anything. I dunno what I did to myself, but I'm just a smidge concerned. "Go see a chiropractor" is not the advice I need, heh.

Meanwhile, someone I really liked passed away suddenly yesterday, and I'm kind of mixed up about that. These sort of things take a while to sink in for me. the cat won't leave me alone, and I accidentally confused Icy Hot for hair gel due to my overall-being-out-of-it.

But I've been slowly getting here for weeks. I guess it shouldn't be any surprise. With that in mind, I'm not going out tonight, and not drinking here at home. Avoiding caffeine too. Time for a detox mission.

My parents sent me a $50 gift card to j.crew for my birthday, but I'm not certain they have anything there for less than $50. I'll go investigate on Friday.
Current Mood: groggy

Don't tell me that part of the story

Rode hard and put up wet, I ain't down but I can't get up yet It's a long ride back to the way I want to feel

Sun down across the plain, I've been sore before I'll be sore again No place to hide to keep from runnin'

Happy birthday to [info]thechuck_2112 and my brother, The Hot Dog Man. AIM him birthday wishes @ THEgianthotdog.

Monday mornings are when we pick up the scattered pieces of a long weekend. My weekend, well, let's say there's a lot of pieces in a lot of places, and it's gonna make for a whole lot of sweeping. First off, to the individual I was text-messaging last night: what I was trying to say is that when I get into my neighborhood, I lose mobile signal and my calls get forwarded to my home phone, so to call me when you got home. So I didn't get your last three messages until this morning when I went to work. Thus I didn't call, and I pretty much ended passing out on the sofa by 10:00. I hope your last message was just cutesy-angry and not actually being pissed, but if you were/are, I'm really sorry and will call you tonight.

That having been said, is there anything hotter than flirting via text message? Or just flirting in general. I'd forgotten what that was like.

So, yeah, the problem with spending 72 hours in an alcoholic haze is not necessarily the lost memories, but the removal of location and time context from the event memories. So while it was only 36 hours ago that I was giving someone my phone number, it might as well have been months. Did Dave and I actually get lost driving back to the Hangout? That was Saturday? This pizza in my fridge... when did I make it? Also, apparently, the deejay on 93.3 (the popular music station in this town) was talking about me this weekend. Some of my students heard it. I guess he saw the show, and was talking about my being the funniest part? Seriously, if anyone else heard this, tell me. They weren't very descriptive about whatever the deejay was talking about -- or is it the dude who deejays the Hangout? Does he know me? Everything is such a blur.

In any case, I'm fortunate to have friends that love me so much as to throw that much booze at me -- but I'm unfortunate to have lost the sense of personal responsibility to say "no" occasionally. Somehow, I spent the years of 20-25 in pretty mature behavior patterns. The minute I got to Florida, I regressed. I'm not going to say that I'm just "making up for lost years" because there's nothing that can justify my irresponsibility. But, then, I'm supposed to learn from my Mondays, picking up those pieces of the night.

Yet I'm sore and exhausted and even ten hours of sleep time resulted in little more than a bizarre dream punctuated by waking up every 20 minutes or so... the dream came in chunks and spaces but the details are somewhat along these lines:

I am upstairs in my house. It's raining. There are people there, but I don't know them. Except Darrell, the guy who plays Joseph in my show. He's there. And the USF game is about to begin, but I don't know why I'm not going to the game. My parents are there, and they're cooking. Something. They have a celing fan with about 40 settings and I'm baffled as to how to turn it off. The switches fold back and in and amongst themselves. My house has an open courtyard, then, and Darrell is trying to find our downspouts, but we don't really have any. Water just pours off our roof.

We're off to a train station, where they have complimentary sodas, but it's all cherry or grape or orange soda. I have 1/4-full bottle of Svedka vodka in my hand, and I'm seeking orange soda to make the drink that I'll forever refer to as an "Eb's Basement." We're on the train, now, but I'm with different people, and it's an hour ride to wherever we're going.

But now I'm riding in a car, in some exotic island locale. And we're taking these roads behind businesses or houses that have tall, thin, dark men standing sentry outside them. And now we're on a boat, heading to a secret island, though it's one I'm well-familiar with. It's some famous island that doesn't belong to any country-- but we're coming up on this gleaming institution that is, apparently, some Chinese governmental building. And my friends and I, well, we're agents, of some sort, secret agents except I'm not a secret agent. We need picture ID to enter the building, and I have my old prison ID. But another member of my group, and all of a sudden it's Jeanine ([info]kinky_carpet's mom) but she doesn't have any ID on her for some reason. So they give us these gift bags, and I'm sitting there with someone else, eating these little cookies and crackers and peanut butter. Everyone else goes into the building to see whatever secret hoopla the Chinese have going on. So while I'm eating, crazy shiat goes down, and I escape, and I jump into the ocean, or South China Sea, wherever we are. and now I'm driving back on that highway, and there's a LION in the road, and I swerve to avoid the Lion, and now I have to decide whether or not to go back to that Chinese place, or ...

and now I'm in someone else's apartment, and this guy has a gun, but it's not a gun, but, yes, it is a gun. And I pretend to be one of the secret agents I was with, but terrified because I know no hand-to-hand combat. So I use this guy's bathroom and I can't control my pee, it's going all over the place, and it's brown. So the real secret agents are on the other side of the door, waiting to kill me, but I just came in here to get my cell phone back.

I'm huge in China

So my server, every day, has tons of hits from addresses like and that inevitably look like this: - - [17/Sep/2005:09:47:05 -0500] "GET /music/Lesbian-demo.mp3 HTTP/1.1" 200 1441920 "" "NSPlayer/ WMFSDK/9.0"All the addresses resolve to China. Yes, China. And almost every hit is Lesbian-demo.mp3. Sometimes they download Blondie-demo.mp3. But mainly it's Lesbian. THE CHINESE LOVE MY LESBIAN SONG. I'm not kidding, it gets downloaded in China several hundred times a day. I have no idea how they found out about it, or if they even know what it's about. But I know this: If I ever go to China, I'll be a superstar. Also, some German mp3 site has my entire directory indexed, because i get hits from there too. Bizarre.Ralph plied me with Southern Comfort until I had to spend the night there. I'm feeling quite the superstar today. That, or, I'm hung over. One of those. I came home and Jenn had balloons (Thomas the Tank Engine!) and Krispy Kremes waiting for me. She's the best roommate ever. Wait. She could also be sleeping with me. THEN she'd be the best roommate ever. But she's close as is.

Amigos y amigas

It's Friday, and my back *still* hurts. I guess it'll be like this for a while. *shrug*.

Product # Product Description Qty Price Ext Price
MA107LL/A IPOD NANO 4G BLACK-USA 1 229.00 229.00

Hells yeah. I guess it's a birthday present to myself, despite the fact I can't really afford it. Grandma sent me a case of potato chips for my birthday. Yes, potato chips. I don't eat potato chips anymore, but it was a nice gesture. Of course, they weren't just any old potato chips. They were Ballreich's.

Love my nana.

Back to the grind in the NPR tonight. Hope we have a good crowd. Looking forward to seeing everyone. It's odd how seeing people every day makes four days away seem like a lifetime. I have a story for y'all from last Saturday, but it'll take me a while to get to. I have to find the notebook I transcribed it in.

A phenomenal article, in terms of use of humor, about last week's VT-Duke game and their upcoming game with us is located here. The last line, in particular, reminds me of the glory days of Burke & Kline's Mocksession.

Laundry time. I have two nasty, deep-red scratches in my arm due to Mouse (the cat) getting scared by the UPS guy. Yet she still thinks she can sleep on my bed?

And yet I give in to her. Every time.

Edit:Cindy Sheehan is a goddamned idiot. "George Bush must pull our troops out of occupied New Orleans"? Huh? Sister, you had me for a long time, but that whole essay is full of stupid bullshiat.

Another bizarre dream

On the way to the Hangout, I'm pulled over. I don't have my license, updated insurance, registration, anything. The deputy went to OU, though, so he lets me off. Apparently I was speeding, running stop signs, tailgating, and driving erratically. I hadn't been to the Hangout yet, but I was already drunk. So I show up at the Hangout, and time passes by, and the bar closes. I'm sitting there playing on a computer, looking at portraits or photographs or something. Les is cleaning up the bar. I'm embarrassed to be there, for some reason. Like I don't belong. At some point I leave, pledging to come back. I'm at our theatre, but it isn't our theatre. Drew, the guy who plays Reuben, is sitting in a shadow in the dark. It's like 3am, but the ticket office is still open. They ask me if I want tickets and I say no, I'm just picking up some season ticket brochures. On a small TV, Jim (who plays Simeon) is singing "One More Angel" on The Tonight Show. Except it's not Jim, and the other people on the stage with him aren't from our show. But it's our show nonetheless. It's very dark. I leave, and head back to the Hangout.Except it's not the Hangout anymore, it's in a different place... it's in an alley in some small town, and it's more like a pub. There are lights outside, and Ed is locking the place up. I go around back and they're having a picnic. It's the usual Hangout crew, along with a few cast members from my play. The Hangout has all these picnic tables behind it now. It's 4:45am but the sun is shining brightly... I think to myself, "this is because we 'fell back' yesterday." This guy from Napoleon, John Lauf, shows up, and I start telling him how I built picnic tables just like these for a picnic behind the house of Bob Heft, who used to be our mayor (and also designed the 50 star flag, as he likes to remind people). But once again I feel out of place. Like I don't belong. Embarrassed to be there, and knowing the only reason why. Les approaches me, asks me what I got for my birthday. It was my birthday yesterday. I didn't get anything for my birthday; in fact, nobody even acknowledged it.Depressing dream, eh? I gotta get in the shower.


Not that I hold any ill will toward Michigan, but Blue fans screwed up mightily when they threw debris on the field during their loss Saturday to Notre Dame... little did they know they were assaulting UM recruits with garbage.Courtesy Carne Asada.


Today's matinee went well. Huge crowd that was very into it.The St. Petersburg Times review of our show is online. I'm referred to as "energetic." I feel anything but that right now, but I'll take it.or just read it here under the cutCopyright Times Publishing Co. Sep 10, 2005Some musicals are made for the big theater - Sunset Boulevard, The Phantom of the Opera and Starlight Express come to mind.Others are just right for small venues - I Do! I Do!, Smokey Joe's Cafe, Dames at Sea, to name a few.Then there's a big show that works best in a small theater: Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Andrew Lloyd Webber's whimsical interpretation of the Old Testament story of Jacob's son Joseph and his 11 jealous brothers, being done to a fine turn weekends though Sept. 25 at the cozy Richey Suncoast Theatre.Interestingly, Joseph is even more heartwarming and enjoyable with a liberal sprinkling of pure amateurs in the cast.Richey Suncoast has reached the near-perfect balance: professional singers playing the two leads, soprano Stefani LaPorta as a sincere and loving Narrator telling the story to a group of cute kids, Darrell Huling as a handsome, spirited Joseph, and a host of competent performers whose engaging charm more than makes up for any lack in singing prowess.The tone is set when the curtain opens on the silver-haired family patriarch Jacob (Phil VanDerlofske) lounging in a beach chair, big shades propped on his nose, as his Bible-era, robe-clad sons and their wives fawn over him.Enters Jacob's favorite son, an arrogant but attractive Joseph, who is warmly embraced by his father, even as his brothers and their wives grind their teeth. Joseph rubs it in; not only is he favored by their father, who gives him a gold-lined coat of many colors (Joseph's Coat), he is also favored by God, who is going to make him ruler over his brothers (Joseph's Dreams). So it's no surprise his brothers attack him, dump him in a well (Poor, Poor Joseph), then sell him to slave traders headed to Egypt and lie to their father in a cowboy-tinged country song, One More Angel in Heaven, led by a biker-looking brother Simeon (Jim Poe), that Joseph was killed wrestling a goat.This sounds scary and violent, but as done by Webber - and it could only be done this way because everything turns out fine - the scene is cute and funny.In fact, the show is so sweet and upbeat that, despite its unhappy familial story, it can be enjoyed by kids as much as grownups. Indeed, young actors (Chelsey Freeman, Julia Rifino, Erikka Lieberman, Kelly Lewis, Brianna Martin, Mikayla Pecora, Hannah Hall, Emily Chastain and Caitlin Ramirez) are an integral part of the play, as the narrator tells them the story in simple terms, and they often join the revelries on stage.The show is one long bright moment, but many stand out: Brother Reuben (Drew Lundquist) leading his brothers in a lament about Those Canaan Days as though they all were drinking buddies in a French bistro; a hip Pharaoh (Scott Van Scoyk) in a surprising outfit that would be even funnier if it were covered by a regal robe until Joseph enters and kneels before him; a jittery Butler (Keith Surplus in still another fine performance) sharing a jail cell with Joseph; a vamping Mrs. Potiphar (Ginger Ramsey); an energetic Levi (Timothy Burke) singing a sprightly Benjamin Calypso; and Huling's Joseph singing a moving, pitch-perfect Close Every Door, as he languishes in prison, and an angry Who's the Thief?, when he later gains power and tricks his duplicitous, but contrite brothers.The relatively short musical (one hour, 45 minutes, including intermission) moves quickly, thanks to good direction by Judy Poplawski, who also designed the quickly changed set pieces. And those pieces are stunners, as painted by artist Phil Hombledal.Special kudos to music director Joan Geschke, whose eight-piece orchestra keeps a fine pace and to choreographers Kristin Bram, Jeanine Martin and Jessica Martin, who had the stage swirling with precision movement. Also impressive are the scores of costumes by Poplawski and Jeanine Martin.IF YOU GOJoseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, a musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber, continues weekends through Sept. 25 at Richey Suncoast Theatre, 6337 Grand Blvd., New Port Richey. Shows are at 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays. Tickets are $15. Box office is open 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Tuesdays through Saturdays and an hour before each show. Call (727) 842-6777.

Incestuous relationships

berrydip attended Notre Dame.Notre Dame beat Pitt.I attended Ohio.Ohio's coach is Frank Solich.Ohio beat Pitt.Pitt plays Nebraska next week.Nebraska fired Frank Solich.Nebraska beat Wake Forest this week.Wake Forest's coach is Jim Grobe, who used to be the coach at Ohio. I currently attend USF.USF plays Pitt on October 15th.USF plays Miami on October 1st.Wake Forest plays Miami on November 17th.Ohio beat Pitt.Ohio beat Pitt.Ohio beat Pitt.I have a story coming for y'all too.

The ball is rolling

Stuck in my office because I have a stupidass workshop meeting at 3. I will spend two hours annoyed and anxious before rushing home to grab my gear and then going in the opposite direction (kind of) to get to the show.

Last night went well. Les & Melissa had a good time. I was finally able to give Melissa her birthday card... finally. Everyone liked their greeting cards... though I discovered today I accidentally let the domain expire and someone snatched it up five minutes afterward. The minimum bid is $200. So I'll have to let that go. Sucks, since mocksession was my first domain, I've had it for almost six years. Crowd was far from the sellout I had been led to believe would be the case. But everything went fairly smoothly, barring a few music & light cue screwups, but that wasn't the fault of anyone on stage. I won't complain about a standing ovation, regardless of whether or not I thought it was deserved. Looking forward to tonight... Roommate Jenn & her boyfriend are coming. has an interesting song on there that's somewhat catchy. I'll let you click the link to find out what it is.

Supposedly, the St. Pete Times was going to have a review of our show in today's paper, but it wasn't in my North Tampa edition. Anyone in Pinellas Co. want to tell me if it was in yours? It's not online, either. I'm curious to know what they thought.

Despite how happy I am getting with the show, I still wish I was in Athens tonight for the biggest game in my history as a Bobcat fan. I hope everyone who goes has a good time. Make us look great for ESPN!

This makes me think

A casket from the Terre-Aux-Boeu Cemetery rests at the front door of the Saint Bernard Church after being washed up by Hurricane Katrina, Wednesday, Sept. 7, 2005, in St. Bernard, La.

I'm not sure if that's prophetic, insightful, or just coincidence.

The show opened to an audience for the first time last night. As usual, everything came together and with the exception of a few glitches, everything went fine. Yeah, I worry too much. Tonight's the "real" opening night, and Les and (I'm assuming) Melissa are coming. I haven't even seen them in about a week -- or since their birthdays.

I have come to enjoy watching "So You Think You Can Dance" with Jenn. We sit on the sofas in our pajamas and watch it on the Tivo. It's become our Thursday morning routine, and I really like it. Jenn and I get along amazingly well, but hardly ever have a chance to spend time together. She and her boyfriend are coming to my show Friday... should be fun.

Teaching is going fine. I wouldn't really expect anything less -- after all, I've been doing this for almost 25% of my life already. I have a lot of cards to write this afternoon for my fellow cast members, but I've got some good ideas for them.

Finally... The minute I get my hands on $199 I will be acquiring this.

Grammar lesson

"The people we're talking about are not refugees. They are Americans," Bush stated. (Reuters)

Let us examine what is happening here.

First, let's break down that word "refugee." Its root is, of course, refuge. From the Latin refugium, "to escape," refuge is defined by Merriam-Webster as "shelter or protection from danger or distress/a place that provides shelter or protection." Thus, a refugee is an individual seeking shelter or protection from danger or distress.

Bush's argument for the rejection of "refugee" is Claim/Warrant A (individuals fleeing Katrina's damage /{ 'refugees' but individuals fleeing Katrina's damage {'Americans') is fallacious for a few reasons:

1. The rejection implies class 'refugees' and 'Americans' are parallel and mutually exclusive. Not so on either point.

a) Class 'Refugees' refers to all humans who are currently fleeing in search of shelter or protection. This is a conditional, behavior-contingent class. Class 'Americans' refers to humans who are citizens of the United States (colloquially). This is a nonconditional, politically-defined class. Thus they are not parallel.

b) It is fully possible to be both an American and a refugee. Indeed, by definition, American women who seek anonymous protection and shelter from domestic violence in facilities designed for this purpose are humans seeking refuge, and thus members of class 'Refugee.' They do not abandon their citizenship upon entrance of the home (and in fact become members of class 'Refugees' the moment they seek refuge; whether they find it or not is inconsequential). Thus class 'Refugees' and class 'Americans' are not mutually exclusive classes.

2. Hurricane Katrina evacuees are, by definition, members of class 'Refugees.' See above.

3. It is most certainly the case that several if not thousands of Katrina refugees/evacuees are not Americans at all, but citizens of a foreign country. Thus warrant 'They are Americans' to claim 'They are not refugees' lacks the required backing to be valid. That is, to say, unless Bush has unilaterally inferred citizenship upon those foreign nationals who are currently fleeing the damage.

One little statement. So many problems. (And before you post... yes, I realize Rev. Jesse Jackson has taken umbrage with the attribution of class 'Refugees' as well, but his argument isn't a logical claim, like Bush's -- it's a pathos claim contingent on perceptual meaning of the word 'refugee.' A similar example would be Nixon's "I am not a crook" which did not make a claim of innocence but rather an argument against the rhetoric inherent in the loaded term, 'crook.')
Current Mood: nerdy

Stupidest song ever

Don't let me turn the recorder on while I'm drunk anymore.

Dinero (3:26 2.0meg mp3)


I sincerely need one of you to answer this question for me.

The federal government has spent $200 billion so far on the war in Iraq. The arguments for and against the war have been repeated ad nauseam; suffice to say that the current argument for our involvement there is that it's for the best of the Iraqi people.

Yet we are constantly being urged as citizens to donate money to help the victims of Katrina.

Explain to me how our government has the money to "help" Iraqi citizens but not to save our own American citizens.

Please. I need to know this. It is an utter embarrassment that our government is coming to the citizens for MORE money (the Defense Department alone gets $500 billion a year, or $5,000 from every household in America). The world is mocking us.

(That having been said, please give what you can. Even though we shouldn't have to.)


Happy first Saturday of college football season, everybody!Go: Miami U.BGSUUSFNIUWMUBallKentand, of course:OHIO!


Every tenth interest:

24: I have no idea why I watch this show. It insults my intelligence. And I can't wait for season five.
beer: Drinking one right now. Bud Select. Mmm.
cleveland browns: I think this is a rebuilding year. Butch infected this team and it's going to take years to recover.
eastern michigan university: my MA alma mater. Go Eagles!
hillary clinton: For President 2008. Seriously.
kentucky girls: Ever been with one? You'll know why they have a special place on my list. I wish I had one now.
marrying maggie gyllenhaal: If the world was ending, the one thing we'd do:

old 97's: Too Far To Care has been my soundtrack of the week. There's nothing better than lyrics to a song you love becoming amazingly relevant later. Is this more than some old summer fling? And this thing we have, will it mean anything when October rolls around? Will you sober up and let me down?
saul bellow: Author of Henderson the Rain King, my favorite book.
ties: I miss wearing them several days a week. I guess I still could, but it's awfully hot here for that.
yamaha p-80: My piano. I should go play it now.




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    This page is an archive of entries from September 2005 listed from newest to oldest.

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