Category Archives: Bowling

Bowling, Derrick, Movies, Music, Road Trip, Self-Portrait

Tell My Friend Willie Brown

I have a week chock full of fun activities, but I think one might stand above all the others. Tonight Derrick and I are having a little bonding time by watching Crossroads.

If you instantly thought of the Britney Spears movie, you are not my friend. Please erase my e-mail from your address book. Delete my phone number from your cell phone. Unless, you are willing to learn. Then you can remain my friend, but you may have to make amends for your sin.

Those of you that instantly thought of the 1986 Walter Hill classic, good job. You get a gold star and might get a birthday present from me if you meet the rest of the birthday present getting criteria.

This movie is so sweet that it even eclipses the other events from this week.


05-07-08

I got this wad of cash last night at the bowling league awards ceremony. Yes ladies and gentleman, that is what 38 smackers looks like.

But even getting money is eclipsed by Crossroads.


05-07-08
New Road Trip Hat

I’m even going on two road trips this week to break in my new Road Trip Hat. The Big Jesus Road Trip on Friday. Then on Saturday I’m going on The Cardiff Giant Road Trip. The Cardiff Giant Road Trip had taken on a bit of an added dimension after some information I received last Wednesday. I don’t want too give too much away, but think “Gypsum Penis”. At least if I correctly deducted what the term “modest” was meant to insinuate.

I’m also going to see Chicago on Thursday at Stephens.

Plus, I’m having supper tomorrow night at Jimmy’s Barbecue.

If that isn’t enough, there is serving food for the Mother-Daughter banquet on Saturday night.

Of course there is the traditional Mother’s Day Barbecue on Sunday.

Yet they are all eclipsed by tonight’s viewing of Crossroads.

Derrick recently went down to the home of Delta Blues for a 3 or 4 day extensive training session with Peavey in Meridian, Mississippi. I gave him the mission of either getting a Mississippi String Tie (which is what a bluesman wears in Mississippi) or at least making it to Highway 61.

The folks at Peavey kept him so busy that he never accomplished either mission. In fact the only time he was free from them he made a trip to a gas station. He did report to me that they served catfish at this gas station. We both agree that Gas Station Catfish would make either a great song or album title.

I thought I would just share some of my favorite scenes from Crossroads.



The Crossroads


“Where I come from, you don’t blow no harp, you don’t get no pussy.”


Highway 61


Mississippi Blues Tie


“Look at this old guitar here you been squeakin’ on. I bet you saw this thing in a music store and bought it just because you thought it was beat up! Well you got it all wrong. Muddy Waters invented electricity.”


“Where you learn to play them pussy chords, in music school?… Now if you spend as much time with your hands on them strings as you do on this girl’s ass, you might get somewhere.”


“Lots of towns… Lots of songs… Lots of women… Good times… Bad times… Only thing I wanted anyone to say is… ‘He could really play… He was good’.”


The Crossroads Again.


The Devil’s Guitarist.


The Guitar Battle.

Now that is a movie. I’m already getting me some of them Crossroads Blues:

I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees
I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees
Asked the Lord above, have mercy now, save poor Bob if you please

Standin’ at the crossroads, tried to flag a ride
Whee-hee, I tried to flag a ride
Didn’t nobody seem to know me, everybody pass me by

Standin’ at the crossroads, risin’ sun goin’ down
Standin’ at the crossroads baby, the risin’ sun goin’ down
I believe to my soul now, po’ Bob is sinkin’ down

You can run, you can run, tell my friend Willie Brown
You can run, you can run, tell my friend Willie Brown
That I got the crossroad blues this mornin’, Lord, baby I’m sinkin’ down

I went to the crossroad, mama, I looked east and west
I went to the crossroad, babe, I looked east and west
Lord, I didn’t have no sweet woman, ooh well, babe, in my distress

Bowling

Tale from the Imperial

Last night when I got to bowling I was surprised to see the guy (Rich) that said the previous week was his last week because he had violated his probation and was being sent away to treatment. So I asked him why he was there and not in treatment.

He wasn’t in treatment because when he went to treatment they told him that they couldn’t accept him because he was on anti-depressants. Now he has 2 weeks to wait and then they send him to a different treatment center.

Then he went up to the bar and bought a pitcher of beer, for himself.

He took two drinks from it. Then his phone rang. It was his wife.

She told him that his Parole Officer had just came to their house to give him a breathalyser test to make sure he was sober. The Parole Officer was now on his way to the bowling alley to administer the same test there.

He slid the pitcher of beer over to his friend (Steve) and went up and bought a Pepsi.

A few minutes later the Parole Officer showed up and took him outside to give him the test. He passed, but only because his wife had called him.

This has been an interesting bowling season.

Animals, Bowling, Macro, Work

Texture

Our bowling team has been making a bit of run as of late. Two weeks ago we won 21 of 24 points. Then last night we won 19 of 24 points. We’ve pushed our way all the way from nearly last place to 5th place. We might even be higher when the standings come out next week.

On Monday night we were dealt another blow. We lost another team member for the remainder of the season. I didn’t quite catch all the details, but one of our team members violated their probation and now they have to go away. However, it didn’t sound like he was going to prison. He kept using the word treatment.

The good news is that a bowling phenom just moved back to the area from Arizona. Now all we have to do is convince him that he needs to join our team.

While I have been avoiding the cold weather this winter I’ve been trying to figure out ways to add texture to my images. This search has caused me to make the image below while I was testing a scanner at work a few days ago.




I do love getting play with scanners at work. I just wish I got more time with them.

Bowling, Mark, Nader, Nate, Sara, Willy

Moandays

Sitting on the Dock of the Bay

I find myself suddenly surrounded by world travelers. Sara left for Panama on Thursday. Nader is heading to London in a few weeks. Willy is visiting Peru (most likely) in a couple of months. Me? I think Des Moines is the furthest I’ve traveled this year. Wow, that suddenly seems really pathetic.

I got an e-mail from Mark on Monday. He sent me a couple of pictures from his recent trip to Vietnam.



Ha Long Bay


Mark in Vietnam

Mark was in Vietnam putting on a workshop on teaching English. He also got to see some POW camps and Ho Chi Minh’s grave. I’m trying not to be jealous of Mark, but it isn’t working out so well.

Home is not where you live, but where they understand you…

I talked to Nate last night. I had long heard rumors that he was leaving the Tuscon area. His housemate had flaked out and it was time for him to move on. The rumor mill spat out three locations where Nate might be moving. There was Phoenix, there was Minneapolis, and there was Boone. I finally got a hold of Nate last night and it turns out that he chose the most beautiful and exotic of locales and will be returning to Boone as soon as his house in Tuscon gets rented. This might very well be a brief stop as he looks for lucrative employment in his chosen profession, (kicking ass and taking names in the kitchen) but it will be good to have him back in the area for at least a little while.

This is 10% luck, 20% skill; 15% concentrated power of will…

125 145 151
127 140 183
145 139 167
160 143 183

Those numbers represent my bowling scores from the last 4 weeks. I don’t discuss my bowling league much. I don’t take pride in my bowling. I’m probably in the bottom 10 of the bowlers in the league. However, those numbers are respectable by my standards. Yet, despite putting up decent numbers, I was in a horrible slump. I had not earned a single point against human competition since before Christmas.

Then last night I had a breakthrough. I was lined up against Matt Haub. I’ve known Matt for several years. We used to work together. So I felt a little bad that my breakthrough came against him, but I still need to celebrate that I swept him and my nearly two month long streak of futility has come to an end.

I defeated him by scores of:

160-136 (231-217 with handicap)
143-114 (214-195)
183-126 (254-207)

Maybe it was more a product of Matt having a bad night, but after 2 months of wandering in the desert, I’ll take it.

Bowling, Christianity, Lowell, Nader

Two Stories from the Last Two Days

I have two brief experiences from the last two days to share.

Nader’s 20th Anniversary

This past Friday marked the 20th anniversary of Nader’s arrival to these United States of America. There is a Lutheran church in Gilbert that sponsored Nader’s immigration. They invited him to attend the church service on Sunday to help celebrate the anniversary.

Nader called me and asked me to give him a ride to Gilbert and sit with him in church for this celebration. I knew I would be sad to miss my personal church service, but I figured it would be a good chance to experience a Lutheran church service. That isn’t something I’ve been exactly hankering to do, but I do kind of want to go to a Quaker service sometime.

It turns out that they had forgotten that they had invited Nader to church and were mostly confused by his presence until he explained to them why he was there. They apologized and were embarrassed and promised to have Nader back up for a proper celebration soon.

We sat down in the very back row of what looked like a very new sanctuary. However, the new digs did not translate into comfortable pews. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such uncomfortable pews. Perhaps the pews in the Lutheran church up in Boxholm are close, but not quite as bad as these.

I don’t want to bash the Lutherans because religious intolerance isn’t my bag. I will just say that the service wasn’t very exciting. About halfway through the service I looked over at Nader and saw that he had fallen asleep.

I was impressed. I have known that his capacity for dozing off during a boring movie is unprecedented, but I didn’t know it would translate to the ability to fall asleep during church. Especially in the world’s most uncomfortable pews.

I can’t blame Nader for falling asleep. He isn’t Christian. I’m not sure he has even been to a church service since before the Islamic Revolution. (Before the fall of the Shah it was okay for Muslims to attend a Christian church service. After the fall of the Shah it was a punishable offense.) The service wasn’t all that compelling. I decided to let him sleep and envied him slightly.

The Pastor began the sermon and Nader still slept. The sermon was on the parable of “The Prodigal Son”. Nader still slept. The Pastor tied the parable in with the accepting of new people. Then he referenced Nader. Everybody in the sanctuary looked at Nader. He was blissfully unaware in a state of sleep as his closed eyes pointed towards the ceiling.

After everybody looked back to the front of the sanctuary I gave Nader a shove to wake him up.

“The Pastor just mentioned you in the sermon and everybody stared at you while you were sleeping.”

“They’ll just think I was reading the program.”

“Except your program wasn’t on the ceiling.”

At the front of the sanctuary they were preparing for the sacrament of Communion.

Nader asked, “Is this about over?”

“It looks like they are doing Communion. We could be here awhile.”

“Want to sneak out?”

In reality I did want to sneak out, but I knew that Nader still had to meet with the Pastor after the service to discuss his 20th anniversary celebration.

“No, we better stay. Just don’t fall asleep again.”

Another High Quality Bowling Memory

My Monday night bowling league has started up again. I’m not particularly possessive of this league, it is merely the league that I am in. I’m not a good bowler nor do I even have a passion for the game. It is something to do with Jim and I get more than enough residual entertainment out of these nights to make it worth the effort.

Last year we had a pretty good team. We finished third in the league. However at the end of the season two of the people from the team decided to move on. I actually figured this might be the end of my bowling career. I was okay with that. I would walk away with my lowest career average, but also my highest team finish.

Jim asked me if we found a couple other guys if I would be interested in continuing. I considered the options and decided I would continue if given the opportunity. However, despite being down two guys, neither one of us did any recruiting. We decided just to tell Darryl (The Lord of the Imperial Lanes) just to give us any two guys that walked in the door. We would make them champions.

Truthfully we never claimed that we would make them champions, but we really said that we would take any two guys. Now I’m not saying that Darryl gave us the dregs of society. He didn’t. These two guys seem perfectly nice. However, they aren’t what I would say that I normally look for in a companion. Perhaps that makes me an elitist, but I can handle that label just fine.

For starters, I spent almost the first week after the first night of bowling half convinced that one of them was a murderer. I couldn’t quite remember how I knew him or his name, but I was half convinced he was a guy that murdered somebody back when I was at dear old BHS.

It turns out after some crack detective work by Lowell that he isn’t a murderer. He was just friends with the murderer.

Then during the second week of bowling one of the bowling alley employees called me over for a private conversation. She wanted me to tell the two new guys on my team that they need to improve their hygiene because they were stinking up the joint.

By their physical appearance, I would have guessed that she was probably right, but as soon as I walk into the cancer factory known as Imperial Lanes, my olfactory nerves call it a night and I can’t smell anything.

Last night was the third week of bowling. One of the new guys didn’t show up. However, the other new guy did show up and he brought a friend. Around the end of the first game, I heard the following conversation. I’m cleaning up the language and leaving vast amounts of details out just because I don’t need to relive them.

“This sucks.”

“What sucks?”

“I have to get rid of the porn on my phone.”

“That does suck. Why would you have to do something like that?”

“My kid was playing with my phone and he found the porn.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, I know. Plus some of that was really good stuff.”

“Like that one where that girl [CENSORED].”

“I know I love the one where the girl [CENSORED] is awesome.”

I’m not what you would call an “expert” on pornography. So I was quite surprised that you could even download porn to your phone. I haven’t quite figured out what the practical purpose of having pornography on your phone would be. If anybody out there knows what it is, keep it to yourself.

Basketball, Bill, Bowling, Derrick, Faust, Jay, Jen, Jesse, Jim, Kelly, Movies, Music, Shannon, Willy, Work, Writing

Reflections on the Last Few Days (Part III)

I have had difficulty in getting back in my mode to finish up this mostly uninteresting tale. It has been over a week since most of this stuff has transpired. My memory of the events may be more than a little bit foggy. I’ll do my best recollect these events because in the last few weeks I have received the following comments to my face:

“See. I really do read your blog.”

“Kelly thought your commentary about Jay was spot on.”

“I can’t wait to hear about your lunch with Bill W.”

“I didn’t say ‘let’s go get a salad’!”

I’m not entirely sure that I’ve been able to get back into my mode. Once I’m out of my mode I can’t force myself back. All I can do is create conditions that are conducive to getting my mode back into effect. So I’m listening to a little Otis Redding and I’m typing away. If that doesn’t help me get back to my mode, it might be gone forever.

I believe the last time I took keyboard in hand in a creative direction I had just concluded my Oscar analysis. The Oscar analysis that moved people so much that not a single person decided to offer an opinion on what the most tragic ending to the movie “Blood Diamond” would be. This can mean only one of a few things.

#1. Nobody actually made it to the bottom of Part II.
#2. After getting to the end of Part II everybody was so emotionally exhausted that they couldn’t bring themselves to offer an opinion to a simple multiple choice question.
#3. Nobody thinks that what happens with conflict diamonds is tragic. Perhaps the real tragedy in their minds is that not enough innocents are murdered and enslaved.

I don’t know. I’ll just accept that despite the claims of some to the contrary, these writings exist in a vacuum.

I’ll just get back to the business of this writing, which is to weave the tale of my existence and recent exploits. Although, I’m sure there is somebody out there with a dictionary right now claiming that the events that have passed through my experience lately can hardly be considered exploits. More than anything they are a monument to a culture of consumerism and an attitude of narcissism. Except for making soap, that was certainly an accomplishment. Eating shrimp at the Oscar party was also an accomplishment. I’m telling you, these things were massive.

We left the formal Oscar party and made our way back to Jen and Derrick’s homestead. I believe we reached their front door pretty close to midnight. I entered the living room to see Jen’s first completed project from her stained glass class. She had made a stepping stone. I knew that this was the first project and I was always a little bit suspicious. How do you make something for stepping on out of stained glass?

She brought it up from the basement where it had been curing. Curiously this was the second time this weekend I had heard about something being left in the basement to cure. This time I did not see an activity known as “catproofing” though.

It was pretty amazing. I’m a stained glass man from way back and I was impressed. The stained glass was placed in concrete. The design was a butterfly. This is a particularly difficult design because it is symmetrical. This meant that for every piece of glass that Jen cut she had to also cut an identical piece for the opposite side. She did an amazing job. I am eager for the future stained glass night where we make our own coasters. Although I confess not being sure that I am up to the challenge.

There was one other curious thing about this stepping stone. The concrete was extremely smooth. Maybe I’m impressed by strange things, but there isn’t a trick to making the concrete turn out so smooth. You don’t sand it. That is the way it hardens. It is naturally that smooth.

I went home and crashed, not anticipating much of consequence to transpire on the following day.

I woke up on Monday and headed into the computer mine. My only hope was to make it through yet another day of arduous labor without developing the dreaded Silicon Lung. Jesse approached me and delivered some good news. Bill W. would be joining us for lunch.

Let me stop and make a point here. I’m not calling this man Bill W. because that is his name. I do not wish to be forthcoming with his actual identity because I might in my haste of writing this thing, blurt out some private information. You see Bill W. had stopped in Ames on his way home from the Twin Cities where he had a date with a lady friend. I will be coy with his true identity because he may or not be on the prowl with this lady.  There is a nearly infinitesimally small chance that she might happen upon this blog and read some of the things I’m about to put down about Bill W. and his attempts to make this date something a little bit more substantial. I don’t want to kill Bill W.’s game. Not that I think that is a likely outcome. I just want to hedge my bets. For that reason my friend will remain unidentified and I will refer to them by the name Bill W. as homage to the man who founded Alcoholics Anonymous.

My subscriber from Mankato was most interested in this bit of the tale. I’m not going to go into much detail about the lunch. There isn’t much to tell. He came to the mine. We went to Hickory Park with Jesse and Willy. We asked him questions about his weekend. Some details I won’t recount. There is one detail that I wish to recount. It is actually a question of strategy.

Bill W. is a fan of bored* games. So is his lady friend. While he was visiting her they played a series of games. In fact they played a best of 13 series. When he told me this fact I was quite shocked. I didn’t know they had made 13 different bored games. Off the top of my head all I can name is Trivial Pursuit, Sorry, Life, Chess, Monopoly, Candyland, and Sammy the White House Mouse. I have heard the beginnings of descriptions of other games. However, usually about 2 words out of the other person’s mouth I’m sound asleep. I might not have the best survival instincts, but my instincts for avoiding a boring night are as sharp as the sting of a whip.

Now I’m going to throw up a red flag. I am about to get into some territory that if you don’t know me very well could be described as sexist. It might not be in the next paragraph, but it will be there soon enough. You will know it when you get to it.

Bill W. claims that when they got to the climax of the evening AKA the rubber match, he threw the contest so that his lady friend came out as the winner. Let us not dwell on the veracity of his statement. Let us merely question whether or not that this was correct strategy. At this point we are going to have to talk in generalizations. I concede that all people are individuals. So my next question should be viewed at the aggregate level.

I also need to make the following distinction. My question is related to competitions where men and women are able to compete on an equal plane. Not in activities where men have to make a concerted effort to make the competition close. Of course, I’m talking about activities like basketball, naming the starting third baseman of the 1984 National League Champion San Diego Padres, driving, or mathematics.

My question is simply: Did Bill W. make the wise move? Was it savvy? Should he have let his female friend win the deciding game or should he have won?

This is a question that when it has been discussed in a few of my social circles has gotten some spirited debate and wildly varying answers. If you got an opinion please weigh in.

I understand that this is a small part of the “game”, but I’m curious if people think this piece of the game was well played or muffed.

After the meal Bill W. went on his merry way and I returned to work. The rest of Monday passed without incident until my bowling league.

You may remember that from past writings that I have clearly established myself as the worst bowler in the league. Despite my efforts to scuttle the team we arrived at the alley on Monday as the 1st Place team in the Pioneer League. We were matching up with a team that possessed the moniker “Giant Killers”. Before the game began one of their representatives ambled over to our table and told us to “Note the name.  We’re called the Giant Killers for a reason.”

Even though this bravado was laughable, I figured out that there team name wasn’t derived from  a story involving the climbing of a beanstalk or taking down a Philistine.  However, he insisted on continuing to allow words to escape from his mouth.

“We always beat first place teams.”

Great.  Don’t really care.  Take zero pride in my bowling and I’m not here to win any trophies.  I just want to hang out with the guys at my table.  We bowled pretty well. They didn’t. This meant halfway through the second game they quit. Yeah, they finished the games physically, but mentally and emotionally they were beat. They spent most of their time complaining about how throw a couple members of our team throw the ball. Well Mike is in his 60s. Jim is in his 50s. They aren’t going to throw the ball like somebody in their 20s. One of their team members took to throwing the ball as slowly as he could. I was leery about joining this league at the beginning of the year because of my limited bowling aptitude, but I have to say that this was the first unpleasant experience I have had all year.

I always have to shower when I get home from the bowling alley. I can not tolerate smelling like an ashtray. It always makes me want to vomit. It is the same way I feel every time the announcers point out that Michael Taylor has broken Dedric Willoughby’s consecutive games with a 3 pointer streak. At least I can wash the cigarette smoke smell off.

This tale is almost completed. I only need to cover my lunch with my Private Climatologist and his analysis of “An Inconvenient Truth”, but that will wait until the exciting conclusion of this tale in Part IV.

I will just wrap up this section of the tale with a small discussion of the Lenten Study Group I’ve joined on Tuesday nights. I was a little bit leery of joining this group because my previous experiences with Bible Study groups hadn’t been super swell. However, this is really the first time that I’ve joined a group at my own church strangely enough.

I was a bit worried because when I walked in to the room I was the youngest person in the room by 10 years. However, I’m really glad I went because our Associate Pastor Andrea said something that really helped me re-order some things in my head. What she said I’ll leave for a discussion at a later time. If you are really interested e-mail me and I’ll let you know.

I enjoyed myself enough that I’ve decided to continue going. Tonight we went 30 minutes over because of a heated discussion of the meaning of the term “citizen of heaven” in the Philippians verse we were discussing.

So I’ll leave it at that for now.

To Be Continued . . . .

* In the haste to get what I’ve got to say out there by any mean necessary I frequently stumble with words, grammar, and homonyms. I assure you 100% that the misspelling of board games by spelling it as bored games was 100% on purpose. In other words, I hate me some board games.

Bowling, FNSC, Movies, Nader, Nature, Scottie D., Steph, Teresa

Spirit Pumps

2 Comments

Just thought I would jot down a few quick thoughts.

First of all, I would like to share the fruits of my labors from Craft Night!!


Restore Blog - Spirit Pumps - 01-24-2007

Okay . . . so one could make the case that painting a frame and matting a picture hardly constitutes a “craft”.

I’m not the craft police, but I did do this on Craft Night. I even finally decided on a name for this picture: “Last, Loveliest Smile”

This picture will soon be displayed in Salon 908. You could say that it will be on “Public Display”. I won’t because I’m not that pretentious. I’ll just say that it is hanging on a wall where people I don’t know might gaze upon it lovingly or in disgust.

I have to give credit to my sister Teresa. She was right about something. A few weeks ago at Supper Club we ate at Es Tas! It was terrible. Teresa recommended that we go to the West Street Deli instead. We ignored her sage advice and paid a pretty hefty price. Namely the worst french fries I have ever forced down in my life. Yesterday I met Teresa for lunch and we hit the West Street Deli. I ordered a club sandwich. It was tremendous. I don’t have the words to describe the greatness of this sandwich. Instead, I will steal a poem from Coleridge to encapsulate my feelings about this sandwich.

Desire

Where true Love burns Desire is Love’s pure flame;
It is the reflex of our earthly frame,
That takes its meaning from the nobler part,
And but translates the language of the heart.

That pretty much says it. One tasty sandwich!!! As some of you may or may not know, I bowl (very poorly) in a Monday night league. Even by my abysmally low standards I have been in a bit of a slump lately. In fact, going into Monday night I had not won a single game since before Christmas.

On Monday night I found myself matched up with Shaun Wirtz. Is he better than me? Certainly, but this is not an insurmountable task. Yet, he thoroughly thrashed me in the first 2 games, extending my losing streak to 9 games. I stood on the threshold of a double digit losing streak. So I dug deep inside and told myself: “You can not lose this third game. If you do . . . eh, whatever.”

With my new personal “whatever” mantra fueling me, I powered my way to a 10 pin victory. Of course, he won the series, but I left the bowling alley a winner. A winner of 1 of my last 11 points, but a winner nonetheless. Well maybe a little “theless”.

Tuesday night I went to see “Running with Scissors” with Stephanie and her friend Maggie. Let me tell you something about art films. For every “Little Miss Sunshine” or “Memento” there sure are a lot of “Pieces of April”. Actually I don’t hate “Pieces of April” that much, it is just the first movie to come to mind. “Running with Scissors” was a big time disappointment. They changed the focus of the book from Augusten Burroughs adolescence to his relationship with his mom. They eliminated about 10 characters, which is okay, but they twisted the other characters just enough to entirely screw up the essence of the book. I was particularly bothered by the way that pretty much left Dr. Finch off the hook for being responsible for almost all the misery in all the other characters lives. Rather than being grossly incompetent and extremely unethical; he came off as merely eccentric. Plus, there were at least two scenes in the movie that were so poor that they made you a little uncomfortable when watching them. Similar to when your friend shows you something that they are really emotionally invested in, but it blows and you’re not really sure how to react. Do you tell them: “Dude, this sucks.” Or do you try to change the subject quickly? Or do you feign enthusiasm? Whatever you do decide to do, you are still uncomfortable while you consider your options.

In “Running with Scissors” I was uncomfortable with the incredible lameness in particular of the scene where Annette Bening’s character hallucinates that she is seeing snowflakes falling from her ceiling while the soundtrack blares: “Blinded by the Light”. Normally I would laugh out loud at such a horrific sequence, but because I wanted to like this movie, I had to look away. Similar to Nader during the sex scenes of “BrokebackMountain”. Although Nader just felt a little squeamish around those scenes. I felt embarrassment for the filmmakers.

Tonight would be movie night with Scott. It would be my turn to choose the movie. Last time it was his choice and he chose “Clerks II”. I should make him watch a French New Wave Film or something by Fellini as punishment for making me sit through one long scatological joke trying to thinly masquerade itself as a morality tale. Although he does deserve to be punished in such a way, I do not wish to make his brain explode in head. I am making him watch an independent art picture. I do not know how good this movie is because I missed it when it was at the Varsity. I am making him watch “Brick” which I know is better than “Clerks II” without breaking its plastic seal; I just hope that it is exponentially better. Although no movie is that bad on a 106 inch screen, except maybe “Clerks II”.

I would just close by saying that I am currently reading what might be the best book I’ve ever read. I won’t tell you any more about this book at this time, but I would reiterate that it is phenomenal. It also taught me this fun little fact: “Presbyterians” is an anagram for Britney Spears.

Oh yeah, one last thing: Rodin is tomorrow. Still time to signup for the field trip!!

Art, Bethany, Blogging, Bowling, Jay, Jesse, Monica, Movies, Music, Nate, Politics, Sara, Work, Writing

Rectification

I got lots of information to get out there, so I’m going to dispense with the niceties and just jump in and get this “blog” on!!!

Well the response to my anti-Dasher Management rant and artwork has been universally negative. Just some of my favorite e-mail responses:

“What you don’t want my kid to be happy when eating his Happy Meal? Then you are a jerk. I hope you can’t sleep at night.”
“You call Andres Serrano a hack. In my dictionary I pasted your picture next to the term “hack” because Mister, that is what you are.”
“Mountain Dew and water? Clearly your bladder lacks the courage of your convictions and that makes you a coward.”
“You’re attempt at a kinetic sculpture is weak. It doesn’t even compare favorably to the writings of Nicholas Sparks.”
“‘Piss Kroc’. Crock of #!%@# that is what you are sir.”

Despite this unified public front I move forward with my plans. Ahh . . . but what are those plans. I was all set to tell you about my plans to open an online store, but then “it” happened. I had just concluded lunch with a couple of compatriots when the waitress laid the fortune cookies on the table. I smashed my fortune cookie open and hoped for a good fortune. What I got was solid advice.

“Keep your plans secret for now.”

So you see, I can’t possibly tell you about my online store plans for now. The fortune cookie has advised me to keep my plans a secret. Fortune cookies have never steered me wrong in the past. Including the following nuggets:

“You will find an outlet for your creative genius and accomplish a great deal.”
“You have many personal talents that are attractive to others, so be sure to use them.”
“You are interested in public service and would make an outstanding statesman.”
“Time is right to make new friends.”
“You will do well to expand your business.”
“You have an unusually magnetic personality.”
“You will soon meet a dark stranger.”

They are all true, except I have yet to meet a dark stranger. I suppose I need to work on that one. Although a co-worker recently referenced a website to me called “Savage Love” and the URL for said site has something to do with the stranger. When I heard that I instantly thought about the Albert Camus novel “The Stranger” which both the President and I enjoy in a very similar manner.  (Meaning we both like to pretend that we read it to sound intellectual at parties.)

Instead of having to do anything remotely with literature, this “Savage Love” website is some kind of dating/sex advice website. Now I have not visited this website because I’m a little bit leery of visiting such a site on my work computer because I don’t want to be the guy that triggers the “porn surfing at work is to be done only during lunch” memo. You know how porn eats up the company bandwidth. However, yet another unnamed co-worker did visit the site and indicated to me that the following subject was a topic for “Savage Love” – “Openly Skank”.

The fact that there was a topic entitled “Openly Skank” reminded me of two facts and created a new question for me.

Fact #1: I used to hang out with people that used the term skank quite frequently, but now I don’t know anybody that uses the term skank any longer. This term must have fallen out of the popular vernacular. How sad.
Fact#2: I am a big fan of a local ska band named “Slaughterhouse 6”. They rip it up.  If you ever have a chance to check them out: Do it! I bring this up because there is a well-known ska dance called “The Skank”. That reminds me of the fact that Derrick has a theory that ska dancing is regional. Derrick and I are ready to travel the country to research his theory and write a paper entitled “Regionalism and Ska Dancing” just as soon as somebody is ready to hand us over a big fat grant check. We’re waiting America. Hands open. Fill them with cash please!

Question #1: If there is a person that is “Openly Skank” then by definition that means that there are people that are “Closeted Skank”. It is a tautology. Look it up. Why would anybody want to concede to themselves that they are on the lowest rung of “The Social Ladder of Promiscuous Women”? Do these women aspire to the next step?

All of that though is neither here nor there. This little tidbit is also quite a bit off subject. I hit a few Chinese restaurants with quite the assortment of people. Some people that sit across the table from me while I consume edibles insist on always saying the “in bed” thing. Annoying? Indubitably! Not the strangest thing that comes into my field of vision though. I eat with 2 people that refuse to eat the fortune cookie or look at the fortune?!?!? They don’t even like to touch it. I swear I’m not making this up. They feel like it is voodoo or black magic. They think that to engage the fortune cookie is to play with dark forces. It is the same as playing Ouija, by Parker Brothers to them. Those warlock bastards!!*

For the record, fortune cookies have no religious affiliation. Fortune cookies (just like nachos) are a completely American invention. They were invented as a marketing ploy. There is nothing dark or sinister about them. They are the equivalent of the toy in the bottom of the Cracker Jack box. The only dark force at work at the buffet is the inability to get a refill after the bill hits the table.
In reality, I should get back to the subject matter at hand. My future plans for my online store. However, to know the future you need to examine the past. I really only want to go back a few days.
On Sunday I loaded up the iPod with some quality music and hit the open road with Jesse. Turns out we hit the open road just a little too hard. To the tune of a 102 dollar speeding ticket. The cop was a swell guy; he knocked it down 1 mile for me.

“I saved you 30 bucks.”

Since you are so concerned about my financial state, officer, I know a way you can save me another 102 dollars. It involves that ticket, an orifice, and the word “sideways”.

We made the rest of the trip to Mendota Heights unscathed by incredibly stupid arbitrary traffic laws. We picked up Nate and headed to some town that I won’t even try to remember to imbibe the goodness that is Buffalo Wild Wings. We knocked down some Jerk wings and watched the stupid Bears stumble their way to a playoff victory. WooHoo! They are still losing this weekend to the Saints. So party it up while you can Bears fans.

After a stuffing meal we hit Excelsior to see Bethany’s school and teach her how to make “legal backups” of DVDs. We then headed back to the St. Paul area. We made a quick stop to replenish my diminished supply of Faygo and buy a 4 pack of Boylan Root Beer (it is sweetened with pure cane sugar) and we were back at Nate’s to pick up our bounty. 3 cakes exquisitely crafted by the master for my 1 year work anniversary. A Peanut Butter Cake, Chocolate Mousse, and some kind of Lemon Cake, each one greater than its predecessor. That statement isn’t entirely true. Man, I love me some Peanut Butter Cake.

We loaded the bounty into the back of the Taurus and bid Nate a fond adieu.  Then we headed out for the open road. The only hiccup being that the open road was now covered with snow and Minnesota drivers. Regardless of the obstacles created by nature and Minnesota’s public education system we made it to Iowa where miraculously the roads were mostly clear because there were actually snowplows out?!?!

We kicked it up a notch to make up for lost time in Minnesota, and then we hit a wolf pack of people doing about 55. I was manning the driver’s seat for this part of the sojourn. I thought about that earlier speeding ticket still burning a hole in my pocket and then thought, whatever! I eased into the passing lane and gave the Taurus a healthy dose of gas. When I got to the front of the pack I realized that a state patrolman was the lead dog.

FUDGE!!!!

Only the word that came out of my mouth was decidedly less Christian. So I had to make a decision. Fall to the back of the pack like a victim of castration. Or put “them” figuratively on the dashboard and pass the patrolman in the middle of a blizzard.

I gave the Taurus a little more gas, passed the patrolman and slowly pulled away. I waited to be pulled over and given the inevitable ticket. It didn’t happen. Victory was mine.
The rest of the trip was just spent rocking out, basking in the glory of victory.

Monday night I managed to be late for bowling yet again. I was matched up with the worst bowler in the league. He beat me like a red headed stepchild. I guess that makes me officially the worst bowler in the league.
Tuesday was my 1 year work anniversary. I brought in Nate’s cake. I believe that they were a smashing success. So much so I was nominated for being a “nice guy” at the company meeting. Nice guy. I got them all fooled. (strokes cat that sits on the arm of his chair knowingly)

On Wednesday Monica joined Jesse and I for lunch. We drove 1 block to King Buffet. Besides the fortune that started this whole mess of a blog, the only thing of consequence that transpired was Jesse determining that I would have made an “awesome stoner”. Now I know what some of you with limited English skills (such as myself) just had a word pop into your head: Onomatopoeia!! No that is not it! Oxymoron!! Awesome and stoner are concepts that deny one another. A person can not be both awesome and a stoner. I asked, nay, demanded clarification.

I’m paraphrasing and elaborating at the same time, but this is what came out of his mouth. “You usually go all the way into things. You would blow glass so that you could make your own hookah. You would make bongs out of ordinary household items and they would work as both a bong and whatever it was that they were originally supposed to be. You would listen to Dave Matthews, Phish, and the Grateful Dead and pretend like it was deeply moving music. As if it existed on a higher plane. You would have walls covered with black light posters of hemp, mushrooms, and Pink Floyd. You would subscribe to High Times magazine and carry pictures of the Bud of the Month around with you like it was the “coolest thing ever”. You would wear hemp jewelry. You would give passionate diatribes about the difference between decriminalizing marijuana and legalizing marijuana. You would fly into a rage any time anybody used the term “gateway drug”. Then finally when you decided to enter the adult world and get a job you would listen to whining Nancy Boy music like Jack Johnson and John Mayer.”
For the record I would never listen to John Mayer. “Waiting on the World to Change”! How about getting off your duff and help start changing it instead of whining that “there’s nothing we can do”. That song has less social meaning than “Fergalicious”.

Thursday meant supper with a friend, and a new episode of The Office, and Papa Bear on The Colbert Report.

So I guess that brings us to the present. I can begin my plans for the future. What does the future hold for me? What does the future hold for us? I can’t tell you all about the future but I will tell you that I am currently working on a plan for my future online store. I just can’t tell you about it. I have to heed the cookie you know!

I can make some vague allusions to it though. It is a style that in some circles is known as “The Bennett Style”. The people in those circles need a hobby. Perhaps they could take up crafts.

Speak of the devil and the devil will appear. Tomorrow night I am very excited to be going as far south as Maryland Pike for craft night. I’m not all that crafty, but it will give me a chance to admire the works of an acknowledged master: Sara Junck. Also, I haven’t spent much time painting frames and I need to get a frame painted if I am ever going to get a picture proudly displayed in Salon 908. So part of the future involves craft night.

Speaking of acknowledged masters, I think I have finally determined a time and a date for my much ballyhooed trip to Brunnier to see the sculptures of Rodin. This coming Thursday they are having a reception with appetizers, music, and a speaker. The good news is that there are still plenty of openings for the trip. A couple of people have already fallen out.

Jay just can’t commit because he doesn’t know when he will get off work. Maybe he will come back into focus when the day draws nigh.

Monica hates Rodin. Her exact words were, “Screw Rodin, if he was any good they would have named one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles after him. Plus sculptures suck as a general rule.”

If the  Brunnier trip falls apart, I at least have a few movies to fall back on. A few movies that I have had my on my radar for months have finally found their way to the theaters of Ames and I am pumped up.
“The Last King of Scotland” is playing at the Varsity. “Running with Scissors” has graced the Dollar Theatre. “Dreamgirls” is holding it down at the Movies 12. There are plenty of high quality movies in town for once. Although I do regret missing “Candy” which left Ames last night. I also eagerly anticipate the arrival of “Pan’s Labyrinth”. I beg you Cinemark don’t make me wait much longer for the latest film by Guillermo del Toro. I can’t wait for the latest film from the master filmmaker that brought us “Hellboy” and “Blade II”??? Whatever, I still want to see it.

January 30th is also a pretty exciting date. That is the date that the new Norah Jones CD is released.

Then on February 5th there is going to be a pretty sweet concert at the Maintenance Shop. Not as incredible as a Lesser Known Saint show, but I’m still pretty stoked about going to see Matt Werz in concert.
But all these events are in the hazy future and none of them have anything to do with the online store. That is really concerned with the website. Avid followers of the Photography 139 website will have noticed a small change in the website.

You see it was Christmas recently. To mark the birth of the savior of mankind people like to give friends, family, and social obligations gifts. I rolled such a gift into a CSS manual. Okay, half of you just fell asleep. WAKE UP!! So, I have slowly been converting the website into CSS. Outwardly you will not notice much of a difference, but in the future it will be a billion-gazillion times easier to update the look and fell of the website.

This new knowledge also enabled me to move the navigation bar from the side of the website to the top of the website. This move makes the main body of the page quite a bit larger. The immediate consequence of that is that I can make the pictures much larger. The immediate consequence for you is that it will take longer for you to download the pictures. But did I mention that they will be larger??

I’ve went ahead and started designing the site to be best seen at a screen resolution of 1024×768 as that is more or less the standard now. It will still look fine at larger screen resolutions, but you might find it slightly annoying if your screen resolution is 800×600. I will not apologize for this because I am trying to help your boat rise with the tide. Just the way that the “No Child Left Behind Act” did.

So now you know that the site looks slightly different. Still no information about that online store to be had around these parts, is there? I did promise broad allusions. I am a man of my word, but you may want to turn back now. My kinetic sculpture plays a small part in the future and we all know that nobody likes that sculpture. The hatred is so intense that I have decided to change the name to “Anti-McDonald’s Book Deterioration Thing”.

Let’s go back to the past. A few weeks hence I ate lunch at The Great Plains Sauce and Dough Company with Sara. This is back when she used to eat food, but that is now a part of her past and a subject I will not dwell on. The subject of conversation was reached about the 4 people in the world I hate. She thought that it was bad to hate these people, but then I named the 4 people that I hate and she said it was okay to hate “those” people. However, I think it is more than past time to let that hate go. The man whose birthday we celebrated on Monday said the following thing:

“He who is devoid of the power to forgive, is devoid of the power to love.”

It is likely that he was right about such things. The “Anti-McDonald’s Book Deterioration Thing” is a symptom of that hate. If art is meant to glorify God, all this glorifies is me.

However, it is part of the plan for the online store. To open this online store I figure I need  to raise about 160 American dollars. True I could dig into my own wallet or use some of my recently attained “phat” bonus check. However, I choose to run my “business” is the same manner as PBS.

In the near future I will put some items in the store. If anybody buys enough of them to put 160 American dollars in my possession I will move on with the opening of a legitimate online store that people will be able to use their credit cards and such to purchase high quality Photography 139 merchandise.

The first thing to go into the “fundraising” store will be “The Anti-McDonald’s Book Deterioration Thing”. It will have an initial price tag of 10 bucks. When it does not sell, it will be thrown into the Des Moines River where it will descend to the muddy bottom. It is where it deserves to be.

I’ll let you know when the fundraising begins. I am certain that you are whet with anticipation.

*In all sincerity, I don’t recall if it was Parker Brothers or Milton Bradley that mass marketed the “witchboard” to America’s youth. I don’t know if they were wiccans or warlocks or spawns of Satan or smoking lots of dope. I just know that it the single strangest toy in the history of mankind.