I spent my last night with the girls for a while tonight.

Drove out to the homestead and played Uncle Rock for the last time.

For a bit. I'm headed down there in December.

But it's so tough knowing that I don't get to be a part of their life for a while.

Playing with them, getting them all wound up, hearing them say their silly things.

I keep thinking of something my step-Dave wrote on my family blog a few years back, when Cam was an only child and they moved away from us.

I got home in time to play with the "peanut" for a short time before they packed up to head south. Three ( maybe 4) pretty ladies out on the road heading for a new life. And I thought as they left I had really said goodby to that sweet little girl. Cameron will come back to visit but she will be different, better of course, but not the same. As they pulled away the back window rolled down and as she was strapped in her seat, I couldn't see her, but her hand waved goodby. Bye, bye baby.


I may get in trouble for posting that, but Dave posted it for the family to see already, so it's not like he's going to be embarrassed.

It's one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever read, and that's how I feel right now.

Bye bye girls. Can't wait to see you again.

I love you.

It's all happening.

The people refuse to back down. Crowds gather. Opposition groups storm out of parliamentary buildings.

The police lines form.

The people refuse to back down. They know when they've been duped, and they're not taking it.

In the cold streets of the Ukraine the vox populi echoes throughout the land.

Supporting bloggers worldwide is an important thing to do. After all, we want to keep this train a-rolling for a long time, to pick up more passengers, and to see where it's takin' us.

Plus one day they might start regulating these things, so let's get in the good stuff while the gettin's good.

Anyway, I would like to announce that not only is the Bicyclemark shop up and running, but that I am one of the first customers.

Yeppers. Got myself a mug. With a picture of Che, er, I mean, Mark on it. Thus confirming my heavy-duty man-love for him.

Yo, all you fab girls with Xanga sites: beware: the world is catching on to your blogs. You are cool, no doubt, but you must heed my words:

Get Off Xanga. Now. You will then be even cooler.

Trust me.

This oughta get 'em talking.

For those looking for a little holiday cheer, click the picture above to spend a day with a bunch of fabulous babes as they wound their way through State Street to visit Santa.

A big ANNOUNCEMENT for all of you bloggers and fans of blogs and bloggers.

And if you're reading this, that means you're a fan of me.

The official Bicyclemark online store will be arriving shortly.

Just in time for Christmas.

More information to come in time.

Something that I haven't mentioned until now...

The State I'm In has been nominated for the most coveted of all Blog Awards....The Anna.

You didn't know that blogs had awards and nominations? And you didn't know they're called Annas?

Well, neither did I until the past week or so.

Tony Pierce, blogger in excelsis, has been taking nominations for the Best Post of the Year. I didn't nominate anyone's posts, because I feel I'm still a bit of a newbie with the whole blogging thing and wasn't sure if I was ready (or even qualified) to nominate someone's posts.

But my newest and bestest friend, Amsterdam's Bicyclemark, was nice enough to nominate my recent post about a little family get-together I had. If you haven't read the post, or wish to revisit it, merely click here.

I highly doubt I'm in much of a running, but I'd like to thank Mark for thinking of me and passing my post along to Tony. Glad he enjoyed the post. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Normally I seem to have a big Thanksgiving meal around noonish, but Mom's side of the family didn't have a big holiday feast this year, so I had to wait until 5:00 for the food.

This was good and bad. Good, because I could hang out down at Don's (or the Old Tyme Inn if you want to call it by this week's name) and enjoy their yearly Bloody Mary bar. They stay open until 2:00 every Thanksgiving for people to come down and enjoy themselves while they're waiting for the turkey to finish. Your first round of drinks are always on the house. For a "townie" bar that plays way too much NASCAR, it's a pretty decent place, and they take care of their regulars.

But since I had nowhere to go until 5:00 I ended up staying at Don's until 2:00 jawing with Britt and Burns, then met up with my sister and brother-in-law down at Rick's (which was also open) for another few rounds. This was the bad thing.

Oh, and did I mention that I never got around to eating much of anything the entire time? Come to think of it, I don't think Britt ever got around to his dinner. I had mine at Mom's and it was delicious, but it was over way too fast and I didn't gorge myself like usual, since I already had a gut full of Bloody Marys, Bud Light and Guinness.

And even though I was feeling a little queasy towards the end, that was a great way to spend my day. Britt and Burns and I talked about sports and movies and gave each other shit and then did the same thing with Janie and Jason down at Rick's.

And yeah, in my hometown they don't have very original names for their eating and drinking establishments.

So maybe it was a bit of an anti-Thanksgiving, since most of us seemed to be everywhere but the Home and Hearth. But that's just the mood I was in, I suppose.

Hope yours was memorable and not as liver-damaging as mine.

Plenty of pictures at My Buzznet site.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Today should be a fine day here in the upper Midwest. The skies are blue and the empty cornfields and backyards are covered with a thick layer of freshly fallen snow.

And all over America people get to take a day off to spend with friends and family, even though it might drive them crazy after a few hours.

(That's why the movie theatres stay open tonight!)

Here's one thing that I am thankful for: even though the country went through a rough time with our recent presidential election, at least, in the end, we think it was legit. (The stories of voter fraud in Ohio will have to wait another day.)

I've been paying very close attention to the situation in the Ukraine. Basically, two guys named Viktor ran for President and the Kremlin-backed Viktor won, even though most of the exit polling showed that the other, cooler Viktor was winning by several percentage points.

Now charges of voter fraud have been coming from everywhere. Europe and the U.S. both refuse to recognize the new government until a proper recount is done. More importantly, thousands and thousands of people have filled the streets of Kiev and other cities, national strikes have been called, and flowers have been strewn across the riot lines.

To the Ukrainians out there who are braving the cold and wind and a government that has its guns pointed at you, I say good luck, and may a peaceful and accurate solution to your election be found quickly.

It's Shitty Bad out there!

After sleeping in half the day I met up with a buddy of mine and had a few beers at a bar down the road. We were enjoying ourselves immensely when the power suddenly went out. It came back on right away, but then died out again for good a bit later.

Even though Thanksgiving Eve is traditionally one of the biggest pub nights of the year, the publicans decided to shut 'er down, figuring that most people wouldn't want to drink it up and then drive on the roads you see pictured to your left.

So I inched my way homeward only to find that the power was out in my hobbit-hole as well. The three beers I had in my stomach convinced me that a nap was about the only thing I could do right now, so I drifted off to a brief sleep only to wake to the sound of my smoke alarm going off.

I jumped out of bed thinking, "Holy Shit! Did one of my candles catch on fire?" My heart pounded about six inches out of my chest until I realized that the power had come back on.

So what do I do first? I immediately turn my computer back on and start blogging.

I may be stuck here the rest of the night. At least I'm well stocked in wine and pasta, and I have a little bit of firewood. If the power stays on I've got movies to watch, but if it returns to blackness, I may have to find something else to keep me busy.

Any more hot college girls out there?

What do you do when two attractive and well-dressed college girls show up at your door at midnight?

You let them in.



It is so tempting to leave the post just like that, and let your imaginations run wild. But lest I get tagged as an immoral cretin, I will simply say that yes, me and the College Girls Gone Wild stayed up until 4 AM talking and listening to music and being silly and flirty (me especially, man I miss flirting!) but that was it.

And now read the rest of the post in your best deep, Robert Evans-eque voice:

Did I have a great time last night? Yes I did.

Was I so tired that I had to call in "sick" to work today? You know it!

Would I do it again? Hell yes I would.

Thanks for the company, girls.

Dan Rather is quitting.

Or is he? Rumors are floating around that information damaging to Rather's involvement with the Bush-National Guard scandal might surface.

Better to quit now than get fired later, I suppose.

I hope it isn't true. Dan Rather is still my favorite of the Big Three. I like how he took no shit from people like Nixon.

And he's funnier than hell.

But he's one of them journalists with a "liberal" bias, and of course we can't have that these days.

There's only room for right-wing tabloid hacks who like to shove vibrators up their ass.

Say it ain't so, Dan...

Welcome to U-Tuesday.

U2's latest album comes out today. I'll probably go pick it up during my lunch break. I'm excited about it, but it's the same type of excitement I get looking forward to a new Star Wars film. The old ones were better, but you're still curious to see what happens with the new one.

I'll buy How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb today, the first day it comes out, just like I'll see Revenge of the Sith the day it comes out. I look forward to it, but it's a sad sort of anticipation. I've heard most of it on the radio already (WXRT played the album non-stop a week or so ago), and some of it sounds brilliant, but some of it sounds boring and forced, like left-over sessions from their last album.

It sounds like Even More That You Can't Leave Behind.

"Vertigo" pretty much sucks ass. Typical U2 trying to sound over-the-top cool. It reminds me of "Elevation" which reminded me of "Discoteque" from Pop, which wasn't very good.

"City of Blinding Lights" is excellent, as are a couple of others I've heard. But this is their "every other" album, so it'll be inconsistent at best.

"Every other?" As in, they have a great album, then a crappy album. Every Other album is good, the others kind of suck.

Boy? Classic. October? Meh.

War? Say no more. The Unforgettable Fire? Fairly forgettable. Even if it's produced by Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois, usually a fair barometer of how good the album is.

The Joshua Tree? Like the voice of God coming down from the mountain. First CD I ever bought. The album that got me to stop listening to 80s pop like Huey Lewis and taught me what real music was. (And ignited my still white-hot love of Ireland.)

This is the album that made all of us eat, sleep, and shit anything related to Bono, Edge, Adam, and Larry. Musicland posters of the boys hanging on our walls, deep discussions about who had the heroin habit in "Running to Stand Still." Bad fanboy pictures of myself and three friends posing like the album cover to your left. I even have video evidence of the most embarrassing kind from when we tried to make our own U2 videos, but you will never, ever see it.

Rattle and Hum? Loved it at the time, but I bet I haven't listened to that album in ten years. Only a few really standout tracks to remember.

Then they suddenly stopped being so serious and started dressing in leather and reinvented themselves and put out their best album ever: Achtung Baby. This album still floors me, still sounds fresh and new and kick-ass. The Zoo TV tour was this mad-scientist brilliant thing about media and satellite TV and Bush and a transformed Europe. And Bono looking like some leather-clad alien version of Elvis from the '68 Comeback Special. Ever see the footage from that tour? Too fucking cool. Still one of the greatest shows I ever saw in my life.

Zooropa was a quickie follow-up to Achtung, Baby, and while it isn't a masterpiece, it's still pretty good. This is the U2 I love the most, the crazy mid-90s experimental U2, where they let Edge sing lead on their first single, started the album with a gorgeous wash of static and sound and Bono speaking German: "Vorsprung durch technik..."

Then they went underground and hung out in Sarajevo and created Passengers with Brian Eno, an album of songs for movies that didn't exist. "Always Forever Now" is still one of the all-time great U2 songs that no one has ever heard of, and I listened to it over and over and over again for about two years straight.

Another disappearing act until '97, when they promised more experimentation with electronic sounds and ended up sounding like Pop music. Biggest disappointment of their career. Too many costumes, not enough Eno and Lanois. Some of Bono's best songwriting got lost in mediocre production and a tacky Wal-Mart-inspired tour that seemed to be a desperate rehash of the Zoo TV tour.

They wisely decided to junk the theatrics after the millennium and delivered All That You Can't Leave Behind, their celebrated "back-to-basics" album. With Eno and Lanois back in the driver's seat this was an older, wiser U2. This may have been a "safe" album to do, but it worked, and I believed in these guys again.

Example: I still get goosebumps listening to my Napster-found bootleg of their SNL performance of "Beautiful Day." Edge's guitar sounds like it's been born again, and Bono suddenly launches into a passionate snippet of "All You Need is Love" at the end, crying "All! All! All! All you need is love!" on the 40th anniversary of Lennon's death, and it's a beautiful thing.

So it's a shame that Atomic Bomb seems like U2 playing it safe again, another Pop album that winds up being a shadow of its predecessor.

***

I'm listening to it right now, and there's some good stuff. But there's some fair middle-of-the-road Today's Mix dreck in there as well. Why can't this whole album sound like "Love and Peace Or Else"? That song gives a small glimpse of what the album could be, instead of what it is:

Good, but not Great. But that's ok. They produced some amazing stuff in my formative years, and I'll always have that memory of watching the video for "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" over and over again on MTV during the summer of 1987, when I would stay up all night listening to their music on my brand-new CD player and I first learned what music really, really could be.

Today President Bush said that he was encouraged by Iran's claim of freezing their uranium enrichment programs, but he expressed doubt as to how serious they really were.

Let's say I hope it's true," Bush said at a news conference in Cartegena, Colombia. But, he added, "I think the definition of truth is the willingness of the Iranian regime to allow for verification."

That's fair. I think Iran should let us in to see what their intentions really are. They say they just want to create nuclear power, not nuclear weapons. If they were making weapons of mass destruction (wait for it...), I think we have every right to send in inspectors to make sure everything is on the up and up.

But I have a bad feeling that even if we can't find one single shred of evidence that Iran is pursuing the manufacture, sale, and/or detonation of nuclear devices, that even if the Iranian government (not the trustiest sort of fellows, I know),signs document after document claiming they don't have any such weapons in any stage of development, I have a feeling the Bush administration will just simply choose not to believe them.

And then commence to get all up in their shit, military-style.

Sounds preposterous? Exaggerated? Is it any more preposterous to believe that we would wind up knee deep in death and destruction in Iraq after Saddam and Co. (again, not the trustiest of foes) said that Iraq didn't posses weapons of mass destruction? That the UN-imposed sanctions and the fallout from Desert Storm had made them a shell of the threat they used to be?

We just chose not to believe them and commenced firing.

And a year or so later, and many thousands of deaths later (yeah, we should probably count the Iraqis too), we haven't found any WMDs.

But we don't want to admit that Saddam or Hans Blix might have actually been telling the truth.

Just like we'll probably refuse to believe Iran's statements today, and next week, and next year when we'll be looking for a way in.

I want to believe that Iran is telling the truth. I think their fundamentalist way of life is idiotic and repressive to women and other minorities, but, well, I tend to think America's fundamentalist way of life is idiotic and repressive of women and other minorities.

(And before you all jump on me, I'm well aware that America is a much better place to live than Iran. If you think I'm saying "America is as bad as Iran" you need to learn how to read better.)

My innards are a wreck after two straight nights of foods involving nothing but cheese and pork products.

It's spinach salads all week for me. Until Turkey Day. Then I shall gorge myself silly.

But that story is for later. And you shall hear about it. I look forward, in fact, to everyone's Thanksgiving stories. Make sure they're good. Take pictures. Pay attention to the details. Which relative made the biggest ass out of themselves? Who ate the most cranberry sauce? What's the lamest tradition your family insists on honoring every damn year? Where are you traveling to?

My Thanksgiving will be a tale of claustrophobia dulled by as much wine as possible. 20-odd people in my mother's small home.

That's where I've been the last two days. Last night most of the family gathered to welcome home my sister, her husband, and my two nieces.

I think I shall just let the pictures do the talking.

Opaaaaaaa! (Origins)

I broke with tradition last night by not going over the The Duders. (I don't know if there was the usual Friday get-together, but last night I was not there.)

T'was a different married couple's house last night. Jeff and Katy and their two kids. Even though I would love to imagine myself as this big-city single guy who makes the rounds from bar to bar on a Friday night, looking for tits and trouble, these days I mostly hang out with married people.

Little-known Midwest law: when you live in the far west suburbs, as I do, you are legally required to be married by the age of 25. Shortly afterwards you then have to get a dog, which of course preps you for kids.

It's a strange life out here amongst the strip malls and fading cornfields. Marriage and settling down just comes to people a lot sooner. Being single around here is getting to be about as common as being a Democrat.

(This is Speaker of the House Denny Hastert's congressional district, you see. Get it? Ha HA!)

Anyways, every now and then my married friends take pity on me and invite me over for dinner. I would probably hang out with some of these folk more if I had a significant other (or "hot appetizer", as they like to call it), so that there's balance in the universe or something like that. Couples like to be with couples, and I can understand why.

Katy and I felt like making some Greek-themed foods. She made Moussaka, and I made some lentil soup and brought some good Greek bread and feta spread. And of course the wine.

Then Jeff started talking about flaming cheese.

"Hey, we should make some of that saganaki!

"What's that, Dad?"

"Cheese they light on fire and they yell Opaaaaaa!"

"Opaaaaaaa!"

"You want some of that, Ben?"

"Yeah!!!"

Meanwhile, Katy's trying to avert either a)a rather high-calorie entry into our menu or b) her house being torched by her husband.

I almost bought the cheese needed to make saganaki (Kessari cheese) at this specialty store I had been at, but decided against it. I didn't think I had the skills necessary to make flaming cheese. How wrong I was.

"You think they have it at Jewel?"

"Ummm..." (Noticing Katy's reticence at attempting this, I try to remain neutral and not start a house war.)

"Come on, let's go!" (Oh well. Can't say no to hot cheese soaked in booze.)

On the way out the door Katy gives me a warning: "If you can't find the right kind of cheese, don't let him try and find some poor substitute."

Not two minutes into the trip to Jewel: "If we can't find that kind of cheese, I bet we can get any old thing to work."

Long story short, we settled on Asiago cheese. I did the prep work, Jeff fried it up, poured the brandy, and I lit the match. Flames leapt up to the ceiling, the kids shouted and laughed, Katy seemed ready to murder the both of us several times over, and the cheese tasted great.

It really did. Just like being at Greek Islands.

By the time we got to the main course we were stuffed on melted cheese and bread. We picked through the moussaka and never even got to the apple pie. After dinner, and after Jeff and Katy valiantly spent 34 hours putting kids to bed, we poured three small glasses of brandy and sat in the quiet kitchen and talked.

While I may not be ready to be married and have kids, I love being Uncle Brian, so I'm going to end this and head west and have fun with my neices for a while.

Peace, everyone.

Overheard at the opening ceremonies of President Clinton's library:

"Listen, George. You know why you're fightin' so many damn wars right now? You're too into commitment! Why do you think I only got involved in them little police actions in Sarajevo and Haiti. You dilly-dally around a bit, have your fun, blow your wad, and get out. And you don't even have Ken Starr shining flashlights up your ass. Go crazy!"

They were all there today, Presidents past and present, all saying wonderful things about a guy they've probably cursed and bitched about a million times over. Or maybe not. Maybe being President is such a unique thing that even though they differ ideologically, they still respect each other enough for actually having made the difficult journey to the Oval Office.


Still, you gotta wonder what Big George thinks about Clinton. If I were George Herbert Walker Bush, I'd be even more pissed that he suckered me out of a second term now that my dipshit son showed me up by winning a second term.

Jeb was supposed to be the Great White Hope, you see. George was gonna drink and watch baseball all day.

I would kill to be at one of those rare moments all the Presidents and Prime Ministers and rock stars get together. It's like how when someone plans a big wedding and there's always hurt feelings and backstabbing and crap about who gets invited, where they sit, who gets to bring their kids, and is there an open bar or not.

Something like this has to be like the most fucked up wedding you can possibly imagine. Lots of strange looks across the crowd, who's talking to whom, who's making an ass of themselves on the dance floor.

And you know Bill's going home with a bridesmaid tonight, right?

Oh, and you can't have a wedding without a band, right?
How about the most kick-ass wedding band ever. U2's Bono and The Edge, still one of the greatest bands on the planet. They even played my all-time favorite song by the Fab Four: "Rain", most likely in honor of the downpour that took place during the festivities. Or to the incredible optimism that Bill Clinton possesses, something we sorely need right now (amongst many other things.) (We don't have optimism in The White House right now. We have delusions of grandeur.)

I can show you that when it starts to rain,
Everything's the same,
I can show you, I can show you.
Rain, I don't mind,
Shine, the weather's fine.
Can you hear me that when it rains and shines,
It's just a state of mind,
Can you hear me, can you hear me?


President Bush, were you listening?

Late night for me. Parent-Teacher Conferences. Yay fun...

Real quick: any memories of what PT Conferences was like for you? I always had the kids come to the conferences so they could speak for themselves about how they were doing in class. (It also helps to prove to the parents when a kid is fucking around.)

But at this school I'm at now, they do it old school. No kids.

Not to get going on education. I usually leave the work talk out of here. I was just curious what the blogosphere had to say on the time-honored tradition.

Here's a bit I posted on Tony's blog regarding the whole hubbub about the Desperate Housewives/Monday Night Football controversy:

What if this uproar over the MNF spot has, at its roots, the classic fear of black men preying upon white women? AKA, if it was Kurt Warner or Brian Urlacher instead of Terrell Owens, would people have been upset? Is the interracial "coupling" the thing that is subliminally getting everyone's Puritan panties in a bunch?

Personally, I like how the spot switches it into a white woman preying upon a black man. Nice shattering of the stereotype.

My point is this: is the new crackdown on "indecency" just a way for conservatives to turn back the clock on the social progress that has been made in the last 30 years when it comes to race and sex.

Discuss!

Everyone's spreading this around, but I think I'd like to post it for any of my dear readers who think the men who got us into Iraq are "good" men, "truthful" men, men of "honor."

Go to Bunny's site (best damn blog on the block) and hear what she has to say.

I've been spending all evening making subtle changes and additions to my blog. I'm trying to change the hyperlink color to something a little more noticeable, but I'm not having any luck. Nor have I finished getting a PayPal link up. Not that anyone's going to start showering me with money, but I have a feeling it's gonna be one of those eventual devices that everyone has, so I might as well be cutting-edge.

Under the About Me section you will find new links to My Profile and to my Wish List. Lots of new readers on here, and for those thinking about Christmas gifts for dear Brian, that'll give you an idea of what I'd like Santa to bring me this year.

I don't feel like writing right now. They apparently killed Margaret Hassan, and I'm pretty crushed by the news.

This fucking war. What a fucking joke.

And don't even start. Don't give my some goddamn bullshit statement like, "But that's why we're fighting, Brian!" We pissed on a hornet's nest and now everyone else is getting stung.

This fucking war.

The Polar Express didn't do so well this weekend.


It pulled in around $23 million or so, easily outpaced by The Incredibles, which more than doubled Polar's take with a cool $51 million in its second week.

So why didn't The Polar Express, powered by the unbeatable team of Tom Hanks and Bob Zemekis pull in numbers like that? That damn movie has been everywhere, and it had a built-in audience based upon fans of the book.

Want to know what I think?

I haven't seen the movie, but I feel this makes me perfectly qualified to explain why people didn't go see it, since I'm one of them.

Why didn't I go see The Polar Express? I'm obviously a fan of CG movies (see my recent comments on The Incredibles.) I'm also a huge Chris Van Allsburg fan.

For those of you that don't traffic in kids' books like I do (due to my profession), he's a pretty brilliant author-illustrator. You may know him as the creator of Jumanji, that Robin Williams-there's an elephant on Maple Street-thing from some years back.

The Polar Express is a deservedly classic book. I read it for a few years to my students, but stopped after a while. I was getting too embarrassed about choking up at the end, plus every damn elementary school teacher had read it to my kids already through the years.

What's so great about him? Aside from his startling orginality, his stuff is creepy as hell, man. Go into your local bookstore and check it out. All of his images are these fuzzy, dream-like images that have a slightly menacing quality to them. The wolves watching the train pass by in The Polar Express is but one example. His recent covers for The Chronicles of Narnia are another.

I suggest two books to get an idea of what I'm talking about: One is called The Widow's Broom, which I used to read every year around Halloween. I can't find it online, but there's this gorgeous picture of a witch, illuminated by firelight. She's young and shapely and sexy as hell. I always loved how he chose to show the witch that way, instead of as the usual old crone with the crooked nose that we're used to seeing.

The other book is called The Mysteries of Harris Burdick. A dozen or so illustrations, with a title and caption for each. Nothing else. You have to imagine the rest. (Another book ruined by too many teachers, myself included, turning it into a "writing exercise.") They're hypnotic, and I never tire of looking at them and imagining what might be going on. The picture to the right is my favorite. It's called Another Time, Another Place. And the caption reads: "If there was an answer, he'd find it there." I still get excited about what could possibly lie in that gleaming city beyond the mountain range.

Allsburg knows that childhood is mystery and danger and darkness and chaos. It's also innocence and joy and all that crap, but when you're a kid you don't know that.

I think that's why people stayed away from The Polar Express.

If you knew the book, you knew that it was sweet and life-affirming in that way that only Christmas stories can be. But it's also melancholy and tinged with the sadness of the adult world, and watching those previews, I don't see that.

I see dancing waiters and CGI Porn, and too many characters stuffed into the story to make it longer. And they all have creepy digital eyes that freak me out.

The book of The Polar Express is one of those rare things: A Christmas tale that gets every note just right. It never gets too sappy (as most Christmas tales do) nor does it get too juvenile. It possesses the wonderment of childhood and the sad realizations of adulthood.

We smile at the way the Boy hears the bell at the end, knowing in his heart that Santa Claus does exist, but we also nod our heads in agreement when the adults do not hear the bell. We know. We know the belief doesn't last. Childhood ends, and becomes a sad and nostalgic memory.

The best stories, "the ones that really matter", about childhood have that quality. In Peter Pan, Wendy chooses to leave Neverland and grow up. Christopher Robin gives up Pooh. And Boo Radley saves Jem and Scout and ceases to be a monster in the closet.

Maybe the movie version of The Polar Express has that quality. I'll go see it one of these days and decide for myself. But judging by the previews, I don't think so. And I think America realized it as well, knowing that The Incredibles promised, and delivered, more.

Well, I found out where all the people just like me are.

Online on a Saturday night.

A strange thing happened in the last 48 hours or so. Visitors from blogs around the world happened upon my site, or My Buzznet site, and said hello. And fellow friends and family chimed in as well, especially last night, so I was not drinkin' alone last night after all.

Last night did me good. Not the scotch, necessarily. I had a bit of a headache this morning, but nothing major. I didn't go too crazy last night. I think the writing did me good, though. It's like Carl Jung said (or maybe it was Chris in the Morning), "Embrace your sadness, for there your soul shall grow."

I at least feel like I don't have to pretend to be happy anymore, or pretend that I feel at one with my universe. Nope. I'm a grumpy, alienated fool sometimes, folks. I've outed myself.

Not that most of you didn't already know it. But for some reason I feel like I have a little more freedom to act how I want to, not how I think I need to.

I don't know if that makes any sense, but it does to me.

And no, this isn't some cryptic message about being gay. To be honest, I'd rather be gay than depressed. You probably have a lot more fun on Saturday nights.

I close tonight with a few links to some of the new blogs I've come across, one way or another.

For gorgeous pictures from my future home, visit North Atlantic Skyline.

See beautiful Europe by clicking over to the JaG Spot or to the mighty Bicyclemark's site.

The World of oOo has great pictures.

Wayne the Snake may be a Xanga site with no pictures, but she's a pretty good writer.

Visit these people, leave comments, spread the word, expand our universe. It's a big beautiful world out there.

Six days and I get to be Uncle Rock again...

If Tony Pierce can get his readership up with Sex Saturdays, I think I can do my part with Drunk Saturday Night!

So I wasn't really serious about the wild man binge I was going to take this weekend. I have wanted to just go nuts some evening and bust things wide open, but I've been a good boy lately and haven't filled my person with all things destructive. I've lost about 7 pounds due to healthy living and I mean to keep going.

(I gained 36 fucking pounds over the last year due to some medication I was on, and I'd like to get back to not being Fat Brian.)

Had a fine Saturday of sleeping in, moving my satellite dish (in order to let the Man build a new staircase; thanks again Phil and Laurie), buying some new music and reading comic books. The end of the evening promised to be spent down at Quigley's with a few pints of Guinness and some friends.

Grrrr. I never made it down to the pub. The gang wasn't quite up for going out after their dinner, so my plans were dashed. I hold no anger towards them. Duders--make sure you know that. I just needed a night out.

Instead I'm stuck in this little island I have for myself and I've given up and have decided to have a little Scottish Therapy. Get piss drunk! Scotch and Cigs, baby.

It all basically boils down to the fact that when you're a single guy, you're options become very limited. Most of my friends are married, and are having kids, but I, I, I, I have avoided that life for oh so long. Never felt ready for it. Never could committ to it. Perfectly wonderful women have thrown themselves towards me, and I shoo them away.

There's always something better out there, right? A better house, a better job, a better land.

Was there a better girl than Katie? Tall and gorgeous, fun and exciting and down to earth. But I wrapped myself up in theatre and stupid excuses and let her go.

Maybe she wasn't for me, in the long run. Maybe I did the right thing.

Are the answers far away? Do I just walk away from everything here and start over? Do I cling to a place where I clearly just don't feel a 100% at home?

I'm going to be very honest with you, my readers. I'm miserable as hell right now and I don't know where to go next. And I don't want any sympathy comments either. (I'm not saying I don't want comments. I love comments.) Just don't give me the "you'll figure it out, Brian!" shit I get all the time. I should have figured it out a long time ago.

I'm just not like most people I know. My friends out there, my coworkers, my family, my actors and former students, I love you all, really. But I feel like an alien amongst all of you. I'm too fucking different.

Is it so hard to find people that you have things in common with? I just want to go out and have a good soundtrack playing in my head and have a job that matters. (I have the most fucking pointless job right now and it's killing me little by little every day.) My friend Sarah said a rather wise thing yesterday and said I wanted to be a leader. But being a leader in my profession pretty much means being a goddamn principal or something and wear shitty polo shirts and talk about test score percentages all day.

When you take the whip in your hand you die a little, don't you?

Well, I have some drinkin' and thinkin' to do, people.

I think you are all fabulous and I bless each and every one of you.

When I sound the warning-bell that this country's getting too conservative, this is what I'm talking about.

From E! News Online:

A number of ABC affiliates have scrapped tonight's Veterans Day broadcast of Steven Spielberg's Oscar-winning film Saving Private Ryan out of concern that the unedited movie could leave them open to fines by the Federal Communications Commission

Yes it's violent, and the characters curse every so often, and there's lots of blood and death. There's also a lot of heroic sacrifice and example after example of what war is really like.

It's bad enough we hardly see what the current war feels like from the soldier's point of view. Now, on Veteran's Day of all days, many Americans won't be able to be reminded again of war's sacrifice and valor and frustration.

What a shame.

Read the whole story here.

"I'm going to go on an overnight drunk, and in ten days I'm going to set out to find the shark that ate my friend and destroy it."

"What would be the scientific purpose of killing it?"

"Revenge."

Apparently there's a bunch of bands getting together to play music from Wes Anderson movies at the Metro on December 15th. Including Wilco's John Stirratt and Pat Sansone (The Autumn Defense). Be there, bastards.

Click here for more info.

Robodopeness and Psychotic Normalcy, this is your second chance at the great Chicago Blogger Meet and Greet I've been trying to get together. I'll try and get some of the College Girls Gone Wild. They're hot and ready to party.

Can't wait, can't wait, can't wait...


By the way, I think I'm going to go on a weekend binge of whiskey and pizza and cigarettes this weekend. So either leave me alone or come save me from my destructive tendencies!

I'm tired and I'm listening to the Lost in Translation soundtrack yet again and I want to go to sleep but I won't because I stay up and I read blogs and I think too much.

Last night tried falling asleep but to no avail. This is happening all to often again. I used to just drink myself to sleep but I'm off the hard stuff and I'm just sipping a little red wine because it's better for my heart than the vodka was.

MST3K is a pretty good show to fall asleep to. It's damn funny beyond words, but the movies are so slow and shitty-paced that they lull you into a nice little sleepy-time, except the frequent commercial breaks force me to become cognizant enough to speed through them.


Where did all the commenters go? Why do I only get quality comments when I bitch about politics and Prez Bush?

So there you go my conservative friends and families. The real reason I write bad things about Bush.

Ratings.





This is not a rebel song. This is The Incredibles.

It's such a sneaky film. All them Pixar films are. They suck the kids in with the new fancy computer animation and the adults watch because they have to only after probably Toy Story 2 they realized that Pixar wasn't just making movies for their kids, just like J.K. Rowling stopped writing the Harry Potter books just for kids when she whipped out Prisoner of Azkaban about five years ago.

Pixar films are colorful and funny and kids love them but we adults love them too because they're about parental anxiety about their children and alienation and understanding your true identity in the world.

Poor Dash. His whole life he's been denied the chance to be himself, and when his mother finally tells him that, if the men come who are trying to kill him, he needs to run as fast as he can.

"As fast as I can?" Dash replies. The terror he should feel (those men will kill him) is replaced by this exultant joy that he finally gets to be himself, and let it all loose. And when he speeds through that forest as fast as he can I leaned forward in my seat and my smile almost reached to the back rows of the theater.

Hollywood won't bother telling a complex story about mid-life crises, suburban angst, and identity crises with real actors anymore. But somehow Pixar is able to sneak it in under our noses, and we get tricked into going to see a wonderful story with thrilling action and heart-raising emotion that just happens to be animated.




Good-bye John Ashcroft, you evil, freaky religious conservative bastard. This is the first good thing to happen to Bush's White House since the Bush twins moved in. Go anoint yourself with oil and cover up Justice's breasts somewhere else.

Okay, not much on The Incredibles tonight. I'm too damn tired to write what I want to say about it. But it's just further proof that Pixar is the most subversive group of artists out there. And I don't mean in the radical-overthrow-the-government way. More later.

I'm in the mood to talk about the Belfast Cowboy. The Voice of God.

Van Morrison.

First things first. Let me get this out of the way: I really kind of hate "Brown Eyed Girl." Mostly because it's "the" song whenever radio stations or movies feel the need to play Van the Man. Every once in a while he sneaks into something cool like Ulee's Gold, but for the most part it's fucking "Brown Eyed Girl" over and over.

People seem to have mostly forgotten about Van, relegating him to the classic rock stations and the occasional middle-aged yuppie romance, little more than an Irish version of Elton John. But Van's been putting out a new album every damn year for who knows how long, and while they're not all masterpieces, but he's been on a roll lately. The string of albums that includes Back on Top, Down the Road, and What's Wrong With This Picture have been pretty damn stellar. He may never rattle off a one-two punch like Astral Weeks and Moondance again (and follow up with Tupelo Honey and Veedon Fleece within three years), but Van's new stuff is very relevant and very wonderful.

If you want a tight group of blusey pop gems buy Back on Top. Down the Road had some filler, but there's some great stuff there, like his cover of Ray Charles' "Georgia On My Mind" (Ray was Van's hero.) And his Blue Note debut, What's Wrong With This Picture, features two songs that rank among my all-time Van songs. "Little Village" is the Van of Astral Weeks , where one finds ultimate peace and salvation through the power and mysticism of the natural world.

Raining in the forest
Just enough to magnetise the leaves
Raining in the forest
Just enough to magnetise the leaves
We'll go walking baby with the moonlight shining down through the trees

Little village, way up on the mountainside
Little village baby, way up on the mountainside
Way across the ocean with you by my side

There's this little part where he sings, "Baby let's get it straight from the start" and he does this weird little thing with the word "start." He just barely says it, or messes it up, or something. But it's so cool, so real, so genuine.

"Get On With The Show" is one of Van's Cranky songs. People ride him for being a grumpy sonofabitch, but as I get older, well...I'm kind of a grumpy sonofabutch, and that's why I love the guy. Lyrics like this sing to me, baby:

No one seems to understand what's up
What's up, what's up
So called friends come and go
And things just don't add up
Trying to make my way
Through all this illusion and myth
I don't even have no safety net

He's just the best. If there's a God out there, he's gonna sound like some gruff Irishman singing about champagne eyes and saint-like smiles.

Last week it was my Mom's birthday, but being the lucky woman she is, she got to spend the weekend with Step-Dave in Palm Springs.

You see, we're not really gun-toting rednecks. We're actually semi-millionaires. Everyone made a killing in the late 60s when we sold off all this really valuable farmland in Naperville, which is one of the more posh places around here, if you're familiar with it.

One day all that money will be mine, and my massive debt and inability to save more than $20 in my savings account will be a distant memory.

We are rich, right guys? Right?

(Reminder: Insert flash animation of tumbleweed blowing past banner.)

Yeah, so we celebrated Mom's birthday tonight in the rockin' hometown of Sandwich. Ate dinner, ran into Uncle and Aunt, grabbed a beer at The Old Tyme Inn, formerly Corrie's, formerly Don's. It'll always be Don's to me.

Basic townie bar. Spent many years there drinking Bud Light with a few guys, playing lots of pool and Golden Tee. I can still remember the Jukebox code for Van Morrison's "Sweet Thing." #66, Track 6.

Tonight it was Karaoke night in a deserted bar. The highlight of the evening was Bill from the Open Door singing television theme songs.

The Open Door is an assisted living facility in Sandwich for mentally challenged folk. I've known most of them my whole life. Not really personally, but by name, and face, more or less. They buy their groceries at Art's, where I used to work, and attend church with Mom, and hang out down at Don's. You grow up with them and you stop thinking about them being so different. I mean, they are, but the novelty wore off a long time ago.

It's a glorious fucked up thing to see Bill singing TV theme songs. He can get up there and make a fool out of himself just like anyone else. There isn't anything different about him singing the theme to "WKRP in Cincinnati" and an overweight hausfrau belting out "You Light Up My Life." Both are equally bad, and it has nothing to do with Bill being retarded.

At one point, Bill and Scott and the Debs would have been hidden away somewhere, never interacting with other "normal" people. That's why the Open Door is cool.

And there's a good reason why America is cool.

****

So Happy Birthday, Mom. You're the coolest.



It was also Pharmacist Phil's birthday today, so I spent my Sunday evening eating mussels and drinking wine and watched Desperate Housewives for the first time. The whole Nevills clan is hooked on the show. Lots of hot women. Lots of frustration and tension. Lots of reasons why I don't ever want to get married.



Tomorrow: Why The Incredibles is the Fucking Coolest Damn Movie of the Year.

Careful readers of this blog will have noticed a rather spirited debate going on between some members of my family, with some regular commenters along for the ride.

I've been spending a lot of time lately discussing presidential politics and the state of our country, as most blogs have been doing. And most of that discussion has been centered around my disapproval with President Bush and the way he has handled our country.

Some of the more recent comments have had the tone of shock, shock! that I dare to express these opinions. Or, that my (and many other commenters on this blog) opinion is incorrect. Or that because the election is over, I should now put my opinions in my dresser drawer for the next four years, because it's for the good of the country to all unite together as Americans.

It clearly makes some of you uncomfortable to read my opinions. Others seem to agree with them, but there are a few readers that have gotten quite upset over the past few days.

I guess I have to ask this one question:

Why are you so upset by what I have to say?

Are you upset that I am actually voicing dissent about our current political situation?

Because if that's true, I'm worried. Last time I checked, speaking one's opinion, even if it's not the will of the people (or at least 51% of them), is part of my wonderful American rights.

Plus it's my blog, so I think I can say whatever I want. And I always try to do so with clear, well-written statements. (Unless I'm really pissed off.)

Or, are you upset because you read this blog and feel my opinions are so manic, so far from what is considered normal, that I need "help" seeing the way? Is this an online intervention to save my misguided soul from the evil, corrupting influence of the left wing?

Some of my regular (also sane) readers seemed pretty happy with what I had to say:

Bicyclemark: "Good speech B.... you're a better man than I."

My dear Uncle: "Brian, I couldn't have said it better myself."

"I am so proud Brian, to call you my son. Your comments are intelligent, forthright, and true. You are not bashing Bush for the sake of bashing him and the Republicans, you are just stating the truth."

That last one is from my Mom. Mom is certainly not some far-out crazy liberal who's ready to destroy the country. She's no UnaMommer.

I only throw those quotes out there to remind myself, and others, that what I'm saying isn't something that only a few odd people believe. Read some of the other blogs out there, or look beyond the outskirts of our conservative community. There are millions of people out there that believe the same things I do.

And coming on here to put pressure on me to stop "bashing the President", for either the good of the country, or the good of family get-togethers, is a disturbing event to me.

Perhaps my Red Sox/Yankees analogy wasn't perfect, but the point was this: just because the "other team" wins, or that the election reveals new (disturbing, in my opinion) trends about the "will of the people" doesn't mean you stop believing what you believe.

And it's my perfect right to go right on believing that and discussing that.

Because good debate and discussion is healthy and necessary for our democracy to keep on working. And the rise of blogging has only helped to make the country more democratic and free. We can now read what millions of ordinary Americans think about our country and our leaders, instead of filtering it through opinion polls and that darned media.

So I ask you this: read my blog, and make your comments, regardless of your beliefs or opinions. I welcome them and enjoy them all. But don't suggest that I curtail my opinions to make you more comfortable and happy. And don't tell me I'm lecturing when I should be educating. This is not my classroom. Any former student of mine can tell you I keep politics out of there.

In the end, I ask again: what makes you so upset that I am voicing a simple opinion, especially in a forum specifically created for that purpose? Do my thoughts really threaten the country or the community or family stability?

Or do they threaten you, because it's disturbing to know that I could be right?

I find it very un-American to ask someone to stop voicing their (minority) opinion in a free setting in order to promote American stability.

I'm not trying to bring down the country. I'm just exercising one of its rights.

And if you don't like what I have to say, there's a simple solution to all of this:

Just don't read it.