So, you’re an adult, and you’re hard up for money, and you’re attractive enough to believe that somebody else might pay to have sex with you. Nothing wrong with that, right? You’re adults, right, totally capable of making your own entrepreneurial decisions, right?
America, home of the occaisonally free.
A Michigan woman is accused of stealing slightly more than $400. She says she didn’t do it, but her employer insists that it must have been her. So she’s accused of a crime, pleads it down, does community service. A year later? The bank finds the money. Institutions tend to be stupid. (Ta-da! Fark.)
In the past few weeks, my beloved Shambler - a neighbor of mine prone to wandering around the neighborhood at all hours, setting off car alarms, eating flowers from my tree - has appeared outside dressed only in an adult diaper. What was once bizarre behavior has now turned sad, and his character is officially retired from the website. I wish the Shambler well with whatever’s afflicting him. Long live the Shambler.
…because if it wasn’t for them, our government wouldn’t be protecting the Pledge of Allegiance from activist judges. Whew. Seriously, how would our country continue to function without a protected Pledge?
And for that matter, three cheers for Brent Bozell, who has found room enough in his heart to oppose Katie Couric’s fundraising for cancer research. Finally, somebody is standing up to a woman who lost a sister and a husband to cancer and then promised to do something about it. Put that woman in her place Bozell.
Here in Morgantown, we have a variety of “ethnic” food available, and let’s, just for a minute, ignore the absurdity of describing food that isn’t American as “ethnic.” We have two Japanese places (one of which serves Korean food). We have more Chinese restaurants than we know what to do with. We have Mexican restaurants, a Spanish restaurant (or, at least, a restaurant that serves Tapas), and a few Italian restaurants. We had an Indian restaurant, where I used to work. Needless to say, I enjoy all sorts of food.
Usually though, I settle for steamed dumplings from the Great Wall of China, a takeout place downtown. One of the best things about the place is how terribly customers are treated, even if we’re regular. For instance, I’m in there at least three times a week, and I never get so much as a smile. If Trusted Source Alex comes with me, sometimes I can guilt them into a smirk. One of the GW’s other fun features is the way the employees look right at you, then turn to coworkers, say something in either Cantonese or Mandarin, and then laugh.
Tonight, I called them to order, and was put on hold. So I was holding for about five minutes when I finally realized that whomever was on the other end was just chatting with something. I hung up on them and ordered Japanese.
I like sitting on my front porch, watching the neighborhood go by. Between the Shambler, the Lady Shambler, my upstairs neighbor who likes to talk basketball, the New Jersey Party Guys across the street, the rednecks down the street, the kids in the other direction and every other weirdo who wanders around, I could literally sit out there all day having a good time.
Yesterday, this egalitarian vision of my neighborhood was rudely interrupted by a new redneck couple two houses down from me. I came home yesterday after buying a backpack - one of those monstrous hiking backpacks, with about three thousand pockets and enough room to tote Trusted Source Alex around - and this couple was fighting on their porch.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” she said to him, loud enough for me to hear down the street. I looked up in enough time to see him backhanding her across the face. Or maybe hitting her across the face with a closed fist. The point was that he wasn’t even looking at her; his first instinct was to go straight for her face.
I went inside and called the police. I locked the door because Trusted Source Alex and Julie B. Awesome were home, and I had no idea what was going to happen. The police came. Maybe they arrested him; he was standing out by the car for awhile. I’m not sure what happened. I hope he spent the night in jail, but I’m guessing that didn’t happen.
Sigh.
To the thousands of you who read the MySpace blog, you’ll remember my neighbor The Shambler. He’s an old man who frequently shambles around my neighborhood in sweatpants and no shirt; he also scratches himself quite frequently, and stares into car windows. He has also been occaisonally visited by the Lady Shambler, an older woman who walks around the neighborhood in a housecoat carrying slippers.
Anyway, he has been missing for the last few weeks; I’ve seen people going into and coming out of his house, but I hadn’t actually seen him. Then last night, he returned! First, he stood in his driveway, looking at the street. Then he shambled over to my side of the street, picked a flower off the tree outside of my house, and ate it. Truly a magnificent performance, all things considered.
Or, as Isaac said as we were playing gin, “You don’t need a television. You should just sit out here watching all day long.”
Let’s start with this: Stewart is one hell of a webpage designer. I had gone to Stewart with a basic idea - that I wanted multiple text boxes to play with - and he gave me this beautiful site. We should all be so lucky.
So why the boxes, instead of the more traditional single column blog? Because the single column blog is boring, because I’ve spent six years working with single column blogs, and because I’ve got some sort of adult attention deficit disorder, which means that I’m posting (or wanting to post) about so many disparate topics that everything I write disappears. Using the boxes for my interests - while leaving the longer, or more political, commentary in the biggest column - just makes the most sense to me.
Finally, the idea here isn’t traffic. I’ve never gotten any sort of significant traffic, and I don’t think I’ll be starting any time soon. So…there’s that.
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