social sherds and check-in chaff

people who disdain facebook and twitter say they're not interested in reading about the boring, inane details of other people's lives.

they don't know what they're missing.

today's not half over, and i've done enough interesting stuff to keep social archeologists busy for years. and, thanks to the magical miracle of social media, i can share all of it with my friends. wait, that's too limiting. i can share it with...the world.

the good stuff, from the get-go:

mrs. spaceneedl says the dogs need to be let out to go pee. rolling out of bed...now!

since i'm going downstairs anyway, i'll take the laundry basket with me. chores starting early!

dogs let out. stop barking, dogs!

chose to do a dark load first, followed by a white load. i am the laundry decider!

dogs let back in. suppose i should feed them. poor hungry creatures!

whew. see? the day's not ten minutes old, and look how much excitement the world would've missed were it not for my ability to update my status instantaneously, spontaneously, anywhere, any time.

already wondering what you missed in the time it took me to type the last two sentences? i don't blame you! let's find out...

fed dogs. now they're waiting by the door to go outside to poop. good dogs. wait, kate, don't eat the poop!

need coffee. should i have the coconut macadamia nut, or the hazelnut caramel? can't decide!

remembered we have coconut milk in the fridge. so, went with the hazelnut caramel. i'm the coffee decider!

wife is up and around now, gearing up to walk the dogs. dogs are excited. more chances to poop!

walking to the village now. gives a whole new meaning to "go dogs, go!"

just so you know, i'm leaving out a bunch of stuff that, frankly, is none of your business. can you imagine the quantity (and quality!) of the content if i didn't have this awesome self-filter thing going on in my brain? for example, i'm completely omitting the post about picking up three bags of poop in the back yard, and the one about hosing some poop off one of my shoes. i just don't think you need to know about that sort of sh*t. sorry!

where was i?

dogs, laundry, poop, village...oh, right.

wife wants to shop at "vixen." note: it's not nearly as racy as it sounds. this is magnolia, after all!

wife playing the "retail therapy" card. where's my retail therapy card? i don't think we're playing from the same deck!

yes, dear, those jeans look very nice on you. what? they're on sale? you don't say!

funny thing about vixen: they carry nothing for men. i'll get nothing, and like it. aren't i a good sport?!

vixen trip complete. jeans, earrings, tank top: $178. great husband status: priceless!

once again, i've left out a bunch of excellent, post-worthy stuff here. the entire stop at the bakery, specifically, will remain undisclosed and up to your imagination. but trust me, it was scintillating. "hollywood wives" has nothing on "magnolia bakers and baristas." the whole place just pulses with hot, sweet, savory, fresh stuff that's none of your business. and it happens there every day, except mondays, when they're closed, probably because they need to rest up after all that hot monkey, um, bread.

so, go ahead, scoff at the social media all you want, scoffers. but this is the last time i let you peer in at the real-time reporting of breaking news, not to mention the intimate details of the dirty laundry you can't read about anywhere else.

probably.

armed and genderous

Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun, momma
When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger
I know nobody can do me no harm
Because happiness is a warm gun, momma
Happiness is a warm gun
Bang bang, shoot shoot...

~~john lennon

i don't mind guns.

it's people i don't trust.

people and guns are a bad combination. anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is lying. or foolish. foolish liars with guns are an even worse combination.

"chicks with guns" (the concept and the book) is only slightly less disquieting than "children with guns," or "monkeys with guns."

women, see, are the life-affirming, life-giving, life-worth-living side of humanity. our better half in more ways than one should attempt to count.

put 20 million guns in their hands, and what do they become? what do we become? irredeemably dangerous. frightening. and, best avoided by creatures that prefer their bodies unpunctured by fast-moving metal.

"but, guns are for protection! women deserve to feel safe from other people with guns. people with bad intentions. you know, men!"

this argument seems valid, until you look at the fine print. the part about 30,000 u.s. gun deaths each year. the 17,000 suicides, and the 1,000 accidental deaths-by-gun.

when you put it that way, being anywhere near a gun doesn't sound like such a good idea. it sounds about as safe as petting a ravenous mountain lion. or befriending a masked man with a chainsaw. or fracking a volcano.

or indoctrinating the next generation of gun-toting tots...

Some of the more haunting images are those of moms with their kids.

In one image, a woman who lives in Healdsburg is seated on her bed with her daughter. The woman, named Lake, holds a stainless-steel Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum. Her young daughter, Ruby, sits behind her and holds a vintage cap gun. Both stare impassively at the camera. Another portrait shows a woman in Houston, cradling her naked young son in one arm and holding an Ithaca 20-gauge side-by-side in the other. The woman told McCrum, "I'm eager to teach my boys everything I know."

if she gets started on that lecture now, those boys should be ready to go out and shoot living things any minute. heads up, y'all.

if we're being honest here (and we are), we should agree that guns are made to kill and maim animate objects. and if we can agree on that, we can also feel the dissonance of turning women into steely-eyed weapon wavers, a hair-trigger away from something horrifying and permanent.

men, historically, are the hunters and killers of all things with a pulse. back in the days of mammoths and saber tooth tigers, you could make a case for weaponizing the males, so the women could focus on perpetuating the species. now? not so much. the threat of extinction is no longer imminent, so men with guns kill things for fun, or because they're drunk, or because they're stupid.

until proven otherwise, we should agree that men can't be trusted with anything more dangerous than a plastic butter knife. and that the women are too smart, too civilized, too invested in the future of humankind to set their sights that low.

or maybe that's just whistling past civilization's graveyard.

Author and satirist Christopher Buckley called the book "a serious work of cultural iconography, and visually stunning, alternately sexy, arresting, haunting and mesmerizing."

visually stunning and haunting, certainly. indicative of our culture's cheerfully homicidal nature? definitely. sexy? um, right. nothing says "sexy" like a woman with a gun in her hand and a look of vacuous indifference or calculated menace in her eyes.

upon further review, it occurs to me that if you mentally photoshop out the guns, most of the women in "chicks with guns" actually are sexy. but then, they'd have to change the title of the book to something like "random chicks in fields," or just "chicks." which would be kind of odd.

the conclusion, then, is that that the chicks with guns should stay far afield~~farther...no, really, farther~~and i'll stay over here with the living things that don't care to be shot or shot at or even have a gun anywhere near them.

we can agree to that, yes?

thanks.

running on...

looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
i don't know how to tell you all
just how crazy this life feels
i look around for the friends that I used to turn to
to pull me through
looking into their eyes I see them running too
running on, running on empty
running on, running blind
running on, running into the sun
but I'm running behind

~jackson browne


i still don't like running.

but i'm hating it less, recently. especially today.

the difference? for one, this morning my daughter ran with me.

it was the inaugural "run the bluff" 12k/5k event held in our very own neighborhood. i ran the 12k~~she and a friend ran the 5k.

the day started rainy and cold, but improved by race time to chilly and misty. the precipitation stopped for the start, but restarted before the finish. which is to say, we got wet.

this seems like a good time to mention that 12k is 7.456 miles. if you're cruising the highway at 65 mph or so, it's nothing. it's 7 minutes of your life that you don't notice going by at all.

if you're running those 12000 meters, however, it takes a lot longer. and me, i noticed every mile.

i noticed that it's easier to run with several hundred people than to run alone. i noticed i'm not the only one who struggles on long uphill climbs. i noticed it's impossible to drink water out of little paper cups when you're running, and trying to do so will empty the cup all down your front. and onto your shoes.

i noticed that i don't like people passing me. and after the first several minutes of sorting things out, no one did. the faster people stayed in front of me, and the slower people stayed behind me. i mean, obviously.

a couple people tried to pass, but after i tripped them and told them to stay on the ground, they lost interest.

kidding.

but really, between mile one and mile seven, no one passed me. i was feeling pretty good about this...right up to the point, with a half-mile to go, where the twenty-something mom (and her child) blew past me with the baby jogger. the moment was deeply symbolic of something, but i'm not sure what.

anyway, i ran, i finished, i didn't fall down, i didn't have a cardiac event. which means it was a very good day.

the girls, meanwhile, had an even better time.

did i mention, they're ten years old and were running their first race? they are, and they were. totally nonchalant about the whole thing, running ahead of me for the first several hundred yards (even though we started together).

they finished 80th among the 171 girls/women running the 5k. the average finishing time was 36:00 minutes, they finished in 34 minutes.

they got their picture taken and their names announced as they crossed the finish line. the only thing missing was al michaels saying, "do you believe in miracles? yes!"

ten years old.

crazy.

**********************

update: several hours later, i'm tired. mostly from two hours shopping with the missus, i think. though it's possible the running may be a contributing factor.

the girl, conversely, is unfazed. smiling, wearing her event t-shirt, her race bib number pinned to her bulletin board.

we're talking about running the "seattle jingle bell walk/run" in a couple months.

it may actually be possible to enjoy running. who knew...

**********************

results:

bib number: 1813
age: 10
gender: F
location: Seattle, WA
overall place: 131 out of 248
division place: 11 out of 19
gender place: 80 out of 171
time: 34:18
pace: 11:03

Number of Finishers: 248
Number of Females: 171
Number of Males: 77
Average Time: 36:00

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

bib number: 190
age: 50
gender: M
location: Seattle, WA
overall place: 89 out of 338
division place: 8 out of 15
gender place: 62 out of 127
time: 1:02:49
pace: 8:26

Number of Finishers: 338
Number of Females: 211
Number of Males: 127
Average Time: 1:12:14

the bell tolls

"I don't know where bin Laden is. I have no idea and really don't care. It's not that important. It's not our priority." --george w. bush, 3/13/02

it says here that osama bin laden is dead.

killed in a raid by u.s. navy seals and cia operatives.

americans loudly celebrated bin laden's demise, in much the same way we celebrate super bowls and other entertainment events. we do love our happy endings, don't we?

you can make the case that a dead bin laden is better than a live bin laden (or a zombie bin laden, as the case may be). the bush administration might disagree, as george and dick found that particular boogie man useful for years--much to bushcorp's benefit, and much to america's detriment.

finding and dispatching bin laden was obviously more important to barack obama. but while bin laden may be dead, you can also make the case that he and his terrorists won the last ten years, handily.

do you believe this? do you feel the truth of it, without reading a list of the reasons why?

what bin laden orchestrated was bad, hideous. but in the aftermath, what we did to ourselves and others was worse. let's count (some of) the ways...

two futile, unnecessary wars featuring tens of thousands (if not hundreds of thousands) dead and countless more permanently altered. if you prefer your costs in dollars, that's $5 trillion and counting.

torture. rendition.

secret prisons. abu ghraib. guantanamo bay.

a ravaged treasury and a broken economy.

freedoms casually set aside in the land of the free.

a climate of fear intentionally cultivated in the home of the brave.

the "patriot" act.

"homeland security." warrantless surveillance. the rise, not of the nanny state on the left, but of the security state on the right. (add another $1 trillion.)

are these examples enough? there are more, you know. we could go on and on. the obvious takeaway is that in the fight against freedom, we did bin laden's work for him.

historically, america has fancied itself the "shining city on the hill," lighting the way for the rest of the world by our noble example. sadly, we self-mockerized this concept innumerable ways during the last ten years (WMDs! bring 'em on! they hate us for our freedoms! mission accomplished!). and we failed to learn from our own bad example.

there's been no national look-in-the-mirror. no reflection on our role in a world where the u.s. may be feared but not admired. we're forward-lookers, by golly, and we're americans. we write the history, we don't need to learn from it, too.

no matter. osama bin laden is dead. the world, we are told, is a safer place.

if that's true, perhaps now we can stop shooting ourselves in the foot.

‎"the ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. in fact, violence merely increases hate. so it goes. returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." -- martin luther king, jr

hey kid, stop that annoying breathing...

"I mean, people have access to health care in America. After all, you just go to an emergency room."
--george w. bush

our gentle descent into the jungle continues.

today we're telling low-income parents that they should reconsider taking their sick child to the emergency department--because it's just too darn expensive.

and really, that kid's wheezing asthmatic fit will probably pass. eventually. maybe.

"Washington state's plan to cut Medicaid would limit emergency room visits for potentially serious conditions such as breathing trouble and more. Two-thirds of the 1.1 million state residents covered by Medicaid are children.

"...critics say conditions such as hypoglycemic coma or asthma attacks weren't considered to be emergencies. They worry that parents and patients might self-diagnose and make risky, life-threatening choices to stay under the limit — particularly since budget cuts are reducing other options."

is it not remarkable the things we'll allow so the gentry can avoid paying a few more tax dollars? washington state residents recently defeated a tax on candy, soda, and bottled water, so poor kids could lay around gasping for air while their parents agonize over a trip to the emergency department.

let's savor that a moment, shall we? we in washington state are so enamored of our heart-clogging candy, high fructose corn soda, and ocean-choking plastic water, that rather than pay a few cents more for them, we'll deprive sick children of emergency healthcare.

when did the plan to eliminate poverty become the eradication of the poor? and damn those people for hogging all the emergency care...

"...emergency rooms have only been required to treat all patients regardless of ability to pay since the 1986 passage of the EMTALA Act. And of course Republicans routinely complain about EMTALA to this day, calling it a 'hidden tax' on the insured and railing against the fact that it doesn't allow hospitals to dump illegal immigrants with heart attacks in the gutter."

so, this is what we've come to? this is how we're defining "civilized" behavior in the greatest country on earth (and make no mistake, most states and the federal government are similarly cutting funds for the most vulnerable in favor of those who need no help at all).

we're devolving into a talking-monkeyocracy. before long we'll all be jumping up and down, shrieking, and waving sticks in the air, while dolphins and border collies look at us and roll their eyes.

even "dumb" animals take care of their offspring. you'd think the least we could do is offer ours emergency care to offset all the candy and soda.

it's the civilized thing to do.

the gospel of st. hochuli

"religion is the opiate of the masses." ~vladimir lenin

"the beatles are bigger than jesus christ." ~john lennon

"i'll take the seahawks plus 10 1/2 against the bears." ~jesus christ

america is suffering a crisis of faith.

we have no faith in our nominal leaders. no agreement on what defines "american values." we have little job stability and an escalating prospect we might never be able to retire.

so at a time when we trust so little and yearn for so much, what's left to believe in?

are you ready for some football?!?

in a perfect marriage between america's true religion and its other religion, some churches are combining the two in a holy communion of divine home-teamerism.

and really, in today's america, it makes perfect sense--church attendance is down, football attendance is down. so, you know, why not try an ecumenical hail-mary? "go jesus! go seahawks!"

check out the big screens at eastlake community church in the 'burbs of seattle. that is one inspirational place to watch football, isn't it? you have to think jesus would totally dig exalting his favorite team amongst the flock in a holy place like that. of course, whichever team that might be, they'd have a pretty decisive home field advantage.

losing locker room: "we were in this game all the way, but when jesus is on the side of the other team, you really have no margin for error."

winning locker room: "we made some mistakes early, and let them hang around too long, but we knew jesus was on our side, and we'd pull it out in the end."

what if he could've watched the christians versus the lions or the bears or the heavily favored romans on an array of 3D big screens! it's not hard to imagine the profound effect on sunday services.

"please power your kindalls to the book of matthew ryan, where we read 'if god so clothes the grass of the field, which today exists, and tomorrow is cast into the oven against the phoenix cardinals, shall he not much more clothe you with air conditioning, o you of little faith?' the answer, after this message from budweiser, the official beer of the nfl. remember, what would jesus drink? budweiser, the king of beers!"

do you know how many fans can congregate at eastlake? i don't either, but from the looks of things, it's more than a couple dozen. which helps explain how they can afford that kind of video technology for spreading the good word and watching slo-mo instant replays.

the ecc website says they are a "...somewhat disorganized church started by nine friends in 2005." don't you wish your church-home theater was that disorganized?

while were at it, can't you just see dr. martin luther king standing beneath some huge plasma screens, leading the cheers for the the atlanta falcons? now that americans have so completely embraced his messages of peace, justice, nonviolence, and league-wide parity, he'd probably have nothing better to do than get all geared up in a "vick" jersey and say a few words about the parallels between the gospel and the road to the super bowl.

if you follow the money, and believe in brand loyalty, you can totally see where this is heading. churches with the best viewer experience and the most spiritually enlightened cheerleaders will have the best shot at the blue-chip parishioners. by definition, they'll have the highest percentage rate in passing the collection plate. and their canonical defense will make the red zone a place no one wants to go, if you follow the metaphysical metaphor.

all that's missing is the theme song...

i got to get ready, make everything right,
'cause all my rowdy friends are coming over tonight.

do you want a drink,
hey do you want to party.
hey honey this is ole hank
ready to get the thing started

we cooked the pig in the ground, got some beer on ice
and all my rowdy friends are coming over tonight

are you ready for some churchball?!

shut up! no, you shut up!

it says here that you're a rude mother%@#&)*.

but it's not your fault. you have brain damage.

according to doug fields, phd., "A disrespectful, stressful social environment is a neurotoxin for the brain and psyche, and the scars are permanent. [The impairment] is associated with increased risk of craving, drug abuse and dependence, and a weakened ability to make moral judgments."

this explains so much.

it explains, for example, republicans. if we're being honest here (and we are), we have to agree that the gop is the party of rude mother%@#&)*s everywhere.

they're egregeously uncouth on so many fronts it's hard to sort them all, but for starters, republicans are painfully ill-mannered toward the u.s. constitution, the poor, the sick, the homeless, the environment, endangered wildlife, the economy, brown people, and countries with imaginary WMDs.

on the other hand, republicans are exceedingly polite to the wealthiest 1% of americans, wealthy wingnut media celebrities, and wealthy transnational corporations. so, go figure.

but look, it's obviously not their fault. at some point their brains must've been filled with noxious socio-environmental neurotoxins, which they can't help but pass along, generation to generation. these are sad, destructive, cringe-worthy family values, but they're family values nonetheless, n'est-ce pas?

to be fair, one needn't be a republican to be a rude mother$%#&!*. consider the many homes around the country, wrongly foreclosed on and siezed by predatory banks, forcing families into the street. and how about the man in pittsburgh whose home was mistakenly demolished by the the city while he was at work? that's some rude sh*t, isn't it?

more? mel gibson. jesse james. charlie sheen. john edwards/reille hunter. lyndsay lohan. ann coulter. sarah palin. tiger woods. all are hilarious, outrageous boors (though you could make the case that they're just barbarians).

again, not their fault. we have to assume they were raised by vampires or reality tv producers or potted poison ivy.

dr. doug, redux: "Studies have shown that children exposed to serious psychological trauma during childhood are at risk of suffering increased psychiatric disorders, including depression, anger, hostility, drug abuse, suicidal ideation, loneliness and even psychosis as adults."

that's us! is not america chock-full of people just like that? oh my, yes. which means we're constantly cultivating even more deeply disturbed people, then sending them out into the world to create more stress, more neurotoxins, and more rude mother%@#&)*s.

eventually we will be overrun with rude zombies who exist in a spiritual semidarkness that never lifts, snarling their way through each day, then scuffling home at night to sit in their home theaters of rudeness, refueling in preparation for more of the same the next day.

it is a disturbing prospect, certainly, one that must be countered with large quantities of great art, great sex and great wine. there are other antidotes, of course, including excellent food, copious sunshine, happy puppies, healthy children, and books instead of television.

interestingly, not everyone exposed to the rude is doomed to contract the disease. some people are simply immune. gravitate to them like garden plants to the sun, in the hope that some of what they have might rub off on you. literally or figuratively, whichever you can manage in good conscience.

and if it helps your state of zen, remember the rude can't help the way they are. it's not their fault.

it's the brain damage talking.