This page is a Monthly Archive of entries from October 2008 listed from newest to oldest.
There's a lot to vote on next Tuesday in C-U, ranging from the most powerful person in the world (president) to most powerful person to legally declare death (local coroner). According to the Champaign County Clerk's website, over 7,000 people have already voted, throwing caution to the wind, not caring about any potential October Surprise in the County Board races.
Which race do you care most about? Local poverty reduction? Funding for schools via sales tax increase? The chance to snuff out a Sarah Palin presidency before it gets started? Smile Politely wants to know.
Did he just get snippy with me? Which has never happened in the twenty years we have known each other. Not even almost. I said I was voting for Obama, and he called me "naive."
What? Sure. And why not?
And then when I tried to continue the discussion over email, I got the gentleman's version of the silent treatment.
Doug Henwood in the snotty Left Business Observer, or Naomi Klein in her generous talk last night, concede that, while Obama isn't radical enough — a point I will return to — he has catalyzed a sense of belonging and hope, belonging, and forward ("progressive") motion among young voters. I guess that's me.
Radical enough? To be a better candidate for president of the United States in 2008 than John McCain and Sarah Palin? What are we even talking about?
Except I guess we can't talk about it. So I get to have our conversations in my head.
Good day, Worthy Reader. Despite my best efforts to deceive myself into thinking otherwise, I do actually attend the University of Illinois, and one of the aspects of the university that has most interested me is the Greek system. I find it quite stimulating to observe fraternity and sorority members. It is not because they are really that different from other university students; it is because of their t-shirts.
I have to admit that I don’t understand people like Joe the Plumber.
As most everyone probably knows by now, the unfortunate Joe Wurzelbacher (aka “the Plumber”) found himself smack dab in the middle in the presidential race when John McCain inserted him into the last debate. McCain and Obama then competed for Joe’s vote during the rest of the debate in a Joe-the-Plumber-name-race, each apparently trying to mention his name more times than the other (which resulted in McCain’s only debate victory: 15-11).
One of my all-time favorite Seinfeld lines is from the episode called The Nap. Elaine says, “Hey, Kramer, listen, you’ve seen The Omen right? What exactly was that kid?” And Kramer replies, “Who, Damien? Nothing, just a mischievous, rambunctious kid.”
When I was a mischievous, rambunctious kid, the idea of the antichrist scared the hell out of me thanks to the above-referenced movie which was released in 1976. Then, four years later, Ronald Reagan was elected president and I remember someone telling me, “Ronald Reagan has six letters in both his first and last names. If his middle name also has six letters, then all three of his names make 666.” So, being a curious young lad, I looked up some info on Ronald Reagan and found out that his middle name was Wilson. I was terrified. Reagan was the antichrist! I hid under my bed for hours, convinced that, now that I knew his true identity, something evil was going to happen to me.
I marvel at how appropriate a metaphor Ashley Todd’s face is for the McCain candidacy.
Ashley Todd is the young white woman who claimed that a large black Obama supporter mugged her and carved a “B” in the side of her face. Then she admitted it was a hoax under cross-examination.
The story Todd told is essentially the story that McCain has been telling ever since he started trailing in the polls: There’s a scary black man who is going to mug you and take your money the first chance he gets. Also, he is a shady terrorist type and will cause you to be in physical danger.
ROTFL. I recently saw this in a PowerPoint presentation on effective business writing. At the time, the speaker was addressing how abbreviated language in emails can be turbid and indecipherable. I stared at ROTFL and tried to figure it out. My first guess was Ridiculously Obnoxious Tetchy Fat Lad. My second guess was Rustic Old Trash from Louisiana. My last guess was Really Old Tramp Feels Lovable. I was wrong about all of them. The speaker told her audience that it meant Rolling on the Floor Laughing. I then reacted by saying, “WTF?”
I am sorry, but I studied English in college and I appreciate the correct use of our language. I’m not perfect. I do make mistakes and you might even find me doing so in my writing, but at least I try to adhere to style guidelines. However, it is becoming more and more common to see abbreviated, text-like language in everyday writing and I think this is slowly killing me. I never thought that I would be killed by one of my pet peeves, but if I receive another email or text message with LOL in it, I might have an aneurysm.
Today, I will be writing a review of Michaelangelo Antonioni's 1966 film Blow-Up. It will be a meandering discourse as a means of distraction, a way of blurring my own awareness of the daily slough of lies and hate in which we drown (the news). Please take your seats.
OK, this is a pretty funny story.
But we're sure Zamboni isn't the worst she could do. So, help us out here. What would be a name that would top it?
Pleasant returns, Worried Reader. As I mentioned last week, the economic state of the world is in shambles. Many people are frightened for the future of their cash, capital, and quarters. Some people are even too scared to say the word “recession.” Well, I have a word for you that no one wants to even think about — Depression. No, not the other inhabitant of Isolation Manor. I am talking about an economic depression. No one wants to even contemplate the thought of a new Great Depression… except for me that is.
John Stossel recently took a break from denying global warming and encouraging you to marry your cousin in order to air a 20/20 segment that questioned whether young people are smart enough to vote. He went around asking people what the Bill of Rights were and held up pictures of people like Ruth Bader Ginsberg to see if voters could identify them.
Trick or Vote and The Bus Project responded with a hilarious parody video (below) saying, hey, old people are stupid too. Also, old people come with additional drawbacks, such as being bad drivers and being a little bit racist. One thing is certain: If our country depends on the knowledge of random people in the street, Jay Leno’s in-depth research indicates we are all screwed.
As you may or may not know, when the Fighting Illini host a home football game, tens of thousands of Illini fans descend upon the parking lots surrounding Memorial Stadium. They arrive heavily equipped with their grills, tents, lawn chairs and beer in order to eat, drink, shout, laugh, socialize, play games and eventually, if they haven’t gotten too drunk to walk, attend the game.
The parking lots open at 7:00 a.m. regardless of when the game starts. This past Saturday, October 18, the game against Indiana started at 7:00 p.m. This gave the diehard tailgaters a full twelve hours to accomplish their frivolity.
I admit it. I’m a soccer mom. But not the kind you are thinking of: not a mom who loves to watch her kids play soccer, driving them around town in a minivan for that purpose, but a mom who loves to play soccer. I started playing in high school, back in the 1980’s when girls were first getting turned on to soccer.
I played at Indiana University for a few years, mainly second-string, but still a travel player, and we went to tournaments across the country. After graduate school, I played year-round recreational soccer for many years with the Illinois Women’s’ Soccer League in Chicago. I can still remember the wild soccer parties, the astro-turf rug burns, the ebb and flow of action up and down the field, predicting patterns as a midfielder, feeding the ball in just the right way to create plays, the missed penalty kicks, the smell of Jackson Park south of the Museum of Science and Industry, the teammates I’m still in touch with…soccer was a huge part of my life, like music and books.
But no longer. It isn’t that I don’t love to play anymore. I do. But here in Champaign County, 42-year-old women with three kids just don’t seem to play soccer, not that I have seen. They sit on the sideline in camp chairs with a cooler full of juice boxes or they arrange end-of-the-season pizza parties. Sometimes they play co-rec softball on Sunday nights, or bowl in a league, or go to book club. But they don’t play soccer.
Last time I saw my old friend Justin, he was training to be a union plumber. You see, in order to be a plumber, you have to have specific training. It's not good enough just to be smart.
The presidency is like that, too.
That's why "Sarah Palin" continues to be the the two words separating John McCain from electoral viability. And yes, some people still have the balls to call her smart. One of them is Illinois grad Stephen Moore, who recently embarrassed himself parroting the GOP line contrasting Barack Obama and Palin on executive experience. It starts at about 6:12 of this video.
I voted. They allowed that this year. You go out to the County Clerk's office, say, "Mark, I know it's weeks early, but hit me up," and they let you do it right now. They even give you the sticker.
I tried to be first in line, but an older couple, obviously having dressed in the dark to beat me, claimed that privilege. It felt good to get it out of the way. Now I can stop studying CNN and the NewsHour with Jim Lehrer.
Then, improbably and fortuitously, I broke a tooth. Since I don't have to be around for election day, and since I broke a tooth, I have the perfect excuse to leave the country entirely. I no longer love it, so I am leaving it, just as people have sometimes-not-so-kindly requested of me over the years.
I recently fell into a conversation with a friend about children’s stories. I can’t recall how the conversation came about, but for some reason I referenced "The Three Little Pigs." I couldn’t remember how the story went, so I asked her to tell it to me. In her version, each little pig built houses, but only one of the houses was made out of bricks. The other two were made out of straw and sticks. The Big Bad Wolf went to the first pig’s straw house and blew it down, so the pig ran over to his brother’s house made of sticks. The wolf then went to that house, huffed and puffed and blew it down, so the two brothers escaped to the third brother’s brick house. Once they got there, the wolf tried to blow it down, but failed. That was the end of her story.
Needless to say, her story bored the crap out of me. I couldn’t believe that the once PG-13 story had now turned into a G-rated, soft-core fairy tale. It was as though someone had remade Psycho into a film about a boy who takes care of his kind old mother at a motel that had turn down service and continental breakfast for all its guests.
Two completely unrelated things
The Husband and I just had our first “date night” this year. We went to see Wire in Chicago at the Metro, the best place in all the US — and possibly Europe — to play a show. The stage is just a tad bit bouncy, perfectly sized so you can run back and forth on it and not run into anyone else, and the sightlines are fantastic; you can see almost anyone in the audience from anywhere on stage (if the lights are shining a certain way). At least you can see anywhere in the club.
One of the great travesties of living in a hyper-accelerated-shopping-crazed-live-beyond-your-means-on-credit society is the fact that the Christmas shopping season officially begins long before kids even choose their Halloween costumes.
As the economy continues to wax and wane, most retailers are preparing themselves for a far more naughty than nice season at the register this year. At Smile Politely, we naturally encourage folks to shop local as often as possible, and to try to spend money at places that will continue to provide the local economy with as much of a windfall as possible.
So, which digs have the best style? Are there places that can't miss for your shopping lists? We know it's early, but if everyone else is going to start in on the wreaths and trees now, we figure we may as well throw our stockings in too.
Good day, prodigal reader.
Times are tough. Money is sparse, and the economy has taken more blows than Parson Yorick. I feel the strain myself. I am a jobless scholar with limited funds. I have tried to find employment, but apparently most companies are not looking to hire hirsute misanthropes. In addition, the only remuneration I receive from Smile Politely for writing this column is weekly swift kicks to the groin, and the interest rate for swift groinal kicks is dropping every day. However, using my wondrous wittery, I have discovered a number of ways to save money that I think you will enjoy hearing about, profligate reader.
As much as I try to dampen my enthusiasm during this election, I’ve somehow let myself become a super-partisan. I guess it’s because I’ve complained about weasely Democrats not standing up for their values over the last 8 years, and Obama’s rhetoric has provided a much needed catharsis for this, despite his occasional disappointments (see wiretapping vote).
But ironically, my expectations for his presidency are not actually that high. I fully expect him to be corrupted by power by the end and to leave office in shame, because that’s what happens to them all. The thing is, he seems to know this, which just makes me a bigger fan. Michelle Obama once said something to effect that they decided to run now because they will never again be this close to the middle class, and will start to lose perspective once they gain more power, like everyone else does. I thought that was astonishingly self-aware. By starting out less corrupted than everyone else, I’m hoping they can hold on longer to their values. I’m not expecting him to be Frodo, but I’m hoping he’s at least Faramir or Aragorn, to McCain’s Boromir or Gollum.
But something changed in my impression of Obama during his debate against McCain last night. And it all has to do with a short answer about Colombia.
There is an odd little book for children called Everyone Poops by Taro Gomi which was written for toddlers as they learn to be potty trained. Of course this book begs an extraordinary theological question for us heretics: If everyone poops, does this include God?
I know, it is a wretched if not blasphemous thought at worst and a juvenile one at best. It is not something that good Christians are supposed to talk about.
That’s why I like it.
The Champaign Public Library has in its circulation exactly two copies of Ray Bradbury’s dystopian masterpiece Fahrenheit 451, a novel about book censorship, authoritarian rule and the negative influence technology can have on humanity. One would think that Bradbury’s novel, which champions the very existence of libraries and freedom of speech, would have a larger presence in the stacks of our brand-new, 30 million dollar library.
Yet, if you consider that one of the primary messages of the book, that technology can be one of the most destructive forces of our time, the paltry number of copies makes perfect sense. Consider the following statement, made in the 1950’s by Bradbury:
See quote after the jump.
Two weeks ago, as stocks tumbled and a sense of malaise set in nation-wide, Congress scrambled to get together a plan aimed at avoiding a complete economic meltdown. The gentleman from Illinois’ 15th district delivered a rebuke to Washington’s power brokers by casting a “nay” vote on the initial financial bailout package, which failed to clear the House. However, the sweeteners thrown into the revised package weren’t enough to keep Rep. Tim Johnson from casting another “nay” vote.
A statement released by Johnson criticized the bailout plan as unfair to taxpayers in monetary cost and principle. In the same statement he also claimed to have argued for greater regulation of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac in the past.
The only complete Shakespeare play we read at my minuscule high school was the Voldemort of the canon, the one they never name aloud, you know, Macbeth. The Scottish play. The jinxed play. 19th century theater riots and so forth.
We learned that Macbeth's fatal flaw was ambition. (It is remarkable how similar the story is to the other Mc story in the headlines today, someone also ambitious for power and willing to flip on any issue or abandon any car-wrecked spouse to claw his way up.) I was the true believer. I learned the lesson. Ambition, bad. Got it. I took it literally.
When I found myself wearing a tie and applying for a job with an ad agency at a relatively advanced age (39), the hiring executive asked about my long-term plans. I told him I wasn't ambitious. I just wanted to write the most perfect, functional ad copy imaginable. I had freelanced at other ad agencies for the previous couple of years and it had been fun. This was my first job-job. It meant I'd commute one hour and sit in my own office (8 to 5).
The exec frowned. "Sometimes you have to be ambitious," he warned, "or you don't get anywhere at all."
I didn't understand. Wouldn't the ambitious ones be washing blood off their hands and swearing at spots?
Applied for a loan lately?
Had the courage to look at your 401K?
Do you think you'll soon need to choose between gas in your car or food in your belly?
The financial meltdown and its effects on the economy are making some people jittery and some people hysterical. But has it affected you personally yet? Do you expect it to? Smile Politely wants to know.
After a three week journey up my own bunghole, I have returned, O Great Gouty Reader, a mite dirtier and not a bit wiser. When I finally arrived at Isolation Manor after many hours of travel, my immediate thoughts turned to the procurement of sustenance. However, my cupboard was barren, and my manservant, Trim, had neither the energy nor the wherewithal to fetch me even a simple crust of bread. Therefore, I resolved to seek victuals from an emporium of ingesting. After no more than 27 minutes of intense consideration, I determined which establishment would be best fit to satisfy my Brobdingnagian hunger. I could not believe that it took me so long because the restaurant a chose happens to be my favorite eatery in all of Champaign-Urbana.
With my mind made up and my stomach ready for action, I made my way to “The Home of Gourmet Chinese and Thai Restaurant.” That is correct, rascally reader. “The Home of Gourmet Chinese and Thai Restaurant.” This establishment is no mere restaurant. It is the “home” of the restaurant. Whereas other eateries are places where one goes to simply sup on nosh, “The Home of Gourmet Chinese Restaurant" is a home.
Whenever John McCain is feeling ignored or down in the dumps (or polls), he gives himself a little pick-me-up with a stunt of some kind. He nominated Sarah Palin when Barack Obama was getting all the convention love, he canceled the first day of his convention when it looked like George Bush might speak during a hurricane, and he kind-of-but-not-really suspended his campaign just in time to gum up the works of the financial bailout.
To his credit, McCain has realized that he can’t win based on his policy proposals, judgment, or character, which turns out to be both erratic and get-off-my-lawnish. However, he hasn't done a stunt in nearly two weeks, and instead seems to have turned to the time honored campaign tradition of throwing a bunch of muck at everyone and hoping some of it will stick to his opponent.
Several months ago I left work and headed to my son’s school so I could see him perform in his third-grade program. I was late and I was speeding. A cop pulled me over and gave me the usual routine, asking me for my license, registration and insurance card. As I fumbled through the contents of my wallet looking for my insurance card, the cop sarcastically retorted, “Good grief, you’ve got more credit cards than my wife!” My first thought was something like, “Piss off you smart-ass!” But since he was wearing a gun, I sheepishly laughed at his idiotic joke. Then he asked me if there was some reason I was speeding. I told him I was late for my son’s school program and he let me off with a warning, promising that he’d definitely give me a ticket if he caught me speeding again.
Sarah Palin's politics remain undefined, much less cast in stone. Her Roe V. Wade interview — broadcast on October 1, with Katie Couric — suggests to me that like most women, she doesn't like abortions; and like most women who don't like abortions, Palin is pro-choice.
She just doesn't know it.
This last week, I went to make some coffee for my coworkers, when I saw this AP article posted above the coffee maker:
CEDAR RAPIDS, Iowa -- It wasn't just the caffeine that gave an Iowa woman an extra jolt after she had her morning coffee. It was also the bat she found in the filter. The Iowa Department of Public Health says the woman reported a bat in her house but wasn't too worried about it. She turned on her automatic coffee maker before bedtime and drank her coffee the next morning. She discovered the bat in the filter when she went to clean it that night. The woman has undergone treatment for possible rabies. Health officials say that the bat was sent to a lab but that its brain was too cooked by the hot water to determine whether it had rabies.
As I stood there, placing the coffee filter into the basket, followed by scoops of coffee grounds, I said to myself, “There has to be more to this story.” I know that my coworkers just wanted to freak me out a bit, but all they did was incite me to uncover the truth.
The Ex-Toddler’s fifth birthday is coming up. At this point I remember my sister saying of her child, “I cannot believe that time flew by so quickly.” To me, time hasn’t flown by quickly; I feel like I’ve been aware of every moment passing. Maybe it’s because I’m old; the Ex-Toddler — let’s call him “The Preschooler” — has been with me for a very small percentage of my life. I was very used to my life without him, so when he showed up, I could spend all my energy thinking about him and when he was going to start / stop talking…etc.
After all the hoopla, who do you think won the debate?
Did you take a drink everytime Sen. Biden said the word "fact"?
Did you take a drink everytime Gov. Palin said the word "maverick" or winked?
Do you think it will matter in the end?
Instead of watching the debate, I went outside for a smoke. The thing is, I don't smoke, but I have been trying to start and it was quite pleasant.
As I practiced exhaling, I composed a letter in my head to the News-Gazette about "fairness." People have been complaining that their letters column is unfair.
"There were ten letters for Obama," someone griped, "and only one for McCain."
Well, I thought. Maybe that is all the letters they received. Should they have printed just one of the Obama letters to make things even? Say they had received ten letters for Sarah Palin and no letters for Joe Biden. Should they not have printed any letters at all, to make things balanced? My answer: yes. I think so. No more letters. Especially letters about Sarah Palin.
We now resume with the final installment of The Campus Wit's tale of Parson Yorick and his travels through the UIUC campus town.
…. and his eloquence was unsurpassed. I will miss the venerable Parson and truly deplore his passing. However, I know that his piousness and faith will land him an all-expenses paid trip to heaven. I mean, come on. The man was a GODDAMN SAINT! He was s-s-s-s (queue breakdown into tears). Well, I am quite sorry to all gathered here. I let my emotions get the better …… WHAT!!! OH FIE!!!
The Big Palin Debate is tonight. Yes, there will also be some other guy named Biden there, but come on, nobody cares about him. And it turns out that nobody cared about last week’s presidential debate either, because it turned out to be such a gaffe-free event. Intelligent questions combined with a more or less civil exchange of ideas are such a yawner.
No, tonight’s debate is all about Palin. Collectively, we still can’t look away, even when it seems she is about to enthusiastically drive off a cliff. Perhaps especially if we think she is about to enthusiastically drive off a cliff.
Q: How many Corporate Vice Presidents does it take to ruin a Customer Service experience?
A: Two or more
I walked in to the Urbana Meijer this morning at 6:15, picked out my mini-cart, and headed for produce. I picked out a dry red leaf lettuce ($1.49/lb) from the wet ones -- why pay for the water? -- and a stalk of ginger root ($2.99/lb). I also peeked at the Thompson Seedless green grapes ($0.99/lb). As I headed off towards Baked Goods, a pudgy stuffed shirt named Bartlett called to me from across the aisle.
"Hey," he began . . . not the warmest of greetings, "we're not open."
"What time do you open?" I queried, knowing the ribbon cutting was scheduled for 7.
I’m afraid I haven’t been much of a church hopper the past couple of months. I confess it’s because I’ve been attending the same church somewhat regularly. Which one you ask? Well, I will keep that a secret for now.
But I did play hooky from my regular church last Sunday to attend McKinley Presbyterian Church which is located at 809 South Fifth Street in Champaign.
McKinley is typical of campus churches with its progressive theology, which I deeply appreciate, and its outreach to students. In fact, college students and professors must be the norm for McKinley’s congregants. I was asked by a friendly gentleman who sat in the pew behind me, “Are you a student?” to which I replied, “No, I’m a little too old to be a student.” He then asked, “Oh, you’re a professor?” I answered, “No, I’m not a professor.” He then asked, a little confused, “Then what do you do?”
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