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July 31, 2008

Can't hide from me

I have a long-standing rivalry with the raccoons in Ohio, but I figured I was relatively insulated from the creatures here in Chicago. I once heard that a raccoon had somehow made its way to the top of the Sears Tower, but now I can't find anything about that on the internet, so maybe I'm hallucinating.

Thus, I was running along Halsted Street by Division. I like it there because there's some hills, albeit artificial hills. Just south of Division, the street narrows into a bridge over the Chicago River, and as I hopped onto the bridge, I was suddenly confronted by a posse of raccoons. Raccoons are nocturnal, and supposed to be afraid of humans, so encountering them in the daytime is never a good sign. I stopped running towards them, and waited for them to leave.

All of the raccoons soon scuttled away to some hiding place on the bridge, but one raccoon stayed on the sidewalk and refused to budge. I was running in place, waiting for him to leave, but he was not interested in compromising. I must have run in place for a good 45 seconds. I stared at him, he stared at me. I tried turning around so he wouldn't think I was staring at him; when I turned back around, he was still there.

Alas, this raccoon had won the battle of man versus nature. I ran back off the bridge, crossed the street, and used the sidewalk on the other side.

Posted at 11:14 PM | Comments (0)

I am da law

Okay folks, sorry about that. I've spent the past two weeks living in a hole, as I did last-minute preparation for the bar exam. Those people, as you might guess, are not bar exam takers. Rather, they are taking the Ham radio test. I didn't know you needed to take a test to be a ham radio operator.

Anyway, the bar exam last two days. I felt pretty good after the first day, which was all essay. The second day was a 200-question multiple choice test, and I left the room not feeling so hot. Basically, there were a lot of questions where I narrowed it down to the two plausible answers, and then was not certain which was the better answer. The bar examiners like to be tricky, because they will often put in two answers that are technically correct, but one is a stronger argument. I wasn't too pleased with that, but everybody has to take the same test.

I won't find out if I passed until October, so until then I am basically a vagabond. I quit my job to study for the test, and now I will have to spend the next few months worrying about whether I passed. I do have several things in my favor, though: 85% of test-takers pass the bar, and in order to pass you need the equivalent of a D-plus, after it gets curved. Therefore, the bar exam will be the first time I'd ever be ecstatic to get a C-minus. Dear Lord, I don't ask for much - can I please get that C?

Posted at 11:02 PM | Comments (0)

July 17, 2008

Babies on a plane

Well folks, I'm back in Ohio for a couple days to visit the family and study for the bar, and naturally I shuffled to Midway for a jolly 50-minute flight to Columbus. I love to sit next to the window and look out at the scenery, so today I squeezed in next to a flight attendant who was coming along for the ride as a passenger. (This is Southwest, where you can pick any seat you want.)

I sat in my seat and twiddled my thumbs for a few minutes, when all of a sudden I heard the flight attendant whisper "look away and don't make eye contact, then she won't sit between us." It took about ten seconds to realize that there was a woman with a baby coming down the aisle, and so I averted my gaze, started at the seat in front of me, and prayed. The woman with the baby walked by, and our middle seat was taken by a non-baby-carrying, middle-aged, businesswoman. The baby howled the entire flight, so we were doubly lucky. That baby was a ticking time bomb, and it could've gone off next to us.

The attendant and I exchanged glances of relief, but I have to giggle when I think about how blunt she was about it. Don't make eye contact - like we're trying to avoid a homeless person, or those people who ask you for a minute of your time to save the environment/the children/the Democratic Party.

Of course, people have a right to take babies on flights. I'm not disputing that, and I would never be in favor of an airline banning babies from flights. Nor am I the kind of guy who gets uppity when children misbehave in restaurants. But you can't believe anyone else on the plane wants to risk being near a crying baby for an hour or more with no way out. For that reason, I will definitely file away my fellow traveler's baby-avoidance theory for the next time one is near me on an airplane.

Posted at 08:45 PM | Comments (0)

You can't stop progress

I said it before, and I'll say it again: science fascinates me. You have some scientists who dedicate their lives to curing cancer or eliminating world hunger. Let's allow Jerry Seinfeld to describe the other type of scientist:

Whoever is working on these things clearly falls into the latter category:

New mothers will be able to turn their own breast milk into jewellery, under techniques to be demonstrated by a group of artists.

The jewellery is made by boiling human milk mixed with vinegar.

This causes the casein protein in the milk to harden into a plastic, which can then be painted and moulded into any shape.

A milk model of a baby’s head which can be used as a pendant for a necklace, and a combined milk-metal bracelet, are among the objects already created by the French design collective Duende.

...

Their other exhibits will include dishes for storing – and eating – a human placenta.

Look, I don't want to disparage a mother's preferred method of remembering her baby's childhood, but this is indisputably nasty. A pendant in the shape of a baby's head, made from breast milk? I bet you can preserve his spit-up, too!

What ever happened to getting a bronzed shoe? As far as I know, my mom never made any pendants of me, and I turned out all right. (Okay, that's probably debatable, but at least I'm no Jeffrey Dahmer. Yet.)

Posted at 12:59 PM | Comments (0)

July 16, 2008

I'm not offended

So there's this big stink about the New Yorker cover featuring the Obamas saluting each other with a "terrorist fist-jab" as an American flag burns in the fireplace. Predictably, lots of people are outraged. Obama, for his part, was a little more reasonable in his response:

"I know it was the New Yorker's attempt at satire. I don't think they were entirely successful with it. But you know what? It's a cartoon," Obama told CNN's Larry King, "and that's why we've got the First Amendment."

The Illinois Senator said that the depiction did not personally offend him, and that he’s seen worse in his run for president which has made him get "a pretty thick skin."

This is a great response. I don't want to say the people who are outraged or offended are wrong, but I think it's misguided. It is clearly a satirical cover; it's not meant to perpetuate Obama stereotypes. Instead, it exaggerates and ridicules them.

One of the things I dislike about being somewhat liberal is this sense that everything has to outrage me. Maybe I'm a bad liberal, but lots of things don't offend me. A lot of times, to make a cogent point, somebody has to be offended. There's only so much insight that can be gained by being bland.

What's more, it seems against the liberal ethos to demand apologies, censor publications, and make loud protests when somebody posts insensitive imagery. To me, heavyhanded meddling is the kind of stuff for which we should criticize the Bush Administration.

Obama's campaign shouldn't embrace the New Yorker cover, but it should respect it and move on. It's part of living in a democracy, with a First Amendment that protects a healthy discourse. Obama correctly points this out, and continual complaining is not going to help his campaign.

I see the need for Obama's campaign to be on attack mode, in order to carefully manage his image. But it needs to recognize what is and what is not worthy of a response. Unsubstantiated rumors that Obama went to a radical Muslim terrorist school? Have at it. Satirical magazine covers? As Paul McCartney might say, let it be.

Posted at 09:39 AM | Comments (0)

Not that there's anything wrong with that

I was at the gym a little while ago, totally whaling on my pecs. Or something. I noticed this guy about twenty feet from me glancing furtively in my direction. Yes, furtively.

I go to the gym colloquially known as the "Gay Bally's," so I occasionally expect to get checked out by another guy. Actually, it's more like I'm convinced guys are checking me out, and hope girls are checking me out, but in reality it is probably neither. It doesn't help that I wear t-shirts with rainbows on them and listen to Britney Spears on my iPod.

So, this guy keeps looking in my direction, and I keep pretending not to notice, because when people keep looking at you, usually they are up to no good. Finally somebody else came into view, and the guy revealed his motive: he wanted a spot.

Asking for a spot at the gym must be somewhat like asking somebody out on a date. You really really want to do it, but you're scared of getting rejected. However, you also know the other person will more than likely say yes, but you still feel awkward about it. It takes courage to ask somebody to give you a spot.

I've only given a spot once. It was very awkward. There I was, standing over this guy I've never met, trying to keep him from dropping 120 pounds on himself, AND being entrusted with saving his life should he manage to drop the 120 pounds on his neck. At least I wasn't obligated to make small talk: so what do you do? Come here often?

There are worse things, I suppose. He could've asked me out on a date.

Posted at 12:22 AM | Comments (0)

July 15, 2008

Turn of the century

Kicking around on Flickr, I came across thousands of photos uploaded by the Library of Congress. Many of them are of baseball players, politicians, and simple every day people. I personally like this one of race car driver Bob Burman. It's how I look when I drive. Yes indeedy.

Looking at old photographs always freaks me out a little bit. The people in them are now almost always long deceased. (According to Wikipedia, Mr. Burman here died in a racing accident 92 years ago.)

When that moment of time was captured, their lives were laid out before them. They didn't know what was to happen, nor what the future would hold. There are thousands of people in this picture of the Polo Grounds during the 1912 World Series. Who among them lived to a ripe old age? Who would die five years later in World War I?

It's mind-boggling, really. It's even more mind-boggling that a hundred years from now, somebody might be looking at pictures of me, thinking the same thing. At the very least, I hope there's a good story to go with my name.

Posted at 05:16 PM | Comments (0)

July 14, 2008

A reasonable mistake

[Pic]

Never underestimate the power of people to be rendered completely stupid. Why, I can't count how many times I've gone outside, looked up, and been scared to death of the moon. What is that thing? Why does it move so slowly? I hope it's made of cheese!

[Editor's note: the previous paragraph is only true if the author was, in fact, a dog.]

Today officers released a transcript in order to highlight the time wasted by unnecessary 999 calls.

...

Control: "South Wales Police, what's your emergency?"

Caller: "It's not really. I just need to inform you that across the mountain there's a bright stationary object."

Control: "Right."

Caller: "If you've got a couple of minutes perhaps you could find out what it is? It's been there at least half an hour and it's still there."

Control: "It's been there for half an hour. Right. Is it actually on the mountain or in the sky?"

Caller: "It's in the air."

Control: "I will send someone up there now to check it out."

Caller: "OK."

After the police patrol car arrives, the script reveals the exchange between the control room and the police officer sent to the scene.

Control: "Alpha Zulu 20, this object in the sky, did anyone have a look at it?"

Officer: "Yes, it's the moon. Over."

Posted at 09:40 PM | Comments (0)

July 11, 2008

Exercise your rights

I was walking to the courthouse to sue some people today, when I came upon a rally at the Thompson Center. It turns out there was a rally for gun rights, with various speakers and other pro-gun advocates. The object of their ire: Chicago's handgun ban, which is probably on its deathbed after the recent Supreme Court decision affirming the right to own a handgun for personal protection. Mayor Daley, of course, has vowed to keep the law in place.

I didn't stay very long, although I did get a cool sticker that says "I'm a bitter gun owner and I vote." Now, I am bitter and I do vote, but I don't own a gun. So it's sort of right. The rally got me thinking: I don't really care for guns, but I think they are a necessary evil. Criminals have guns, and a person has a right to protect himself and his family. Nevertheless, some people aren't wise with their guns, and shoot people who shouldn't be shot, or accidentally shoot themselves, or accidentally shoot their friends or family. Hell, even the vice president accidentally shoots people.

I heard one speaker long enough to talk about how gun owners are everyday people: doctors, taxi drivers, teachers, etc. They shouldn't be stigmatized.

I agree with this, but you wouldn't know it from the people who were in attendance. There were curious passersby, but most of those listening in rapt attention looked like they came off the train from Elburn. I hadn't seen that much camouflage in a long time. If the pro-gun lobby wants to make normal people feel better about owning guns, they should tell the people who show up to dress like they're going to work, not hunting... Or, er, a gun rally.

Posted at 06:03 PM | Comments (0)

July 09, 2008

Food racism

I've heard of racist dogs before, and racism is undoubtedly a continuing problem. So, what has an organization in Great Britain done to combat the racism problem? Nip 'em in the bud, so to speak:

The National Children's Bureau, which receives £12 million a year, mainly from Government funded organisations, has issued guidance to play leaders and nursery teachers advising them to be alert for racist incidents among youngsters in their care.

This is all well and good, and they propose some interesting solutions:

The 366-page guide for staff in charge of pre-school children, called Young Children and Racial Justice, warns: "Racist incidents among children in early years settings tend to be around name-calling, casual thoughtless comments and peer group relationships."

It advises nursery teachers to be on the alert for childish abuse such as: "blackie", "Pakis", "those people" or "they smell".

Things get a little wacky, however, when they suggest not liking unfamiliar food is racist:

The guide goes on to warn that children might also "react negatively to a culinary tradition other than their own by saying 'yuk'".

Whaaaa? Yes, the reason the 3-year old doesn't want that hummus is because he hates Arabs. I was a toddler once, and as anyone who knows me can attest, I am a finicky bastard when it comes to food. That doesn't make me a racist, it means I know what I like. I was even worse when I was a kid - it was turkey sandwich or the highway for me. The fact I didn't want Chinese food, or Indian food, or even Mexican had more to do with my palette than it did latent racism. I'm sure it's the same for kids now.

Even better, scientific studies suggest kids have different taste buds than adults. So disliking something as a 5-year old doesn't mean you'll also dislike it as an adult.

I'm sure the bit of the study that mentioned saying "yuk" to unfamiliar food is taken out of context and a very small portion of the overall report. Nevertheless, this is, how do you say... Asinine!

Posted at 05:22 PM | Comments (0)

Get this woman some Ritalin

You know, it's a common joke to say women are bad drivers. Of course, lots of people are terrible drivers, regardless of their gender. But, I ask, how bad do you have to be to take 27 years to pass a driving test? This woman must know:

A woman has finally passed her driving test 27 years and 450 lessons after she first took to the road.

Teresa Clarke, a 62-year-old grandmother and mother-of-two, had her first lesson in 1981 shortly before American president Ronald Reagan was shot and Prince Charles married Lady Diana Spencer.

Since then she has been through 20 driving instructors, spent £15,000 in fees and had 450 hours of tuition. Despite all the work she failed 12 tests, cancelled a further 35 and had 50 mock exams.

But it was 13th time lucky when thanks to the help of her stepson, who runs a driving school, she finally was allowed to ditch her L-plates last month.

...

Mrs Clarke, a former shop assistant who is 5ft tall and has to sit on a cushion to reach the steering wheel, admits that she was a hopeless learner because she found it very difficult to concentrate for long periods of time.

Good God, she can't concentrate enough to drive? Is this the kind of person who should even get a driver's license? Maybe I'm wrong, but if you can't concentrate when you are driving a 2-ton piece of machinery at 60 miles an hour, and similar machines are coming straight at you, you might have a problem.

Posted at 04:51 PM | Comments (0)

July 07, 2008

Keep on running

I have this subscription to Runner's World magazine, and it's a pretty nice magazine. I like all the tips that could possibly turn me into a better runner, plus there's usually some nice eye candy on the cover.

Nevertheless, I was a bit irritated that the latest cover story was dedicated to the phenomenon of athletic skirts, which have formed a solid block of fans among the running community. I've run a good chunk of races this past year, and I've seen quite a few women rolling up in these things, and I can't really decide if I'm a fan.

On the upside, they don't seem to be an impediment to running swiftly, and they also are more feminine than shorts. On the other hand, they seem out of place and make the wearer look more suited to playing tennis. I imagine the main advantage is that they are somewhat more fashionable than shorts.

The article mentions it gives the air of "strong women," but I don't even know what this means. How does a skirt make a woman strong? I always thought skirts were viewed as the establishment female wear, and an empowered woman told the establishment to get bent, instead choosing to wear a pantsuit. Perhaps, then, it is a reverse-f-you to the establishment, in that women are choosing to wear skirts when they go running.

I still think of them as unathletic, but that can't be true if women are going for long runs in them, and if women are playing professional tennis in them. Furthermore, all the fighters in Braveheart wore kilts, which are like skirts, and they did alright. (For a little bit, at least.)

For me, I think it comes down to what looks natural. Even though skirts are more flattering or fashionable or whatever, I can't help but think it looks silly. It doesn't look natural to me, but I'm not the one making the choice. I myself will probably never go running in a kilt, so don't get too excited for that!

Posted at 04:37 PM | Comments (0)

July 03, 2008

Happy birthday, America

Thanks for everything, United States! Happy birthday.

Posted at 09:56 PM | Comments (0)

Christ almighty

I hate ranch dressing. I hate it with a passion I usually reserve for people who can't park, the New York Yankees, and Train.

It goes like this: my little brother, bless him, wasn't always the neatest eater. I suppose none of us were. However, he used to love ranch dressing. We'd go to the local Shoney's, which had a salad bar, and he would invariably make a salad which consisted of lettuce, other vegetables, diced ham, and ranch dressing. Then, he'd eat that salad, and get diced ham and ranch dressing all over his face. When he was done, there'd be a thin crust of ham and putrid ranch on his upper lip, and the smell was repulsive. I can still picture the scene, and that awful smell of ranch dressing. Ever since then, I couldn't go near the stuff.

Then four or five years ago, I dated this girl who also loved ranch dressing. She claimed she liked it so much, she carried a bottle of it in her purse. I never tried to verify this; nevertheless, a girl who liked ranch that much and I could never work out anyway.

As you might imagine, if this happened to my house, I'd sell the place and go live in the mountains. I'm pretty sure there are no ranches in the mountains. Either way, I'd ban ranch dressing from my home.

At least 10 residents in Clintonville are cleaning up after a combination of storm water and ranch salad dressing seeped into their basements.

According to the Ohio Environmental Protection Agency, rain from last week's storms combined with sewage from the T. Marzetti. Co. -- a salad dressing producer located on Indianola Avenue.

Sewage and storm water overwhelmed the city's storm sewer system, resulting in flooding at nearby homes.

"It's creamy-ranch- dressing-looking crap," resident Steven Maiken told the Columbus Dispatch. "It's not toxic waste, but we did have to throw away a lot of stuff. We tried to wash it off over and over again."

Maiken, who lives on Northridge Road, told the newspaper that he reported the problem to the Ohio EPA on Tuesday.

The Ohio EPA assessed the damage to basements and said residents should strip and bleach their basements, 10TV News reported.

According to the newspaper, the EPA suspects that pipes from nearby homes merge with pipes from the factory, but the pipes were not wide enough to handle excess water.

Posted at 10:24 AM | Comments (0)

July 02, 2008

The Pungent Traveller

While browsing one of the many used book stores in my neighborhood, I happened upon a book called "Driving Pursuits of a Chicago Cabbie," by Alan Freedman. Leafing through it, I thought it was worth the $5 investment - and I have to say, it's paid off.

The book is simply a collection of the author's experiences as a Chicago taxi driver. Many of them are hilarious, many of them are disturbing. However, the part that maximizes the enjoyment for me is the way the book is written. It's highly readable, but it's clear the author isn't a professional writer. One story about a fellow on a drug-buying expedition to Cabrini-Green ends: "I surmise that the two benefactors took him to one of the top vacant floors where they either assaulted or killed him for his money. Because of his inordinate desire for drugs, he tread a path that had no purpose or goal in life; a path that leads to destruction. How sad!"

Indeed, it is sad. Nevertheless, wherever you are, Mr. Freedman, you wrote a most interesting book!

Posted at 07:25 PM | Comments (0)

I love Britain

You gotta hand it to the British press. Eduardo, a player on my favorite English soccer team, Arsenal, suffered a nasty broken leg back in February, as seen in all its gruesomeness above. Well, he's healing faster than expected, and might be able to play again when the season starts in August.

The Sun newspaper carried a story about Eduardo's recovery, but was not content to simply talk about his healing. Instead, they also carried pictures of him on the beach with his Brazilian girlfriend, because sex sells. Even in sports. As if that wasn't enough, there is also a big red button that says "Click here for a slideshow of the injury!" Then, below that, there's another big red button for a slideshow of other horrible sports injuries.

It seems kind of tacky to me; nevertheless, I'm a follower, so here goes: why they didn't they include this?

Posted at 04:35 PM | Comments (0)

July 01, 2008

Bear with us

I feel bad, loyal reader(s). I haven't been posting too much on this here commentary lately, and it's not because I've lost my zest for regurgitating news items and complaining about things. Nope, instead, something far more insidious is working its magic: the bar exam.

You might know a little about the bar exam. All you need to know is, I have to pass it in order to call myself an honest-to-god lawyer. Think I can do that? I'll tell you this much: it's a royal, super-duper pain-in-the-ass. But I'm studying, and generally dedicating myself to learning about stuff I forgot after my first year of law school. In a few cases, I'm learning stuff I never knew in the first place.

Anyhow, the point is, I've got a lot happening. I will continue to write here, because I feel like I've achieved that Doogie Howser like state where if I don't write in my computerized memoir, my day isn't complete. Don't weep if I miss a few days here and there.

But please: if you rely on this site for news, I truly hope you will consider something like the BBC or CNN. They're more reliable, and probably funnier too.

Posted at 08:42 AM | Comments (0)