The Big Green House

Friday, August 29, 2003

 

How can you be in two places at once when you�re not anywhere at all?

So, it appears that we will be going to Bumbershoot tomorrow after all. We�ve been going back and forth on the idea for awhile, but the possibility of seeing Wanda Jackson perform was just too much to resist. With any luck we�ll be seeing her along with some combination of the following: Solomon Burke (if we can get up that early); Macy Gray; The Blind Boys of Alabama; Ian MacLagan; Kinski; The Dusty 45s; The Catheters; Minus the Bear; and maybe, possibly, part of the Tribute to R&B. Oh, and we�ll probably eat something somewhere in there, too. And then there�s Sunday, offering Chuck Prophet, Hell�s Belles and The Supersuckers. Dare we go both days? Probably not, but who knows?

bmarkey 8/29/2003 06:23:00 PM

Thursday, August 28, 2003

 

Heatwave

Today was the 52nd consecutive day in which the temperature in Seattle reached 70 degrees or higher. (Here�s a news story from earlier in the week to back me up. �Cause I�m all about the facts.)Unless you�ve ever lived here, your response to that is probably going to be something along the lines of, �52 days of room temperature? Big deal.� That certainly would have been my response before I moved here.

However, having spent the last nine years in the Pacific Northwest, I can tell you that this is indeed a big deal. See, the thing is, that also translates as no rain.

52 days with too much sun and no rain.

Rhododendrons all across town are wilting like crazy, some to the point of no return. Trees are starting to droop. Lawns are beige. Chickadees are fighting to the death for a spot in the birdbath. (OK, not really, but that day is not far off.)

You people in, say, Phoenix can laugh at this all you want, but we�re dyin� up here.

On a completely unrelated subject: while I was rounding up some old newspapers for recycling, I came across this little gem. Now, I�ve done some deeply stupid things while under the magic spell of alcohol (and if you think I�m gonna list them here, you�ve got another think coming, pal), but kicking in the windshield of your friend�s patrol car should win some sort of prize. Other than a quick trip to the unemployment line, that is; both officers have since been fired.

bmarkey 8/28/2003 08:46:00 PM

Wednesday, August 27, 2003

 

Two little lovebirds sittin� in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g

Ever think about your ex(es)? Sure you do; everybody does, from time to time. Even if you�re currently in a very happy relationship, every now and then you�re gonna wonder what�s ol� Fill-In-The-Blank is doin� these days. It�s human nature.

I�ve been pretty fortunate in that I�ve managed to remain on friendly terms with most of my exes. Granted, there are one or two that, if I were to read in the newspaper that they�d been carted off to the wilds of Wisconsin, nailed to a tree and left for the pine martens, I might eventually feel bad for them. Just not right away. On the whole, though, things have been remarkably hostility-free on that front.

I bring this up because I recently had the somewhat odd experience of coaching a former girlfriend through the approach to a possible incipient liaison, providing the male perspective and whatnot. I�ve played �Attorney of Luv� for various female friends on many occasions, but this was the first time I�d ever done so for an ex.

What made it weird wasn�t so much that she was my ex, since we�re very much better friends than we were otherwise. It�s that people in their late thirties still make themselves jump through the same kind of hoops they did back in high school. These are adults we�re talking about here, and they�re still asking their friends �Do you think so & so likes me?�. (Apparently her potential beau had been sounding out her brother.) You�d think that folks would eventually be able to put that kind of stuff behind them & just deal with each other as humans, but I�m here to tell ya that it ain�t so. And I�m not immune to it either. I did the same thing when I first started going out with Science Girl. I guess we�re just hardwired to be insecure that way.

So there�s something for you youngsters out there to look forward to - it never gets any easier.

bmarkey 8/27/2003 08:39:00 PM

Tuesday, August 26, 2003

 

Average is dumb

The other big event this weekend: we went to see American Splendor. Before we get into that, though, I want someone to tell me when they started charging NINE DOLLARS to see a movie. WTF? That is just stupidly insane. I realize that I don�t go to the movies as often as I once did (mostly because they�ve stopped making movies I want to see, by and large), and that when I was going on a regular basis I usually attended matinees, but still� It�s like they want you to wait until it comes out on video/DVD.

Now that that�s out of my system, let�s get on with the program. American Splendor is a fine movie. You should go see it.

What? That�s not enough? *sigh* You kids today.

Alright, I knew I should have written down my response to the film that night, rather than waiting three days to try and dredge some sort of halfway cogent analysis/discourse/rant out of the moldy slab of Emmenthaler that I use for a memory these days. Look, just take my word for it � it�s funny, there�s a couple of really good performances by Paul Giamatti and Hope Davis, Harvey Pekar and Joyce Brabner both appear as themselves, and I can�t think of anything negative to say about it, which means I really liked it. Part of that may be due to the eerie similarities between Harvey and myself at times. We both have non-existent housekeeping skills, we both buy more music than is strictly a good idea (which reminds me: the soundtrack is good, too), we both are depressive and cranky, and we both have the �I like animals so I feel funny about eating them� thing going on. But even if none of that matches up with any of your quirks, go see it anyway. Harvey just retired and could probably use the money. Provided he�s getting a percentage.

Which brings up something from Saturday night that I do remember. The Neptune Theater had a little raffle/trivia contest for some American Splendor swag before the film started. The folks right in front of Science Girl and I won the
Harvey Pekar bobblehead doll. As soon as the guy returned to his seat with the doll, what I can only describe as a rabid fanboy came swooping down from the back of the theater, asking if he could touch it since �I�ve got everything he�s ever put out�. The guy obliged fanboy, allowing him to bask in the glory of the sacred relic. I probably would have just given it to him.

bmarkey 8/26/2003 09:20:00 PM

Monday, August 25, 2003

 

Say it now and say it loud

There were several things from this weekend I�d like to cover, but let�s start with the one burning a hole in my brainpan.

We saw Howard Dean speak yesterday.

OK, let�s back up a little. We spent most of the day scooting around the Market, looking for The Tasting Room. We were too stupid to Google for it before we left home & consequently never found the damn thing. We both thought that it was down in the Lower Market; it never crossed either of our minds to check Post Alley. C�est la vie.

When the time came, we headed up the hill to Westlake Center for the big speech. There was a relatively tiny area roped off in front of the stage, maybe big enough for a thousand people to stand comfortably. Since I knew that A) the Dean people were expecting upwards of 3,000 and B) Seattle has a long history of support for Democrats, we decided to hang back a bit. Which, as it turns out, was a good idea. They sardined as many folks as possible into the official viewing area. (Both the Times and the PI are saying 8,000 people showed up, the Dean site is claiming 15,000. My guess was around 5,000, but I�m no good at that kind of thing.) Science Girl is not fond of crowds, and I downright hate brushing up against sweaty strangers, so it worked out pretty well for us to be across the street by the mall.

I don�t know that I�m ready to drink the Dean for America kool-aid just yet, but I will admit that he made a lot of the right noises. The crowd certainly thought so, but they were mostly already aboard the bus. (There were a few Losers for Larouche skulking around the fringes of the audience. Those guys used to all be hard-core crazy old farts, but now they seem to be mostly young zombies in their twenties. Is this what happens to those kids you see on the side of milk cartons � they get brainwashed to go out and campaign for Larouche? I�m picturing a big, dilapidated ranch somewhere in Idaho, being used as an indoctrination camp.)

Perhaps I�m overly cynical when it comes to politics but I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall with this guy, although I can�t quite put my finger on why that is. Dean is fond of saying �We can do better than that� with regard to the current administration and while I wouldn�t argue with that at all, I would like to hear a few more specifics. He spent a lot of time telling us what an outright goober George Bush is. We already know that. What we want to hear is more about how a Dean presidency would be different. Telling us what he did as Governor is helpful, but he puts it out as if it would be oh-so-simple to expand those programs from the relatively small state of Vermont to the national level.

That said, I�ve got to give him credit for calling bullshit on the Republican-lite nature of the Democratic party as it stands today. He fired up the pissed-off Liberal in me on that count. Being a Democrat used to actually stand for something. I�m registered to vote as a Democrat, but that�s only because Washington State requires party affiliation to vote in the primary election. I haven�t felt like I was so much voting for anyone as voting against the conservative candidate, and it�s been that way since I first cast a vote in 1980.

I am a Liberal. I am proud to be one. You can piss up a rope if you don�t like that. Just because the various media have made the term into some sort of slur doesn�t mean I have to go along with it. I�m tired of this namby-pamby, appease-the-conservatives shit coming from the Democrats. Give people a little credit from time to time. "Is it right or is it wrong?" is the only question, not "is it going to play in Peoria?". It�s time for progressives of all stripes to stand up on their hind legs and be counted. The alternative is four more years of Bush. Dean�s slogan is �Let�s take the country back�; I don�t know if he�s the guy to do it, but at the very least he�s talking about it.

bmarkey 8/25/2003 08:20:00 PM

Friday, August 22, 2003

 

Caring really is creepy

I should mention that as superb as The Shins are under normal circumstances, when you�re slightly loopy from lack of sleepy they�re downright breathtaking. Here is their homepage and here is their Sub Pop page. And soon, a new album! Yay!

bmarkey 8/22/2003 09:15:00 PM

 
Sorry about the lapse in posting there. This insomnia thing is really getting me down. I can�t tell if I�m off my game because I can�t sleep or if I can�t sleep because I�m off my game. Either way, I wish it would stop.

I was able to sleep in a little bit this morning, due to wonderfully overcast skies. We are in desperate need of a good drenching rain, as soon as possible. And not just because the relentlessly sunny weather is killing me by degrees.

At any rate, I don�t really have too much to say at the moment. I got a bit more sleep today, and am hoping to catch up over the weekend. With any luck Monday will find me bushy-eyed and bright-tailed. Or something.

bmarkey 8/22/2003 07:36:00 PM

Wednesday, August 20, 2003

 

Skin and bones

I have noticed, since we returned from our vacation, that a lot of my clothes are tighter than they used to be. As much as I would like to blame this phenomena on poor laundry skills, it seems rather unlikely that everything shrank at once. No, it seems that I have put on a little weight. To use the medical term, I am a �fat tub of goo� these days. Not morbidly obese, but carrying maybe ten to twenty extra pounds.

Due to genetics and sloth, I�ve always had to struggle with my weight. Well, that�s not entirely accurate; the term �struggle� implies active resistance. My usual tactic is more along the �close your eyes and think of England� line. My point is, even when I�ve been in the best shape of my life I�ve still had a little bit of a gut. That�s OK, I�m used to it. As I shlump forth into middle age, however, things seem to be expanding a little quicker than before.

My diet hasn�t really changed much recently, so that�s not really the problem. I suspect we�ll see a return to California vegetarianism (poultry and fish are OK to eat because they�re as dumb as vegetables) soon. Also, the little snacks I�ve been making myself after work have come to an end. No more eating after midnight. Other than that, I think I�ve been pretty good.

I think a lot of this current expansion is due to having a car. I�m not walking nearly as much as previously; when I was taking the bus home from work every night I had to walk up a pretty steep hill from the bus stop. I think the only exercise I get these days is from walking the dog. (Aside from certain activities with Science Girl, which I will not be enumerating here.)

Well, that�s all coming to an end. The not exercising, I mean, not the, uh, you know.

A friend gave me an exercise bike when she moved from a large apartment to an incredibly small house. My plan is to use the bike as intended by the manufacturer, rather than as an elaborate post-modern sculpture/place to fling dirty clothes. Once I build up a base level of fitness, I can start running again. (I used to do three miles a day, way back when.) This is all going to start out very slowly, of course; I have no intention of keeling over while improving my health.

Why am I boring you with all this? Well, if I put it out here for the whole world to (potentially) see, maybe I�ll be more inclined to stick with the program. So feel free to throw this back in my face if I start slacking off.

bmarkey 8/20/2003 08:47:00 PM

Tuesday, August 19, 2003

 
OK, I think I�m officially tapped for ideas. A temporary thing, I�m sure, but all I�ve got for tonight is Lucy�s trip to the vet today, and even I don�t want to read that.

Instead, I�m gonna open myself up for questions from the floor. Anything you want to know about myself or The Big Green House, now�s your chance to ask. There are ground rules, of course: 1) questions regarding Science Girl will be referred to her, and there is absolutely no guarantee that she will respond (she�s shy); 2) I, on the other hand, will answer all questions to the best of my ability; 3) however, I also reserve the right to make stuff up as I see fit; 4) rude questions (and I think you know what I�m talking about) will be ridiculed and/or ignored.

Knock yourselves out.

8/20/03: Well, that little experiment didn't really pan out, did it? *sigh* It was worth a shot.
bmarkey 8/19/2003 05:01:00 PM

Monday, August 18, 2003

 

Sun and sea and piracy

Science Girl needed a beach fix, so we decided to round up the dog and head over to Bainbridge Island yesterday. We just barely made the 1:10 ferry, as I stupidly left the house without checking the Mariners schedule. Traffic around the stadium was pretty damn ugly, but we got to the terminal just in time. We were third from last on board.

Having grown up an hours drive from any appreciable body of water, the concept of the ferry is kind of an odd one to me. I mean, I�m not scratching my head trying to figure out how it works. (It's magic, right?) It just seems very strange to me to be able to drive the car on to a boat, counter-intuitive & all that. Plus I�m always afraid the car will fall off the end of the ship or something.

It�s happened before, you know.

Luck was on our side this time out, though. The ship stayed afloat the whole way over and our Subaru did not plummet into the icy depths of Puget Sound, coming to rest among the octopuses and Microsoft executives who crossed Gates one time too many.

It�s a quick trip over to the Winslow terminal. We were back on dry land and looking for a grocery store by quarter to two. The folks there have cleverly disguised their supermarket to look like a restaurant to the untrained, lunch-deprived eye. Kudos to them, as it took us several times through downtown to figure out what was up.

Once we were properly provisioned, it was off to the beach. While it would be fair to say that we all had a good time, I think Lucy had more fun than both us humans combined: she attempted to take a hermit crab away from a little girl, found and tried to eat a dead Dungeness crab, sampled the local seaweed, and developed a taste for saltwater. Between that and taking her first and second ferry rides (lotsa wind, many new and intriguing smells) it was quite a big day for the little dog.

bmarkey 8/18/2003 08:56:00 PM

Thursday, August 14, 2003

 

Psychotic reaction

I�ve started reading the new Lester Bangs collection. If you�ve received an e-mail from me within the last two days, you�ve probably already deduced that yourself. I have a really bad habit of picking up some of Lester�s stylistic tics whenever I read him. It�s kinda like when I�m talking with someone who�s got a regional accent and I unconsciously start using an approximation of their dialect myself. It�s not that I�m mocking them; I think it�s more that I�m entranced by the way they speak, so I�m just sorta trying it on for size. Maybe you�ve experienced something similar.

Anyway, I�m sorry if I was unable to resist the siren�s song of pseudo-Bangspeak. I�ll try to keep it out of TBGH as much as possible. And I will probably, at some point, write something or other about the man himself, or his writings, or a combination thereof. In the meantime, I�m gonna go wallow in Lesterland.
bmarkey 8/14/2003 10:04:00 PM

Wednesday, August 13, 2003

 

This is dedicated to the one I love

Feeling much better today, thank you. It�s amazing how fifteen hours of mostly uninterrupted sleep will change your outlook on life. I no longer feel like sticking my head in a waffle iron.

Science Girl thinks I should tell the following story, so I will:

Remember Bedrock, the place with the recycled/salvaged rock and glass and stuff? We had a little trouble finding it at first, since the Thomas Guide I have (left over from truck driving days, so it�s about five years out of date) doesn�t show the 1400 block of W. Garfield Street; it cuts off at the 1100 block, which rather inconveniently ends in a cliff. SG had the brilliant idea of going down to the bottom of the hill and driving up Elliot. Sure enough, there it was.

We mentioned the lack of map coverage to the nice woman working there that day. She then told us about a customer who�d had a similar problem. He was, apparently, a fairly wealthy man & one used to getting his way. His problem stemmed from his inability to find the address using his GPS system. The folks at Bedrock attempted to give him driving directions over the phone but he was fixated on his techno-toy, to the point of actually yelling at the Bedrock employee because they weren�t on the GPS. He eventually made his way to the shop, whereupon he proceeded to let everyone know that he�d called the GPS people and made sure that Bedrock�s address would be in the system in the future. Never mind if they wanted to be off the grid; he made damn sure they were on it.

Never let it be said that I don�t play requests.

bmarkey 8/13/2003 05:58:00 PM

Tuesday, August 12, 2003

 

How do you sleep?

My insomnia has returned, apparently. I haven�t slept much over the last few days, so I�ve called in sick tonight. While that�s perhaps not a technically accurate description of my health, I do feel as if I�ve been beaten by several people with large sticks. Such things tend to leave me fairly useless in the work department, oddly enough. With any luck I�ll be able to get a little extra shut-eye tonight & be back in fighting trim tomorrow. Or, y�know, what passes for fighting trim in my case. In the meantime, here are a few stray bits of fluff and detritus for your perusal:

While we were out and about this weekend, I stumbled across a bottle of Monty Python�s Holy Grail Ale, as produced by the Black Sheep Brewery of Masham, Yorkshire, UK. Being the hopeless geek that I am, I bought it. I�m not saying that I�d buy anything with the Python seal of approval, mind you. Just almost anything. And this time out, I did OK for myself. I wasn�t expecting much (and certainly not the Spanish Inquisition*), just an average, malty English ale. I was pleasantly surprised to be able to detect the actual presence of hops, in quantity. It�s no IPA by any stretch, but if you�re used to Bass ale it might seem like one. Hoorah for Black Sheep!

And now for something completely different.** I know that some of you find the listing of various search terms used to find one�s site to be tedious in the extreme, but I ask you: would it be right to keep something like �Wilford Brimley hygiene� to myself? No, it would not. It would be downright piggish of me. Share the wealth, I say. Or, in this case, share the bewilderment.

That�s all I�ve got right now, aside from a raging headache and eyeballs that feel as if they�re about two sizes too small for my skull. It�s naptime.

*It had to be done.
**Sorry.

bmarkey 8/12/2003 05:45:00 PM

Monday, August 11, 2003

 

Feign interest, OK?

Science Girl and I went out for brunch Saturday morning. Well, technically it was Saturday afternoon, I guess, since neither of us got up much before noon. Don�t hate us because we are slugs.

Jesus, I�m derailed already. A new land speed record.

While we were there, we ran into a friend of mine from Sacramento � someone who I haven�t seen in something like 17 years. That kinda threw me for a loop. Don�t get me wrong; it was great to see Suzette again. It�s always a pleasant surprise to see old pals who have done well in life, and it appears that she has done so. It just took me most of the weekend to rethread my head again. I never run into people from The Olden Days, which is not terribly surprising given the 800-some-odd mile distance between here & Sac.

So that happened, and then SG & I made our way over to COCA for the dorkbot show there. It was fun, but I think SG got more out of it than I did. She�s very keen on the more tactile, kinetic arts. I believe the direct quote was something along the lines of �I�ve seen too many bad paintings�.

Sunday was spent going to a couple of places that sell salvaged and/or recycled building materials. Earthwise was chock full of cool old windows, doors, molding, fixtures, etc. Nothing we need right away, but it was good to go in & see what was there. I suspect we�ll be back at some point. Bedrock got SG all hot & bothered. She was very excited by all the groovy rocks and glass available. We picked out some broken granite & marble pieces for a garden project she�s had in mind for awhile now. We were both interested in the tumbled glass pieces, but we�re afraid that Lucy might mistake them for snacks.

After that, we took a drive out to Carnation and Duvall. I�ve always liked that area. One of the routes I had when I drove a truck for a living took me out that way every Monday, and I was curious to see how things had changed in the five years since I quit. (Plus I was feeling antsy & needed to get out of town for a little bit.) Carnation was pretty much the small rural community I remembered, although I was sad to see that the River Run Caf� no longer existed. Duvall was another story entirely � I was appalled at the number of new strip malls. It�s still dairy country, but I wonder how much longer the cows will be welcome there. There�s already a new elementary school right across the street from a dairy; I can imagine the kids running out to play at recess, getting a whiff of the neighbors, and begging to be let back inside.

And that was our weekend. You can wake up now.

bmarkey 8/11/2003 09:27:00 PM

Friday, August 08, 2003

 

Why, McHale? Why?

Given the somewhat somber nature of most of this week�s posts (complaining, grumpiness and suicide), I thought I�d try to come up with something humorous for today, just to sorta lighten things up a bit for the weekend. This morning I came up with what I thought was the most preposterous thing imaginable: I would casually mention my extensive stash of McHale�s Navy slash fiction. Think of the fun inherent in the name �Old Leadbottom� alone. (I laughed, anyway.)

Then I Googled McHale�s Navy slash fiction, on a lark. (Since I�m at work you�ll understand if I don�t link to the search, but feel free to conduct one of your own.) Imagine my shock and dismay to find that there really is such a thing.

I tried to think of other possibilities. Land of the Lost sprang to mind, but now I�m afraid to look in case there really is some Holly/Cha-Ka slash out there. That would just be far too disturbing.

I�m going to be sleeping with the light on tonight.

bmarkey 8/08/2003 08:01:00 PM

Thursday, August 07, 2003

 

Resonation and rest

In the course of my current job, I�ve found it to be a good idea to read the obituaries every morning. (Don�t ask.) Having arrived at my particular stage of life, I�m understandably drawn to the death notices of people near my age. So when I saw the photo in today�s obits of the rather intense-looking woman in her 40�s, I felt compelled to read about her. Usually in such cases I find that the only thing we had in common was a similar date of birth. I go on with my day as usual, unmoved. This time was different.

I didn�t know Cynthia Doyon. I think I might have listened to her show a couple of times, although I wouldn�t want to swear to it. I have, from time to time on a Saturday night, stumbled upon an interesting mix of tunes from approximately the era she covered while I was scooting around the radio dial looking for some good music, so I�m assuming that that was her work. Everything else I know about her I learned in her obituary.

So why is her story sticking with me? Why am I feeling a sense of personal loss from the death of someone with, at best, an extremely tenuous tie to my life? I think it�s because I can see some of myself in her, or some of her in myself. Not, I hasten to add, that I�m about to run out and kill myself anytime soon. It�s more of a "there but for the grace of god�" moment. I could easily see myself having gone down a similar road, if not exactly the same one. Cynthia started her tenure at KUOW in 1979. That same year I graduated from high school, with my radio license in my hot little hands. Had my train been on a slightly different track�

From the obituary: �Jim Doyon Jr. said his sister left a note saying she was despondent over finances and her future and that she felt discouraged her radio career seemed to have stalled.� She�d been doing her show for 24 years � half her lifetime � and had just been bumped up to twenty hours a week at the station. Given the state of radio today, I can certainly understand being discouraged; where else would she go to play the music she knew? That still leaves the question of why didn�t she at least get a job at, say, a record store, to bolster her radio salary.

The only person who knows the answer is dead.

There are times in life when one feels boxed in, cornered, with no escape possible. Others might see a way out, one that seems blindingly obvious to them, but if you�re in that position you don�t see it. You can�t. If you�ve never been there, count yourself lucky. It�s not a fun place to be.

How do we end up where we are, and why? I could maybe relate the chain of circumstances, coincidences and blunders which led me to be sitting at this keyboard right now if I gave it enough thought, but I couldn�t begin to tell you why they�ve led me here rather than down to the end of a dock with a gun in my hand. Not in a way that would make any sense to anyone else.

If you�re looking for my point in writing all this, I don�t really know that I have one. Does everything have to have a point? I�m just feeling sad for someone I didn�t know, because parts of her story resonate with me. And if you can�t get behind that then let�s just say that those of us who love music have lost one of our own.

bmarkey 8/07/2003 06:29:00 PM

Wednesday, August 06, 2003

 
Okay, here�s something that put a grin on my grumpy head tonight: Infomercials for Myself, by William Ham. Nicked from the lovely Rock Critics Daily. And I am so looking forward to the Bangs book, yes I am. More on that later, I suppose.
bmarkey 8/06/2003 10:40:00 PM

 
I am really cranky tonight, due to interrupted sleep (thunder, barking dog, horrible dreams about decapitated barking dogs), so I'm probably not gonna post tonight. If you're lucky.
bmarkey 8/06/2003 06:27:00 PM

Tuesday, August 05, 2003

 

Have a beer. It will make you right.

"Here, Have a beer. It will make you right." Ernest said to Tarzan. Tarzan had never had the true beer before and Ernest knew this would not be his last. He drank the beer quickly. It was cold, and Tarzan knew this too. He looked at the beer coolly. "Me Tarzan, you beer." Ernest looked at Tarzan and felt old. "Vas iz schviss vit da old schtuff?" Ernest and Tarzan turned to watch as Sigmund entered the room strangely. "Sigmund," Ernest said, "my old primitivo! Have a beer with us". Sigmund knew what Ernest meant and he could not bear it. They all had a beer and it was good. Ernest said "Do you remember how it was in Stinson with the running of the dogs and how we ate crullers and got drunk on the Lagunitas Pale and stole grunion from the young girls at the Cafe de Sand Shekel?" Sigmund thought of how Ernest could be cruel and he did not answer. He thought how only dogs were not cruel. And also how sometimes a cold beer was just a beer. Tarzan thought of nothing. They all ordered contuuzti del corratzo and spoke not of their big cigars.

-from the bottom panel of a six-pack of Lagunitas Dogtown Pale Ale. I like these guys.

bmarkey 8/05/2003 09:00:00 PM

 

A dark day indeed

A moment of silence, please, for our fallen comrades.

bmarkey 8/05/2003 06:07:00 PM

 
Hi-

I�m writing from home today, as the computer at work was down last night. Well, not �down� so much as �missing�. Apparently someone over the weekend spilt a drink down the back of the CPU and caused a few problems there. IT said they�d have it back to us last night, but such was not the case. I really hope that they can get it back to us as intact as possible, since I have a couple of projects on that particular box which, of course, are not backed up. (They�re work-related but not �official�, so they don�t rate a backup.)

So, where were we? Oh yeah, the Blue Angels. Well, for reasons that I�m not gonna get into here (mainly because I�m not entirely sure what they were), we ended up staying in town all weekend. Here at The Big Green House, we�re far enough away from Lake Washington that the jet noise was only a minor irritation. Things at Science Manor were something else again; Science Girl endured both �performances� flying directly overhead.

I�ve seen various references to the Blue Angels as being thrilling, exciting, etc. Those people obviously don�t live under the flight path. I�d like to add �terrifying�, �unsettling� and �nerve-wracking� to that list.

If you�ve never experienced such a thing, I don�t know that I can really explain what it�s like. Since I do feel a certain obligation to give it a shot, here�s what I came up with; imagine yourself inside a 55-gallon steel barrel. Now imagine that everyone you�ve ever met is simultaneously hitting the barrel with ten-pound sledgehammers. Now, multiply that by a factor of five. This continues, at random intervals, for 45 minutes.

That�s a really weak simile but it�s the best I could do, I�m afraid. My other choice began with �imagine your head being turned inside-out, against your will�. I will add that the one time they buzzed the freeway a few years ago while I was stuck in traffic, I literally wanted to pull off my own ears. I know that I�m occasionally given to hyperbole, but trust me when I say that that is no exaggeration.

Science Girl said that the worst part was hearing this incredible noise coming at directly at her, sounding just exactly like the noise she�d imagine a crashing airplane would make � but because the jets were probably traveling somewhere in the neighborhood of .5 to .75 mach, she couldn�t tell which direction it was coming from. If she�d been able to go outside and see that the planes were not going to hit the house, it might have been bearable; of course, it was too loud to do so.

A friend of SG�s said that at one point it looked as if the planes were going to fly directly into a multi-story nursing home, only to swerve off at the last second. Think about that for a moment. What must that have been like for the folks living there? And while we�re putting ourselves in the shoes of others, let�s not forget the rather sizeable contingent of people who moved here from Southeast Asia. Do you think they might harbor some unhappy memories about their homes being buzzed by a squadron of F-16�s?

Saturday�s Seattle Times almost addressed the problem, but in typical Times fashion they managed to miss the point altogether. People who hate Seafair never mention the hydros. I think that that�s mostly because it�s pretty easy to ignore them if you choose to do so. Five naval jets bearing down on your home and loved ones at an altitude of maybe 500 feet is pretty hard to ignore.

Okay, Mr. Tear Everything Down, how about doing a little building up for a change?

Sure. This is Seafair we�re talking about, not Airfair, right? The obvious answer would be to move the whole shootin� match about twenty miles out to sea. Those interested in watching the proceedings could take their boats out there, and those without boats could catch a ride with one of the numerous cruise ship operators in the area, who, I�m sure, would be glad to separate the rubes from their cash offer their services to the Seafair public. Meanwhile, those of us with no interest in such things would be free to go about our lives unmolested by military aircraft noise and the threat of fiery death.

Win/win, baby.



bmarkey 8/05/2003 12:21:00 PM