CNN Poll - the first of many I'm sure

I love the CNN.com polls. They're great in their suckiness. I mean, where else can you post a poll with an obvious liberal bias and no scientific or statistical reasoning? Normally a poll maker would give some thought to the answers you can choose from and possibly create answers that would give you a middle-of-the-road. Not the braintrust at CNN. The only thing better than the lack of credibility to the CNN poll is the surprise of the outcome. Generally, before I vote, I consider what the breakdown ought to be, and generally, I can land within 5% accuracy. I take into account that folks who are drawn to Fox News aren't voting and folks that are drawn to USA Today probably don't know how to read. Taking those points into consideration, you'll come pretty close to predicting the outcome. Sometimes. These are the surprises I love, and I'm about to share my most recent favorite.
Here it is: "Would you support a move to creating paper money that enables blind people to distinguish the difference in value?" Yes or No?
Now, taking into consideration the fact that a few raised bumps on paper money can't be terribly difficult to produce (or even raised numbers on the corners, right?) and our society's continued progress toward accommodating special needs, I figured the outcome to be like 95% Yes and 5% No - thinking that a few folks from FoxNews.com infiltrated the CNN website to mess with the pollsters. Well, the outcome was quite different on this day... 75% Yes and 25% No. What the FUCK??? For the USA Today crowd, this means 1 in 4 people who voted thought "eh, fuck them blind people" as they clicked the 'no' button. It makes me wonder if perhaps these are people who work cash registers and are subsidizing their income by ripping off the blind.
So, first you're blind, right? And then you can't even vote on the CNN poll because... you're blind and then those that can see don't think you should know whether or not you're tipping a stripper a single or a twenty. Hell, if you're blind you probably aren't going to strip bars anyway because... you're blind!!! Can we give these people a break already?
Fortunately the CNN poll doesn't measure much except the stupidity of the average CNN poll voter.

Dogs I Have Known

You know, there are two types of people, and I happen to be a dog person. Besides being allergic to cats, I can't stand the little bastards. I'm not quite sure why anyone does, but before this develops into a rant about cats, I'll try to recover a rave about various dogs from my life.

First there was Sandy. Sandy kicked ass. She was my step-dad's dog when he married my mom, but she wasn't really anyone's dog. Sandy had a cat-like independence, but the loyalty of a dog. There wasn't a single trick she could do. Wouldn't come if you called. Wouldn't sit. Wouldn't roll over. In those aspects, Sandy was quite boring. But she could be let out the front door of the house and left to wander the neighborhood all day. She'd come home when she felt like it, but most-likely she was seen in various yards and fields near our home. During the school year, Sandy would follow us to the bus stop in the mornings and be waiting for us in the afternoon. A mutt through and through, Sandy had a fucked up underbite and a curly tail which exposed her brown butthole. As far as companionship went, Sandy set the bar pretty high. I remember crying and crying in the office at junior high when my mom called to say Sandy, who had been missing for several winter days, had been found but was in bad shape and may have to be put down. Sandy wanted none of it. She was Cal Ripken Jr. and trudged on for a few more years. This dog really set the bar high.
During Sandy's riegn, came Peaches. Peaches sucked and made Sandy want to dig holes in the back yard to escape. We got rid of Peaches because Sandy ruled so much.
After my parents killed Sandy, I went quite a few years without a dog. Then along came Korby. No, Korby wasn't a dog, but a college roommate. He loved dogs and tried to get one in college a couple times. His first attempt was Jazz. Jazz was a black lab that I happened to be allergic to. Kindly, Korby got rid of Jazz before he could get too attached. Later, Korby brought home Cecil. Cecil was an energetic and intelligent dalmation. I nearly feel bad for Cecil being raised among a group of college guys. Any time we let him out, he took off - who knew it was probably because he needed exercise? Go figure. The last I knew about Cecil, he could balance a treat on his nose until Korby gave him permission to grab it. Presumably, Korby and Cecil are living a happy life somewhere.
Next dog - Kramer. Kramer was my parent's idea of a great graduation gift for me. A puppy Bassett Hound is all a 23 year old living in an apartment with a crappy job needs. This explains why my parents wound up raising Kramer. Still, Kramer was not short of personality - short on discipline? Yes. Personality? No. Kramer's impressionable years were shaped by a cat named Bob. From watching Bob, Kramer learned how to climb across the back of the sofa and sit on top of the kitchen table. Kramer probably thought he was a cat. Boy what a rotten dog. Didn't do a thing that he didn't want to do - he barked, he tore things up, he crapped in the house, but did I mention his personality? He thought he was tough (which he wasn't) and owned the place (which he did). When my folks moved into a home without a yard, Kramer had to go, and not to me who was still living in a rental.
Timing is everything. Now that I'm married and have a house, my wife and I have adopted Macy. The adoption took place less than a week ago, but there's already a real fondness for her. She's a lab/collie mix who is pretty well trained. While she requires a bunch of exercise (you'll understand if my blogging isn't as frequent as I'd like), she sure pays back in affection and good behavior. From what we can trace, the poor girl has had 4 homes in the past few months. We feel pretty good that she's found her final home with us. It's amazing none of those others have wanted her but, at the same time, it's lucky for us.

White Meat

Yea! It's Thanksgiving! So, beyond eating too much (a few times today I expect), I figured I ought to take some time to reflect on the things I'm thankful for...

- Being Alive. Easy one, right? Yeah, being dead would suck, not that I've ever asked anyone, I'm just drawing on my own assumptions here.
- My wife. As crazy as she drives me most of the time, I suspect I deserve (and enjoy) it.
- Living in Colorado and doing what I do professionally. Not a lot of people can live the dream in such a wonderful state.
- Being Alive. Yeah, I mentioned this before, but it's a pretty big deal. I also think there's a difference between living and Being Alive. Make the most of your time. Surprise yourself. Push beyond.
- Candy and Ice Cream
- An amazing assortment of friends - old, new, reckless and grounding. I'm pretty damn lucky.
- Mi Familia - even if you could choose your family, I'd probably keep most of mine.
- Running - It's a privilege to have the ability to run - I know so many people who cannot; that I feel a certain responsibility to do it as long as I can. Plus, there are few things that feel better than accomplishing something you once thought you couldn't do.
- Trivia
- Good comedy. People have said good comedy is like good sex. It's also been said that sex with me is good comedy. (sorry if you got a visual, I was just hoping to give you a laugh)
- Learning from others. The people I've met in my life who've taught me to never take a day with good health for granted are treasured.
- The opportunity to be pool-side in Vegas as well as enjoy a good day in the mountains.
- Lost. Reruns of Arrested Development. A matinee at the movies. The NFL and fantasy football.
- Homestyle spaghetti from Romano's.
- PBR and Guiness - could two things be any more different and yet so wonderful?

I'm sure I'm leaving some stuff out, but hopefully some of these things resonated with you and gave you a moment to reflect. We don't do that nearly enough. Good thing there's a holiday for it.
Peace out.

The Land of Make-Believe

Happy days! The new lines of the RTD Light Rail have opened!

This past weekend service along the lines was free! People lined-up to climb aboard the trains to be whisked away to such exoctic locals as: Park Meadows Mall! Dave & Buster's at The Colorado Center! And Aurora...
Well. Anyway, the new lines are considered the next step toward providing Coloradans freedom from driving everywhere they go.
As a 'Welcome' to the good people of Highlands Ranch, Centennial and, well Aurora, to Light Rail, I've provided a little guide to make your weekend night downtown without the kids as wonderful as it should be.
First, prepare for anxiety. Unless you are well-prepared, there's going to be some panic setting in as you try to force the ticket machine to accept your wrinkled dollar bills. The machine will take the bill about 1/2 way before spitting it out as you look over your shoulder and notice the next train is approaching. If you get the machine to accept your bill, you now need to deal with a bevy of on-screen instructions as RTD attempts to charge you correctly - how many tickets? how many 'zones' will you be traveling to? Is this express? Perhaps it's off-peak? Is this one-way or round trip? Invariably you'll never know the proper answers. 'Cancel' the transaction and get on the train before it departs without you. Let it leave all the people who are now lined up at the ticket kiosk behind you. Reassure yourself you'll get a round trip ticket on the return trip - karma baby!
Now that you're officially a Light Rail fugitive go ahead and agonize that a Ticket Checker Guy will walk through checking for tickets. Now, over the 30+ times I've ridden the rail this has only happened once. Fortunately I had managed to navigate the ticket machine in time to catch my ride - unfortunately, the friends I met at the station neglected to purchase tickets. This made for an awkward exchange between the Ticket Checker Guy and my friends but provided me with a criticsm to hold over their heads. Sadly, I no longer keep company with these friends and don't get to humiliate them any longer.
During your travels, you may wonder if it's odd that the traffic on the highway is moving faster than the train. Folks, this isn't the bullet-train, this is Light Rail. Please hold on as the train arrives at a station where nobody will get on and nobody will get off - and yes, the traffic on the highway will keep going. Don't you love public transportation?
If you should survive the initial journey on the Light Rail, the next adventure is on the return trip. Guess what? When you're stumbling drunk in Denver and want to get home, the train is never going to show up. Well, it might show up, but not when your ass is ready to leave. Nope, now you get to stand around the station and wait. You'll notice the stations in Denver seem to have a bit more 'flavor' than the stations in suburbia where you began. Don't worry, you won't be killed - this isn't New York, this is Denver. You know this because it smells like puke and not like urine. The worst thing that'll happen to you here is: you'll buy a burrito from Nancy's and surrender your change to some 'homeless' kids.
Once the rail arrives, for whatever reason, they don't depart when you think they should. A logical person would expect the train to leave as soon as the people waiting at the station have safely boarded. Well, that person would not be a good candidate-for-hire at RTD. Instead, prepare to bask in the bright yellow glow of the overhead lighting system as the doors intermittently open and close to let stragglers on. To kill the time you might consider studying the map of the Light Rail lines; though the half-dozen stops in the system probably won't occupy much of your time. Perhaps the poster advertising a cultural event from two seasons ago will encourage you to make time for the event next year?
Eventually, the train will leave. And that's when you hope your night will come to a close... but wait! You may run into a situation where there's some construction on the line! Your train may stop and all of its passengers will transfer to buses to take them to a train at another station to continue the journey! It's 'Planes, Trains and Automobiles' at 2am, and yes, this has happened to me. Or maybe there'll be an accident on the tracks and now you'll get to sit on the train between stations for an indeterminable amount of time? Yes, this has happened to me too.
Sooner or later - oh hell, later - you will make it back home. You'll lay your cranky 'where'd-I-leave-my-buzz?' head on your pillow and swear you'll never ride the Light Rail again. Tell yourself next time you'll pay the ten bucks to park downtown, and you'll stay sober enough to drive home.
But you won't. Nope, you'll want to 'do the right thing' and 'save the environment' and 'feel like you live in a Big City' and tell all your friends that you'll meet them downtown because you're taking the Light Rail.
Well, after you've done the right thing and your friends have paid the ten bucks to park downtown and stayed sober enough to drive... be sure to ask them for a ride home.
See ya on the Rail!

Long Live Rock

So, tonight The Who is playing at a local watering hole. O.k., they're playing the Pepsi Center (which I understand isn't 'The Pepsi Center', but rather 'Pepsi Center' - whatever). I assume they are playing to a sold out crowd as Craigslist was packed with people looking for tickets. I nearly went but for some reason, at this stage of my life and, more likely, this stage of Pete and Roger's career, I just couldn't do it.
I saw The Who at Folsom Field in 1989. I was 19, and while many of the people in the crowd were commenting on the band being old, The Who wasn't terribly old to me. I'd only 'discovered' them in those last four or five years. I remember watching Tommy on VHS at a friend's house - followed by taking turns falling backward into a swimming pool and acting out the smash-the-mirror scene when Daltrey (Tommy) finally regains his senses and, for whatever psychedic reason, splashes about in a pool. It was probably symbolism of a Baptism/rebirth now that I think of it, but before I had a driver's license, it was just a cool thing to do.
Soon after I was buying cassette tapes and driving around rocking out to Won't Get Fooled Again, Love Reign O'er Me, Join Together, Baba O'Reilly... man, those were some good times. Throwing on the denim jacket, leaving school to get lunch at the 39-cent Hamburger Stand and washing it down with 3.2% beer in the park near school. It would have been straight out of 'Dazed and Confused' if the scene had been in the 70s instead of the 80s. Regardless, The Who provided the soundtrack for those rough and tumble years.
A year after graduation, The Who came to town and played Folsom Field in Boulder. We sat out for tickets; playing frisbee in the parking lot enbalmed in the excited spirit in the air (part of the concert-going experience Ticketbastard has managed to destroy, but don't get me started).
It's over 15 years later, and I don't recall a whole lot from the actual concert. I remember an older guy commenting that he 'loved the smell of fresh cut grass' as the sun lowered and the band began. I remember a giant pinball rolled into the audience during Pinball Wizard. I remember waiting in anticipation to see if Pete Townsend would do the arm-windmill on his guitar (he'd been quoted earlier in the week that he wouldn't because it just wasn't worth the pain and hearing loss he'd incurred throughout the years). But clearly I remember the guys I saw the show with and the youthful whimsy of spending more money that we should on tickets and t-shirts. While it's been more than 10 years since I've seen those guys, I thought of them a lot today - wondering if they were going to the show - wondering if they recall those years as fondly as I do.
And that is why I'm not at the concert right now. The memories are perfect, if a bit spotty. And, as far as my memory serves, The Who is perfect.
While I sit and listen to The Who channel on Sirius Satellite Radio, two of the original guys to proclaim the easiest lyric to mock are going at it in front of another generation. "I hope I die before I get old" was written before anyone could conceptualize being old and 'rocking'. In my mind I know Pete's doing the arm-windmill tonight just like he did in '89. Well, maybe not just like he did, but fuck it, he's doing it!

When Time Runs Out

Ed Bradley passed away this morning. The popular journalist, most recently of 60 Minutes fame, always seemed like the hippest guy on a show I don't pay a lot of attention to. Sure, it's in the top of the ratings every week; perhaps my resistance to it was from childhood. 60 Minutes always seemed like a show 'old people' watched. I drew this conclusion from visiting my great aunt's house. Ever present on a marble coffee table was a TV Guide. It was my great aunt's practice to underline all the shows she would watch for the week. There was no spontaneous viewing going on in her home. I'm not sure if that was a product of having to get up to change the channel or just some sort of regimine she needed to feel in control. Granted, back then, she only had about 4 or 5 channels to choose from. Perhaps planning her week's viewing at the start of the week helped ensure she wasn't going to miss a single show. Regardless, any time I'd thumb through her TV Guide, 60 Minutes was underlined.

So while Ed Bradley was being eulogized in the press, I got to hear about what a wonderful person he was and how everyone he met had a positive impression. This struck me a bit. I mean, certainly Ed Bradley wasn't a prince to everyone he met. What about that time he had the flu and went to the store to buy some medicine and the aisle was backed with stocking boxes and he couldn't get to the TheraFlu or whatever he happened to use and so he started moving some boxes and was getting extremely frustrated and finally, when he was able to reach his desired relief, he made his way to the register only to find the cashier was busy snapping her gum talking to her manager about when she was going to get to go on break and hardly acknowledge him and so, in return, he was completely rude and tore the cashier a new butthole? Where's that cashier today? Surely she isn't saying Ed Bradley was the nicest guy she ever met, right? Perhaps, when you die, all your misdeeds are erased? Maybe it's just for a moment, while people bask in your wonderfulness? Maybe all the crappy stuff you do gets a brief reprieve? That sounds nice, but I think that somewhere, there is a service worker that thinks Ed Bradley was a dick.

Maybe I ought to mind my Ps & Qs?

Welcome to my blog! I hope you enjoy your visit.
Before I get rolling, I'd like to provide you with some of the things you can expect from 'The Bulk of the Series' blog.

First, I think I'm much more clever than smart - this should help set your expectation that, yes, there will be misspelled words, there will be grammatical errors, there will be comments made that have not been verified. So, if you're planning to referrence anything from my blog in a research paper, newspaper article, or application for the Nobel Prize, you might want to consider that you may be setting yourself up for disappointment. Just a caution.

Additionally, I'm going to offend you. No, it might not be this post... yet, but it may very well be the next one. I hope you're easy-going enough to realize I'm doing this for my own entertainment and not necessarily for your benefit. D'oh, there may have been a taste of the offending I tried to warn you about. O.k. that's the last warning about that. Oh, except for the point that I will be swearing a decent amount on this. Does it make me appear more intelligent? Hardly. Does it make me more entertaining? Perhaps. Regardless, I like blue humor and colorful language... though don't be surprised if you read something on here complaining about the prevelence of swearing in the world. Yes, I'm a living contradiction.

Finally, the things I post are mine. Yep, all mine. I'm merely sharing them with you because you're bored and haven't been able to find anything else on the Internet worth your precious time. That said, don't go repeating my ideas and trying to present them as your own. You are going to be exposed to some seriously ground-breaking stuff on here! Don't paste them on your blog without attributing them to their rightful owner (me!) or else I'll have to write a bit about how much you suck.

So, now that the ground rules are set, I'm going to let my brain percolate a bit and start posting some... 'blogs'(? is it?).
Pino - out.