I'm Not Dead; I Was Just in LA

Been a while, huh? Oh, sure, I've always been erratic (I said erratic!), skipping 2 or 3 days here and there, posting 4 times in one day occasionally, but never for so long before.



Well, I was in Los Angeles visiting my brother, working some business leads on the West Coast. Yeah, I know being in LA and being dead and being in hell can all be synonymous, but I had a great time there. 9 days, and here's some thoughts, reflections, and events.

• There are douchebags and kind souls everywhere, just in different densities. Never forget that.


• Palm trees and mountain views near the ocean, however, are not everywhere. I could probably live there.


• I walked 2 feet from a bum slumped-over forwards at a crowded bus stop one morning. 30 minutes later I saw a fire truck and ambulance; the medics pulled him onto the stretcher. He did not move and his neck and shoulders were stuck "slumped" straight up, refusing to fall to the pillow, as they wheeled him into the ambulance.


• 30 minutes later another fire truck, police cars, etc. passed through the same intersection. Someone wasn't paying attention and plowed into an LAPD SUV. The ambulance in the caravan paused, medics quickly checked to see if everyone was okay, and then continued on with the first group.


• Last 2 seen at Sunset and La Brea because my brother's poor and got rid of his internet and I worked from Starbucks. Luckily they do not charge rent. Good news: I got my phone to tether to my laptop and use that connection for internet...to actually work on the last day I was there.


• Everyone in LA is not beautiful. However, there is a higher concentration of slim, attractive people in LA. In other words, as opposed to my Kroger's here, I can fill my spank bank to capacity in one trip to any Ralph's in Hollywood.


• With that also comes a much higher incidence of scary Skeletor and/or super-surgery ladies. I can't stand superlips, fake breasts, or forced emaciation. In other words, my libido can fall deathly ill in one trip to Ralph's.


• LA is the only place you'll find a bar coaster selling you on the DVD of the last season of Big Bang Theory


• While there is a large Latino immigrant population, there is also a large Korean, Chinese, Japanese, and other Asian faction in the city. Armenian, Indian, and Ethiopian as well. This means unlimited varied cuisine throughout.


• It also means normal (non-cable) digital stations can be found in English, Spanish, Korean, Chinese, Japanese, and Armenian. There is one Spanish station with Korean subtitles.


• And why can I get almost 10 Christian stations (3-4 English) with just a digital antenna?


• Driving in LA isn't so bad. Scariest part is keeping an eye out for pedestrians and bikes and light cameras. Drivers are slightly douche-y. Boston, now those drivers scared the shit out of me.


• We drove the Pacific Coast Highway about 45 miles north of Santa Monica and my brain is still trying to process the beauty in every mile.


• There is a sports bar called Big Wangs within walking distance of another named Happy Endings. I neither saw penises or received a handjob.


• I realized walking distance can mean a couple miles when it took me 40 minutes to drive 2 miles and find parking.


• I realized walking distance can mean a couple miles when you're feeding a meter and just about every man in the city is skinnier than you.


• Parking is ass. Take your time to learn the signs: there's street-sweepin' curb switchin', variations in how the meters are set to collect and differences when the meters are off (anything from free to tow your ass), and hourly restrictions sometimes in columns M-Th, F-S, Sun that'll make your head spin. Get out of the car and read.


• Double and triple check your flight info. I accidentally got dropped off at Terminal 1, realized I had to be at 6, ran to lower deck, caught "A" shuttle, and traveled over 15 minutes to 6, then upstairs to check in. LAX is fucking big.


• This past Monday I was there when Downtown LA hit 113° F, breaking every other temperature record evar. Yes, it was hot enough for me. (sidenote: I sweat at 78 or so; I like it cold. I don't care if it's a drier heat than in Cincinnati, it still fucking sucked the monumentally prolific sweat pouring from my back and balls)

That's enough for now, yes?

Smokers Should Go Fuck Themselves

[I am a smoker - run through a pack in about a week, in a night if I'm drinking heavily.]

Humana, here in Cincinnati and elsewhere, is saying NO to hiring smokers.

Obviously, over the course of time, some smokers take advantage of their smoke breaks, some smokers rack up sick days and some of those days have to do with smoking.

But as the comments - and my own opinion - suggest, people who are overweight log more sick days too. I guess we need to not hire fat people. And people with kids use their sick days to stay home with their kids when their two-working-parent home would otherwise be vacated. We should probably not hire people with kids either.

I understand the logic, but am terrified at the slippery slope we are working at.

How do we resolve these ideas? How do I resolve them in my own head?

Quitting? How About Joining?

Ricky the Dolphin from e-Reef News

As many of you may know, one of my favorite ways to read blogs is to get them sent to me via Feedburner. Which is why I joined for the pleasure and ease of others (except for the embedded videos that never appear in the email), so they may receive Ricky in their box.

I do not have many official subscribers (hey - now's the perfect time to enter your email on the left to subscribe via Feedburner!), and yesterday I received a cancellation from Feedburner for "Reason 2: Offensive, does not agree." What-what?

How do you read my blog for the regular offensive, often witty, and sometimes even inspired commentary about everything from tech gadgets to local and world politics to parenting to - very often - religion - long enough to say "Hey, I want to see these posts in my inbox every day" and then say "Ooh, that's distasteful! Shame!" Huh?

I appreciate and love all my readers. I appreciate and love all comments, even those from trolls. I'm almost at 500 posts and my actual numbers increase every month, slow and steady. And it gives me a jump to see that people like it. But I want to lay it out, just in case I haven't offended you yet:

I'm a liberal, a progressive. I'm a registered Democrat and will vote for either of the current candidates despite what may happen in the coming months, despite my vigor for Kucinich's reasonable, not-for-profit health care plan and the media's rape of the electoral process.

I believe in god, but not God. I believe in spirituality, but not religion. Jesus rocked out, but he was a radical that went directly against conservative thought of the time and now he's embraced by conservatives who stand for exactly what he stood against. I think all organized religion has the same potential for good and evil and that balance is constantly in flux. I have tattoos and piercings. I smoke. I drink. And when we finally realize that marijuana is not the devil and put it on the same footing as beer, I will smoke the shit out of it. Again. I do not fit in a box.

I think people should have the aid of the community if they fall on hard times but have no tolerance for people riding the welfare wave. I have pity on sorrow but no tolerance for "poor me." I've lived in - and occasionally return to, for a brief hour or two - complete and utter despair, but have no tolerance for depression as an excuse. Maintenance medication in general is an oxymoron.

Sex education should be taught in schools; condoms should be given out. Kids are having oral sex at 9 years old, if not younger. Abstinence programs have resulted in more pregnancy. And that is the fault of the parents. Not one parent, but unless all of us give a shit, it is all our fault. See Violence, Apathy.

I love my wife, my daughter. I love cats, like dogs, and am allergic to both. I love listening to the trees and staring at the clouds, the stars. I love Necco Wafers, Spree, and Penn Station Artichoke subs. I love nuance, irony, and people-watching. I play video games.

If these things turn you off, rile you up, or simply get you pissed: subscribe. You may just get the motivation to fire your own rockets into the blogosphere. If these things resonate: subscribe. You'll only get more of the same.

Either way, here I am. The center may not hold, but I promise to. Regardless.

Soulja Boy's "Crank Dat" Not So Appropriate

As my 11-year-old daughter (and the rest of her 6th grade class) is in love with the song "Crank That Soulja Boy" by Soulja Boy, I was keeping up with propriety and checking the artist out to make sure that it was something appropriate for an 11-year-old. I ran across a fan site that had the lyrics.

From the song:
I'm Jocking On Yo Bitch Ass
And If We Get The Fightin
Den im cockin on ya bitch ass

And then there's the song "Bootymeat."

Needless to say, the music is not appropriate for my daughter. What surprised me more was:



"A Positive Direction for Young America."

Isn't this kind of the opposite of that?

My Father, My Sister, My Uncle, My Heroes

I know, I know. I start building up to that 200th post, I'm soon to be on vacation, and I disappear for 2 days. I don't usually dig deeply into my personal life, but this story deserves to be told.

My Uncle Ken (mother's side), a Viet Nam veteran, has been on dialysis for 8 years due to two failed kidneys. If you've ever had a relative who has had to go through dialysis, it's a sad, slow disintegration of hope and health and quality of life.

About a year and a half ago, my father started talking about and then quickly going through the testing to see if he was the proper match to donate to Ken. He was not, but was able to locate a paired donation program. This is where my father and uncle do not match, but they enter a pool of many other donor/recipient pairs that might fit. If it works out, my father would donate to a stranger and that person's friend/family member donates to my uncle.

After a year and no luck, about 4 months ago, my youngest sister had an inkling, a calling to throw her hat into the ring to see if she would be a match for Ken. They quickly found that she was a perfect match.

Fast forward to Tuesday, September 11th, 2007. My sister went into surgery early in the morning, soon followed by my uncle. A few hours later, my father was wheeled in for his own donation to a an anonymous recipient. After 17 hours in the hospital, all three had been moved through recovery and into their respective rooms. Both donations had gone off without a hitch, and the doctors said that as soon as my sister's kidney was hooked up to my uncle, it quickly turned pink and started producing urine on the operating table. And that's about as good as it gets.

Yesterday my father and sister were up and walking despite the normal post-op pain. Ken will be a little longer to heal, but all indications are pointing to initial success.

It's not just talk. And I couldn't be prouder.