Blather For Blather's Sake

Subject:	Disappointments: Part 2
Time:	12:15 pm.

My high school class had these stuck-up twins who lived down in my part of the county. Sometimes I got a ride home with this guy who also took the twins home. This must have been when I was in the tenth grade, because my older brother was in that school with me. He went to my school in his senior year only.

I was riding home with that other guy and the twins one day, when one of them chucked their soda can out the car window. It was an awfully shitty thing to do. I knew that people did it because I used to collect the cans when I was younger, but I never knew who was the type of person who would do that kind of thing.

The now-criminal told me, "Please don't tell your brother I did that, because I know he doesn't like people doing stuff like that and I like him."

It had been clear to me for some time that those dorks did not care about what I felt personally (I probably have even more severe feelings than my brother), and I knew that this one in particular was a pretty big asshole anyway. For whatever reason, though, that episode still irks me to this day.

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Subject:	Disappointments: Part 1
Time:	11:56 am.

There used to be a Burger King on 9th Avenue between Irving and Judah. Above the Burger King, there were apartments, and one of them always had a sign telling people to boycott the Burger King.

This year, the Burger King closed. In its place, a "Good Earth Cuisine" opened. This is nearly across the street from a "Cafe Gratitude."

I really wanted a Taco Bell.

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Subject:	adventures and non-adventures
Time:	4:13 pm.

Another ski season comes to a close. We really didn't get much snow this year, but at least there was enough to ski.

On the way home from the ski house, one of my rear tires blew out near Sacramento. Of course, it just had to happen when I was passing someone in the left lane. Changing tires on the side of the freeway is never fun, but the added bonus was that I had a lot of crap in the car that I had to pull out in order to get to the spare. Oh well, the situation will be resolved tomorrow. Those tires have been a bit of a pain anyway.

For variety's sake, or maybe just for a stupid microoptimization, I've decided to use the east side of 5th street for the first block of the walk to and from work, because I always get stuck at that first traffic light anyway. This conveniently avoids Loserville, so it's not that unwelcome of a change.

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Subject:	A Note on Stupid
Time:	7:54 pm.

Stupid isn't stupid. The phrase "stupid person" is the battle cry for the modern bigot, who now uses the term to blanket entire states.

I could rant forever about this, but why bother? Whatever happened to "live and let live?" What causes people to diss the entire state of Missouri? None of the 42 states that I've been to really seem all that bad to me. Am I sick and all alone?

What, exactly, is stupid? Those people on "Cops?" That stuff may seem incredible to us--we'd never do that kind of stuff? Would we? Frequently the circumstances are extenuated. Does the "big picture" matter?

Sure, there are stupid computers, and dogs, which are stupid by definition (but, like computers, you can train them), but they ain't people.

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Time:

9:28 pm.

So there was this crazy guy on the streetcar today who was reading aloud, taking up two seats, as well as taking up space where two people could have been standing. (I've seen him once before doing his reading aloud act.)

Naturally, the train was a little crowded when I got on, and of course, we had to be delayed five minutes by some dweeby truck driver who decided to double-park.

I gave the crazy guy a little shove on his way out.

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Subject:	Random Stuff On The Trip
Time:	9:36 am.

Okay, so I decided that I would drive cross-country again, so I did. Here are some of the things that I saw along the way:

- Pacific Coast Highway north of San Francisco
- Avenue of the Giants
- Crater Lake, Oregon
- Old train station in Dayton, Washington
- Natural Hot Springs in the middle of nowhere in Idaho
- George W. Bush getting in my way and not letting me see the stuff that I wanted to see in Billings, Montana
- Pompey's Pillar
- Many derelict old farmhouses in North and South Dakota
- The Worst Motel in the World[tm] in Ironwood, Michigan (upper peninsula)
- Kicking Dave's ass at pool in Chicago (yeah, I'm embellishing a little)
- That unmistakable November smell of leaves in the woods that you get in PA, but never seem to find west of there
- The York Barbell Museum, Weightlifting Hall of Fame, and outlet store
- Whiskey History Museum in Bardstown, Kentucky
- Dodge City, Kansas. Yes, dumbass, I got the hell out of Dodge
- The dump otherwise known as Pueblo, Colorado
- Arkansas River headwaters in Colorado
- The customary stop at the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah

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Subject:	Most Useless Sports Statistic Ever
Time:	9:17 pm.

This is from the notes of an actual AP article covering the Orioles' 4-1 victory over the Devil Rays today:

"It's the fifth time since the major leagues expanded in 1977 that an Oriole has made six starts during the same season against one team."

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Subject:	nosy neighbors
Time:	11:50 pm.

As dumb as it sounds, a couple of co-workers discovered that I actually write this thing. They diligently check it many times a day. Holy moly, I guess I'd better be careful what I say here now. You never know what's gonna show up in their fan fiction. Anyway, I thumb my nose at you guys.

Astute readers and bored colleagues may recall that I noted traffic signal timing on my walk to work some time ago. The city has since tweaked the signals, and I am pleased to report that the timing between the signals is now far more optimal. After I get one walk signal, I'll get the one at the next block without waiting too long, if at all.

There ain't much happening. The days are getting shorter, and that should be no surprise to those accustomed to the tilt of the earth's axis. I only noticed because it got dark unexpectedly early on a walk out to the Sunset Reservoir the other day.

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Subject:	The Politics of Nothing
Time:	11:46 pm.

So, nothing has been going on. In fact, so little has been happening that I decided to do some volunteer work because I'm really that bored. Unfortunately, I will be doing computer stuff. I would rather be doing something like lifting big rocks or giving people funny looks, but those particular skill sets are not in demand in this sick and depraved modern society.

I had some regular service done to my car today. My mechanic's conventional wisdom says that the thing is actually running the way it's supposed to. "No spring chicken," says he of the 16-year-old machine, "But it's runnin' well."

As an aside, I should add that "spring chicken" is a term that I find quite amusing.

Next up for the car is a major-league alignment. Yes, the pull to the left has been a source of constant entertainment, but now I feel that I should move beyond this point in my life. So sad.

After I finish with a few minor things, maybe I should take another road trip. To where, I do not know. It would be a shame to waste the thought. It would be more of a shame to waste the energy, but luckily, I don't think I've worked that up yet.

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Subject:	Notes on Judas Priest
Time:	9:15 pm.

When it comes to heavy metal, there are few bands that define the genre as Judas Priest do. Loud, heavy, venerable. They play like maniacs. They have no trouble playing like maniacs, because they spent a lot of time practicing how to play like maniacs.

Their latest album came out a little while ago, it's called Angel of Retribution, and it came with a bonus DVD. I actually watched it for the first time the other day.

This concert footage is weird. Most other bands that are getting up there in age usually try to act nuts on stage (notwithstanding Ritchie Blackmore, who has always done his best to hide from the audience), for two reasons--to prove that they're still "kicking," as well as making it harder to see just how ugly they've gotten.

Not the Priest. Their onstage antics are best described as energetic as a bunch of dead groundhogs. Halford wanders about the stage like an amoeba (that is, when he's not sitting on his motorcycle). Downing and Tipton just sort of stand there, shoes nailed to the floor, mouths often wide open, looking at their guitars like it's the first time they've ever seen such things. Hill, for his part, does his best Ritchie Blackmore impression.

The best part is that the music is completely the opposite of the visual effects--in other words, Priest play like a bunch of maniacs. That's nothing new, of course--anyone who has heard the album "Painkiller" knows that. It's almost as if they are being sarcastic about it.

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Subject:	bagels. wow, bagels.
Time:	7:58 pm.

This morning I felt pretty bad, so I thought that I might go out to try to walk it off. Golden Gate Park is generally a mess of tourists and weenies during the weekends, but since it was early, I headed there.

Well, one thing led to another, and it turned out to be a goofy 8-mile loop to Outer Richmond (it's so nice there), over to Seacliff (yuck), then back through the Presidio and through Inner Richmond.

The big news is that I found a place in Inner Richmond that actually has real bagels. So hurrah. Really.

The censor now thankfully bleeps out what happened just after I got home.

After being bored or something for a little while, I decided to drive somewhere. I'm not gonna say where I drove. It's a secret that I will perhaps take to my grave.

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Subject:	breakin' the law, breakin' the law
Time:	6:40 pm.

Today's drama was at the bus stop. I was waiting to go to my (great) eye doctor, and there was this woman with her father and her daughter. Apparently there had been some sort of altercation involving the woman who tried to get Pops to get on the streetcar, with Pops resisting, falling down, and then smacking her really hard with his cane.

They seemed sort of desperate, for no good reason. The woman called the cops on Pops, thinking that it would knock some sense into him. Of course, the cops were not amused.

The daughter was very embarrassed, as evidenced by the fact that she tried to stand as far away from the whole scene as possible.

This went on for the 25 minutes that I was at the stop.

Yep, 25 minutes. The bus apparently decided that it had an allergy to operating on any kind of reasonable schedule today, so I had to rush back to my place and drive to my destination in time. On a Spare The Air day. (Assholes.)

On the way there, someone was not happy with me taking it easy on the accelerator and thrust their truck past me at the very first opportunity to pass. Inside Golden Gate Park. On a Spare The Air day (Assholes.)

On the way back, I encountered a Hummer a block from my place. On a Spare The Air day. (Assholes.)

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Subject:	Foggy Stuff
Time:	8:22 pm.

Yesterday, the fog rolled in a little more thickly than usual, so I decided that I might climb some hills to see if I could get above the fog line and take some photos. No such luck for the photos, but I did manage a six-mile Grandview Park/Twin Peaks circuit in a little less than two hours. At the top of Twin Peaks, it looked as if the fog was a bit thinner, but still no cigar. Oh well.

Walking/hiking in the fog is always very interesting. The first thing to remember if you plan to do it is not to wear any cotton, because you tend to get pretty damp. You can't see anything. And there's usually no one else around.

Why is it always so damn windy at the top of Twin Peaks? That mean ol' wind has the tendency to whip your ears and make them hurt.

The way back home was a little interesting because I tried to find a different way than I normally do (that involves jumping off of a wall, and I'd rather avoid that). So I went down this one road that seemed like a good idea, and of course, it was quite the detour. Now that I'm wearing the GPS during my walks, I have the pleasure of instantly knowing just how much of a detour it is. Humph.

Of course, that does not matter that much, since the whole idea is to walk a lot anyway.

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Subject:	Official Crazy Person Week
Time:	7:39 pm.

So it seems to be official crazy person week here. I think. I could chronicle them, but let's just say that it's been chock full of fist-brandishing psychos, droning loonies, and plenty of others from the usual sources. There was a bomb threat in the subway station the other day.

I suppose that today has been wacko-free. Maybe it was a three-day workweek for them.

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Subject:	more little shops of horrors...
Time:	9:34 pm.

Avid readers may recall that some time ago, I bellyached about the shop down the block with an irritating, braggardly grocer. After that experience, I decided that I would direct my pototo chip runs to the store up the block instead. That one is closer, anyway.

Well, yesterday, I needed to spice up some lifeless fake meat leftovers with some BBQ sauce and potato chips, and I was plumb out of chips. So off I went, up to the new haunt, got my chips and a drink, and went to pay for it.

The woman there was in some sort of worked-up state about some bum or something that had tried to buy some booze three times in a row. I think. I'm not sure, because I could only sort of understand about 1/3 of the stuff she was saying.

That left me unsettled, because normally, I'm pretty good at understanding bad English. It's not hard; you just pick out a bunch of things that might be words, interpolate, and guess a little. This time, there was only one part of the diatribe that I really got, where she said something to the effect of "it makes the customers nervous."

So I replied with something to the effect of, "Yes, I can see how that might hold true for an individual who is not a veritable He-Man like myself." And for whatever reason, that made her very happy, so she finally rang up my stuff.

I'm not sure if I've ever seen anyone worked up like that in the past few years. I heard some "I HATE YOU!!!" screaming in the parking lot at Alpine a while back, but that wasn't worked-up; it was just aggressive.

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Subject:	twist in the plot
Time:	10:10 pm.

Oh Full Sail, why must you play the charade of the twist-off cap? I am a veritable he-man, yet still I cannot pull the cap without breaking the bottle's neck. But still your cap says "That-a-way."

Woe. "Woe," say all, except for my bottle opener, for it is happy to be used.

All I ask is that you please be more like Yuengling in this one way, for I know the other things are too much to ask.

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