I don’t know about the rest of you, but it’s been a less than stellar year. It hasn’t sucked but it also hasn’t had a whole lot of goodness to it either. The music I’ve heard has been solid but not awesome, and I’ve spent more time in my back catalogue than with current releases. The movies I’ve seen have been merely OK excepting Wall-E. Even the Dark Knight, which was good just blew it at the end.

Books have been a decidely different endevor; World on Fire, The Coldest Winter, The Shock Doctrine-or at least as much of it as I could read before becoming so depressed that I thought a worldpurge might be a good thing (hint-when you pray for Chuthlu, something isn’t right), and the Commanding Heights all taught me a whole lot about how the world economy works. Or doesn’t, as of late.

Which brings me to the job. Which I am mired in in some decidedly unpleasant ways. I seem to be unwelcome and untrustworthy here. I offer to assist on things, but no one takes me up on it, and projects that come up have me shut out, so there’s no way for me to get in there and learn, progress or succeed. I seem to have risen to a level of mediocrity-a level that was requested of me. There’s a lesson here about leadership; if you don’t ask the people around you to do something interesting, to own the work they do, they won’t. Or perhaps that’s just my problem. And I do have problems here; I’m not a very good advocate for myself, and I resist doing projects where I don’t understand why I’m doing them, or don’t have clear (or any) direction. I get that I am partly responsible for what’s going on, but it’s not all me, and now I’m isolated and sad. This is not to detract from the communication or leadership issues here, which are serious and problematic, but I feel like I ought to shoulder some responsibility for my situation.

Which all sounds like gradeschool bullshit, I know, but it’s not. It’s Gen-X bullshit, thank you very much; I’m in a dead-end job and I don’t know what I want to do with my life. Of course, I’m picking a great time to crisis about it, too. Every job I look at I feel grievously unqualified for, like there’s a cattle brand of FAIL waiting for me.

Sigh.

My writing has stalled too. I’d like to get my website built, and I go about halfway and then get irate and decide Left 4 Dead is a better use of my time. (Which it frequently is, because it’s awesome.)

Which leads me to one of the high points of the year; videogames. Mass Effect, Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune, Metal Gear Solid 4, Dead Space and Fallout 3 have all been either really good or flat out excellent. Special awards go to Little Big Planet though, because it really is one of those games that has no shortage of Wow to it. Play it if you get the chance.

Added bonuses include my girlfriend, and her acquisition of a new job which is a tremendous relief for her. Getting to witness history through Obama’s election is pretty humbling. Making some pretty good beer and getting to write about it has been fun too. OK, blog about it, but it counts, right? Sorta?

I only have one New Year’s Resolution, and that’s to make the next year better than the last one, and I’m not sure I did such a good job of that this year.

The list in my head has begun.  OK…it’s only two words so far, but we still have 6 months to go.

The words of 2008 I HATE!

• Jun-uary
• Staycation

UGH!!!

Here’s what happens when you leave yard work to your awesome Ivy-league-educated “the-man”-fightin’ socialist neighbors:

Here’s what happens when a “‘privileged’ kid from the burbs who must not, by his ambition and tolerance of capitalism, understand the plight of the working man” gets fed up.

The grass was two feet in places. I hacked it with a push mower. My hands are blistered and my back hurts from the hour and a half of work. I left the clippings for another day.

Did I have to do this? No. I was told by the landlords that the backyard is their’s, and that if they want to let me use it, fine. But frankly, we were becoming an embarassment. The cigarette butts that litter their porch and the walkway don’t help . . .

The previous tenants would have never been so disrespectful of their home. Maybe because we were never fed with silver spoons? The irony absolutely kills me.

(My apologies to Fuz. I’m sure New Haven is lovely in the summertime.)

Back in 1994 when I was first in college, The Goat and I (and later KT) would head to Jack in the Box at Sunset Square for late night snacks. The Goat would get a bacon burger; I was fond of the curly fries with buttermilk dressing; KT became obsessed with Jack in the Box tacos.

We were running a risk by going to Jack in the Box of course — but not as a great a risk as you might assume. Those of you who remember the period remember that Jack in the Box suffered through one of the worst e-coli outbreaks in history, resulting in four deaths and hundreds of ill customers. Jack in the Box quickly changed their cooking processes to mitigate future risk, becoming one of the safest fast food franchises in the business. We knew this, so we accepted the risk, and snacked away, giving little thought to the other hidden dangers of fast food — the massive fat and salt intake. But that’s a topic for another time.

When the JetBlue fiasco happened last month, Dina and I paid attention. We had just purchased tickets for a flight to NYC on JetBlue, and so were worried that JetBlue was unraveling and becoming yet another crappy, abusive airline. But we took hope that perhaps this would teach JetBlue a lesson, and that they would use the lesson to insure themselves against future mishaps, just as Jack in the Box did in 1993. BusinessWeek and others hoped for the same, and it seemed like JetBlue was responding, instituting JetBlue’s Customer Bill of Rights.

Last night, with the threat of some snow a blizzard, JetBlue canceled ALL of its northeastern flights — including our red eye to NYC. JetBlue captured the attention of the news media this morning, as it was the first to start slashing schedules. And at first it seemed extremely premature–unnecessary, even. Now, though, there are over 1,000 cancellations in the region, and those who were seemingly going to operate through the storm (US Airways) have canceled everything as well.

I’m pretty certain we could have made it last night. We were scheduled to land at 8:00AM this morning at JFK, and things looked totally fine when we woke up at 7:30AM this moring (10:30, NYC time). I guess I can’t fault JetBlue for playing it safe . . . their reason for canceling things eary was so they could prep their staff for resuming travel once things are better. So hopefully this will pay off when we DO fly.

Dina and I are now schedule to fly to NYC on a red eye Sunday night, arriving Monday morning. This blows, as the whole reason for trip was to see Dina’s friend from Japan, who is flying out Monday afternoon. Hopefully we’ll get a couple of hours with her. I won’t see Theresa at all.

The worst that could happen at this point is for JetBlue to cancel or delay our Sunday night flight. At that point we’ll just fight for a refund and tell them to shove it. In some ways, though, we’re better off than those people who managed to get rescheduled for Saturday morning. There’s a better chance their flights will be canceled, in which case they’ll be screwed over again (and won’t be able to get on a Sunday flight, and maybe not Monday, because those are all booked).

On an up note, WOO, SPRING BREAK!!!! And WOO, ST. PATTY’S DAY!!!

Some pics:

Dina and I Pissed at JetBlue, God, The Weather

KT, Kindly Picking Us Up and Driving Us Home. Big UPs!

Dina, Looking Pretty

And that’s the best part of having cancer — getting to spring it on people. I found out in February that I have cervical cancer — carcinoma in situ — which means, basically, that I have cancer but it hasn’t broken out of my cervix yet. I tried to hang on to the fact that what I have is not truly classified as frank cancer because it hasn’t invaded the surrounding structures, but my doc assured me that the cells appear cancerous under a scope. I gots the cancer, even if it is only in one of my reproductive organs. So, I go to have the better part of my cervix removed next Wednesday.

It would be a fair assessment to say that I am kind of devestated about this because I’d really like more children. And while having carcinoma in situ doesn’t preclude fertility or successful pregnancy, the procedure that I have to have done to get rid of it will negatively impact my ability to maintain a pregnancy, were I to release a mature egg that became magically, magically fertilized and then mysteriously implanted itself into my endometrium.

So, girls! Don’t be a prodigal daughter — get your pap on and get it on once every calendar year! I missed one annual exam (2006) and let me offer you my most resolute assurances — I wish I hadn’t. I’ve had “abnormal” paps before and even had to have some biopsies, but I never expected to have carcinoma in situ at 26. The crazy thing is that I tested negative for HPV — the prom queen of carcinogens. Sure, lots of things can predispose one to cervical cancer, but in my demographic, I think HPV is assumed with that diagnosis. My doctor said that, in all likelihood, my prediliction for the tobacco had something to do with the change in the cells. This, of course, came as a huge surprise, since I had no idea smoking was bad for you. </deadpan>

So, there that is. I have cancer but I won’t have it in a week or so because, with any luck, I’m going to have it all removed on Wednesday.

Kisses!

Last week I put my digital camera up on eBay. I wanted to sell it so I could get a little camera to take with my to New York later this month. My camera is fine, but I find I use it a lot less than I used to, mostly because I can’t just carry it around with me (my school bag maxes out my shoulder strength). I figure with a subcompact, I can always pocket the thing, and pull it out and inconspicously snap awesomeness. (BTW, I want to get a Canon SD900.)

The camera sold for $305 after some furious bidding, a figure I was thrilled with. I noticed, though, that the buyer had an Australian postal code, even though I stipulated that I would sell only to U.S. buyers. Still, I figured if he wanted to pay the extra shipping, I guess I would send it. So I emailed him to confirm the address. He wrote back with this:

Hello Seller,
Am pleased to be the winner of this item and this item,is a birthday present to my grandson who live in west africa….and i know you only ship within US…..It is because am presently in AUSTRAILIAN for a businees trip and i wont be back until next two weeks…..So i will be offering you US$120 for the shipping to west africa…. ( Via First Class USPS GLOBAL EXPRESS MAIL or DHL)..As i have pay you { Via Paypal the Fast, easy, secure payment online. }… here is the shipping address….

NAME : David Ayideji
ADDRES :#39 Oba Akinyele oluyole industrial estate ring road
CITY : Ibadan
STATE : Oyo
ZIP CODE : 23402
COUNTRY : Nigeria.
My Regards,

Sure enough, an email from PayPal showed up for $125 over the asking price.

Except it wasn’t from PayPal. It only APPEARED to be from PayPal. Instead it was from another address:

service @paypal.com (paypalpaymentslink@emailaccount.com). (Check the screenshot of the email.)

Pretty slick, huh? The guy wanted me to think that he sent me money, and that it would be released to me once he had a tracking number. Of course, I smelled fraud like it was a big pile of monkey turds on a hot Los Angeles day, and immediately reported it to eBay. Apparently this guy was trying it with others on eBay, too, and he was summarily booted. eBay wants me to contact the cops, though I’m not sure what they could (or would) do.

So I wasn’t naive enough to bite. Thank Jeebus. Still, now if the second place guy doesn’t want the camera, I have relist the thing and go through this all over again.  Sucky.

Anyone want to buy a camera?

A drama in two parts.

Me, calling downstairs neighbor: Hey there Fidel, this is Kables from upstairs.

Fidel, the Ivy-League-Educated Socialist: Hey. I can smell the stench of money emanating from your capitalist pores from down here on the bottom floor, otherwise known as the Proletariat Paradise™.

Me: Cool. I bathe in nickels. Anyway, our free internet and TV is no longer working. They must’ve figured us out.

Fidel: You must have told them, scum, to aid the wealthy in getting wealthier.

Me: Yeah. No. You know I’m poor, right? That each quarter I incur more and more debt in order to finance my education?

Fidel: I don’t believe you. The only debt you’re incurring is the debt your soul must pay for the poor black kids and homos this country piles on each other so you may climb their rotting bodies as you ascend to your shiny glass penthouse in the sky (aka, Belltown).

Me: Dude, my floor slopes. And I have a mold problem. And let’s not forget that I have to pile my laundry into a basket every week and go find some place to do it because I don’t have access to YOUR basement.

Fidel: LIAR!

Me: Whatevs. Anyway, we need to order internet. I’m not interested in getting TV, because I don’t really watch it. (Which is true — I watch shows on my computer long after their original air dates. –ed.)

Fidel: But . . . But . . . We want TV. We NEED TV!

Me: Uh, well, I’m not going to order it. I really am unwilling to pay for it.

Fidel: Maybe we should put the bill in our name, since you’ll likely be moving out next summer.

Me: Suit yourself, mofo.

Intermission.

Fidel, calling on the celly two days later: Hey, Kables, this is Fidel from downstairs.

Me: All praise be unto Rummy. What’s the fuss, Gus?

Fidel: So we ordered internet. You can pay for 1/3. We’ll let you know how much. Oh, and we got TV. I had this coupon, so we go the digital gold package for cheap, like only 40 shekels a month for the first six months. It’s pretty sweet. We get like 700 channels, which should keep us busy 23 out of the 24 hours we live. Good also for, you know, tokin’ the ganja at night.

Me: All right, dude.

Fin.

Rather than go on at length about the hypocrisy in all this, I’ll just say this: thanks to a sweet splice job Josh and I executed last spring, the commies are paying for my cable television. As the capitalist say, w00t!

Am I supposed to hang up or do I HAVE to wait for more options?  This has become one of the biggest struggles in my life.  “When you’ve finished recording, you can hang up or press pound for more options.”  At least this lady gives me an option.  Half the time I’m left hanging on wondering what to do next.  Do I press #?  Do I press 1?  Do I press the combination of 7 and then 9 (I really don’t get this one)?  Have you ever “appended” your message in your life? The only extra options that should be allowed are “erase and rerecord” and “review your message.”  I’m sure that everyone still living in 1992 is wondering what the hell that beep is after people leave them a message on their tape recorded answering machine.  It’s me trying to “continue for more options.”  I can’t tell you how much time is wasted with these silly button pushing games.  We might as well go back to the busy signal.

VOTE VOTE VOTE  VOTE  VOTE  VOTE  VOTE

You may have missed this while you were watching American Idol or Dancing with the Stars, but last Thursday, the US Senate voted to repeal the Constitution, the Geneva Conventions, Habeas Corpus, the Magna Carta, and 900 years of Anglo-American jurisprudence. S3930, the Military Commissions Act of 2006, explicitly gives the President power to decide who is considered an “enemy combatant,” and to seize these people – whether foreign or American – and hold them indefinitely without trial, and with no recourse whatsoever to challenge the legality of their imprisonment. Moreover, while not explicitly denying the Geneva Conventions, it gives the President the power to decide what torture techniques are and aren’t illegal under those Conventions. None of these vast new powers are subject to any kind of overview, either from the courts or from Congress.

Simply put, torture and permanent detention are now legal in the United States of America. And, just in case you think a change in Congressional leadership this year would make any kind of difference at all, keep dreaming: while the administration’s Republican lickspittles in the Senate rammed this bill through, the Democrats did absolutely nothing to stop it. No flilbuster, nothing. (Hell, 12 of ‘em even voted for it.)

Maybe you’re counting on the American public to rise up against this affront to democracy and basic human rights? Puh-lease. Turns out, 60% of us are actually in favor of torture. Yeee haaa! When do we break out the iron maiden?
(all preceding links via Badtux )

How did we get here? How did it all go so deeply, seriously wrong in just five short years? How did 9/11 change us into a nation of snivelling cowards, willing to sacrifice all of our freedoms, responsibilities, and morals in exchange for an illusion of safety and mindless escape via the latest idiotic soma spewing from the lobotomy box?

And how is it that I can barely feel any outrage over this, only a sense of weary contempt? The transformation of America from a republic into an empire has been so shockingly swift, and accomplished with so little public outcry, that I feel numbed.

Maybe it’s time to just give up.

Many of you know that I have never jumped on the MySpace wagon because I’m afraid I’ll slip and break my back on the pile of shit that is My Space. It’s not just that I was first exposed to it (well first by Kables, but more impactfully) by my 14 year old female cousin who was flirting with “boys” and talking to strangers obsessively. Knowing what little I know of her and the bit I’ve observed she will undoubtedly be the girl on the Spokane news one day that gets kidnapped by some 40 year old man who wants to make her his wife and cover her naked body with googly-eyed stickers. You know that guy, right? Well he’s on MySpace. I’m sure of it.

But no. That’s not the only reason I hate that place. It’s because of the design. People have far too much freedom to make it virtually unreadable. I think it’s really cute and sweet that they want to let inept novice internet users have the option to personalize their page (and believe me, a good portion of the people on MySpace don’t have any previous computer experience) but I kind of wish that they put some limits on things like backgrounds or music.

Needless to say, when Kables directed us to Zefrank today, I found myself wanting to nibble his ear and fondle his…well anyway, I love that guy. For now. And this installment is one of the reasons.