The Dark Side of the bad thing

Just a note afore the weekend.

The MSN home site currently has up with its news offerings a story about the current situation in housing finance. (Next to the usual celebrities dress ugly, celebrities cheat, celebrities accrue municipal bond interest stories.)

The headline reads, "The Dark Side of the Mortgage Crisis."

I gotta say, no one has yet covered the bright side of the mortgage crisis. Think of it. Evil men in bad suits smiling as they kick the huddled masses yearning to breathe free out of their overpriced one-bedroom starter homes. Laughing in glee at the death of another American dream. Tell me their story instead of bringing me down, Microsoft Network.

The joker's always smiling

Jeremy sent me this link on unintentionally funny comics. Worth the look.

Of interest in Abilene

Just got a note that the Abilene Reporter-news is offering buyouts to the older people in the newsroom.
Tough times in me old stomping grounds. Also in San Angelo and Wichita Falls, apparently.

I can't believe, the things that happen to me ...

You don't want to click on any of these links. It's a view into animal so complex and disturbing, blah, blah, blah.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8re7PD5tOA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpDkmWHIAQU
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CgfSzuFD8rw

Some random thoughts after watching this:

• 80s fashion really has held up well.
• Why can't support musicians today smile like they are prancing about misty mountain meadows? It's music, have fun!
• The basic concept of a music video for a guys band: Show attractive lady walking around city with blank look on her face, occasionally switch back to picture of band playing. Some things never change.
• They were English? If Asia turns out to be English, I'm going to shoot myself.
• Has anyone else listened to The Edge (Dallas station) lately? It's 24 hours of suck.
• I always wondered what happened to the Outfield, and then I saw this video from 1989. Oh.

Sorry about the non-inbeds, couldn't get the thing to work. Maybe later.

I didn't start the fire. And I won't be putting it out.

Wow. I must congratulate myself on that title. It's Billy Joel.

The word came through today that I will not be part of the Fort Worth Fire Department. While I still think I could do the job, it's confirmation of what I expected.

A lot of you probably knew about this, either filling out a survey or being contacted as one of my former bosses. That part, as well as the rest of the background check, went really well. Things went wrong in the board interview, the final step of the process.

I showed up thinking I had an honest chance, but it soon became apparent they thought that:

• I was too inexperienced.
• I was too old.
• I was too obsessed with '80s group "The Outfield."

The application process was a lot of work, and it was a job I'd have loved. On the other hand, I'd have felt like slime for taking the job I currently have and then dropping it immediately.

Thanks to everyone who helped out. It was great that a lot of folks out there filled out surveys. Here's my favorite answer, from Todd:

*Please list any hobbies or activities in which the applicant participates.

He plays role playing games heavily. He's got a ring with +18 dexterity and his own +3 damage Axe, so he can tear down some flaming walls if he needs to. Here's a link to a video that shows him shooting lightening-bolts in a live action role playing game with his nerd buddies; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ufaBKdY60w . He also keeps a blog (newsfromhico.blogspot.com) where he shares his deepest and darkest secrets. He’s a little overzealous when it comes to Harry Potter, so DO NOT slander Harry Potter in this man’s presence. His left foot is 2 sizes larger than his right. He has irritable bowel syndrome in one of his ears. He’s infected others with Creutzveld-Jacobs-syndrome though he’s never contracted it himself. He keeps a gimp.

Missing the milk pirate's boat

I haven’t been connected to much of anything since I made the move Hico.
It's weird. Since coming back, and thanks to the fact that most of the people I now work with speak English, I keep hearing references to things that have been in the public mind for some time, but which were flying high over my balding head.
I used to take pride that I could miss entire pop cultural movements. Still.
Here's a smattering of some of the stuff I'm just catching up on:

• The “Bananas for my hands” video. Not really funny, but strange enough to stick in people’s heads. Apparently there’s a whole movement here. I’ve heard people repeating the phrase “Circle is square, square is circle.” And I’ve seen references to the Milk Pirate. Starkly unoriginal, but it is catchy.
• The fact that the most current non-cursing nickname for male genitalia is “Junk.”
• The “Dick in a Box” video on Saturday Night Live. Fairly self-explanatory. Spawned the …
• “Box in a Box” video. Which, besides being anatomically questionable, isn’t really that funny. The video on YouTube shows a girl whose only talent is to have her cleavage photographed in black and white. Turns out she lip-synched, as she explained while she was on Keith Olberman, who I hate.

All I want to do is see "300".

Sigh.

Another fearless prediction:

The now Eagle-less North Texas has made the NCAAs for the first time since before I went there, a long, long time ago.

So, how will they do? The Championship -- they won't win it.

P.S. I'm not spending any money on brackets this year. I'm hoping it'll provide weight when I have to argue to plop down $120 for fantasy football.

Notes:

Spent the weekend in Hico.

As I was driving up to the gate, I found it open. My face fell.

Arriving at a place where you were happily expecting to be alone -- with just yourself, your dogs, and the heavy, unbearable guilt that clouds every aspect of your life -- and then finding you have company is like having an ex pop by when you're drinking with buddies. (Let me tell you ... Eh, like hell I will).

Anyway, my sister and her family have been taking their spring break at the farm. They like to come down there and go crazy with projects -- killing cactus, cutting brush, picking up garbage.

My "projects" consist of taking the dogs swimming and burning stuff while intoxicated. I have no right to complain.

A reader asks:

So no predictions on how far Tech will make it in the big dance?

Unnnhhhh...

Tech has been so unpredictable this year, it's kinda tough to make any kind of reasonable guess, but I'll go ahead and give my thought process.

The Raiders of Red can either:

1. Play like they did during the high points of the year and make it into the sweet 16, or
2. Perform so badly that Bob Knight benches the entire team and plays himself -- using a zone defense that relies primarily on elbows and thrown chairs.

What will it be? This -- Tech goes out in the second round. Getting past the first round is enough to make me happy with this team.

Movies I watch so you don't have to: "A Scanner Darkly."
I expected: A science-fiction romp that played with my notions of reality.

I got: A meditation on drug addiction that pushed my limitations of muttered dialogue.

And another thing:
I don't get a lot of responses, and I feel a special kind of joy that makes my dog wag his tail out of empathy when I do.

Just do me one favor: Not that you have to, but consider coming up with some kind of handle that you can sign in with. I now have three people commenting: "Annonymous", "Annonymous Coward", and "Dave T." I'm happy that "Coward" came up with something to differentiate himself. Really, the rest of you can join in. It's not like you'd be leaving your actual name.

And even if you did, it's not like you have any chance of being discovered. The only people who see this site are the same eight people who have been here all along ... And, oh yeah, four dudes from China.

I don't know what that's about.

Welker leaves

So I work in a sports department, and don't notice this about my favorite football player for three days:

FOXBOROUGH, Mass. - The New England Patriots acquired wide receiver Wes Welker from the Miami Dolphins on Monday in exchange for undisclosed draft selection compensation. -- Patriots.com

Reaction: Miffed, I can no longer call the Dolphins my favorite team.
Second reaction: The Dolphins really are kind of a joke of a franchise, and Welker has a legitimate shot with the Patriots to win something. Hooray.
Third reaction: Where can I get me some undisclosed draft selection compensation?

Prediction:

The mullet will return within 18 months.

And the house across the street will be ground zero.

Aggies at Microsoft

Just read this on CNN:

REDMOND, Washington (Reuters) -- Lost in Seattle with nothing but a camera
phone? Just snap a picture of a nearby building, send off the photo to a database and soon you'll get back a map and information about where you are. ...
The map-search technology required Microsoft to get millions of street-level pictures of Seattle's buildings and landmarks. Those pictures were added to a database and indexed by distinguishing features that can be cross referenced to pictures sent in by users.

Uhhmm ... wouldn't a GPS thing in the phone work just as well? And not require millions of pictures to be taken?

Dumb women in the news

I got my fill of the whole Anna Nicole thing about a week ago. I'll occasionally see something on Britney that I'll laugh at, but, really, I have no plans to make myself an expert.

And, I'm willing to go out on a limb here and make this statement: The vast majority of women out there are not pop culture whores who would crawl over their dying mother to get the best angle for the pretty, pretty lights of the paparazzi flashing on the other side. I'm also relatively sure that most men agree with me.

At least one woman(Lynn Elber), who gets to comment on CNN, thinks that women should worry about their falling status:

The antics of wayward stars can make a sensible woman want a gender choice
other than "Female" to check on forms. For mothers of young girls, the
exaggerated value of celebrities and their wild-child escapades are a worrisome
trend.

She goes on to quote Bill Maher, who says that Hillary will not be elected until the day pop chicks decide the random naked crotch shot is a bad idea.

My first thought here was, does anyone take offense to someone making huge blanket statements that cover 50 percent of the world's population?

Secondly, does anyone out there apply the lessons they learned watching the "Anna Nicole" reality show to their own relationships. ("Hmmm... my wife just went on shopping spree, she must be whacked out on drugs and sleeping with five different men.")

It's always been fun to glance at the tabloids. Most people don't buy them.

But really, the reason this thing stuck in my mind is because of the assumption of the piece -- never spoken: If you're speaking of women and how "society" will react to them, what you're really talking about is non-women.

So: Men are control-freak maniacs who will use the foibles of Lindsey Lohan to bring you down.

Not buying it. I've seen plenty of men treat women like dirt, sure, and I've seen most blowing it off, sometimes just getting out of the situation to succeed somewhere else. I've also seen a lot of women tossing men around like a kid with a balloon. The majority of bosses in my life have been women. Some good, some bad.

And I don't have an overall point here, save maybe that, to look at the Anna Nicole affair and immediately think, "All women are taking a hit here," shows a strange focus in life.

An explanation

Anonymous Coward said...

"There sure are a lot of posts here for someone that is bailing on the blogging biz."

Which is true. At the beginning of February, I basically said, "I'm giving up." And have since not actually stopped posting.

The reason, if you'll allow a little emotional indulgence:

At the beginning of the month, I wasn't in a good mood. Money was short, I was going back into a career I didn't want to go back into, and ideas for posting here were in short supply. So I made the whiny little post that the posting was done for at least a month.

But ...

I got a little Hico time, the job is OK, and I like the people I'm working with.

My main worry was that posting here would be like my other freelance writing attempts when I've been at other newspapers -- once I got off work, I'd want life to be as illiterate as possible.

I'm still coming up with things to put down here. So I am.

My Grandpa told me:

"No Segrist man should ever make a cri de coeur without getting hisself some Hico time."

And then he'd tell me about his World War I adventures with Spanish prostitutes.

I loved my Grandpa.

Life imitates the first dirty movie I ever saw

A couple of hotties are robbing banks.

Ah, memories. It was 1978. The Harrisons next door had this new thing called "Cable". I thought it was useful primarily because it had Tom and Jerry cartoons on in the afternoon. Then the parents were away one night, and every underage boy in the neighborhood was introduced to HBO after hours.

Really, I kind of wax sentimental about it. There was glamor about the way nakedness was presented at that time. I feel sorry for the modern 8-year-old cruising the net and finding stuff that made me curl up in disgust at age 32. (Which means I don't do that stuff anymore, thanks.)

If recall the movie correctly, I hope the modern-day hottie bandits use dynamite and and have a blue-grass tape in the car for when they elude the hillbilly cops.

Cotton Bowl moving to bowl that is not cotton

I could make the case for having confused feelings about this (economic realities vs. tradition, etc.), but I don't: The people who run Dallas are a bunch of freaking morons.

To shrug off one of the great traditions your city has because you don't want to pony up anything more than a financial band-aid every five years is classic stupid.

People wanted to play at the Cotton Bowl. At Fair Park. It was that simple. A lot of people blow off Dallas as a part of Texas, but the Fair Park buildings and the Cotton Bowl are a huge part of how the state defines itself. You could have at least put up a serious fight to make sure the games played there will be above the high school level.

Now, we have another game at Jerry's House. It's a nice place, to be sure, but it's at Jerry's House. Yeech.

Geek confusion

I don't know what to make of this:

//Next `Star Trek' Heads to Theaters// (Hollywood)
HOLLYWOOD -- The long-rumored new “Star Trek” movie will begin filming this fall, Paramount confirmed Tuesday, under the direction of J.J. Abrams (“Mission: Impossible III,” “Lost,” “Alias”).
The script, which the Hollywood Reporter said over the weekend was about Capt. Kirk and Mr. Spock's meeting at Starfleet Academy and their first mission together, was written by Alex Kurtzman & Roberto Orci, who also did the “Mission” screenplay.

My first thought is that the "Batman Begins" movie easily bested the Batman movies, which started out lamely indulgent and went downscale to lame and stupid. Batman Begins though, was a pretty good show.

But it's also a comparison that doesn't work too well, because I can't think of a Star Trek movie that I really hated. Eh, Five wasn't that good, and you could tell Picard and the crew were getting bored in the last one, but it was still decent fun -- probably because you had the same people playing the same characters.

They've all built up good will. I could deal with an overweight O'Hura. Everyone in the cast hates Shatner, but he's built up enough good will with the public to pretty much do whatever the hell he wants to with his life.

So, we now have a movie that won't star Shatner and Nimoy. It's hard to imagine anyone playing Kirk without it being a parody.

Meanwhile, I also thought all the "Mission: Impossible" movies sucked.

But, what the hell, if it shoots this fall it'll probably come out next summer, so by then I'll be needing some Trek goodness.

Sick at home

I have a strange job. I never went into sports journalism. Being the son of a coach, I have too much sympathy for athletes and I could never sum up the interest to care too much about the numbers and people and inside gossip that journalists have thrive on.

So, now I'm an asst. sports editor. The section is almost completely local, so not knowing too much about the national sports scene isn't that big of deal.

Still, because the conversation around the office revolves around people proving they know more than those dillholes on "Sports Center", I find myself going through the Star-Telegram's sports section much more carefully then when all I wanted to do was find info on Texas Tech.

Not much else to say here, it's just annoying. It's also a pretty major shift in brain resources, which is why I haven't been posting much lately.

Notes:

• Couldn't make it to work today, and I'll leave the sick details as to why undescribed.
• Spent the day re-acquainting myself with the way that the vast majority of daytime television has become primarily a kind of daycare for all the white trash jackals out there. The people who patrol our land much like the mob in ancient Rome. God forbid we lose Jerry Springer.
• Wrapped up the TV watching with an episode of frontline that examined the state of newspapers in the country. Basic diagnosis: Bad. But everyone out there knows that.
• I work at a newspaper that doesn't have a press in its building, just a couple of very large, empty rooms. That always freaks me out. It's like I'm in a car and can't hear the engine. The rest of the building is maybe 50 percent full. And we're considered to be in good shape.
• "300." This is perhaps the next movie I'm willing to lay down money and leave the house to go see. Hope it doesn't lead to a massive disappointment.

Thanks to the Academy

Just wanted to say that the last movie I remember seeing was "Deck the Halls," a stinking pile of excrement festooned with holly and ivy.

And I'd still rather watch that five times in a row than five minutes of the Oscars.

I realize that Oscar hatred is nothing new, but, it being that time of year and all ...

Welcome back to journalism

Scene: A smallish newspaper office, populated with a variety of newspaper types. The phone rings at an empty sports editor’s desk.

Me: Sports, can I help you?

Fan: Is this the sports editor?

Me: He’s not at his desk. I’m [redacted, redacted]. I can try to help you.

Fan: OK. Well, I’m a local high school baseball fan, giggle, and I have a question. I don’t really want to come off here as being too aggressive.

Me: I’ll try to answer or find someone who can.

Fan: You ran a person’s picture two days in a row, and ... there’s 12 other people on the team and I was wondering how that happened. I don’t want to be aggressive. Giggle.

Later check, pictures in question include a mug shot that is about 1 ½ square inches in space, followed by a game shot of a tag out at base, otherwise known by photographers as the "quick and easy, I got three other games to shoot."

Me: Really? Well, our photographers usually shoot what’s available, they might have someone they’re trying to get, they might shoot something else, there’s not a whole lot ...

Fan: How does someone have their kid photographed? Is their some kind of agreement here?

Me: If you’ll let me answer the question ...

Fan: Giggle.

Me: Our photographers work with us but generally come up with their own shots.

Fan: I just want to know how this works. Do agents provide some kind of incentive for you to promote certain players?

Me: (Blink).

Me: Giggle. Uhm. It’s kind of aggressive of you to be asking if we take bribes.

Fan: I’m not being aggressive. I’m asking you professionally.

Me: You’re asking me professionally if we take bribes?

Fan: You’re the one who’s being aggressive! I just want to know how this works. You know how radio stations pick the music they play? Record company agents pay them to promote their works.

Me: But we don’t play Britney Spears. (No, didn’t actually say that, just wish I did.)

Fan: So I was wondering if parents of certain players had hired agents.

Me: Why would they come to us?

Fan: To get their kids all the attention of colleges and pro scouts.

Me: Sir, I don’t think that a kid getting his picture in the paper has any bearing ...

Fan: I’m just wanting to know how this works. You’re being very aggres ...

Me: Scouts have a lot of ways of ...

Fan: Because these coaches can be ...

Me (louder): OK. The question you’re asking here is "Do we take money to put certain players in the paper?"

Fan: Yes.

Me: The answer is no.

Fan: (Pause.)

Fan: OK. Now what is your name?

Name is spelled out. Bold, all-caps, underlined and italicized.

Fan: OK, thanks, I justwantedtoknowhowthisworks (click).

I'm not one to welcome warmer weather

As winter in Texas is my favorite season of the year. Still, I pulled out the sandals today, and they felt good. They don't even have that leather and foot-odor stench. Yet.

Beautiful

Take a cannon that shoots beer cans, add a slow motion camera, and you have a couple of the most beautiful videos ever seen, even if it is a beer commercial. I'm shaking, I'm so touched.
http://michaelscomments.wordpress.com/2007/02/16/the-male-psyche-at-its-best/

Heretical viewing

I noticed a while back that blogger Rex recently was recognized on another, more well-known blog, as pointing out a "heresy" episode in the original "Star Trek" series. Sort, of. I get lost in this stuff.

Anyway, the post made me think about some of the episodes from some of my favorite series that would be rated as heresies. Here's what I could remember:

• Deadwood: Season 1, Episode 8: "Al is plum wore out." Swearingen dreams himself onto the cast of "Gilligan's Island."
• Battlestar Gallactica: Season 2, Episode 5: "Difference." Otherwise known by fans as the "Freakin' Light Sabres!" episode.
• Star Trek -- Enterprise: Season 3, Episode 7: "Future stuff." Enterprise moves forward in time, beams aboard the "Voyager" and beats the living crap out of the crew for making everyone sick of the franchise. Capt. Janeway's stern invitation to "talk things out" over tea is rejected via photon torpedo. Not launched, just thrown really hard by Bakula.
• Friday Night Lights: Season 1, Episode 6: "Don't we have a taco stand?" The West Texas town of Dillon grows huge trees on one block, then switches to desert about two neighborhoods over. Parts of the Austin skyline occasionally appear and then leave. And for some reason never explained, all Latinos have moved away.
• The Simpsons: Season 10-Present: "No longer funny." Or relevant. Bad idea to make Lisa the main character. Bad idea.

Hmmm ... And that's really all that I can think of. I need to start watching Lost.

The cold road

So this is parked in front of my house this morning:

The City of Fort Worth has this unusual notion of repaving streets:

1. Grind ashphalt surface.
2. Cover with fine dirt that will stick to cars like moon dust on the lunar rover.
3. Wait two days.
4. Pack dirt with big roller.
5. Wait one week. Tell people asking about the process that you have no intention of working if anyone spots a cloud anywhere closer than Marfa.
6. Repeat steps 2, 3, 4, and 5.

Voila, you eventually have a resurfaced road. I think. I really can't be sure what they're doing out there. Hell, they could be building a block-long swimming pool for all I know. Which would be sweet.

Behold my baking skills and tremble ...

http://sports.espn.go.com/ncb/recap?gameId=270440245

From now on, I'm making pie any time the Raiders of Red need a big win.

Call me Pie Maker

Today I made my first apple pie:

That's right, suckas. Homemade crust and filling from scratch. Don't bring that ready-made pie crust in here! This ain't the Baptist Ice Cream Social and I'm not your 13-year-old sweetheart. Bring your scratch skills or don't come at all.

Some pie-making tips:

• You don't have to mess with flour and cloth, just roll your crust between sheets of wax paper.


• Pie savers are great to stop excess browning.


• I'm disappointed with the luck of the Tech basketball team. They've had some honest chances in every game they've lost recently, but some bonehead disaster always comes up. I can't hope for a miracle run in the Big 12 tourney, but at least maybe we'll get a decent showing in the NIT. As far as next year, we got a far better football recruiting class than people are giving us credit for.

Ely turns 60

And since I’ve been thinking about music, there’s a story today in the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal about Lubbock musician Joe Ely turning 60.

Written by Bill Kerns, who is good but wordy, and he’s in rare form. I take the note at the top that this is the first of two stories as a warning.

I’m pointing the article out just to say that Ely was the first non-mainstream musician I ever listened to. I have four of his CDs, starting with Letters to Laredo. I didn’t know that he went to my high school. I also never rode a motorcycle down the halls. (One of several nifty stories in the piece.)

Update: Here's the link. Sorry.

http://lubbockonline.com/stories/020907/ent_020907044.shtml

The fightin' young'uns of Nazareth

ESPN has a story on the town of Nazareth and its girls basketball team. (link at the bottom, it's not functioning right today, for some reason)

Nazareth is one of those tiny places out in the middle of nowhere West Texas. I point out the story for two reasons: 1) It's a damn fine story, and 2) It's a story that anyone who has ever worked at a West Texas newspaper has written or edited. Town living in tough times, people trying to hold on, facing slim odds. This piece at least has nice ray of hope with the focus on the team. I also think the writer overemphasizes the dire situation. But when someone out East comes to the panhandle, it's a little hard for them to not overemphasize the dire situation.

Hat tip, once again, to Jeremy.

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=nazareth

Actually, a poster of Selena's backside would be fine ...

Jeremy sent out a list with this scenario:

If stuck on a desert island, what 10 songs would you take with you --
ignoring the fact the scenario is stupid. Just a friendly distraction. This is
in no order at all…Jeremy’s list and I know I'll be kicking myself for
forgetting so many...

“Loving County”/Charlie Robison
“You Shook Me All Night Long”/AC-DC
“In My Life”/The Beatles
“Amarillo By Morning”/George Strait
“Maggie May”/Rod Stewart
“Night Shift”/The Commodores
“Sexual Healing”/Marvin Gaye
“Wanted Dead Or Alive”/Bon Jovi
“Two Dozen Roses”/Shenandoah
“Your Love”/The Outfield

Bonus: "Won't Get Fooled Again"/The Who

I don't have the willpower to narrow things down to 10. Too hard. But I was happy to tell him what he was missing:

"Let's Stay Together"/Al Green -- I don't want to say it's sacrilege to not include this, but, dude, it's Al Green, singing, "Let's Stay Together." ... There, I had to take a two-minute dancing break after I typed that, and I hate dancing.

Something by Neil Diamond -- Yeah, snicker all you want. I'm not a fan, but it's hard to get past age 30 without being aware of the guy's talent. For a song, I'll go with the last one I heard: "Forever in Blue Jeans."

Otherwise, I know I'd go with:

Charlie Robison, but I'd pick "My Hometown."

I'd also take Robert Earl Keen's "Gringo Honeymoon" and Billy Joe Shaver's "Try, and try again."

These are mostly top-40 hits, but they're hits for a pretty damn good reason.

Here, with no explanation or order, are some pictures I took of junk around the farm. It's mostly to be thrown away, but I find some of it visually interesting. Also, of course, are the pictures of dogs. The light wasn't always the best and the camera isn't that sharp, so you have what you have.

No more text. Please allow the voices in your head to provide your own muzac. I'm going with "The Little Spanish Flea."

I'm on vacation

Folks:

I'm going to not be posting anything for the rest of this month and probably all of February. Main reason is I've got too much crap on my mind right now and my heart hasn't really been into this for a while.

This is a small message board for me and some friends to entertain ourselves with. Still, I don't want to have to think of stuff to write if I don't feel like it. And right now, I'm not feeling like it.

So, I'll be back in month or so. Probably.

For some news on my life: I've just been hired to take over as assistant sports editor at the Denton Record-Chronicle. I'll be starting early next week. And on that thing that a lot of you just recently helped me out with -- that's still up in the air. We don't need to get into specifics on that for obvious reasons.

Adios, says the evil cat.

Komodo dragon gives birth to many jokes. Also has venemous saliva that can kill within minutes.

Anyway...

John sent me this bit last night with the following comment:

5 Komodo dragons born at British zoo

By ROB HARRIS, Associated Press WriterWed Jan 24, 7:19 AM ET

A British zoo announced Wednesday the virgin birth of five Komodo dragons, giving scientists new hope for the captive breeding of the endangered species.

In an evolutionary twist, the newborns' eight-year-old mother Flora shocked staff at Chester Zoo in northern England when she became pregnant without ever having a male partner or even being exposed to the opposite sex.

John: All I’m saying is I think the dragon’s parents are being a little bit naïve… that’s all I’m saying.

I can't top that, tho professional blogger Dave already has his take up.

Enjoy.

Columnist writes something even dumber than his moustache

To explain for the folks who haven't been paying attention, which will include just about everyone except maybe Coddlemeyer:

In a Tech/Oklahoma basketball game a couple of weeks ago, a double-named forward, Longar Longar, elbowed a Tech player in the face, breaking his eye socket and ending his season. Longar Longar was suspended for two games.

Mike Jones, sports columnist for the Star-Telegram, wrote a column today about this injustice. Longar Longar got hosed, he said.

What, if anything, would have transpired had Longar's elbow whiffed? If he had not made contact and no injury had transpired? If the 6-foot-11 forward had been closely guarded by a 5-10 guard and his elbows sailed over his head? If players from Baylor and Kansas State had been involved?
And of course, what if Kelvin Sampson were still the coach at OU, considering the bad blood between him and Tech coach Bob Knight? That could have really been ugly.
I've taken a look at the replay of the incident several times, as have a lot of other people. The reactions I've seen tend to land on the side of happenstance, that this was just one of those unfortunate things that sometimes happens.

Yes. What if the elbow had missed? Then nothing would have happened.

Also, what if you're so drunk you can't speak English and you drive home and don't get caught? Nothing happens.

Also, what if you're drunk and you climb on a ledge two-stories high and go into the swan position from the "Karate Kid" and manage not to fall? (I did some stupid things in college, ho boy.) Nothing happens.

However, IF you fall off and kill yourself or IF you happen to drive through grandma's front door and plow right through grandpa and the evil cat, what happens? No one is going to take "I didn't mean to do it" as an excuse, you can be damn sure.

Laws dealing with public safety don't give a crap about intent. They are written to keep people from doing stupid things.

The same thing goes with sports rules. It's fine to use a manuever to clear out nearby players, it's not so OK to lead with your elbow at face level. This is because you can seriously hurt people with this move if you do it over and over. Hence, it's big-time illegal to do it. At all. Whether you meant it or not.

* The reference to the moustache in the headline comes from Jones' picture that sadly, doesn't accompany the web version of the column. Let's just say such facial hair would get him beaten up on the set of "Deadwood."

Nothing to wrie about, so ...

I'm resorting to cat graphics ...
http://b3ta.hnldesign.nl/rsc/

48 hours with a blank screen in my head

Sometimes whatever well you've been drawing from runs dry. I got very few things in my head (Ha!) nowadays except for work and wait for job search to pan out. Makes me a dull boy.

This post was originally going to be about water conservation, for God's sakes. The other thing on my mind lately? Sudoku. Finally started doing it.

Somebody stop me. Man.

Let me jump on the bandwagon with ... David Beckett derision

Update: Apparently I got my Beckhams and Becketts confused again. Sorry. But I'm going to take a wild leap here and guess that you really don't care.

I'm actually kind of partial to soccer. Up to a point. I consider it about on the same level of track, in that I get excited about it every four years for the World Cup or the Olympics, respectively.

At least as long as the United States is somehow involved in the competition.

After that, and beyond that, no way, I don' wanna care. It interferes too much with the sports I care about, and I can get downright defensive about the sports I care about.

Hence, when I see:

"The most recognized soccer player on the planet -- fashion icon, tabloid
fixture, marketing giant -- announced a deal Thursday to play for the Los
Angeles Galaxy."

I immediately feel a special glimmer of joy. All the northeast sports media experts drooling at Beckett's glorious arrival and screaming "Big time soccer has arrived in the U.S.", only to be swallowed up by an American sports fan base that still doesn't know if it really likes hockey.

Fun from the Irish

"At a U2 concert in Dublin, Bono asks the audience for some quiet. Then in the silence, he starts to slowly clap his hands. Holding the audience in total silence, he says into the microphone: 'Every time I clap my hands, a child in Africa dies.' A voice from the crowd pierces the silence: '[Expletive] stop doing it then!'"

Actual joke I made in college:

"Yeah, with a North Texas journalism degree, you can get the finest
pizza-slingin' jobs out there."

Actual beginning of a day last week:

"Sam (as they know me at Central Market), we want you to start making pizza
for us."

Ah, the delicious irony! Covered with pepperoni and extra cheese! *

It's a little strange. When I started working in the kitchen, I was disappointed that my job did not involve any cooking whatsoever. So, I can honestly say that making pizza is a step up. Maybe not a step in the right direction, but a good step for now. (Also, I can snarf down whatever I want, so long as it's in sample sizes and the customers can't see me.)

So, yes, if you happen to be at the Central Market, come by and order something up. It's $7 and up for a 12-inch, but it is really good stuff. (So, in a way, I guess I was right, it's a damn fine pizza-slingin' job.)

Notes:

• I stopped by the University of North Texas on Tuesday, and I just wanted to write that, although a lot of things have changed, I occasionally came across something that brought back nostalgic memories and stuff. That's all.
• You never know how important carpet is to heating a house until you don't have any and you're freezing your ass off.

*North Texas is the best journalism school in the state, and I'm where I am because of my own decisions. Don't be gettin' all dissed, yo.

Me and my big fat stupid freaking mouth

Scene: FedEx Kinko's, downtown Fort Worth. It's 7:30 a.m. in the morning. I rush in with a booklet and accelerated expression.

Me: I need a notary.

FedEx guy: OK. (Begins to pull out notary stuff from counter.)

Me (With an expression of relief): Great. Man, I was worried that I
wouldn't be able to get this done by 9 a.m., and I have a really important
appointment then.

FedEx guy: Oh yeah. (Pause.) I'm sorry, but we're not supposed to do
notaries until nine.

Me: But ...

MySpace don't feel like home

My wife’s sister recently put up a page on MySpace (No, I’m damn well not putting up a link) and this has led to some interesting conversations. First my wife talked about snooping around the site, looking for old friends and the like.

She has since suggested that we set up a page so that we can receive all the glorious benefits. Uh-huh.

I really don’t know much about MySpace. I had heard that no one over 30 can have both an active MySpace page and any real amount of self respect. For the hell of it, I checked out MySpace late Thursday night. Mainly I searched for Monterey High School and found ... Garbage. Complete stinkin’ garbage.

Picture after picture of young girls on line for "friends" yet always posing in pictures with a sultry look. (I’m not sure what sultry means, mainly the word I was looking for was "cleavage.")

The boys were worse. Posing in obviously nerdy pictures or with their shirts off and flexing.
Everybody was so desperately trying to convey an image that you immediately knew it was false.

And do you have to put "LOL!" after every stinking sentence? Sweetheart, we know you’re happy from the way every statement ends with an exclamation point and the generally giddy interpretation of a car ride with your BFF to go shopping. Also, there’s a picture of you taking a colored drink shot with your most attractive friends. Really, I get it that you’re making an attempt at a joke here. ;)

Meanwhile, I couldn’t find anyone my age that I went to high school with. Well, almost no one. I found one dude I don’t remember. In his picture, he was wearing a freakin’ suit of armor. He included a video from a Society of Creative Anachronism fight, as if it’ll actually get people to join.

Later, I found one guy I could remember, around page 33 of the search. He seemed to be OK, talked about how weird he was but was kept in line by his wife, etc. On the good side, if the picture he posted is accurate, he’s lost a lot of weight since high school, so that’s a good thing.

Also found a girl, whose name I remembered but didn’t know why. Turned out she was a former Miss Lubbock, and that’s why I had vague recollection. Also explains why she would have a MySpace page.

There were some other people my age, but I gave up about halfway through the results. Couldn’t recognize anyone. Sheesh, everyone has changed so much, it was pretty pointless. I’d need a year book and first and last names.

I don’t know. I suppose from high school there’s maybe 10 people I’m curious about. I get the feeling that they sure as hell aren’t posting there, next to the 19-year-old girl who loves "trying new things when I'm wasted, lol!!!"

Notes

Celebrated my wife's birthday today. She was present.

The woman often tries to tease me by reminding me that I am roughly three weeks older than she is, and I'll always be. At our age, it's like two rocks from the cambric era arguing which one got shot out of the volcano first. I'm not wrinkling my brow over this one.

For her day, I made my first ever baked-from-scratch cake. No cake mixes or microwaves involved. It turned out OK, and the process wasn't really that bad, except for the frilly pink apron I had to wear.

(I didn't actually put the apron on. I was considering what kind of icing pattern I should use, looked down, and there it was. "Get it off me!" I screamed, beating at it with suddenly ineffectual arms. "GET IT OFF ME!")

Mer said she liked the flavor, so it turned out OK.

Otherwise...
Sheesh. Life has been a complete blur since Christmas. Christmas day was nice, but it was sandwiched around 15 hours of driving and not much time off. I've got reams of paperwork I'm shifting through, and before I complain too much, I'll just say my mind has not been showing a whole lot of focus lately.

Case in point: The other day, I was wondering around the grocery store like Elmo and discovered we have a dry-cured bacon. It's bacon, but it doesn't need refrigeration. You can therefore take it anywhere. This will make the next backpacking trip I take completely freaking awesome.

And the whole reason for telling that story was to say that it took me six minutes to try to explain the same thing to my wife.

I've been desperately thinking about possible destinations and times for a hike or a backpacking trip. Otherwise, I'm just tired. The lyrics of John Mayer's "No Such Thing" play in my head a lot.

"Welcome to the real world,"
She said to me, condescendingly.
"Take a seat, take your life,
Plot it out in black and white."

(And go silent when you realize you don't know any more words except for part of the ...)

Chorus
I want to run through the halls of my high school.
I want to scream at the top of my lungs.

... And something else.

Ah, the fall of 2002. Mostly indistinguishable from the other time I spent in Abilene.

A News From Hico Apology

Now that New Year's has passed, and those of us with bowl teams are either standing, mouth agape at our failure or deluding ourselves that a win will translate into success next season -- I wanted to take this time to let some people know that I'm sorry.

Apparently the content of this year's Christmas cards has caused some befuddlement out there. Let me just say that I did what I did in hopes of entertaining you, and most importantly, in hopes of screwing things up so badly that my wife will never make me write season's greetings again.

We all enjoy opening up a card with a sacred scene or a merry little design. Few people expect the inside to contain a commentary on their son's tatoo collection. Or include wishes that they don't die anytime soon or that their dogs avoid gas.

I understand the surprise at this happy time of year. So, let me just say that, above all, IT WAS A FREAKIN' JOKE. GET OVER IT.

And that I'm sorry.

Tech ... wins?

Lordy, to be in Bleacher's Sports Bar sometime within the next week. They'll be playing the game, over and over, and it's not like people have something better to do during the winter break.

Merry Christmas

It's kind of strange that the older I get, the more Christmas eves I spend on the road. Y'all take care.

Notes:

• Dropped Meredith off at the airport today. Will eventually follow. But for a few days, I'm home alone, and you know what that means: Uninhibited paperwork and watching Battlestar Gallactica on DVD until my eyes close of their own volition. I may even hook up the X-Box. Stand back and let the party roll. And otherwise try to keep my life from falling apart.
• My car insurance agent has sent me the calendar of "Beautiful America." (The Onion's list of top-selling calendars included the It'll Do Scenes of Wildlife, 2005.) And I'm not too impressed with this effort. It has a snow-capped mountain reflected on a lake, a picture that I could have taken. A sunset on the beach. Another mountain reflected on a lake. Really, I think we've all reached a level of sophistication that requires more than "Ain't that rock pretty" kind of photo. On the plus side, it does have a shot of Palo Duro State Park near Amarillo, which reminds me that I want to go backpacking either there or at Caprock Canyons.
• Got new tires yesterday. Right now I'm in the odd phase where they stick to the road like glue, so much so that it's tempting to take stupid chances. Let's hope that doesn't last.
• Hmmmm ... Christmas shopping. Gotta do that sometime. I'll ponder that with a cookie.

X-Mas music

I work a good deal of the day in a refrigerator. A refrigerator that has music piped in.

It obviously isn't music of our choice, as such a thing would probably have the kitchen staff at each other's throats the moment someone demanded conceptual jazz.

No, the music we hear has the typical, "Relax-don't-steal" kind of mentality to it. Easy listening (surely someone's pointed out that contradiction) stuff by artists you've never heard of but remain familiar.

And at this time of the year, it's Christmas music time.

I should qualify this by saying I grew up in a church choir.

What time is it?

(Fortissimo) Game time!

I like Christmas music. Or at least the traditional hymns that you can imagine coming out of someone in a Dickens-era costume.

That being said, the vast majority of modern Christmas music would have made the baby Jesus have second thoughts about the whole saving-of-mankind mission.

I speak, in general, of the two main types of recent Christmas music: Chistmas is cool, dude, and My boyfriend just left me and I'm so lonely that the pumpkin pie will taste a bit off this year.

Christmas is cool, dude, had it's highlight with Nat King Cole's "The Christmas Song." It should have ended there. Instead, we have 150 versions of "The Christmas Song" and 1,500 songs that talk about how great Nat King Cole was whenever he sang "The Christmas Song."

"Rockin' around the Christmas Tree," and "Jingle Bell Rock" also get played five times an hour just because they have the words "rock" in them. And, for the first time this year, I've discovered that Bon Jovi wishes it could be Christmas forever, and that Metallica saw mommy kissing Santa Claus. (Yes, I made that one up.)

Meanwhile: The I'm so lonely type especially grates because, while everybody else is having a good time, somebody's gotta dump their depression in the middle of the annual office bacchanalia.

Hence, George Michael sings:

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart.

The very next day, we went cruisin' the park.

Or something like that.

And really, the sickest thing I've heard is a song called "Santa Baby", about a woman who seems to have sexual fixation on Mr. Claus. "Hurry down my chimney tonight," she sings. It's supposed to be tongue-in-cheek, but after you've listened to something 300 times, the tongue has worn through the cheek and is sticking out at you in a sick raspberry.

I don't have some conclusion here, just complaining.

Breaking: Truck That Does Not Move Moves

I got a call on my phone when this happened:

You may recall several postings I did over this hunk of garbage directly across a dangerously narrow street from our driveway.

Well, here's the scene today:

The Truck That Does Not Move did not move, of course, under its own power. A tow truck came to take it to it's proper resting place, perhaps as a case of Busch beer. I don't know why they finally gave up on the poor sucker. Maybe they realized the time had come at last.

Now if they can do something about the damn boat ...

Roasting wieners after 35

Got Thursday off, took the chance to take an overnight trip to the farm.

I still have some unfinished business to take care of out here, thanks to the fact that I will always be personally disorganized – There’s mail, bank accounts I gotta close, and I have no idea how I’m going to move all of my stuff to Fort Worth, especially considering that 3 1/2 of the closets we have are already crammed with my wife’s junk.

But what the hell, it’s not like I can spend all of my time thinking about it, and I’m not going to while I’m out here.

I take the dogs down to the tanks near the front of the place. They’re both empty, except for mud, which the dogs get all over themselves. I walk along the dry bottoms for a bit, picking up garbage and throwing it toward the shore. One pond has an old steel barrel buried halfway in mud. I’ll get that one day. It isn’t today, though.

Dinner is hot dogs of indeterminate age, eaten on heat to eat yeast rolls that never got heated or eaten at Thanksgiving. A man on a budget does what he can. And they’re quite tasty.

After that, I allow myself one Shinerbock, and then head outside to alternate staring at the fire and the sky.

Clear, bright night. No moon out but the stars are enough to see by.

The fire burns down to coals, except for one log that stubbornly holds its shape. A coyote starts howling from what seems like 50 yards away, and is joined by others along the Bosque valley.

My dogs start whining, I go back inside.

Last Sunday was my 35th birthday. For all intents and purposes, middle age. (I don’t think there’s going to be a whole lot of big important stuff left for me to do after age 70, barring a medical miracle that staves off old age.

Starting at 26, I really hated birthdays. But that feeling has started to fade.

Looking back, I don’t feel that longing to return. I was awkward as a teenager and stupid in my twenties. There’s always the "If I’d have known then ..." aspect, but there’s a reason you didn’t know it.

Looking back over this year: I managed to scrimp by in Hico; I haven’t had to take a job I hate (yet) to make ends meet; I still feel pretty good about finding a career I like; and I got married and haven’t managed to screw it up in almost four months.

All things considered, it’s been a damn good year.

Don't get started

This pattern tends to repeat itself a lot for me:

• Person makes some general statement on subject.
• I chime in with some half-assed, generally accepted opinion.
• Person proceeds to go on 15-minute harangue about subject, going into details so tedious it feels like chalk being scraped across the inside of my skull.

Why no, I didn't know that about Beyoncé, thanks.

Newsprint, RIP

We all know the death of newspapers is coming. Here's a pretty good guess as to how it happens. (It's out of date a bit, but still worth watching for the interested.)

Coaching call

So:

• Tech coach Mike Leach is staying.
• Todd Dodge, coach of high school powerhouse Southlake Carroll, is going to my alma mater North Texas.
• Dennis Franchioonnee is staying at A&M.

Once again, Christmas is coming early.

Some quick differences between Southlake Carroll and North Texas.

• Value ratio for cars in parking lot (Carroll/UNT): 10/1
• Carroll has more players able to play in the NFL next season
• North Texas band far superior to Carroll's, but Carroll's could probably beat the crap out of UNT's in a cage fight.

Blog change

I went ahead and converted to the new format Blogpot was pushing on me. No big changes to speak of, but I will point out the blog roll, now on the right side of the page. These are all the people I know who are blogging. If you have something started, let me know.

If we pool our resources, we may someday surpass the 20-hits a day mark.

By the way, I'll be screwing around with the template and other stuff, just to see what I can do. It's still me.

Work blah

It's amazing what work takes from your life. I've been punch-drunk now for a week, and it's difficult to remember when I started doing this thing and when's the last time I had a full weekend off. (Quick answers: 12 days ago, and weekends are meaningless when you're unemployed.)

I do not have a complicated job. It involves taking food out and putting it in front of people who I otherwise avoid eye contact with. Easy, save for the times when the people are lined up around the counter, three deep, all wanting to get something before the Cowboy game begins. Many also want to know where the soda pop is.

Otherwise, I'll spare the details. It's too tedious to describe beyond that. Still, you just come home and the head throbs, and you dream about getting the grilled asparagus and wilted spinach mixed up. And that you take them out before you realized your pants were missing.

Notes:

• I'm thinking maybe the Cowboys got a dose of normalcy there. I didn't see getting hammered by the Saints as a "message" the way ESPN had it labeled. All streaks come to an end, might as well be now.
• Some of you may be getting some strange Christmas cards. Mer demanded that we share the responsibility, I told her there are some things, like a pregnancy, that men and women can't really share. That did not go over well. So I did the cards. Best wishes to all.
• I get the feeling I'm missing something by never having read "Dune."

I'm either going to have to drink more coffee or stop blogging at 2 a.m.

Just saying.

Women: Not as funny, but in tune with other stuff

Christopher Hitchens, in an article that exists solely to piss people off, says that woman aren't as funny as men, and lists some theories behind it. I basically agree with the gist of it, though, of course, I've met plenty of women who stack up at the far end of the bell curve.

Two things:

1. It's strange that a guy who doesn't spend a great deal of time trying to make people laugh would write the article. Then again, most people who do humor also know that one of the most unfunny things possible is to analyze humor, or even talk about funny as a subject. Case in point, I recall one writer once talking about himself. (He was (is) a good writer.) But he also said, point-blank, "You know, I'm a funny guy." After that, I couldn't laugh at him. Don't know, that remark just made me wretch. Plenty of women, however, thought him clever. The other guys in the office just looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
2. Women are much better than men at picking up on the depression of pets. I've heard "You're dog seems sad" many times. I'm usually thinking, "He seemed happy enough when he was eating whatever dead animal he just dug up."

Leave him alone

So, the Star-Telegram has a picture today of a smiling Tony Romo and an inside story on "D-FW's No. 1 Sports Bachelor".

Sheesh. Typical. A man is doing great things with his life and the only thing women can think about is getting laid.

Store

Grand Opening today at Central Market. I just got back from my shift. People out there really love chicken salad. At a level I had never fathomed before. Man.

Notes

I've a had a cold that has wiped me out over the last week, so sorry if I haven't been that responsive on the e-mail. It's just about over, so I should get back to a normal schedule soon.

Leaching me
So Texas Tech coach Mike Leach is looking at the Miami job. I think most Tech fans would be sorry to see him go. Though at the same time, it's good to see someone you cheered for going to a place where they have a legitimate shot (as opposed to an outside snowball's chance in hell) of winning a national championship in the near future.

On the downside, you have to wonder whether the atmosphere in Miami would suit Leach. Lubbock was happy for him to be a free spirit who didn't give a crap about coaching politics, so long as his teams kept getting better. I doubt they'd be as openminded in Miami. (Yes, I realize the irony, thanks.)

My first choice of a replacement is Art Briles, who's doing a good job at Houston and has West Texas ties.

Working

Folks:

In the interest of being bored with censoring myself every time I write about finding a job, here's the current situation:

I'm now a platterer at the new H-E-B Central Market in Southlake.

For those of you unfamiliar with Central Market, it's a place that sells itself as the store for gourmets. And it has some great food, so long as you don't mind spending $3 on a tomato.

As a platterer, I work in the store's kitchen, which makes gourmet food you can take right home to your family. If you don't tell them you didn't make it, we won't! (wink).

Yawn.

My job is to take the finished dishes from the walk-in cooler, make them look aesthetically pleasing, and put them in the display case out in the front. I then refill as people buy.

There's plenty of other stuff involved, but that's it in a nutshell. I spend about half the day in a refrigerator. It's wired so that a klaxon alarm goes off if the temperature goes over 40 degrees. You make think this would be the perfect job for the sweatiest man alive, but he'd like to point out that summer is six months away.

And while I have had a lifelong passion about making food look pretty, $10.50 an hour does not make for a merry Christmas at the Segrist house. I have a couple of irons in the fire, we'll see how those turn out.

Mighty, mighty Plainsmen

So, tonight my old Monterey high school will be taking on Colleyville in the third round of the 5A, Div. II playoffs.

They're playing in Abilene at Shotwell Stadium. Which, while not being a great stadium, has the best name of any high school football stadium anywhere.

If it wasn't for the fact that I wasn't already making myself late for work by typing this, I'd be getting ready for a road trip so I could enjoy some Perini's Steak House and freeze my ass off.

Then again, my presence never did much to help Lubbock Monterey win, even when I was a very dedicated second-string placekicker.

Dixie Chicks exposed. Again.

The headline at the top of the Star-Telegram's front ("skyboxes" for people who know): "How the Dixie Chicks can make '07 brighter and win their fans back."

I don't like the Dixie Chicks. Perhaps you do. Perhaps you saw "Dixie Chicks" and immediately thought about not listening to music. But really, there's something here that we can all agree on. And that's, for God's sakes, don't let Natalie Maines take career advice from whoever is telling Britney Spears to expose her parts of the most girlishishness.

Thinking along those lines, here are some people whose career could probably benefit from an exposed crotch shot:
Danny DeVito
Yoda and/or Grover
The Little Mermaid
Bob Stoops
That announcer guy who partners with Troy Aikman
Rachel Ray, or maybe Emeril
K-Fed's Lawyer
The entire cast of next season's Dancin' with the Stars
Clint Howard

Also, in the next interation of Star Wars, Yoda and Grover should have a light saber battle. That'd be awesome.

A new version of blogger, just 'cause

Every time I go to the blogspot sign-in spot, I get a message urging me to switch to the new version. The requests are becoming more insistent.

Really, I'm happy with this version. It works, and new versions are always tremendous screw-ups I have to spend hours trying to figure out. They also want me to set up a Google account, and while I use them all the time, Google, Inc., also tends to cheese me off.

The only answer: I will continue to procrastinate. Take that!

Snow ... kinda

Here's what it looks like here this morning:
See the snow? There's a bit on the ground to the left and on the chair. Though it's not really snow, so much as raining ice, which some people call "sleet", I believe.

While this is a joke to anyone who lives up north, all the local TV stations have their reporters out at various intersections, all talking about the rain that is ice. The official motto for Channel 5 is "Arctic blast," complete with art of a storm cloud and snow flake. Every public building has either closed or will close early.

Meanwhile, I'm just hoping that I can commute to work today without dying. Hell, I'm hoping my wife can pull out of our inclined driveway without going into a skid across the street, thereby causing the the Truck That Doesn't Move to move, at least a little.

Reader response

First off. As there has been a fair amount of commentary on the Truck That Does Not Move, I thought some visualization was in order:
There she is. Kind of beautiful, in a way. You'll notice the trash bags in the back I mentioned earlier are gone. Don't know where they went, but I can safely rule out at least one mode of transport.

And I got this question last night:

Should you change the name of the blog now that you are no longer living in Hico? Or are you in a "Hico state of mind" while trapped in one of The Big City's suburban rings of hell?

I have given a little thought to this, going so far to come up with alternative names: "820 & 35W", "Eight blocks from Watauga", and, my favorite, "Buttonwood!!" (You have to say it like the Pilsbury Doughboy.)

But I'm keeping the original name. Mainly because it's easy for people, especially myself, to remember, and it does carry the higher meaning that Hico's on my mind. And the hope that, someday, I'll return to Hico -- I just have to work out the details of coming into a large amount of money very quickly. And finding a steady, well-paying job that doesn't involve teaching, in a rural area.

So for now, the state of my dream of a Hico return parallels the state of the Truck That Does Not Move.

She looks kind of sad in this one.

Notes

I hope you fools who like 80-degree days in December are enjoying yourselves. I'm looking forward to the cold front on Thursday like an early Christmas. These bouts of warm weather ub the wrong place make me feel sick. I've been fighting off a cold today, which is bad as I begin work on Tuesday.

Job? I'd write more about the fact that I have a job, save for the fact that the situation is a bit complicated and not settled, and I got tired after describing it to the family for the 47th time. Will write more. And no, it doesn't involve stripping, though I'm happy that's the third thing you guessed.

Why 30 Rock works: It's funny. Why Studio 60 doesn't: It's not.

For a more long-winded take that no one is interested in: Studio 60 acts like a serious drama about talented people giving their goshdarn all, week in/week out, despite the fact that the world is so unfair to them. 30 Rock acts like a comedy about a bunch of lazy-assed, semi-functional dimwits who succeed despite their idiocy.

I'm still watching Studio 60. I don't know. It's interesting to watch massive failures struggle along, sometimes doing something good but ultimately collapsing under their own weight. Also, Amanda Peat: She's highly educated.

Speaking of TV: My current job situation will have me working nights. I lose my TV viewing time. I'll miss it. I was just catching up on this crap that copy editing and a night shift has kept me from for four years.

Turkey Day Surprise

Yes, this rat in a formal dress was running around the house all during Thanksgiving. On the plus side, she really did go well with giblet gravy.

Thanksgiving

So Meredith's family is on the way from Corpus. The house is in various states of readiness, as there's only so much you can do with a place in a given amount of time with a limited amount of money.

I might come by tomorrow, just in case the place begins to feel a little crowded.

Happy Thanksgiving. Eat much.

Update: The Truck That Never Moves: Just yesterday, our neighbors across the street got into a cleaning fit, and brought a lot of garbage out. They then deposited this into the bed of the Truck That Never Moves. So it's farther away from the house, I guess, but closer to us. My best guess: They want to turn the whole thing into a compost pile.

You know nothing's going on ...

When radio's second news story is Frye Street gets torn down. The narrator talked about a muted protest, even though someone vandalized a bulldozer by writing "Satan" on its backside.

Background: Fry Street is to the University of North Texas what any other university's party street is to it. The buildings on the street were recently sold to a developer, who's going to put up your basic strip mall stuff, anchored by a drug store.

I had great times there, but the places were usually a combination of fire hazards and dumps that couldn't make a decent french fry. (The exception being the excellent pizza at the Flying Mater.) We all had a bad story about coming back to class to take a test, suffering from a two-and-a-half-beer buzz and covered with State Club.

The report quoted one guy, who was watching the demolition work. He said basically, "I'm not all worked up, but I wanted to be here just to say goodbye. Someone needs to."

I'm right behind him.

I'm also awaiting word from the cockroaches.

The flippin' bird at the window

I'm figuring it's mating season. For the last four days, this small pecker has been hanging out in front of our kitchen window, flying into his reflection.

He's about as angry as a bird the size of your thumb can be. Has this red comb on his head that sticks up when he swoops in to attack himself. (Not a good picture, but it's the best I can do.) At first it was cute, now we're just waiting for him to kill himself out of stupidity. What was the Jerry Jeff Walker song about the little bird? Ah, thanks Google. The song is called "Little Bird."

Little bird come sit upon my window sill,

Sat there through the falling rain,

I Watched that little bird upon my window sill

Saw my thoughts of you go by again.

...

And then it gets depressing. Here's Kibby, thinking evil thoughts about the little bird that would free her stomach from depression.

Other animal news:

Jimbo the dog has not been eating since Saturday. Found out today that the reason is most likely from complications due to stress from the move. Great. My dog misses Hico as much as I do. Why the hell am I gaining weight?

The neighbors across the street with the dead pick-up that never moves are going for some kind of record:

1. The truck that was dead in front of the house remains there, in the street, never worked on.
2. Today, there was a group of about eight kids in the house's front yard, all on bikes, all watching some dudes work on a motorcycle.
3. The oldest person there, who seemed to be in charge, was passing around a shotgun like some kind of trophy.
4. And at this moment, they've decided they've worked on the motorcycle enough and are trying to kick-start it. The sound is akin to the bass beat you hear from a really stupid car, only completely out of rhythm.

The week that otherwise was the one that just happened

Since I didn't post much recently, here's a very short take on the recent interesting bits:

• Knight hits a kid: You can take a very quick guess as to where my sympathies lie on this one. The most hilarious part -- All of the sports columnists outraged that Knight had taken the kid's self esteem. Because self esteem is freaking sacrosanct to sports columnists.
• O.J.: I never registered more than a shrug.
• Scientology freaks get married: The thought hit me in the grocery store -- Exactly what floats to the top of the milk jug of pop culture? You had magazine covers for Cruise and the girl who's so dumb she thinks this is a wise career move. You had a shot of Brad and Angelina in some third world country, trying to raise our awareness of their awareness. And Cosmo announced eight new sex positions that they had never before printed. Because we've all had the thought recently -- while feeding the dog or debating if five pieces of pumpkin pie is too much too soon -- is "Gee, I could really expand the number of sex positions in my repertoire by eight."
• Job hunt: Still sucks.

Bleg: Any of my computer-knowledgeable buds: My computer is set to do some kind of quick-key search whenever I type e-mails or blog entries. What this means: When I press "S" when I'm typing an e-mail, the "Shopping" option on hotmail menu is highlighted. If I then press "Enter" to go to then next line, I'm immediately taken to the MSN Shopping site, and whatever I've been typing is cleared. Really annoying.

A small truth

The comic Barney Google and Snuffy Smith is actually quite funny ... So long as you do the voices.

Caveat: It's freakin' hysterical if you do the voices on the bus.

"Friday Night Lights" Liveblog

OK. TV running. Me sitting too close. Bourbon and Coke on the right hand. We're ready.

7:01: "I don't hate you Lila, that makes it harder." This line right after a slutty cheerleader dance.
The stupid thing is that they obviously shot this scene right by a lake in Austin, and the skyline just jumped into the picture.

7:05: Homecoming kind of looked like the ACL festival. Sheesh. Oh well. Ah, the beginning sequence finally. The shots of middle America and the soulful guitar. I gotta say it's the best entry sequence on TV.

Old Navy. It's a swimming pool but it's winter and full of snow.

7:10: "Abilene, city of opportunity." Oh God, it's gonna take me a bit to get over that.

7:13: Car scene. They show the car from behind, climbing a hill with a cliff on the left. Cut to scene inside the car: Flat country with a barbed wire fence. Sloppy. And distracting. I'm going to stop worrying about this.

7:18: Interesting. The Ex-QB great comes back with his hat in his hands. Realistic enough. I don't know where they're taking this. I'd guess that they've already figured the plot is too complicated to bring someone else in, so they'll get rid of him by the end of the show.
And where are they eating? There's no place in West Texas like that: New and yet with a cool vibe. It's either old with a great collection of doo-dads and new and serving drinks in plastic glasses. Or a chain.

7:25: Is that Lone Star Beer? Oh, no, National Beer. What the hell is that? Hmmm... Something bad is going down at theis party they're planning. Football players and strippers. What could go bad?

7:30: I'm going to be real, real happy when this injured QB and doting cheerleader thing crashes and burns. Maybe he'll bust out with the accusation of cheating, during homecoming, at the 50-yard line. He will, if he's a real man.

There is nothing inside of me that wants to see the latest Bond film. The movie trailers could be two bald fat guys playing checkers, and my pulse would quicken more.

7:35: Ex-star is refused. I guess he'll provide some dramatics later. Also: "We're three games into the season and ..." They've made several references to the season being over if they lose this. No high school in Texas is playing district games that early. Another detail screwed.

7:39: Well that was touching. (The team motto is lame, though.)

Drink refll.

7:45: So the game is on. And once again, it's shaping up to be a last-second contest. Every game they've had so far has come down to the last minute. They can't order lunch at the cafeteria without it coming down to the last minute.

7:50: Actually, they're getting better at the football matchups. OK.
Now the tough guy is getting all sensitive. Hmmm ... 10 minutes left. Bad things at the party. Bad things.

That nurse chick from Scrubs has made more "More You Know" spots than Morris did commercials.

7:55: Ah. The parties with strippers. Yeah. Have no idea. Sure wasn't part of my high school experience.

7:59: Steroids enters the pictures. That leads to no good. Look what it did to Dolph Lundgren.

Good night. A decent show. Could've been better. Again.

Notes:

• Barring some kind of delay or something weird happening here, I'll be liveblogging "Friday Night Lights" tonight. It comes on at 7 p.m. Don't feel obligated. It won't be special, as I become too engrossed in anything I'm watching to have much attention for anything else. Still, I've wanted to try this for some time, and that time is NOW. (Or about four hours, 19 minutes from NOW.)
• Watched "Heroes" for the first time last night. A relatively interesting plot, but they've made things so complicated that the overall plot maybe advanced by all of five minutes. These shows suck unless something happens, dudes. It's like a soap opera when a cocktail party lasts an entire week, or the "Wheel of Time" series, enjoyed by geeks the world over. I'm moving on now.
• Remember the good old days when I lived in Hico and had no idea what the hell was on TV? (Tear, shudder, turn head away.)
• Got a call from a telemarketer today. They've been non-stop since we moved in, even though we're on the Do-Not-Call list. The interesting thing with this one is that they sidestepped the rule by saying part of the money that you paid for their magazines would go towards a children's hospital. Annoying, annoying, annoying.

Sandy, the silly one

He's just silly. Thought you should know.

Strangest question on a job application (so far):

Tell about your "Favorite Food Experience."

Yeah. This is for a place where I’m hoping to stock cans of tuna after the customers have gone home. The annoying part here: I realize that what they want is some kind of cheerleadery answer with a sprinkling of Martha Stewart – "We had butter scones while antiquing in Provence and it was SO AWESOME!!!" What’s worse is that I have to hand-write it. I can type quick, but handwriting a paragraph of B.S. is strict drudgework. Blech.

I think I’m going to just write-up Thanksgiving at Gran-ma’s, only the part of Gran-ma will be played by Emeril.

And then Grandma, wearing the same glasses she always wore and with her hair in the fresh beehive hairdo she’d had forever, put down the green beans flavored with bacon. "Bam!" she yelled, as the legumes found a spot right next to the honey ham. The macaroni and cheese appeared. "Now I’m gonna turn this up!" she said, flinging pats of margarine the size of golf balls onto our traditional favorite. The whole family hooted and hollered, like utter morons.

Eye candy/Industrial accident

Driving home from the latest round of job applications. On Keller Parkway, just north of Fort Worth.

I notice this truck is pulling into a construction site, up and to the right of me. I've never seen this before, but the top of the trailer is covered by a mesh tarp, which apparently extends like a convertable rooftop.

Like I said, I've never seen this before, but I'm seeing it now because the mesh tarp is extended up over the cab, like a convertable with it's roof stuck between open and closed.

Apparently the driver doesn't know this, as he begins to pull under power lines that are too low.

You can guess what happens: The power lines get caught in the tarp thing, and are pulled tighter and tighter until ... thwap ... the tarp comes unhinged and the power line twangs like bow.

The coolest part: The power line bounces up and hits the line on top of it. This results in a "POP" and a flash as the surrounding air converts immediately to ozone. Cars are pulling over to the side of the road in shock. Telephone poles are vibrating wildly for a quarter-mile down the line.

Sweet. (And no one was hurt.)

Jaret living large

Anybody else notice that Subway's Jaret (sp?) is packing on the weight? Mer pointed this out during the latest commercial. He's wearing a white shirt against a white background, but he's definitely getting a pouch there.

Why do I care? Because, we are all Jaret (sp?).

And now for a short rant ...

My grandmother, half Cherokee and an elementary teacher, devoted a large part of her history teachings to American indians. Her kit included some of the stereotypical stuff: Feather headdresses, gourd rattlers, etc. To be authentic, she could have focused on the Cherokee and any other tribe -- talking on and on about how different they were so that no one would leave the class with misperceptions.

Or she could have attempted to open up the small amount of space in her students' minds that they would have actually set aside for stuff like this. Give them the basics, let them incorporate it, let the interested ones study the specifics later.

The Fort Worth Star-Telegram had a story today about the struggles of McMurry University as the school failed to get the NCAA to change the new rule barring Indian mascots.

I realize that I'm getting hacked about this issue about two years after the fact, but it's difficult to believe it's still happening.

After losing two appeals, the Div. III school in Abilene decided "to hell with it" and dropped the "Indian" nickname and image from all uniforms and scoreboards. They also refused to come up with another mascot. So, for right now, it's just McMurry. (I feel sorry for sports writers having to work their way around this, but that's something else.)

The ridiculous part: in the early 1900s, McMurry's founder was huge admirer of Indian culture and turned the mascot into a way for students to learn about American indian history.

Every year students set up an Indian village, beat a war drum all night, etc. My sister, was one of McMurry's last "Reservation Princesses" -- what they then called their homecoming queens. (Now they call them "homecoming queens.")

Yes, "reservation princess" is kitschy. But a lot of Indians spent a lot of time on reservations, making the best of it. Is there really something humongously offensive about pointing that out?

Why this sucks on a national note: Something that was once a part of everyone's national heritage has been taken away, so that a bunch of morally vain preeners with their head up their ass can decide the proper way to celebrate something.

While they could have just gotten rid of the worst offenders, they instead made the gutless move of telling everyone they had to drop Indian nicknames, and then made another gutless move by allowing Florida State to keep theirs.

The end result here is not that anyone will turn out to be really keen on celebrating Indians the "right" way. People will decide to drop all of it just to avoid trouble, and something that was a distinct part of Americana will be relegated to university library stacks and tourists with nothing better to do.

The "angry" key is pulling me in.

And that ends the rant for now. Thanks for coming!

On a side note: Expresso coffee grounds give a pretty kick the second time around. Something tells me I shouldn't go for a third.

New school = Old School

Reading a review for Will Farrell's latest movie. At the end comes the standard warnings:

Stranger Than Fiction (105 minutes, at area theaters) is rated PG-13 for some disturbing images, sexual content, brief profanity and nudity.

And it hits me. In any other review, I take nudity to mean shirtless women. But not in a Ferrell movie. When Will steps up to the plate, "nudity" translates as "Get ready for another double spoonful of Ferrell's bright white backside."

On Borat

Haven't seen it yet. Really, these days I'm interested in going to the movie theater only if it has a massive battlescene.

But I already feel like I'm going to be disappointed with Borat once it comes out on Netflix. First off, I never thought Ali G was all that hilarious. Second: I distrust comedies that critics love.

"Roger Ebert said it was hilarious? I'm going."

Friday Night Lights, 90210

Thanks to NBC's decision to make this show available via the internet, I've been able to keep track of things over the past two weeks.

As a refresher: This show (or the idea of this show) has been dear to my hear, despite the fact that I wasn't able to watch it until recently. Set in West Texas and about football.

Basically: I'm having a good time watching it. I don't know about every damn critic calling it art. An average episode of BattleStar Gallactica or Deadwood kicks its ass.

The Good:

• The coach. Comes off as intense and believable. You end up rooting for him.
• The student plotlines. The players aren’t a bunch of cliches. (Except for the pretty boy with nice hair who's also the toughest kid on the team. Right.)
• The music. The producers do a decent job getting Texas music onto the soundtrack. I don't say great job, but hell, what other show is playing Texas music right now?

The Bad:

• The coach. His character is always doing the right thing. Any coach on any level out there knows that success depends on massaging the rules. Period. (It’s too easy to pick on football as being the only place where this happens. Sheesh, any band director is aware of it, but whatever.) I’m curious if they’ll explore that next season. If there is one.
• The overdramatic plotlines. The events that happen are real enough, but they play the hell out of them. Hence, you can’t just watch a play during a early game in the season. You have to hear the announcers screaming at their fictitional audience: "I CAN’T BELIEVE THE COACH IS GOING TO GO FOR TWO. THE WHOLE SEASON – HIS WHOLE CAREER!!! – IS COMING DOWN TO THE NEXT PLAY. GOODNESS GRACIOUS!!! WOW!!! ETC!!!"
  Really. High school radio announcers are either fathers of the players or DJs with nothing better to do. They don’t talk like that.
• The constant re-enforcement of the fact that football is really really important. As in, a player’s academic eligibility comes in over the school's P.A. system. During a passing period. Or, the wild celebration in the school when the announcement is made. C'mon, the folks of Dillon do have other things to do with their time. We live in the age of X-box, for crying out loud.
• The actual football. Or the filming thereof. It doesn’t look real. The actors are jogging around at half speed and no offensive or defensive schemes are discernable. Sheesh.

More to come.