Let me be one of the first to wish the mighty mighty Bicyclemark a happy birthday. Hope you get to party it up Amsterdam-style tomorrow, my friend.

Thanks for all the blogging how-to help; thanks for all the blog-plugs you've given me; and thanks for being a good friend, even though I've never actually met you. One of the wonders of the blogosphere, eh?

Go wish him birthday greetings on his blog. It's the least you can do.

Oh yeah, headed to Florida tomorrow night. It's been in the mid-80s all week where I'm going, so I should be able to get a little fun in the sun while I'm there.

Walk the beach, get a tan, swim in my sister's pool. Ahh, just what I need, right?



Or not.

Guess what decided to drop by Florida this weekend.

The high all weekend?

65 degrees.

Florida, once again you have made me your enemy.

(Sylkk, this is because I made that comment on your blog the other day, right? About keeping the warm weather around for the weekend

An interesting bit from Colin Powell's farewell to NATO speech:

Powell focused on the alliance's spectacular success with the collapse of
the Soviet Union and joked about his misgivings when former Soviet leader
Mikhail Gorbachev once told him the Soviet bloc no longer represented a
threat to the West. "He looked across the table at me and he said, "Oh,
General, I am so sorry, you're going to have to find a new enemy,"' Powell
said on Wednesday. "I remember my reaction, "I don't want to. I've got a lot
invested in this enemy, you know. Don't change my life just because you're
having a bad day.

Reading that brought me back to the late 80s, when perestroika was taking place, and the Berlin Wall came down, and men like Vaclav Havel became presidents instead of dissidents. It was an amazing time; probably one of the most significant historical events of my lifetime, so far at least. Thanks to The Day After, my biggest fear as a child was getting nuked by Russia.

And then suddenly it was all over. "Oh, General, I am so sorry, you're going to have to find a new enemy."

And I guess we did.

Speaking of...
Rumsfeld got his hat handed to him a bit yesterday when, thinking he was in Kuwait for a rah-rah pep rally, he was instead seriously questioned by several U.S. soldiers about the lack of proper armor for their vehicles. He flustered for an answer, and basically said, You Get What's Given To You.

Then I got to thinking about the lack of supplies these soldiers apparently have, and it didn't surprise me, considering that they're fighting the War of No Sacrifice. Sure, over a thousand U.S. soldiers have died, and umpteen thousands of Iraqi civilians have died, but we here at home don't really notice those things. We're not supposed to. And we're not supposed to actually have to give up anything to make America safe from terror.

We're supposed to go shopping.

If we're serious, as a nation, about coming together and fighting this thing, then we have to actually sacrifice something. During World War II the auto industry basically stopped production of new vehicles, because all the steel and rubber and other materials went towards the War. Food was rationed. Clothes were homemade. And troops were drafted.

Is that a central problem with this war effort we're supposedly in? That we're trying to win a war where no one's bothering to give up anything? Instead of scrap metal drives, we're supposed to go buy new widescreen TVs in order to keep our economy going strong.

The War on Terror isn't nearly the same thing as World War II. We're not fighting two massive fronts at the same time. We're not trying to break into Fortress Europe like we had to in '44. So maybe we don't need to be sacrificing much.

But when I hear about troops actually having the balls to go toe to toe with the Secretary of Defense, because they don't have enough armor to protect them from the ever-increasing attacks, I wonder if maybe we should be giving up a little.

But then I go right back to my basic argument: we shouldn't have even been there in the first place.

But we're there, and people are dying, and if protecting those guys means some guy not being able to buy a new SUV next year, then I'm all for that.

This fucking war. I just can't wrap my head around it. I want to write, "It would be so much easier if there was a big army with uniforms and flags and a evil guy with a bad mustache running everything."

But that wouldn't be easier.

I hate this, I hate this, I hate this...

The blog is jumping today with people chiming in on the whole relationship debate. Glad to hear from all of you. I haven't had this many hits since my days with Spandau Ballet.

Ba-dum ching!!

Sorry, that was bad. It's the end of the work day here and I'm a bit punchy.

But it's always good to hear from the fellow bloggers out there. Brems, sorry, I just don't think it'll work. You're a Yankee fan, after all. Sylkk, always good to hear from you. Mark, all your promotion of my site must be paying off--XtX is now flirting with you over here as well!

I was going to write about Santa Claus, but I think I'll save that for later. I've been milking the whole Christmas thing on here pretty good lately.

Lots of interesting things going on in the world. The picture you see is of Viktor Yushenko, the Ukrainian guy that didn't win but should have, according to, well, lots of cool people. He had some mystery illness that disfigured his face this summer. Some people think he was poisoned by the opposition party (AKA the pro-Russia guys that have been accused of stealing the election.)

This story gets better and better to me every day. Now I'm not Ukrainian, and I don't plan on being Ukrainian, but I do give a crap if they're democratic or not. I don't pretend to know all the ins and outs of what's going on over there, but from what I see, I like. People peacefully filling the streets in snappy orange scarves, demanding that justice be served. Rejecting the arms of mother Russia. Sure, they may wind up capitalist pigs like us, but there are worse fates.

Here in the USA the Senate just passed a sweeping overhaul of the way the U.S. gathers our intelligence. This could be a great turn of events, or the beginning of the end. I'll let others debate that one for a while.

And the Cubs just signed Nomar to a one-year, $11 million deal. Glad you're staying, Nomah! You're wicked awesome.

Had someone try and fix me up again today. It's happening a lot lately. Fellow coworkers have a friend, or a daughter, or another teacher they know that I would just be perfect for.

I dated plenty of teachers before, I don't know if I want to keep doing that.

Lots of fish out in that female sea for me. Lots of poor excuses on my part why I don't date any of them.

It's really because I don't want to inflict the horror of dating me upon them.

It's great for about two months, then welcome to the Fear of Commitment Zone.

I can't do that to them.

But it's getting pretty boring around here in my little island. Maybe I'm all over that. Didn't I have my grand epiphany earlier this summer?

There's Daughter of Co-Worker who's really sweet. There's Friend of Fo-Worker who is cute and has the same taste as me (due to a lunch conversation about David Sedaris today.) I have never met either of them so it's all spin right now.

There's Cute Republican Girl who I work with. Cute Pixie-Blond Girl I work with. But they both have boyfriends. It wouldn't be the first time I busted up a relationship.

Aside from girls I work with, there's X and Y and even Z. I'll never forget about Z. Long ago loves that have faded away somewhere with husbands and kids and who knows what else. (No sense bringing old names into this. Use your imagination.)

I could just develop crushes on female bloggers. Wait, I did that already. And I got a feeling I wouldn't last long with her.

I'm not depressed about any of this. Hey, who can get sad about actual females wanting to actually date me? It's all just a bit bizarre and hard to figure out.

So under my newly-decorated tree this year I hope to find the answer to this ever-plaguing question:

Who's gonna be the girl that'll finally get Big Bri to settle down?

For you newer readers out there, the "epiphany" link takes you to a long piece I wrote this summer. Stroke my ego a bit and give it a read. I'm quite proud of it.

My top five Christmas albums (in no particular order):

A Christmas Gift for You From Phil Spector
The Vince Guaraldi Trio - A Charlie Brown Christmas
Leon Redbone - Christmas Island
The Chieftains - The Bells of Dublin
Ella Fitzgerald - Wishes You a Swinging Christmas

They're all great, really. I'll always think of my junior year of college, and how my friend Sarah was so excited that the music from the Peanuts Christmas album was out on CD. I still have the Bart Simpson ornament she gave me that year.

Also during college I used to steal the Chieftains album from Matt every year until I finally bought it during a weekend getaway with an old girlfriend in Lake Geneva.

The tree is decorated. My spirits are lifted. There's nothing like actually getting out the lights and ornaments and hanging them on the tree. Lots of memories.

I like how the tree leans to the left a little. Get it? Leans to the left? I'm dreaming of a liberal Christmas!

The figures to your right were a gift from last year's Christmas. I usually set up a little It's a Wonderful Life village scene, but this year I'm going with good old Charlie Brown. How I love him.

My place is way too small for proper decorations, and it's a real mess right now what with all the green tubs and displaced furniture. But it works.

Now it's time to start putting presents under the tree.

Hmm. And maybe some mistletoe under the door. Just in case.

I'm staring at a Christmas tree.

Actually, it's just a tree I chopped down yesterday.

And I didn't actually chop it down.

I sawed it.

I don't feel bad about it. I am a very environmental guy. I recycle, I drive a small car.

The tree is grown for only one purpose. To be a Christmas tree. So I don't feel bad about chopping it down.

I should have decorated it this weekend. Filled it with ornaments from my childhood, like the rusted gold Batman ornament. And the styrofoam w/ sequins ornament I made in gifted class in fifth grade.

Plus all the ornaments my students have given me over the years.

Hi students. (The former ones at least, the high school ones that read this blog, however you found it. But like I said, you're welcome here. Consider this part of your continuing education.)So the tree sits there. Bare. Devoid of light.

What am I supposed to feel about Christmas any more? I feel like I'm just going through the motions. I've been able to watch my nieces open their gifts on Christmas day, but even that's gotten a little overboard. Plastic toy after plastic toy. I'm going to be that boring uncle that always gives books or boring shit like that. (Oh, not really. I got 'em plenty of good stuff.) And I won't even see them this Christmas.

So how shall Brian magically find the spirit of Christmas this year? Religious redemption?

Yeah right. I can't even walk into a church door for Christmas eve service anymore. And this from a former Sunday School teacher.

The warmpth of friends? A loved one? Are they out there anymore?

The best Christmas songs are the saddest Christmas songs.

And of all the Charlie Browns in the world, I am the Charlie Browniest.

My readers seem to be increasing quite steadily lately. Either that or they're just starting to comment more. So to all recent devotees of The State I'm In, I bid you welcome. All are welcome here, young and old, friend and foe.

These are a few of my favorite blogs right now:

Maimed by Rock and Roll is the coolest Wilco fan on the Eastern Hemisphere. Linus is from Dublin; The Bob Show is truly an experience; and thanks to Mark's constant plugging of my site and others', I welcome the Deconstructionist, the Winter of Discontent, and the verbal chameleon. (Mark is the king when it comes to talking about other bloggers, and I visit many that he links, but I feel like if I leave too many comments out there it'll seem strange. Is that wrong?)

Phew, that's a lot of links. There are plenty more that I have been reading lately, or that have recently left virgin comments, but I'll get to them at a later date. (I'm talkin' about you, Starved Artist!)

As I said before, all are welcome here. I don't discriminate too much in who I count as friends or readers. I figure, the world's a pretty dark place, you might as well have as many people as possible that you can call a friend.

Plus, when the Robot Holocaust comes, I want to have plenty of people in my secret underground army.

There are men outside my apartment.

They speak with a distinctly eastern European accent.

Polish? Ukrainian? We have an incredible amount around here. Did you know Chicago has the second-largest population of Poles outside of Warsaw?

We also have a Ukranian village. I bet that place was jumping this week. Maybe I can get one of those awesome orange scarves up there.

Maybe the guys are Russian. Maybe it's the mob. Maybe they finally discovered my terrible secrets.

No, that's not it.

They're building a staircase. They come about once a week to build these things. Once they're done I can hook my dish up correctly again and watch some proper TV. Right now Comedy Central don't come in so good, and that means no Daily Show.

I'm off to get a Christmas tree. Enjoy your Saturday.

Now this might actually get me to start watching them Bollywood films.

Mmm, no. Can't do it. They just look like an even worse version of Grease, if that's possible.

Frumpy, does she look familiar to you?

While I still stand strong in my apprehension to India's film industry, I do have to say that this is one of the most gorgeous women I have ever, ever seen.



In other news, if you want to read who has won the Anna's so far, or semi-contradictory tips on blogging, click here.

Go here if you want a free ticket to this show.

Could there be anything as geek-chic as this?

I am so there...

I'm starting to imagine that a small, funny-dressed man is running around in front of me, his sole job being to give people a warning that I'm passing through.

He is my Herald. So of course I'll name him Harold.

His job is to explain to people that I haven't slept for shit in several days, so that dazed, glassy-pasty look that I give people is due to lack of sleep, not a casual drug problem.

I'm going to crawl into bed now and watch Sir Jon Stewart.

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!