Hit Me Baby, One Maher Time

As you may know from way back when, I already professed my intellectual crush on Bill Maher. Well, my love-o-meter recently flew skyward when I caught a rare and captivating piece of live television last week. I'm speaking of the recent episode of Real Time With Bill Maher.

Now, I don't normally catch this show on TV because it's on HBO. But I do subscribe to the free podcasts of the show and listen to them religiously. Much like folks like their news and debate from Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, I get my fix with Bill. Let's face it, the only way to cut to the heart of matters is with humor.

Anyway, Bill's show was hijacked this past week by several (perhaps four?) heckling kooks preaching about none other than 9/11 Conspiracy Theory. In case you missed it, our faithful digital friend, YouTube, has graciously time capsuled it for your viewership...



Now imagine watching this unfold in live TV. I happened to be away for a conference and flipped through the stations as the show was coming on. And then this went down... at first, I thought it was a joke or part of the show. A bit off-kilter for Bill's sense of humor, but who knows. Then it just kept going on with the ranting until Bill breaks open his emergency can of pissed-off whup ass and kicks these kooks out of the studio!

Kill, Bill, Kill!!

You can say a lot about these 4-some minutes of television. This is what I have to say...

1) I won't credit the bush administration for much, but I'll put it this way. It's stacked with conniving people who have done some fecked up stuff, but their lies and their exploits are consistently as see-through as Britney's under drawers. They couldn't manufacture a plausible case for war, produce WMDs, make a plan, organize a rebuilding effort, plan to plan, and on and on. You think they can orchestrate the destruction of a building with little preparation in the wake of a terrorist attack when bush is trying to read to children and sits there for 7 minutes "dumbfounded?" Or as I like to call it, his normal face.

And if by miracle they somehow did all that, we'd know about it because these guys can't cover up shit. And if you think they put together the whole attack, bitch please. Take your meds, find some evidence that we didn't go to the moon, Hitler is still alive, and Jesus has signaled His returned in the reflection of a puddle in front of your local Subway.

2) I'm sure these Truthers thought they had a victory, but here's the reality. You made yourself look like bigger asshats than you already are. And you'll only attract more asshats to your cuckoo cause; not sane and rational thinkers. Which your cause clearly needs. And the reason you have to resort to guerilla tactics like this is because no one will listen to you in a normal forum because of your already-established dumbassery and general detachment from this thing we like to call reality. Pop some more pills, mix it with booze, repeat.

3) I applaud Bill for what he did. I think there's no tolerance for stunt-tactics like this. Once again, people in this country have proved they are so aching for attention, they'll do anything to get it. As for me, I'll get my attention the old-fashioned way... from the few people who choose to read my blog and listen to MY meandering rants and conspiracies.

Now, about that gay agenda we've been working on...

Got It Bad

Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad/
I'm hot for Teacher!

Yes, sing it along to the classic Van Halen of my youth. With Dave. "Sit down, Waldo." LOL

Today our campus's Teach for America rep came to speak to our group about the amazing opportunities for our ambitious, motivated, and compassionate students to make an impact in our country's most impoverish schools.

And this guy was a dreamboat. I'd guess he's in his mid-twenties. Nice sideburns. Dressed smartly. And such a charismatic speaker. I like how he used his nonverbals. Yeah, I like a good gesture. His were well-placed.

I think he made us all want to sign up for our two year stint! Yes Mr. Teach for America, I'll drink the poisoned Kool-Aid. Your wish, my command. All that. Now let me take another look at ya.

Yeah so, he did mention this alleged girlfriend at one point during an anecdote. But it was likely in the context of a comfortable friendship. Words of endearment. No more. I didn't see any ring on that finger. So he's available. And he's gay until proven straight in my court of law. LOL

Boy, that man was a tasty beverage. Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad. I'm hot for Mr. Teach for America!

I've been Touched...

No, not like a "I've been touched by the bad man in my swimsuit area" kind of touched!

I mean, I've been Touched. No guys, not Touched by an Angel in a holy spiritual sense. Get with me, here, c'mon! Do I have to spell it out, already?

I am now the owner of my very own iPod Touch, e'rybody! And it's suh-weet. I can't keep my hands off of it. Literally!

If you haven't heard of them, think of the iPhone without the phone and the camera. So it's even slimmer yet still has twice the capacity with a 16 GB flash drive. And unlike the iPhone, this one has a WiFi antenna, so when I hit a local hot spot of wireless fun, ka-ching. Free internet access. Download a song from iTunes Store at the Espresso Royale? Don't mind if I do! Watch YouTube clips on my lunch break? Yes-huh! Stare at hours of porno while at work? Heck y... er, of course not!


The screen for watching movies is killer. This will be my new travel companion when I fly to Baltimore and Denver this month. I dropped a little extra skrilla for this software that converts DVDs to iPod video format, so I can have all my faves in my hot little palm. Oh yeah, babies!

We're talking Kill Bill, Clue, Grindhouse, Maverick, Big Lebowski, Groundhog Day, Dodgeball, The Prestige, Glitter (but not really), and the rest of the oeuvre!

And switching up from my Mini to the Touch, I have to give big ups to Apple for an awesomely improved interface. I feel like I'm in the future where everything is a touch panel. And I'm quite impressed with the sensitivity of the screen. I thought I'd be mistyping on the little keyboard, but it works very well.

It's such a thing of beauty and a marvel of science, I shed a tear. What can I say? (sniff) I'm touched.

The Next Room

In my previous post about the death of Robert Jordan, I mentioned that he had stepped into the next room. I wasn't familiar with that turn of phrase until the passing of my step-mother. Her good friend spoke at her memorial service, and she read aloud a piece that mentioned this idea. But that was several years ago, and I have only that vivid image in my memory. The name and everything had faded.

After some internet investigation, I uncovered the full passage:

***************************
Death Is Nothing At All

Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way that you always used. Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval,somewhere very near, just round the corner.

All is well.

-- Henry Scott Holland
***************************

Now I'm not a religious person. I'm spiritual to a degree and after a fashion. But even if I put all of that aside, there is something poignant and fundamental from this idea that our passing is merely a transition into the next. That death should not diminish us, even though it causes sadness. That we are better for knowing the people we know and knew. And that their finality is not an end if we celebrate who they were and what they meant to us.

I'm reminded of the series finale of Six Feet Under entitled Everyone is Waiting. As if to say everyone who has passed is in the next room. Ready to ask how we've been. I imagine Darlene, my grandfather, and even RJ himself entertaining each other with jokes, sitting around a small table, an intimate and quiet affair. I peek in on them and smile to myself. Such characters. They'll be in there till all hours of the night.

And off to bed I go, knowing that they still have life. That they'll be saving a seat for me one day. And that we'll carry on, as if only time had passed, and nothing more.

So Long, Friend

Two days ago, I found out that one of my favorite authors passed away. His name is James Oliver Rigney, Jr., but if you know him at all, it most likely by his pen name of Robert Jordan.

He wrote the amazingly rich and detailed series called The Wheel of Time. And if ever there was an opus that told of a fictional world, his main series of 11 novels, a prequel novella, and various companion pieces was near the top of them all. With nods to Tolkien, mythology, and world cultures, he borrowed familiar bits of what we know and wove them in with his own creations of magic, cultures, characters. Oh so many characters. No seriously. Lots of characters!

And while the series began to slow after the sixth book, the eleventh really picked up the pace. And RJ, always devilishly coy at book signings, would remark that the series would end with however many books it took to tell the story. As you may surmise, he had not intended it to last as long as it had. But after the last book, he had clearly stated that book 12 would commence the main series. And if it was a 2,000 page tome that required a hand truck, he said, that's what it would be. LOL

It would be the end of over 17 years of storytelling. But he never got to see it end.

See, RJ recently developed a rare blood disease, amyloidosis. And if ever there was a fighter, it was RJ. He kept in touch with fans via his blog. Fan support was incredible. But in the end, the disease caused complications that led to his death. We knew his time was limited, but the suddenness was unexpected.

It feels like a betrayal that a creator did not outlive his own creation. So often, you assume the person will keep going on long after the ink has dried and the paged dog-eared. But sometimes it isn't the case.

I remember at book signings how particular and funny he was. I'd drag my family and friends along to get the books signed. My friend Aaron and my step-dad Greg were hooked, too. So we had an entourage. RJ would always correct people for mispronouncing the names and terms he created.

My big bro, Jim, cracked us all up once when he turned to us and remarked, "Robert, you had me at Seanchan." You probably had to be there, but it was hilarious. And then you get up there and feel compelled to ask the big man something about the series as he neatly and purposefully signs his name. Every time, the old sass, he gave me his patented response, "Read and find out." Curse you, RJ! His slight smile would follow.

As I understand, the last book will be published. He's committed the bulk of it to audio tape or paper. Selfishly, I'm happy to hear that. Like any reader, I'm invested in the story, the characters, and the outcome. I want some closure!

But I keep coming back to the fact that, even though he had the final scene of the last book locked in his head all along, he won't get to see his readers respond. Or hear their thanks for the enjoyment he's brought. Or the ideas he's given. Or the inspiration for future storytellers.

I suppose he's stepped into the next room now. Wherever it is that everyone goes in the end of this life. Who's to say what that is. We all have to read and find out.

Hey man, nice TWIKE!

After work today, I ran into (not literally) one of our computer guys, M@. Our relationship started off a bit bumpy because right after my promotion was official, I came into work that night and moved into my new office. LOL - What can I say, I get antsy with transition and just feel comfortable having all that stuff done and out of the way. Plus the new office is much bigger : )

Needless to say, I jumped the gun and the computer tech guys weren't ready to set up my new computer, the internet port wasn't working properly, and basically I caught them off guard. After a bit of email to-and-fro between the main tech guy and our associate director, things were "settled." Fortunately, I ran into two of the guys over lunch that same day and went over to them to apologize for what I did. They took it well and said they should be able to get to it that afternoon.

Well, M@ and I ended up chatting it up while he set up my computer, and let's just say, we have a bunch of nerdy common interests to seal over any troubled cracks in our professional relationship. It was actually a bit uncanny how many TV shows or book series that he mentioned that I'm also into. So now we're basically the best friends on earth.

Anyway, back to this afternoon at the elevators. We're chit-chatting on the way down, and Mama Bean parts ways with us. M@'s all, "where are you off to?" Taking the bus to the shuttle lot, I respond. "Want a ride there?" To which I'm all, hecks yeah.

Come to find out, his mode of transport 'round town is an electric/human-powered hybrid. It's called a TWIKE, which basically sounds like Elmer Fudd named it. But you know, it's German. Those crazy kids with their language!

He owns one of less than a dozen TWIKE's in the US. Most of them are in Europe, natch. And they cost quite a bit of dough. Nevertheless, it is a cool set of wheels! He has it parked right in front of the YMCA. He pulls the electric cable from the building and shows me how to get inside the cockpit. You can't step on the floor because of it's light body construction. And you feel like you're riding in the future.

It can run either completely electric or you can pedal to ease the drain on the batteries. It can run pure electric for about 40 miles, which extends under pedal power. He got it up to 50 MPH once, he said, which seemed crazy!

The controls are more like that of an airplane / sail boat. And there's this neat little control panel in the center that reminds me of the time circuits from Back to the Future.

The TWIKE turned quite a few heads and produced many smiles. It drives on all the regular streets because it's classified as a motorcycle. I'd be a bit afraid of being clobbered by Soccer Mom in her Monstrosity or even worse, a bendy bus. But M@ piloted the TWIKE with ease. It was a bit bumpy on the rougher spots but otherwise accelerated smoothly and quietly like any good electric engine should. And the braking system is regenerative, so stop and go traffic made the batteries rather happy.

The ride was an enjoyable and exciting end to my day. M@ said he's on the waiting list for a new one, which he's been twiddling his thumbs over for 2 years. Each TWIKE is hand built, so production is quite limited.

As I watched him skim away, I overheard a bus driver waiting at the lot calling out to a pedestrian, "No, no. He's pedaling it. It has pedals." They probably thought it was some fancy enclosed tricycle. But then again, I guess it sorta is.

Too Freaking Funny!

Yeah, so this is my first attempt at adding a YouTube video to my blog... let's see if I can keep from blowing things up!

Anyway, thanks to The Lovebrarian for revealing this MADtv clip to me. I love the clever humor!!!!!

The Moment of Truth

As you may have read, I rocked out my interview last week, or so I thought...

While at work today, my coworker HH got a phone call when I was chatting with her in her office. It was from one of the committee members contacting her as my reference. Ooh! Good news? Sure, but not a done deal. They could be contacting all of the finalists. Still, it distracted me even more. I knew I would likely hear back today either way.

After lunch, I overheard a quick conversation about the search chair leaving a message for JP the British Boss. They were both on the committee for this position, and the timing seemed right. Perhaps she called to finalize the deal and make the offer to their candidate? But was it me?

I had been nervous all weekend and just wanted the Band-Aid ripped off. Job or no, I needed some answers. No matter how well I thought I did, you just never know with these things.

It figures that the call came through when I was with a student. So I tossed my little kiddy out of my office (no, not really), grabbed my cell phone to listen to the calm and unrevealing message from the search chair, and quickly dialed her number.

The secretary put me through...

"How's it going, Army?"

"Hello Search Chair, good to hear from you. I'm very nervous."

Chuckle. "Why should you be nervous when we're offering you the position?"

Laughter. "Are you kidding me? That's wonderful news!"

WOO-HOO!!! I was ecstatic! I had been wanting this promotion really badly for so many reasons but tried to not get my hopes too high. But it all worked out in the end!

So I'm basically jazzed : )

And that's all for now!

Neighbors

So I've been very "vocal" about the jacked-up old house we used to work in. But I haven't mentioned much about the swanky new space, which is awe and then some. I have my own office with brand new furniture and a window out into the hallway (though sadly no windows to the outdoors). But I thank my lucky stars for what we ended up with. It's really amazing. No more stench vent. No more weird sound tunnels. No more everything creaking.

And right now, we don't have the full space. We had kicked out some folks for this space, but one department had to stay behind until their new space is built. We were concerned upon moving in that these folks would hate us. I mean, we're a loud bunch. We have 18-20 year olds busting in with their cell phones and their sometimes less than courteous manners. These people never make a peep over there.

But they've been awesome. We did a formal breakfast meeting this week with introductions, and they are all really hilarious. Well, except for a few sour apples. I'm thinking of this woman I can only refer to as Scowlella. She has this permanent frowny face and doesn't make eye contact. I think she needs sex. But then, that's my mental solution for anyone who's fussy.

And speaking of which, one of our "neighbors" has this smoking husband I like to call Hottie McHotterson. This man is sexay! He has nicely defined arms, perfectly tanned, great smile, sideburns (and I love a good sideburn), and today he was wearing this t-shirt tucked in behind his belt, board shorts, and sweet little Keen shoes. I was praying right then for a show called "Husband Swap." But then, I don't have a husband, so let's just call it "Husband Snag."

Then of course he spoke, and if I hadn't known better, his mannerisms and speech softly whispered "gay" into my ear. Damn these hot ambiguously straight men!

He's usually in our shared break room for lunch, and today we had this nice chat. they were telling me how great Keen brand shoes are and he says, "I can let you use mine for a while. Are you a 10.5?" For you, sweetie, I'll be anything you want. But much like Cinderella's wicked step-sisters, my foot was too big. "No, I'm an 11.5." But for you, I'll be anything you want...

Then home today, I noticed my not-yet-legal teen boy neighbor running down the street shirtless. Here we go again. Totally not fair. He runs into his house, and then I see him going in the opposite direction shirtless, underwear exposed, skateboarding. Today has been pure torture! Yeah, I know, call the police on the homo pedophile, right?

Certainly a break at my favorite coffee house will provide a needed respite from alluring men. And right into the den of estrogen I go. And no Barista Boy in sight, thankfully.

But instead I'm sitting, as I type, next to this table of 10 angry cheerleader moms arguing about fund raising for their precious lovelies. From what I gather, there could be an inevitable showdown between them and the skanky football moms. Take out your earrings, ladies, and get the Vaseline. It's time to take it to the streets, old-school. Cranky booster betches. This one mom, the outspoken ringleader I'm calling Momzilla, is a bossy sort. These women need sex.

But that's my answer to everything...

An Inner View Through An Interview

So why aren't interviews called inner-views? Why, when you get to know a person's thoughts, cares, interests, fears, and all that crap?

Who makes these rules, anyway?

Anyway, today I had a big interview for an Assistant Director position in my office. Army's moving on up (only on his hopes right now, but perhaps in reality very soon)!

It's a great position, and I'm really jazzed about it. But today didn't start off so auspicious...

The Swarm

Apparently, today is one of the worst days ever for pollen count. Like 1.21 jigawatts!! of volume in the air. I heard there was even a warning! Good lord! Thank god for my generic Claritin, or as I like to call it, Generitin. But even that didn't fully come through as my nasal passage bouncer. I had to down some immediate relief stuff and take some ibuprofen for the pressure headache. So I ended up a pill head with a throbbing alien in my forehead trying to hatch from the larvae beneath my skull.

I just imagine the air thick with tiny yellow tennis balls invading my airspace and landing on the surface of my insides and outs. Curse you, pollen! Curse you, I say!

The Punisher

I knew that when I got up early and my head was soupy, today would be trouble. So it came to no surprise as I was cautiously speeding to work that Punishment Light was up to its usual antics. Sticks and stones, Punishment Light. You shall not have your day of victory!

Still, I felt completely out of sorts and beat down for my afternoon interview. Perhaps time was on my side...

The Karoshi

The Japanese have a term for death from overwork. That was my morning. I was fussy and fuzzy, and here come the students. And the projects in between. And the notes from the previous day. And the emails piled in the inbox. If this was my pre-test to handling stress, boy was I failing.

Lunch out of the office with a little sody pop helped. I finished up a project and headed home for my impending interview.

The Sun Not Suiting Me

Let's just say that men don't have many options for business wear in the summer. Women have skirts, cute tops, and accessorization. Men just have hot suits with piled-on layers topped off with a noose... er, tie. Mind you, I looked stunning in my suit with my new Express for Men shirt and tie. But it was a sweat tent inside. Thankfully my drug cocktail of pills and sody had cleared my head! Merciless sun, curse you, too!!

The Inner View

With the exception of a few questions, I rocked out the interview! I had a scenario in which I need to make a decision between two candidates, and my reasoning for person B was solid. My mock presentation was creative and engaging. And my answers came out as I had pretty much wanted them to. I get nervous being put on the spot, but it helped that I knew all these people and they knew what a rock star I am.

It's hard to interview with JP the British Boss because he has a poker face during interviews. I remember that from way back when I got my current job. He gives almost no feedback. Before and afterward, he's his regular jovial and talkative self. But in this venue, it's hardcore JP, Wales Hold 'Em style.

The To Be Continued...

So now comes the wait. But only for a week. It's out of my hands, and I did the best I could. On the way back home, Punishment Light stopped me again, but it couldn't keep me down. My tie was loose, my top button undone, and one of my favorite Radiohead songs had just released itself from Andrew's speakers. The song is called "Let Down." But I'm not expecting one of those next week...