Laurel and Hardy died before I was born, but through the magic of film, my father was able to introduce me to their work. To this day, I still love Laurel and Hardy. They are often imitated, but never duplicated. Their films bring back fond memories of hanging out with my dad, and allow me to re-experience the joy and innocence of childhood... partially through their pure, clean comedy, and partially from my own recollections.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Another (Futile) Plea for the Return of Personal Responsibility
I couldn't help but read this article about some dude in Houston who tried to break into some woman's house for the purpose of sucking her blood. Apparently, it "remains to be seen" whether or not "pop culture played a role in the attack," because the psyche eval hasn't yet occurred.
Ummm... GET A GRIP!!! It is not society's fault that this guy broke into this chick's house. Even if it turns out that the guy is a little bonkers (and face it, you've GOT to be a bit off your rocker to do what he did), it's NOT society's fault. The blame cannot be laid on Twilight, True Blood, Anne Rice, Bram Stoker, or any of the countless millions of people who love any or all of the things vampire. Going with the odds, I will (for now) assume that he's some sort of homicidal or sociopathic individual, which is not the same as insane. This would make him, and ONLY him, responsible for his actions.
And in the unlikely event that he's schizophrenic or something like that, it's STILL not society's fault. That would just be chalked up to bad things happening in life. I'm really tired of people shifting responsibility away from the individual.
Ummm... GET A GRIP!!! It is not society's fault that this guy broke into this chick's house. Even if it turns out that the guy is a little bonkers (and face it, you've GOT to be a bit off your rocker to do what he did), it's NOT society's fault. The blame cannot be laid on Twilight, True Blood, Anne Rice, Bram Stoker, or any of the countless millions of people who love any or all of the things vampire. Going with the odds, I will (for now) assume that he's some sort of homicidal or sociopathic individual, which is not the same as insane. This would make him, and ONLY him, responsible for his actions.
And in the unlikely event that he's schizophrenic or something like that, it's STILL not society's fault. That would just be chalked up to bad things happening in life. I'm really tired of people shifting responsibility away from the individual.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Drug Testing for Welfare Recipients?
Over the last few days, I’ve seen variations of the following status on Facebook. Such-and-such a state just passed a law requiring drug testing for all welfare recipients. Woohoo!! Make this your status if you agree. Six months ago, when I first started seeing this post, I angrily, vocally dissented, but now I’m ambivalent. I should start off by saying that I’m not on welfare, and I don’t do drugs. Whether or not this law impacts me is not the point. The issue I’m really trying to tackle is whether or not it’s okay to implement this type of law, and as I start this post, I’m really not sure what my answer will be at the end.
As I said a moment ago, I have long been against drug testing, for a couple of reasons. My first issue with drug testing isn’t against the testing per se, it’s a fundamental belief that the government should not be able to tell me what I can or cannot do with my body. If women are allowed to have an abortion, which is GUARANTEED to end a life, then I should be able to smoke a joint. Whether or not I CHOOSE to ingest THC is not the point… I should have the RIGHT. The second reason I have a problem with drug testing is that everyone is presumed to be a drug user, and people are required to submit a sample to PROVE that they do NOT break the law. This flies directly in the face of “innocent until proven guilty.” The fact that my employer could require me to pee in a bottle is a mere technicality, and the fact that we allow a variation of innocent until proven guilty because it’s a civil issue, not a criminal one, is unconscionable.
At the same time though, we as a nation are starting to finally realize that we need to change our government’s spending habits. Requiring people on public assistance to abstain from drug use is a reasonable request at face value. In fact, cutting public assistance to anyone convicted of breaking a law is reasonable at face value. But how far do we carry our reasonable thought process? Do we revoke welfare checks for someone convicted of jaywalking or someone who receives a parking ticket? By the same token, alcohol is legal, but excessive alcohol consumption is correlated with poverty, joblessness and so forth. Should we prohibit welfare recipients from consuming alcohol? How do we handle the medicinal use of cannabis in states such as California, where it’s legal?
If we are going to require drug testing for welfare recipients, then why stop there? Would it not be reasonable to expand this testing to people who receive ANY government benefits? What about the low-income working family who receives food stamps? Yeah, they’re working, but they could theoretically trade their food stamps for drugs. What about Social Security recipients? Yeah, I know they paid in to Social Security, but let’s face it; they’re receiving FAR more than they paid in, so they’re eligible for drug testing too. And what about the disabled war veteran? Yeah, he served his country, but now that he’s getting disability, he should have to pee in a bottle like everyone else.
The fact of the matter is, ALL of these seem like reasonable requirements. After all, my money is more important than your personal liberty. Why should I spend my hard-earned tax dollars to support anyone who does drugs? In fact, why should my tax dollars be spent on alcohol? It seems VERY reasonable to me that anyone on the government dole should be required to stay clean and sober… or lose their benefits. And what the heck… we should extend this to kids as well. Let’s make our kids submit to random drug testing. Because after all, if my kid doesn’t see that food is more important than drugs, then my KID should no longer be eligible for public assistance either!
Ohhhhh… but wait. I like beer! What will happen to ME if this is enacted? Sure, I can have a beer now, but what about if I lose my job? What about when I retire? Oh… then I’ll have to give something up. And let’s face it, my money is more important than you are, but my freedom is important than your money! Oh wait! Now I have a philosophical issue… because if I feel that way, then chances are most everyone else does as well. This means that I have a choice to make… which is more important in general… personal liberty, or money? Cash or freedom? I, for one, am going to choose freedom.
Like I said, I really didn’t know where I would end up as I started this blog post. I guess I know. I would really like to know who agrees with me, and who disagrees. So, let me ask a few questions of you, my readers…
-Should welfare recipients be required to submit to random drug testing?
-Should the dependents of welfare recipients be required to submit to random drug testing?
-Should those on social security be required to submit to random drug testing?
-Should those on disability be required to submit to random drug testing?
-Should any of the above groups be required to abstain from alcohol? Tobacco? If so, which groups?
-Should any of the above groups lose benefits for being convicted of a crime? If so, where do we draw the line?
As I said a moment ago, I have long been against drug testing, for a couple of reasons. My first issue with drug testing isn’t against the testing per se, it’s a fundamental belief that the government should not be able to tell me what I can or cannot do with my body. If women are allowed to have an abortion, which is GUARANTEED to end a life, then I should be able to smoke a joint. Whether or not I CHOOSE to ingest THC is not the point… I should have the RIGHT. The second reason I have a problem with drug testing is that everyone is presumed to be a drug user, and people are required to submit a sample to PROVE that they do NOT break the law. This flies directly in the face of “innocent until proven guilty.” The fact that my employer could require me to pee in a bottle is a mere technicality, and the fact that we allow a variation of innocent until proven guilty because it’s a civil issue, not a criminal one, is unconscionable.
At the same time though, we as a nation are starting to finally realize that we need to change our government’s spending habits. Requiring people on public assistance to abstain from drug use is a reasonable request at face value. In fact, cutting public assistance to anyone convicted of breaking a law is reasonable at face value. But how far do we carry our reasonable thought process? Do we revoke welfare checks for someone convicted of jaywalking or someone who receives a parking ticket? By the same token, alcohol is legal, but excessive alcohol consumption is correlated with poverty, joblessness and so forth. Should we prohibit welfare recipients from consuming alcohol? How do we handle the medicinal use of cannabis in states such as California, where it’s legal?
If we are going to require drug testing for welfare recipients, then why stop there? Would it not be reasonable to expand this testing to people who receive ANY government benefits? What about the low-income working family who receives food stamps? Yeah, they’re working, but they could theoretically trade their food stamps for drugs. What about Social Security recipients? Yeah, I know they paid in to Social Security, but let’s face it; they’re receiving FAR more than they paid in, so they’re eligible for drug testing too. And what about the disabled war veteran? Yeah, he served his country, but now that he’s getting disability, he should have to pee in a bottle like everyone else.
The fact of the matter is, ALL of these seem like reasonable requirements. After all, my money is more important than your personal liberty. Why should I spend my hard-earned tax dollars to support anyone who does drugs? In fact, why should my tax dollars be spent on alcohol? It seems VERY reasonable to me that anyone on the government dole should be required to stay clean and sober… or lose their benefits. And what the heck… we should extend this to kids as well. Let’s make our kids submit to random drug testing. Because after all, if my kid doesn’t see that food is more important than drugs, then my KID should no longer be eligible for public assistance either!
Ohhhhh… but wait. I like beer! What will happen to ME if this is enacted? Sure, I can have a beer now, but what about if I lose my job? What about when I retire? Oh… then I’ll have to give something up. And let’s face it, my money is more important than you are, but my freedom is important than your money! Oh wait! Now I have a philosophical issue… because if I feel that way, then chances are most everyone else does as well. This means that I have a choice to make… which is more important in general… personal liberty, or money? Cash or freedom? I, for one, am going to choose freedom.
Like I said, I really didn’t know where I would end up as I started this blog post. I guess I know. I would really like to know who agrees with me, and who disagrees. So, let me ask a few questions of you, my readers…
-Should welfare recipients be required to submit to random drug testing?
-Should the dependents of welfare recipients be required to submit to random drug testing?
-Should those on social security be required to submit to random drug testing?
-Should those on disability be required to submit to random drug testing?
-Should any of the above groups be required to abstain from alcohol? Tobacco? If so, which groups?
-Should any of the above groups lose benefits for being convicted of a crime? If so, where do we draw the line?
Friday, August 12, 2011
An Open Apology to God
Dear God,
Hi, it's me [Evan]. I know that when many people experience problems in life, that they tend to doubt Your existence, or grow angry with You for punishing them. I'm not going to do that today. Nor am I going to ask You to reach down and fix my petty issues. No, what I AM going to do is publicly acknowledge that I got a bit preoccupied with the insignificant little details in my day-to-day life, and became complacent... complacent in my relationship with my family, and half-hearted in my relationship with You. Though I cannot promise that I will achieve the relationship that you desire, for I am mortal, I will do my humble best to pay attention.
Your Humble Servant,
[Evan]
Hi, it's me [Evan]. I know that when many people experience problems in life, that they tend to doubt Your existence, or grow angry with You for punishing them. I'm not going to do that today. Nor am I going to ask You to reach down and fix my petty issues. No, what I AM going to do is publicly acknowledge that I got a bit preoccupied with the insignificant little details in my day-to-day life, and became complacent... complacent in my relationship with my family, and half-hearted in my relationship with You. Though I cannot promise that I will achieve the relationship that you desire, for I am mortal, I will do my humble best to pay attention.
Your Humble Servant,
[Evan]
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Power Change in Washington? Don't Hold Your Breath.
According to this article, a majority of Americans believe that incumbent politicians don't deserve re-election. Though the article says that "only 24% of all adults surveyed in the USA Today/Gallup poll said most members of Congress deserve re-election," the same article said that "56 percent of adults believe their own representative deserves re-election." What this basically means is that "your politician sucks, but mine is okay."
This mentality seriously undermines the idea of a major change in Washington. After all, I don't vote for your politicians, and you don't vote for mine. The ONLY way we will have any major change in Washington is for all of us to band together and throw out our own bums.
This mentality seriously undermines the idea of a major change in Washington. After all, I don't vote for your politicians, and you don't vote for mine. The ONLY way we will have any major change in Washington is for all of us to band together and throw out our own bums.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Tighten Your Belt Already
I’m really sick of hearing my fellow countrymen bellyaching about money. Everyone’s crying about our country’s financial situation, but when push comes to shove, nobody is willing to make a real sacrifice and actually pay more in taxes, or suffer a reduction in their Social Security, Medicaid, unemployment, or whatever. You know what? It’s time for all of you to just shut the fuck up! I’m going to pick on a few demographics, but as I do so, you need to realize that I’m only singling out these groups to make a larger point.
Let’s start off with Social Security recipients. They’re a large, powerful demographic. When they speak, politicians shudder. As a result, Social Security has remained largely untouched, despite the fact that we’ve known for over two decades that current trends are unsustainable. Their rallying cry is that the government made them a promise. Am I the only one who thinks they have a selective memory? How many other promises has the government broken? What makes this promise so special? Has your age and wisdom taught you nothing? Are you still so immature that you fail to realize that circumstances change, and that not all promises can be kept? I honestly don’t care that you’ve paid into Social Security all of your life, because you are receiving FAR more than you paid in. I’ve paid in all of my life as well, but the sad fact is, there’s a very high likelihood that I will never get anything back. And you know what? I’m ready for that! So quit your bitching and share the pain!
What about the rich? They already pay more in taxes than everyone else. Yeah? So what? You are asked to pay more because you CAN pay more. I hear that high taxation on the wealthy is a disincentive to become wealthy. Sure, there’s a certain amount of reasoning there, but those arguing this position neglect to consider all of the super-rich trust fund babies who have never had to work a day in their lives. People who earn a lot of money deserve to keep it? Okay, but the operative word is “earn.” The wealthy may be asked to carry a heavier burden than the rest of us, but they have been more richly blessed as well.
Now let’s take a look at the opposite end of the spectrum… the super poor. They don’t have anything to begin with, so it’s not fair that they should be asked to sacrifice more. BULLSHIT!!! If you take more from society than you contribute, then you have no right to complain. You are not entitled to suck off of the government teat!
Corporations need to shut the fuck up too! I’m sick of hearing them complain about our high rate of corporate taxation, yet conveniently forget when the loopholes in our tax system allow them to effectively pay zero for the privilege of employing some of the most talented and dedicated employees in the world.
The reality is that our own selfishness got us where we are. The big question is whether or not we are going to man up and do what needs to be done, so that we can get ourselves and our decedents back on the road to fiscal sustainability. WE elected a government so partisan that we lost our top-notch credit rating. WE have allowed our politicians to spend money at an unsustainable rate. WE have come to expect the other guy to suffer so that we may keep our little creature comforts. And if WE don’t collectively tighten our belts – every one of us, then WE will collectively fail – every one of us. It’s time to put up AND shut up!
Let’s start off with Social Security recipients. They’re a large, powerful demographic. When they speak, politicians shudder. As a result, Social Security has remained largely untouched, despite the fact that we’ve known for over two decades that current trends are unsustainable. Their rallying cry is that the government made them a promise. Am I the only one who thinks they have a selective memory? How many other promises has the government broken? What makes this promise so special? Has your age and wisdom taught you nothing? Are you still so immature that you fail to realize that circumstances change, and that not all promises can be kept? I honestly don’t care that you’ve paid into Social Security all of your life, because you are receiving FAR more than you paid in. I’ve paid in all of my life as well, but the sad fact is, there’s a very high likelihood that I will never get anything back. And you know what? I’m ready for that! So quit your bitching and share the pain!
What about the rich? They already pay more in taxes than everyone else. Yeah? So what? You are asked to pay more because you CAN pay more. I hear that high taxation on the wealthy is a disincentive to become wealthy. Sure, there’s a certain amount of reasoning there, but those arguing this position neglect to consider all of the super-rich trust fund babies who have never had to work a day in their lives. People who earn a lot of money deserve to keep it? Okay, but the operative word is “earn.” The wealthy may be asked to carry a heavier burden than the rest of us, but they have been more richly blessed as well.
Now let’s take a look at the opposite end of the spectrum… the super poor. They don’t have anything to begin with, so it’s not fair that they should be asked to sacrifice more. BULLSHIT!!! If you take more from society than you contribute, then you have no right to complain. You are not entitled to suck off of the government teat!
Corporations need to shut the fuck up too! I’m sick of hearing them complain about our high rate of corporate taxation, yet conveniently forget when the loopholes in our tax system allow them to effectively pay zero for the privilege of employing some of the most talented and dedicated employees in the world.
The reality is that our own selfishness got us where we are. The big question is whether or not we are going to man up and do what needs to be done, so that we can get ourselves and our decedents back on the road to fiscal sustainability. WE elected a government so partisan that we lost our top-notch credit rating. WE have allowed our politicians to spend money at an unsustainable rate. WE have come to expect the other guy to suffer so that we may keep our little creature comforts. And if WE don’t collectively tighten our belts – every one of us, then WE will collectively fail – every one of us. It’s time to put up AND shut up!
Monday, August 8, 2011
Evan’s 25th Reunion, Part VII of III (Wrapping it Up)
Over the last several days, I’ve written quite a bit about my 25th high school reunion. Along the way, I kept wondering just how long I should string things out. I wanted to be thorough, I wanted to have fun, and I wanted to keep everyone entertained. Including this post, which is my last on the topic, I will have written seven installments of my Reunion Trilogy… same as the number of Harry Potter novels. Coincidence? I think so.
On this, the last installment of my High School Reunion Trilogy, I am going to make a few random observations, in no particular order…
-When I first saw Trinda and Laurie, I thought they were a couple.
-I was pleasantly surprised and mildly disappointed at the turnout. Fifty-plus is a lot of people, but it’s also less than 20%. Those of us who showed up had a lot of fun. I suspect that many who didn’t, are still hung up about shit that happened in high school. And I AM speaking from experience. That’s why I boycotted the 10th. Having attended the 25th, I am happy that I got over my little high school hang-ups. I also hope that what I’ve written over the last week or so will help others get over their shit and choose to attend the next reunion… the 30th?
-I wish that Greg would have gone. I think that he would have had more fun than he realizes.
-It’s kind of interesting that Jim, a long-time friend of mine, lives 30 minutes away from me, but it requires a reunion for us to actually get together. Heck, our families are even buried next to each other at the local cemetery, and we STILL don’t see each other more than once every few years.
-It was really good to see Joe, and it was funny to discover that we’re both computer geeks.
-I’m glad that I could talk Sonny into going. He expected that nobody would remember him. I think that he was surprised at how many people did… and at how many of them were part of the popular crowd in high school.
-Russ graduated high school a year behind us, and he went on to become the band director at our high school. I’m very proud of him. And I think it was REALLY cool when Linda came up with the idea of all of us leaving him a note on the band director’s podium.
-Steve. I can’t say enough good stuff about him. We were very good friends in high school, and life sent us in different directions. Seeing him was undoubtedly one of THE highlights of my weekend. Keep in touch, maestro.
On this, the last installment of my High School Reunion Trilogy, I am going to make a few random observations, in no particular order…
-When I first saw Trinda and Laurie, I thought they were a couple.
-I was pleasantly surprised and mildly disappointed at the turnout. Fifty-plus is a lot of people, but it’s also less than 20%. Those of us who showed up had a lot of fun. I suspect that many who didn’t, are still hung up about shit that happened in high school. And I AM speaking from experience. That’s why I boycotted the 10th. Having attended the 25th, I am happy that I got over my little high school hang-ups. I also hope that what I’ve written over the last week or so will help others get over their shit and choose to attend the next reunion… the 30th?
-I wish that Greg would have gone. I think that he would have had more fun than he realizes.
-It’s kind of interesting that Jim, a long-time friend of mine, lives 30 minutes away from me, but it requires a reunion for us to actually get together. Heck, our families are even buried next to each other at the local cemetery, and we STILL don’t see each other more than once every few years.
-It was really good to see Joe, and it was funny to discover that we’re both computer geeks.
-I’m glad that I could talk Sonny into going. He expected that nobody would remember him. I think that he was surprised at how many people did… and at how many of them were part of the popular crowd in high school.
-Russ graduated high school a year behind us, and he went on to become the band director at our high school. I’m very proud of him. And I think it was REALLY cool when Linda came up with the idea of all of us leaving him a note on the band director’s podium.
-Steve. I can’t say enough good stuff about him. We were very good friends in high school, and life sent us in different directions. Seeing him was undoubtedly one of THE highlights of my weekend. Keep in touch, maestro.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Evan’s 25th Reunion, Part VI of III (The Pits)
One of our Saturday events was an afternoon at the local swimming hole, affectionately dubbed “The Pits,” because the place started out as a clay pit that had filled up with water. I’m kind of proud of this one, because it was my recommendation to have a get-together there on Saturday, after the originally-planned afternoon at the skating rink fell through.
This was designed as a family-friendly event, so I took my kayaks along, with the idea that my younger daughter and I could spend some quality time together, and so I could help her learn how to roll a kayak. The day was hot and sunny, and the water was clear and cool… a wonderful combination that allowed us to spend a good hour or so puttering around in the boats.
One of the early arrivers was Linda, with her family in tow. When I saw Linda Friday evening, she showed pictures of her family, and I teased her about having a litter, because her family was so large. I really feel bad, because I can’t remember her hubby’s name, and I can’t remember if they had five kids or seven… but I seem to remember seven. And the reason I feel bad is because Linda’s husband seemed like a really cool guy, and awesome father. (You should have seen him playing with the kids at the pits! He was great!!) And the kids were just awesome… cute and polite, yet outgoing and fun. One of her boys was riding a little inflatable shark, and kept “attacking” my daughter and me when we brought our kayaks into range. It was a hoot!
Another fun part was the kayak rolling. There was a group of kids, not with the reunion, hanging out at the pits. As soon as I got my boat in the water, they came up to me and said “Hey, can we tip you over?”
“Sure,” I replied, without telling them that I could roll the boat back up. “Just give me a minute.” After I got myself situated, I told them to go ahead and tip me over. I stayed upside-down for about 15 seconds or so… just long enough to build up a little tension… and then I righted myself. The kids definitely weren’t expecting that. In fact, they were shocked that it could be done.
I should point out that I’m not exactly telling the story in a linear fashion, because THIS is when Linda’s family arrived. Linda asked about my spray skirt (a functional, though unfashionable accessory that’s absolutely necessary for rolling a kayak). When I told her the skirt’s purpose, she gathered her kids around, explained kayak rolling, and then I demonstrated. The kids were appropriately impressed, and I was sufficiently cool.
Shortly after this, others started showing up. My wife hung out with Duane and his wife, I focused on Erin, Linda’s family was a relatively self-contained unit, and the rest of the folks mingled very well. Though I was primarily playing with my kid, I did occasionally interact with my classmates, and I spent a lot of time feeling like I was a kid again, hanging out at the old swimming hole.
This was designed as a family-friendly event, so I took my kayaks along, with the idea that my younger daughter and I could spend some quality time together, and so I could help her learn how to roll a kayak. The day was hot and sunny, and the water was clear and cool… a wonderful combination that allowed us to spend a good hour or so puttering around in the boats.
One of the early arrivers was Linda, with her family in tow. When I saw Linda Friday evening, she showed pictures of her family, and I teased her about having a litter, because her family was so large. I really feel bad, because I can’t remember her hubby’s name, and I can’t remember if they had five kids or seven… but I seem to remember seven. And the reason I feel bad is because Linda’s husband seemed like a really cool guy, and awesome father. (You should have seen him playing with the kids at the pits! He was great!!) And the kids were just awesome… cute and polite, yet outgoing and fun. One of her boys was riding a little inflatable shark, and kept “attacking” my daughter and me when we brought our kayaks into range. It was a hoot!
Another fun part was the kayak rolling. There was a group of kids, not with the reunion, hanging out at the pits. As soon as I got my boat in the water, they came up to me and said “Hey, can we tip you over?”
“Sure,” I replied, without telling them that I could roll the boat back up. “Just give me a minute.” After I got myself situated, I told them to go ahead and tip me over. I stayed upside-down for about 15 seconds or so… just long enough to build up a little tension… and then I righted myself. The kids definitely weren’t expecting that. In fact, they were shocked that it could be done.
I should point out that I’m not exactly telling the story in a linear fashion, because THIS is when Linda’s family arrived. Linda asked about my spray skirt (a functional, though unfashionable accessory that’s absolutely necessary for rolling a kayak). When I told her the skirt’s purpose, she gathered her kids around, explained kayak rolling, and then I demonstrated. The kids were appropriately impressed, and I was sufficiently cool.
Shortly after this, others started showing up. My wife hung out with Duane and his wife, I focused on Erin, Linda’s family was a relatively self-contained unit, and the rest of the folks mingled very well. Though I was primarily playing with my kid, I did occasionally interact with my classmates, and I spent a lot of time feeling like I was a kid again, hanging out at the old swimming hole.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Evan’s 25th Reunion, Part V of III (I’ve got Street Cred)
Today's story is one that I can't thoroughly and accurately relay in one simple blog post. But I'm going to, so please forgive me if my words are a bit disjointed...
I know it sounds horribly stereotypical, but I believe that black people are generally better dancers than whites. I KNOW there are exceptions, and this is NOT some sort of value judgment, so just take the statement at face value… I’m going somewhere with this, so work with me.
Towards the end of the first night, a group of us decided it was time to hit a different bar. The building was home to a club we used to frequent when we were younger, but that establishment has long since disappeared. The business that replaced it was phenomenal! When I walked into 11 (I believe that was the name of the place… I was too intoxicated to remember), I felt like I was walking into an actual urban dance club! The music was the perfect volume and tempo for some serious booty-shaking, and the décor was exceptional. Heck, they even had a dress code (but they made an exception for us, cuz we RULE)!
Despite the atmosphere, the place was relatively empty. The bouncer said that they’d just opened up, which worked well for us… more room to dance. One thing I noticed was rather typical of any dance club. There were several young women dancing together, and invariably some dude tried to get in on the action… with absolutely no success. The women would turn their backs on the “player” and pretend like he didn’t exist until he (they) got the hint and skulked away. That all changed when I hit the scene.
I’m not going to make things sound like I was some sort of playboy myself, because that’s NOT the case. I’m a happily married man. The truth was far simpler… I just wanted to go out and dance. Since the wife was unavailable, I looked around for a classmate (or two) who wanted to hit the floor, and off we went. Ann, Babette (I think Shelly) and I were on the floor for only a couple of minutes, when the sharks started circling. Since we’re all veterans of the nightclub game, we all knew how to react… we didn’t specifically shut them out and we didn’t specifically ask them to join us either. But when they tried to do some not-so-subtle grinding, the girls moved closer to me, and the guys got the hint. Eventually, I was the only guy on the dance floor, and even the aforementioned young women, sensing that it was safe… rather, that I was safe… came back out to shake it. It kind of became an unspoken agreement that when the sharks circled, I was the safety net.
Now, this wasn’t JUST a case of me being a safe guy. In all humility, I’m pretty fly for a white guy. In fact, during this dance-fest, Babette’s boyfriend joined us on the dance floor, and she said something along the lines of “No offense honey, but I’d rather dance with [Evan]. Fortunately, Brian understood that I wasn’t moving in on his woman, and it was all good in the hood.
I must say that it was really FUN to dance like that… I haven’t done so for quite a while. And it was a nice boost to my middle-aged ego to be surrounded by all of those ladies. But what I think was funniest, was that all of the guys were standing at the edge of the dance floor, studying my moves. At one point, I leaned in to Ann and said “You know, every guy in this place will be copying my moves for months.” And, by the way, this is the point where I should mention that most of the guys studying my moves were black dudes, about 20 years younger than me.
And when I eventually did leave the dance floor to grab a beer, every guy in the joint – the ones who didn’t know me, anyway -- showed their respect by giving me a wide area of space. Seriously, these cats walked waaaaay around me. What can I say? I guess I’ve got street cred! Apparently, more than I realize.
By the way... there's a hidden moral to all wannabee playas out there. If you want a chance with the single ladies who are out there in a group with their girlfriends, you will NOT get what you want by imposing yourself and sticking your junk in their faces. What you need to do is get out on the floor, be willing to look like a fool, and just dance with yourself. Hell, you don't even need to have that many moves... just get out there and look confident. The women will come to you!
I know it sounds horribly stereotypical, but I believe that black people are generally better dancers than whites. I KNOW there are exceptions, and this is NOT some sort of value judgment, so just take the statement at face value… I’m going somewhere with this, so work with me.
Towards the end of the first night, a group of us decided it was time to hit a different bar. The building was home to a club we used to frequent when we were younger, but that establishment has long since disappeared. The business that replaced it was phenomenal! When I walked into 11 (I believe that was the name of the place… I was too intoxicated to remember), I felt like I was walking into an actual urban dance club! The music was the perfect volume and tempo for some serious booty-shaking, and the décor was exceptional. Heck, they even had a dress code (but they made an exception for us, cuz we RULE)!
Despite the atmosphere, the place was relatively empty. The bouncer said that they’d just opened up, which worked well for us… more room to dance. One thing I noticed was rather typical of any dance club. There were several young women dancing together, and invariably some dude tried to get in on the action… with absolutely no success. The women would turn their backs on the “player” and pretend like he didn’t exist until he (they) got the hint and skulked away. That all changed when I hit the scene.
I’m not going to make things sound like I was some sort of playboy myself, because that’s NOT the case. I’m a happily married man. The truth was far simpler… I just wanted to go out and dance. Since the wife was unavailable, I looked around for a classmate (or two) who wanted to hit the floor, and off we went. Ann, Babette (I think Shelly) and I were on the floor for only a couple of minutes, when the sharks started circling. Since we’re all veterans of the nightclub game, we all knew how to react… we didn’t specifically shut them out and we didn’t specifically ask them to join us either. But when they tried to do some not-so-subtle grinding, the girls moved closer to me, and the guys got the hint. Eventually, I was the only guy on the dance floor, and even the aforementioned young women, sensing that it was safe… rather, that I was safe… came back out to shake it. It kind of became an unspoken agreement that when the sharks circled, I was the safety net.
Now, this wasn’t JUST a case of me being a safe guy. In all humility, I’m pretty fly for a white guy. In fact, during this dance-fest, Babette’s boyfriend joined us on the dance floor, and she said something along the lines of “No offense honey, but I’d rather dance with [Evan]. Fortunately, Brian understood that I wasn’t moving in on his woman, and it was all good in the hood.
I must say that it was really FUN to dance like that… I haven’t done so for quite a while. And it was a nice boost to my middle-aged ego to be surrounded by all of those ladies. But what I think was funniest, was that all of the guys were standing at the edge of the dance floor, studying my moves. At one point, I leaned in to Ann and said “You know, every guy in this place will be copying my moves for months.” And, by the way, this is the point where I should mention that most of the guys studying my moves were black dudes, about 20 years younger than me.
And when I eventually did leave the dance floor to grab a beer, every guy in the joint – the ones who didn’t know me, anyway -- showed their respect by giving me a wide area of space. Seriously, these cats walked waaaaay around me. What can I say? I guess I’ve got street cred! Apparently, more than I realize.
By the way... there's a hidden moral to all wannabee playas out there. If you want a chance with the single ladies who are out there in a group with their girlfriends, you will NOT get what you want by imposing yourself and sticking your junk in their faces. What you need to do is get out on the floor, be willing to look like a fool, and just dance with yourself. Hell, you don't even need to have that many moves... just get out there and look confident. The women will come to you!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Evan’s 25th Reunion, Part IV of III (Waxing Philosophical)
Welcome to the fourth installment of my trilogy. I suspect that, unless you’re a regular reader of my blog, you didn’t think I could drag things out this long. The secret is to think like a politician… use a lot of words to say absolutely nothing. But enough of that. Let's talk about the reunion.
Friday night, my classmates and I all met up at a bar we used to frequent in our younger days. Many of us hadn’t seen one another for decades, so we did what comes naturally in this type of situation… we played catch-up. But how do you cram 20+ years of life experience into bite-sized chunks… and do that several times in the same evening? You talk about common stuff... marriage, kids, employment and so forth.
The problem with talking about this kind of stuff is that some people think of it as a competition. “Yeah, we both have jobs, but who makes more money? We’re both married, but who has a trophy wife?” We’ve been taught from a very young age that success has a relatively narrow, quantifiable definition, and too many of us allow ourselves to be defined by others. I’m going to use two examples…
I hadn’t seen Mike C. for a very long time. I know that it had been 15+ years, and am reasonably confident that it had been 20+ years. We used to run around in some of the same circles, so I was genuinely interested in hearing a bit about his life. He looked and sounded a bit embarrassed as he told me that he still lived in town, and was an exterminator. I could sense his self-consciousness, but was unable to put him at ease. The conversation was short, and we both moved on to speak with different people. What he didn’t seem to realize was that I was genuinely interested in hearing a bit about his life. I wasn’t there to compete and brag.
There was another guy there that I didn’t immediately recognize. This wasn’t a deterrent to me. I walked up to MANY people throughout the course of the night and re-introduced myself. Duane, however, beat me to the punch and said hi to me. I would never have recognized him! But what really struck me was how he carried himself. Duane was obviously a man content with his lot in life. There were people there who had “better” jobs, or more children, or whatever, but Duane didn’t seem to care. It appeared Duane was at the reunion because he honestly wanted to catch up with people from his past.
If you ask me, Duane’s approach to is far superior. The idea of competing in life can only lead to stress and despair in the long run. This is because in any given competition, there can only be a single victor. And, taking the occupational competition as an example, not everyone is cut out to be a rocket scientist or professional athlete, and not everyone wants to be a rich banker or brain surgeon. Maybe I misinterpreted Mike’s apparent unease, but from my perspective, if he’s happy with his lot in life when nobody else is around, then he’s a successful man.
Friday night, my classmates and I all met up at a bar we used to frequent in our younger days. Many of us hadn’t seen one another for decades, so we did what comes naturally in this type of situation… we played catch-up. But how do you cram 20+ years of life experience into bite-sized chunks… and do that several times in the same evening? You talk about common stuff... marriage, kids, employment and so forth.
The problem with talking about this kind of stuff is that some people think of it as a competition. “Yeah, we both have jobs, but who makes more money? We’re both married, but who has a trophy wife?” We’ve been taught from a very young age that success has a relatively narrow, quantifiable definition, and too many of us allow ourselves to be defined by others. I’m going to use two examples…
I hadn’t seen Mike C. for a very long time. I know that it had been 15+ years, and am reasonably confident that it had been 20+ years. We used to run around in some of the same circles, so I was genuinely interested in hearing a bit about his life. He looked and sounded a bit embarrassed as he told me that he still lived in town, and was an exterminator. I could sense his self-consciousness, but was unable to put him at ease. The conversation was short, and we both moved on to speak with different people. What he didn’t seem to realize was that I was genuinely interested in hearing a bit about his life. I wasn’t there to compete and brag.
There was another guy there that I didn’t immediately recognize. This wasn’t a deterrent to me. I walked up to MANY people throughout the course of the night and re-introduced myself. Duane, however, beat me to the punch and said hi to me. I would never have recognized him! But what really struck me was how he carried himself. Duane was obviously a man content with his lot in life. There were people there who had “better” jobs, or more children, or whatever, but Duane didn’t seem to care. It appeared Duane was at the reunion because he honestly wanted to catch up with people from his past.
If you ask me, Duane’s approach to is far superior. The idea of competing in life can only lead to stress and despair in the long run. This is because in any given competition, there can only be a single victor. And, taking the occupational competition as an example, not everyone is cut out to be a rocket scientist or professional athlete, and not everyone wants to be a rich banker or brain surgeon. Maybe I misinterpreted Mike’s apparent unease, but from my perspective, if he’s happy with his lot in life when nobody else is around, then he’s a successful man.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Evan’s 25th Reunion – Part III of III (The Accommodations)
This one’s for Lynn, who said “Go for 3 in one day… be crazy!!! Just do it!! Peer pressure!!!!" But let me be clear… I’m done for the day after this post! You will need to wait until tomorrow (at the earliest) for the fourth installment of my trilogy.
This will cover a topic I touched on during my last post, but I need to back up over three decades before truly delving in. When I was twelve years old, my parents decided to move from Kansas back to their hometown of Mason City, IA. During the move, we stayed at the Sleepy Bear motel. I’ve always had fond memories of that place, but I am also a bit more skeptical with age. One thing that’s almost always a red flag when it comes to hotel accommodations is external doors. In my terminology, this is also what separates a motel from a hotel.
So, when I looked for a place to stay in Mason City, I considered a grand total of three places. I ended up selecting the American Best Inn for a combination of reasons… 1) I had fond memories of the place growing up. 2) It was very close to the weekend’s festivities. Close enough that I could walk, and not have to worry about drunk driving. 3) Price. Let’s face it, I’m money-conscious. 4) I asked my parents, who still live in Mason City, and they didn’t have anything negative to say about the place (until the next morning). I was willing to overlook the fact that it had external doors when I booked for the weekend. Big mistake.
When I got there, I saw that the pool was empty and broken. The front desk staff took… well, far too long… to realize that I had shown up. They fucked up my reservations and informed me that I’d need to change rooms the next day. And my motel room smelled like wet dog. With that said though, I planned to do nothing other than sleeping in the room, so I was willing to overlook the… ummm… minor inconveniences… that I had experienced. I went out and partied like it was 1999. My mom stayed in the room with my daughter while I was out living the high life.
When I got back, I was fairly intoxicated… and by “fairly intoxicated,” I mean “very drunk.” My head hit the pillow and I was out in seconds. The next morning is when I started noticing shit. When I woke up, I discovered that the comforters had a LOT of… ummm… feminine stains… on the underside. The bathroom (which I hadn’t visited until the next morning) was small, old and dingy, complete with peeling wallpaper. There was no bathtub, but the shower still contained a sleepy bear tile. I have to admit, a bit of nostalgia kicked in when I saw that.
Despite the fact that my daughter and I went to bed at the same time, I was up before her. So I left the motel and started my day. On my way out, I noticed that not only was the pool empty, it was downright TRASHED. I also saw that two of the prime first-floor rooms had become storage rooms. The curtains were not closed, and the rooms were in a major state of disrepair. But the capstone was probably when I saw too guys rolling “something” in Zig Zag rolling papers, right in the parking lot. Okay, that wasn’t the… ummm… lowlight.
At this point, I will remind you (from my earlier posts) that my wife met me in Mason City on Saturday. When we got back to the hotel, she saw a guy smoking from what she’s sure was a crack pipe, on the second floor balcony of his room.
We immediately cancelled our remaining night at the American Best, and moved to the Quality Inn. It was shortly after this that my dad told me that the American Best had a seedy reputation in town. Umm… thanks, dad, for telling me this when I originally asked!!
So, the moral of this story is that, unless you’re a crack whore, you should avoid the Mason City, Iowa American Best Inn motel at all costs. It really sucked.
This will cover a topic I touched on during my last post, but I need to back up over three decades before truly delving in. When I was twelve years old, my parents decided to move from Kansas back to their hometown of Mason City, IA. During the move, we stayed at the Sleepy Bear motel. I’ve always had fond memories of that place, but I am also a bit more skeptical with age. One thing that’s almost always a red flag when it comes to hotel accommodations is external doors. In my terminology, this is also what separates a motel from a hotel.
So, when I looked for a place to stay in Mason City, I considered a grand total of three places. I ended up selecting the American Best Inn for a combination of reasons… 1) I had fond memories of the place growing up. 2) It was very close to the weekend’s festivities. Close enough that I could walk, and not have to worry about drunk driving. 3) Price. Let’s face it, I’m money-conscious. 4) I asked my parents, who still live in Mason City, and they didn’t have anything negative to say about the place (until the next morning). I was willing to overlook the fact that it had external doors when I booked for the weekend. Big mistake.
When I got there, I saw that the pool was empty and broken. The front desk staff took… well, far too long… to realize that I had shown up. They fucked up my reservations and informed me that I’d need to change rooms the next day. And my motel room smelled like wet dog. With that said though, I planned to do nothing other than sleeping in the room, so I was willing to overlook the… ummm… minor inconveniences… that I had experienced. I went out and partied like it was 1999. My mom stayed in the room with my daughter while I was out living the high life.
When I got back, I was fairly intoxicated… and by “fairly intoxicated,” I mean “very drunk.” My head hit the pillow and I was out in seconds. The next morning is when I started noticing shit. When I woke up, I discovered that the comforters had a LOT of… ummm… feminine stains… on the underside. The bathroom (which I hadn’t visited until the next morning) was small, old and dingy, complete with peeling wallpaper. There was no bathtub, but the shower still contained a sleepy bear tile. I have to admit, a bit of nostalgia kicked in when I saw that.
Despite the fact that my daughter and I went to bed at the same time, I was up before her. So I left the motel and started my day. On my way out, I noticed that not only was the pool empty, it was downright TRASHED. I also saw that two of the prime first-floor rooms had become storage rooms. The curtains were not closed, and the rooms were in a major state of disrepair. But the capstone was probably when I saw too guys rolling “something” in Zig Zag rolling papers, right in the parking lot. Okay, that wasn’t the… ummm… lowlight.
At this point, I will remind you (from my earlier posts) that my wife met me in Mason City on Saturday. When we got back to the hotel, she saw a guy smoking from what she’s sure was a crack pipe, on the second floor balcony of his room.
We immediately cancelled our remaining night at the American Best, and moved to the Quality Inn. It was shortly after this that my dad told me that the American Best had a seedy reputation in town. Umm… thanks, dad, for telling me this when I originally asked!!
So, the moral of this story is that, unless you’re a crack whore, you should avoid the Mason City, Iowa American Best Inn motel at all costs. It really sucked.
Evan’s 25th Reunion, Part II of III (The Arrival)
I’m going to do something I don’t ordinarily do… a second blog post in a single day. I’m doing this ONLY because Gina, one of my classmates, said that she couldn’t stand the suspense. (Okay, that and because I have the day off.)
I have to admit, I was looking forward to my class reunion long before the actual event. In addition to seeing some of my classmates for the first time in a quarter century, I was also giving my life a mash-up… introducing my wife and younger daughter to people from my past. It’s always interesting when my past meets my present. My original plan for Friday was to drive up, register at the motel (which is a story unto itself), eat, and hit the first night of the reunion. The first hiccup of the weekend occurred when my wife called me at about 4:00, saying that she got hit with a last-minute task, and there was no way that we could all leave on time. Being light on my feet, I took it in stride and said that there were three options… we all three leave home a bit later, that she meets us later at the reunion, or that she flakes out altogether. She ended up meeting me the next morning, and I let my younger daughter (who is 14) make the drive up.
Once we got to town, I registered at the motel. The motel was MUCH more run-down than I remember it. But then again, the last time I’d stayed there was 30 years ago. I’ve got to say, my entire graduating class has aged far more gracefully than that motel. The room – nay, the motel in general – sucked so bad that we checked out after one night and moved to a different place. I don’t remember the last time I’ve done that. In fact, I don’t think I’ve EVER done that.
Okay, Gina, I will end your suspense now, and actually say something about the reunion. My overall impression was that we’d aged well, that the stereotypical high school drama was conspicuously absent, and that we all interacted well with one another based on who we are today, not who we were in high school. This exceeded my wildest expectations. More about that in my next installment.
I have to admit, I was looking forward to my class reunion long before the actual event. In addition to seeing some of my classmates for the first time in a quarter century, I was also giving my life a mash-up… introducing my wife and younger daughter to people from my past. It’s always interesting when my past meets my present. My original plan for Friday was to drive up, register at the motel (which is a story unto itself), eat, and hit the first night of the reunion. The first hiccup of the weekend occurred when my wife called me at about 4:00, saying that she got hit with a last-minute task, and there was no way that we could all leave on time. Being light on my feet, I took it in stride and said that there were three options… we all three leave home a bit later, that she meets us later at the reunion, or that she flakes out altogether. She ended up meeting me the next morning, and I let my younger daughter (who is 14) make the drive up.
Once we got to town, I registered at the motel. The motel was MUCH more run-down than I remember it. But then again, the last time I’d stayed there was 30 years ago. I’ve got to say, my entire graduating class has aged far more gracefully than that motel. The room – nay, the motel in general – sucked so bad that we checked out after one night and moved to a different place. I don’t remember the last time I’ve done that. In fact, I don’t think I’ve EVER done that.
Okay, Gina, I will end your suspense now, and actually say something about the reunion. My overall impression was that we’d aged well, that the stereotypical high school drama was conspicuously absent, and that we all interacted well with one another based on who we are today, not who we were in high school. This exceeded my wildest expectations. More about that in my next installment.
Evan’s 25th Reunion, Part I of III (The Forward)
As the title suggests, I’ve decided to write about my 25th class reunion in a series of posts. Let me say from the outset that I pulled the number three out of thin air. I’m writing this on the fly, so I don’t know exactly how many parts this story will contain in the end. I do, however, suspect that it will be more than three, which means that I could theoretically end up writing “Evan’s 25th Reunion, part X of III.” Hey, it’s my blog, so they’re my rules.
I chose to break my experience into several posts for many reasons. You may have noticed that I don’t do daily posts like I used to, and this is an opportunity for me to get a lot of mileage out of one event… kind of like how the media got weeks’ worth of fodder over the government’s stupid, self-induced budget crisis. Furthermore, real life keeps me busy enough that it’s difficult to sit down and write an entire story in one sitting, even on weekends. And even if I did have enough time, I’d probably be too lazy to do it. Besides, let’s face it… we all live in the internet age, which means that our collective attention span is significantly shorter than it used to be. Therefore, if I had chosen to write a single long post, the chances of anyone reading my words start to finish are virtually zero. So why bother? In fact, I’ve decided that I’m going to end today’s post now. After all, I wouldn’t want to lose anybody. (And I get to draw things out for an entire extra day.)
I chose to break my experience into several posts for many reasons. You may have noticed that I don’t do daily posts like I used to, and this is an opportunity for me to get a lot of mileage out of one event… kind of like how the media got weeks’ worth of fodder over the government’s stupid, self-induced budget crisis. Furthermore, real life keeps me busy enough that it’s difficult to sit down and write an entire story in one sitting, even on weekends. And even if I did have enough time, I’d probably be too lazy to do it. Besides, let’s face it… we all live in the internet age, which means that our collective attention span is significantly shorter than it used to be. Therefore, if I had chosen to write a single long post, the chances of anyone reading my words start to finish are virtually zero. So why bother? In fact, I’ve decided that I’m going to end today’s post now. After all, I wouldn’t want to lose anybody. (And I get to draw things out for an entire extra day.)
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