My New Job IV

I read the other day about a woman who attended a meeting with social workers and stormed out, taking her one-year-old baby with her. When the social worker and the security guard followed her she stood in the middle of the road, held her baby with one arm and said, “If you come any closer I’m gonna kill the motherfucker.”

I meet the people who will die soon from overdose, or from a bullet to the back of the head, or from AIDS, or quietly in jail. They fall asleep while they talk to me because they just don’t give a damn. Society gave up on them a long time ago and they gave up on themselves even sooner. They laugh when I ask for their fathers’ names but at the same time they have six children they’ve never met and never will.

And legalizing all drugs will solve some of the problems. Addicts will not spend their lives in jail but will be treated and some will come out and see life for what it could be, the way they saw life when they were children rather than as something they need to endure between highs. And the drug dealers will be forced to find something else to do. And the police won’t spend all its resources staring at street corners but will actually work to make the streets safer from violent crime… I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. I love this city; don’t get me wrong, but going back to work after a two-day weekened takes away the illusion. Here I am with my unborn child and my Honey and my doggies and my house and my mortgage and should we take the carpet out in the guest room and what do I do about the poison ivy in the backyard and the drycleaner messed up the clothes again and Comcast costumer service department sucks. And here is a generation of people who won't live to see forty.

There’s an all-encompassing truth hidden there for me. Between all the filth and the fury there’s something begging to be understood. Maybe it’ll make me get out of my shell and devote my free time to volunteer work or to spread the message of drug-law reform or prison reform or public education reform. Maybe it’ll make me see the unity of the human race in its collective pain and beauty.

Or maybe I’ll eventually get a new job and forget about it all.

Happy Birthday, Honey

It was my American girl's birthday today. I got her some presents, nothing too crazy. It's a joint account, after all. Girlie stuff, like bracelets and earrings and a necklace and a thing people with hair use. She needs to feel like her normal self again, now that people start treating her like a would be mother and all that. She's used to men looking at her boobs but now they all stare at her belly, which must feel strange and foreign. I think.

Then I got her some stuff from her favorite candle-and-soap-and-lip-gloss-and-other-stuff shop. This earned me a few extra points because that place has always been a bit too much for me, too scenty and candle-y and perfect. She asked me later that night how I was doing there so I told her I made a joke.

--"Oh no, what did you say?"
--"The saleswoman was trying to help me but I couldn't find anything, so she looked at some cookbooks and asked if my wife liked to cook, and I told her, 'I don't know, she hasn't tried it yet.'"
--"Why did you say that? I cook."
--"Yes. But I couldn't miss a joke opportunity like that, right?"
--"I guess not."

So I met her at work and we walked to Camden Yards in time for the Cal Ripken Jr. bobblehead giveaway. And the Orioles won, which makes the day even better.

So, happy birthday, Honey. I know you don't read this because you think it's weird that I write my thoughts instead of saying them, but just in case you happen to read this, know that when you're asleep I'm downstairs thinking about you, and know that you're more beautiful and sexy than ever and that I appreciate you and respect you if you cook or if you don't cook and if you like my jokes or if you like me in spite of them, and I hope you had a good birthday and my only true wish in this world is to be there with you next year to celebrate another one.

Anyway, before I ruin the mood with the next video, just a happy birthday to my niece and a happy birthday to Shelli. And of course, congratulations to Susie.

Last year I talked Honey into going to a lame bar downtown but when we got there I surprised her with tickets to see Robert Schimmel. Or maybe it was two years ago?

I've Been Double-Schmoozed

In one week, two people got the impression I'm a schmoozer. True, I involve myself in the blogging community but that's only because it's either that or doing the laundry. And I hate doing the laundry. I hate folding more than anything. That guy in the schmooze picture, my arm looks a lot like that, only my tattoo doesn't say schmooze but revenge.

Anyway, before we all move on to the next post, which I promise will include a picture of a penis, I'd like to thank Shelli and MoonDanzer for their much appreciated support. I do believe in commenting and in blogging in general (although I've always had a problem with the word blog), and I'm always grateful when someone comes here and leaves a comment, so to have two people show their support with this schmooze award feels good.

And thanks, Larry from Let's Talk About It, for offering another tag that I can't do because I did a similar one recently.

First, some cut-and-paste:

1. If, and only if, you get the Thinking Blogger Award or The Power of Schmooze Award, write a post with links that make you think, or have schmoozed you into submission.
2. Link to this post and Mike so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the “Thinking Blogger Award” or the “Power of Schmooze Award” with a link to the post that you wrote (here is alternative silver version if gold doesn’t fit your blog.

Now, let me look for my next victims:

• Dan at Cafe Leone - I know I've tagged you before but if anyone deserves a schmooze award it's you, for continually supporting other blogs on your site.
• Dave at Wandering the Ether - I know you're taking the time off, but since you take time off yet still find time to comment on others' blogs you're helping the blogging community and deserve to have this little blue rectangle on your site.

And spreading the love to my three new links:

• Kali at Out of Focus
• ajooja at ajooja
• and Leisel at Dead Man's Honda.

As usual, all of you are free to ignore this tag and move on with your lives as if nothing happened. But someday, somehow, you will regret it. And then you will cry. And guess who will not be there to offer a sturdy shoulder? Me.

Seriously. I know some people have their blog schedule organized and then someone comes and gives them a tag and they wish they could simply ignore it--so feel free to ignore it. Luckily for me, though, the only thing I had planned for my next post is a picture of a penis, and that can wait.

Until next time--don't forget, a picture of a penis!

Impeachment Now

Saw this at The Peace Tree. Spread it around. Let's get this thing out there.

We the people want impeachment NOW

Yesterday, George Bush decided to let Scooter Libby, the one man who was convicted for the lies around the Iraq war, avoid serving out his prison sentence. Even Paris Hilton served more jail time than he will. And letting Libby off the hook is only the most recent example of a consistent Bush administration pattern of obstruction of justice. Warrantless wiretaps, Alberto Gonzalez, the original outing of Valerie Plame; we're all familiar with the numerous past transgressions by these criminals.

As they say in civics class, America is a country of laws, not of men. It's time for Congress to stand up and use those laws to rid our country of the men who are systematically dismantling our constitution and ignoring the checks and balances that have always protected our democracy. Bush and Cheney think their administration is above the law. That's un-American, and this July 4th it's time for Congress to re-assert its constitutional authority and stop the administration's obstruction of justice.

Congress can start by demanding answers from the Bush administration about the Iraq war and their illegal spying program, and not backing down until they get them. Cheney won't testify? Subpoena him. He won't come? Hold him in contempt of Congress and send over the police. And if that doesn't work, impeach the guy. We just can't let President Bush and his administration continue to wipe their feet on our Constitution.

Let's celebrate Independence Day by reaffirming the basic, founding idea of our government: No one, not even the president of the United States, is above the law. Sign this petition to urge Congress to act NOW! If enough of us make enough noise, and for long enough, and from all corners of our country, then perhaps this Congress will stiffen it's spine and move to remedy the poison that has seeped into our land for far too long now.

After you've signed the petition and pestered your own Congress critter, join me by copying this post to your own blog, and adding your blog to the list below. Let's take this message of unity and support to every corner of America, and show just how many of us are ready to take back America!

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Instructions:

1.- Copy and paste this message as a new post on your own blog.

2. - Replace one of the “Impeach NOW” tags in the matrix below with your anchor text (Blog name) of choice with your blog’s URL (Don't hesitate to e-mail me if you have questions about this!). Please keep anchor text to a max of 3 words to keep the matrix size manageable.

3. - Encourage and invite your readers to do the same and soon this can grow virally.

4.- The above steps will not only add your voice to the chorus for impeachment, but will also increase your Technorati stats as an added bonus.

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We, the undersigned bloggers of America, agreeing that dissent is the truest form of patriotism, hereby publicly voice our unanimous discontent with the Bush administration and beseech the Congress of the United States of America to provide redress by immediately initiating impeachment proceedings against George W. Bush and Richard Cheney.

Left in Aboite Fort Wayne Left Left of Centrist Monticello America Weeps Get Your Own Der Parson's Rant The Katrinacrat Let's Talk About It Carol for Peace Divided States bu$hmeriKa Dizzy Dayz Anti-bush pro-usa States-a-Mind Life’s Journey A Poetic Justice The Peace Tree Poets For Peace The Anti-War Theatre APJ Photomontage LeftwingNutJob The Sirens Chronicles Sumo Merriment People in the Sun Moondanzer Delivers Lionboi Blues & News ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW

Fifteen. Summer Vacation.

I was fifteen. It was summer vacation. I was sitting outside talking with three friends, when someone mentioned the secret everyone else knew.

"You know an electric shock? Well, it's like that but it starts at your feet and quickly climbs up all the way to your head."

"Why would I want to have an electric shock?"

"No, no. It's like that but it feels good. You just feel the electricity in your body but it doesn't hurt or anything."

"And all of you do that?"

"Where have you been? We've been doing that for a year now."
"I've been doing it since I was twelve."
"You have to try it."

So I went home and filled up the bath, thinking, How would I know when to stop? But you find out soon enough, don't you?

More Army Stories 1991-1994

We emptied out his aftershave and peed inside the bottle. I took this photo a second before he realized what was going on.

Honey wishes I still looked like that. I think when I shave my head she still sees that person. Suspended disbelief I think they call it. I should shave my head more often.

My parents came to visit me one Saturday in the desert. It may have been the first time my father drove on a Sabbath. There wasn’t much to say, and if there was, we didn’t know how to say it. My enthusiasm for the army was gone by then, and I still had two and a half more years to go and two funerals to attend.