Aaron Weber

The People Have Spoken

The whole world will go on at length. I don’t want to discuss it. Let’s move on as they say, to figuring out what we can do to minimize the damage caused by our election of a theocratic thug. We’re not as divided as we think— a finer-grained map shows not red and blue, but shades of purple. So there is hope.

But still, the American people have spoken. They have voted for four more years of deficits and economic fantasy, four more years of war and daring terrorists to attack us. Four more years of massive contributions to global warming. Four more years of civil liberties erosion, establishment of a state religion, demagoguery, idiocy.

As they say, nobody ever went broke underestimating the American people.

Wouldn’t it have gone a little sour after that long?

Beer is best when fresh, I hear. And I definitely enjoy it, like revenge, cold. But this combination of revenge and beer is just too bizarre even for me.

Kerry and the Sox

Well, the line was way too long when I went by the polling station on the way to work. So I’ll be voting in the afternoon. Apparently the state rep for my area (Pat Jehlen) is facing a rather odd little challenger in the form of a man named Dane. He seemed nice enough when I spoke with him at the train station some months ago, but the more I learn about him the less I like him. Also Carl Sciortino needs to get elected– he’s running against a rather vicious little write-in campaign.

But basically I don’t give a damn. the dwarf is all excited and afraid. Same with the whole Sox thing– hand-wringing, nerves, pacing. I just can’t bring myself to any semblance of emotional engagement.

Other things that do not wake me from my stupor: film, dining, vacation planning, exercise, shopping for cool new exercise equipment electronics clothing or motorcycles, video games, the existential questioning of Sox fans now that they are no longer the greatest underdogs ever. I’m sure I can think of some additional ones. Mmmm, numb.

Voting Republican

Ah yeah, ethics in politics. Brilliant.

Plus, a brand new Get Your War On.

Horror Stories

I went to a Twin Peaks themed party this weekend. There was a Twin Peaks cheerleader in attendance. The one with the eyepatch. It was awkward because people couldn’t remember all the names of the characters. Like, say, the creepy guy with the flask who hangs out behind the high school. I think that was a costume. This is definitely not a costume. It’s just how Bridget hides from homework.

Locking People in a Box is Not a Good Idea

NYT:
In each case, severely mentally ill inmates at separate prisons died from ”decreased intake of food and water” — they starved, in other words — one after announcing a hunger strike and the other while on a suicide watch. The Commission of Correction was searing in its criticism: ”In both cases, the inmates had been identified as having significant mental-health and/or medical problems and were not afforded the care and treatment that these services are required to provide.” Significantly, the commission’s findings are nonbinding; they are often rejected or ignored.

I don’t know that I can say anything about this: there is no pity, no compassion, and no justice in this situation.

Phone messages

My brother sometimes calls me late in the evening and leaves long rambling messages. Now I’m getting back at him by posting an ogg of it.

Big Fish, Little Fish

I am still getting used to working at a Large Company: at my Small Company, it was a GOOD sign that content was just starting to come together more than a week in advance. At the Big Company, that counts as running perilously close to late.

Items

Great interview with Mary Roach, author of the book Stiff, which is giggle-inducing and enlightening at once. I love the part in the chapter on decomposition where she decides that “maggot” is an ugly word and that for the remainder of the section we will use “hacienda,” which sounds much nicer, to describe larval flies in dead people.

McSweeney’s reconsiders famous films. I like the one on Babe.

Singers

Every game, between the top and bottom of the seventh inning, is the stretch, and these days it usually involves someone singing “God Bless America.”

Last night it was Amy Grant, and tonight it was that guy from Creed, who just strikes me as an Eddie Vedder imitation. I can’t decide which is more annoying.

As a wise woman said recently, “Today I saw a flyer for an anger management seminar. It was printed in Comic Sans. That made me angry.”