Democracy in Action

Ah, the American Dream, getting to vote and choose your leaders.  Wanting to avoid long lines on election day, today I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to vote early.  Not exactly confidence inspiring...

I wandered around the Lincoln Park Library for a good long time before finally finding the small room in which they had the voting machines set up.  The room was overcrowded, but luckily there was an eighty year old Hispanic lady there to point me in the right direction.

She pointed me towards the registration desk, saying "si, si," where I interrupted three more old Hispanic ladies telling a joke.  I smiled, but they somehow knew I didn't speak Spanish.  I filled out a form they tossed at me--name and address--, gave them my driver's license (which incidentally has my name and address on it...guess they wanted to make sure I wasn't up to anything), and waited for 15 minutes.  

In order to get to vote, you had to receive a keycard from the old ladies, and in order to issue you your keycard, they simply had to enter your address and name, and find you on the roll.  Unfortunately, it seemed that none of the four ladies had ever operated a computer before.  When they lucked out and got someone a keycard, the eighty year old would do her Bob Barker impersonation, and say "Step on up."  Every time.  And laugh every time.  Like it was a new joke.  Please never let me get old.  Or Mexican.  Just kidding.  We all get old.  Okay, really, just just kidding all under and I'll stop.

So apparently, my name was unfindable!  

"Aye Chihuahua.  Meeeeeester?" she said looking in my direction.

"Yes?"  

"Are you registered to vote?"

"Yes."

"Aye Chihuahua.  No, I can't find you in the system."

"I know that I am registered."

"Aye Chihuahua.  Well lemme find my supervisor, she can do a trick to find people."

Her supervisor arrived 5 minutes later, performed some of sort advanced trick, like, I dunno, searching by social security number, and there I was!  Hurray, I get to vote.

"Now just lemme know if you need any help with that machine.  It's tricky!"  

"Um, I think I'll be okay."

Jesus Christ!  If these ladies had a clue, I'd be worried about voter fraud.  As it is, I just worry that if an old person shows up to vote they may spend the whole day trying to operate the touch screen.

Anyway, having been deemed to be a real person by the computers and the old ladies, I began my democratic journey.  Page one contained the presidential ballot, and two ballots for congressional elections.  Great, knew who I liked in all three.  Page two: state senators...hmm, heard of one of them, sounds like a plan, state supreme court...well, don't trust people with androgynous names like Pat, so he's out, easy enough.  Page three:  water commissioner....seriously?  Gotta go green party.  City garbage supervisor?  Green party.  Roads commissioner?  Don't care, green party.  State senate again:  shoot me now! But wait, this fucking ballot went on for a grand total of fifteen pages!  I probably had the opportunity to vote for 150 positions.  I think I cared about 4, voted for about 10, randomed 20, and left the rest blank.  Because I skipped so much, it took less than 2 minutes.  But an old person who couldn't operate the machine too well?  And didn't realize that there was nothing interesting to vote for past page 2?  They're fucked!  I'm willing to bet people pass away in front of those machines.  

Also, I can't see a single good reason that you can't vote online.  If you really wanted to commit fraud on the current system, I'm willing to bet you could hack into it.  Fuck, with the room being policed only by the four Mexican ladies, I'm willing to bet I could plug my laptop into the LAN and go nuts.  If only I could hack.

So in summary...I dunno, I guess get your ass out and vote, or if you don't at least don't complain.  I realize my presidential vote couldn't matter less (thanks, Electoral College) but I think I might be the only person who voted for the 12th judge on page 14, so he definitely owes me.  Overall though, it's pretty scary.  I bet at least 10% of people vote for the wrong candidate by mistake.  Statistically that should even out to have no effect, but you know statistics...  

But what will be priceless, though, is when that retarded Luddite McCain accidentally votes for Obama.

Bailout

The war and occupation of Iraq has, thus far, cost the American taxpayer $800 billion.  Thus far.  Do we have anything to show for that money?  Not really.  Is oil cheaper?  Nope.  Hmm.  It's like Chris Rock says, If I invade a KFC, you'd better believe that wings are going to be cheap at my house.  

The proposed bill to help financial firms deal with bad mortgage exposures, if passed, may cost the American taxpayer up to $700 billion.  What would we have to show for that money?  Well, a functioning credit market would be nice.  More lending between banks would reduce the burden on the Federal Reserve as lender of last resort.  And, get this: it might well end up making the taxpayer money.  This isn't a black hole that money is going to be poured down.  The Treasury proposes to use the money to purchase bad mortgage debt and derivatives.  If those perform, the taxpayer reaps the benefit.

If you're opposed to the Iraq War, and opposed to the rescue bill, I can understand that.  What I can't understand is the legion of fuckwits in Congress who refuse to support this bill, yet support flushing hundreds of billions into the sewers of Iraq.  If you have one red cent invested in a 401(k), IRA, pension plan, 529, house, gun, dog, truck, really anything that isn't FDIC guaranteed, there is no logical explanation for not supporting this bill.  

There are few things I dislike more than government spending.  Stupidity and ill-reasoned dogmatics though, are a few of those things.

ARGH!

I've been taking some time off to help manage the financial crisis, just like John McCain. 

 "Honey," my wife asks, "won't you take out the trash?"  

"No sweetheart, the future of our country is at stake!"

I wanted so badly to like McCain and vote for him, but I absolutely can't.  He is such a cynical, old, tired, old, same-old, same-old, typical, old, Republican, old, douche bag.  If President Obama sends me a bill for a bit more in taxes than great-grandpa John would, so be it.  

Clearly, McCain realized he was going to get chewed up and spit out at the debate this Friday, so he had to find an ingenious way to get out of it.  This is pathetic.  Perhaps his 100 year old mom can write him a note:

"Dear United States of America,

Young Johnny wasn't feeling well today.  He had quite the fever.  Reminds me of when my sister got the plague and George Washington healed her.

Please excuse him from the debate.  

Oh look, I've pooped my pants!

Yours Truly,

John's Mom"

Had McCain taken the time to figure out the internet and discover email, perhaps he'd realize that he could communicate with Congressional leaders that way.  Instead, he just yells, "Hello?  Operator?" at a laptop someone put in front of him to make him look like less of a dinosaur.  But really John, that LCD light makes your botox pretty obvious.

I think the reason that I am so frustrated and upset with McCain's performance, from picking Palin, to blatantly stealing Obama's "change" platform, to excusing himself from debating, is that I really wanted to like him.  I wanted to be a Republican just like most of my peers.  But John, your lackluster display leaves me no choice:  GO OBAMA!

Best of Chinglish

A friend of a friend took these on a recent trip to China.

I'm Back...

Nothing much has been going on,  but hey, when has having nothing to say ever stopped me?

The Olympics have become much less interesting since Michael Phelps hauled in his eighth gold.  I had hoped that the track and field events would be good, but since Tyson Gay flamed out of the 100m in the semis I didn't even get to make any bad jokes about him and Walter Dix.  I know you share my disappointment.  At least I got to use "flamed".

The IOC seems to be disappointed with the lack of competition in the 100m and 200m races as well, where Usain Bolt smoked (he's Jamaican) everyone while setting new world records in both events.  The IOC president complained that Bolt didn't have the Olympic spirit because he didn't congratulate his fellow runners.  What should he have said?  Congratulations on getting absolutely scorched?  Congratulations, now no one will want to sign you to any endorsement deals because you got crushed?  Congratulations, maybe next time; oh wait I'm 22 years old, I'm going to be dominating your sorry ass for the rest of your miserable career?  So stupid.  I always thought that congratulation implied the loser complimenting the winner, but I guess that's not the Olympic spirit.  Doesn't the IOC have better things to do, like bury its head in the sand while China clubs some Tibetans?

WTF?

Being a parent gives you a brand new perspective on lots of things. Like air shows. Last year I remember watching the show from my deck while grilling out and drinking wine. Tough work, but someone had to do it.

This year, here it is 8:45pm on a Friday, and I've just put my daughter back to bed for the fourth time because she keeps getting awoken by some World War II era shitbox that sounds determined to land on my roof.

Okay, I know that air shows are public goods, people like them, etc. But I have to believe that at 8:45pm noisy biplanes are at least as big of a nuisance as a good. It is dark. They're not emitting trails of flames or anything cool like that. Go away!

What sucks for me is that they'll be doing this again tomorrow. Luckily, I think I saw that Home Depot is having a sale on anti-aircraft guns, so I can probably have one mounted on the roof by tomorrow afternoon.

Another day...

...more goofy Bush pictures.  They look related.

At least it's not upside down, like when he tries to publicly read a book.

Some more grabass

U, S and A!!!

George Bush is still at it...

And by "it" I mean spreading the glory of America worldwide by trying to hit on Jennie Fitch and the two volleyball players.  It's probably not helping him that he's shorter than all of them, nor that he is a total douche.  He was also waving a tiny American flag at the aforementioned swimming events earlier, but I couldn't find any pictures of that.  Maybe tomorrow...

Suck it, France

I don't have anything ideologically against France like some Americans seem to.  I like their wine and food, they've made some cultural contributions to the world to be sure.  It does seem, though, that Frenchmen can't help but be pompous asses.  No surprise then, that I thoroughly enjoyed the Men's Swimming 4x100 Freestyle Relay from this morning.  Having talked some serious shit, the French got their asses handed to them (you would think they'd be able to recognize that pattern after what, 100 years?  Guess not).

The French team anchor (the guy who swims the fourth and final relay leg) informed the media, in his best Borat impersonation, that his team would "smash" the Americans, that "that's what we came here for."  Going into the final leg with a serious lead, Borat, who is the world record holder in the 100m Freestyle, held his lead for the first 50m only to completely puss out in awesome French style over the last 50m.  When the American anchor caught and passed him in the last 5m, he stayed in the pool for several minutes afterward and pouted while his teammates walked around scratching their heads and asses.  Hilarious.  Vive le France!

If you didn't see the race, it's available at NBC's Olympic site, which I have to say is really good.

I love George Bush

AP Photo

Olympics

I gather that the Olympics are underway, although I think NBC is showing everything on about a 10 hour delay here, so that kind of sucks.  Considering about all I do in life these days is change diapers and check sports news on the internet, I may have to modify my behavior if I want the TV coverage to be suspenseful at all.  

The air quality in Beijing, by most accounts is still awful despite the Chinese government's great plans such as seeding clouds, taking millions of cars off the road, closing factories, and ordering 250 million citizens to stop breathing.  One of the Washington papers, I think The Post, but I don't remember for sure, has a correspondent in Beijing who is a semi-serious runner.  He runs a few miles every morning in Beijing and reports on how he feels, and it sounds pretty terrible.  He says he gets more tired, dizzy, and much thirstier than running on a humid, summer day in DC.  The thirst thing really confuses me--how filthy must the air be?  

So probably a good move by the organizers to have indoor events first.  Swimming, gymnastics,  that stuff.  Although I have to say, if the air makes you thirsty, I wonder what the water in the pool does.  There's probably a good chance that the swimmers will come out glowing.  

In all seriousness though, I hadn't really thought too much about the global political implications of China hosting the Olympics until this week.  Some people have gone so far as to compare these games to Hitler's 1936 games in Berlin.  Well, China isn't invading anyone, you might say.  No, but neither was Germany in 1936.  Just as Hitler did, China brutally suppresses politic, religious and social freedoms.  

In 1936 Hitler was just a crazy nationalist in the eyes of the US, restoring Germany to it's pre-1918 glory.  The US didn't care too much, because they had such a vested interest in the success of the German economy.  Reparations could be paid, American goods could be purchased, all good stuff.  Of course, a few short years later, the US was defending Europe from Hitler's advances, the Holocaust was exposed, and the image of American athletes showing Hitler the Nazi salute wasn't a happy memory.  

That's not to say that China will become aggressively expansionist.  However, given the US's vested economic interest in China's growth and success, and thus it's willingness to turn a blind eye to the brutality of the state, the parallels are undeniable.  You can make the argument that China has worse human rights than a couple of places in which the US is currently militarily involved.  But Iraq didn't produce millions of tons of cheap stuff for Americans to buy at Wal-Mart.  

Anyway, my goal isn't to go on an anti-Chinese rant.  Neither is it to criticize George W. Bush for making the Beijing opening ceremony the first non-American-hosted Olympics to be attended by a sitting American president (it's not like he has anything better to be doing, and at least this way he isn't fucking anything up at home).  Simply, I hope everyone reflects on the message that China is receiving--keep on doing what you're doing, it's great.  And after reflecting, is that the right message?

The Packers

Unless you live under a rock you're no doubt aware of the Brett Favre retirement-unretirement debacle that's playing out in Green Bay.  I sort of like Favre, and I like the Packers, but this whole thing is a total disaster.  ESPN's Page 2 had a great chart up today, mocking the supposed "fair competition" that would go on between Favre and Aaron Rodgers for the starting quaterback job.  

(I guess you have to click on the image to be able to read it...stupid blogspot.)

3 Months Old!, Thermostat Wars

My daughter turned 3 months old today.  To mark the occasion, she rolled over about 3/4 of the way and pooped at least 12 times.  A busy day.  She can also hold her head up expertly, and looks tremendously cute sitting upright leaning back on our huge couch.  I celebrated by running 9 miles and having an aching knee, although the bottle of wine that my wife and I shared over lunch helped that a great deal.  

When I returned from running some errands my wife urgently informed me that it was freezing in our house.  In fact, it was the same 73F that it has been all summer, much warmer than the 68F I would prefer.  My wife is convinced that our daughter is always cold--despite pediatricians recommending keeping a home with a baby in it 68-72F.  So I'm pretty sure our daughter is fine, if not hot.  So, here's the question: why are women always cold and men always warm?  It seems counter-intuitive because women have more body fat and typically more hair.  Are they secretly reptilian?  It sucks.  And now, of course, our thermostat is set to 75F because let's face it, life is too short.  At least now I won't feel bad about spending the entire day in my underwear.  Of course, as my daughter grows up and becomes one of the vocal, cold-blooded females of the world, I'm going to be outnumbered, and it's going to suck.  Bottom line: I need a  son, ASAP.  But having a second kid scares the crap out of me, because my daughter is so fantastic.  And having an ally in the thermostat wars might not be the best reason to have Irish twins.

Getting Out

We went to a friend's wedding yesterday afternoon and evening, the first time we've left our daughter with a babysitter to whom she isn't related.  

It's very stressful to leave your baby, very unnatural.  After a long, long tour and explanation of everything to the sitter--"the number for 911 is 911"--we left and looked at each other in a 'here goes nothing' sort of way.  We texted the sitter from the wedding, gotta love modern conveniences, and were told that our daughter had been great but was lately "kinda fussy."  We took that as a euphemism for crying inconsolably which is probably about accurate, but we were happy to receive a follow-up text that she had since fallen asleep.  And in spite of eating almost nothing, she slept through the night!  Rockstar baby.

The good news is that we're now pretty comfortable with the idea of leaving our daughter with a sitter in future--no adverse effects, house didn't burn down, wasn't struck by a meteor--so look out Chicago nightlife, here we come.  An ironic parting fact: we spent more on the babysitter than on the wedding gift.  C'est la vie.

Lollapalooza

I just got home from the first day of Lollapalooza, and here in print is what rock critics the world over are afraid to write: Radiohead sucks.  The music press is always in such a rush to blow them; I can't figure it out.  They played two hours of downright depressing, if musically sound, songs.  It's a fucking festival.  Maybe something upbeat?  That people have heard before?  Very disappointing.  

Bloc Party, on the other hand, were fantastic--if you have a chance to see them this summer you should.  Duffy, too, put on a good performance, and Stephen Malkmus (of Pavement fame) was solid.  The Black Keys were horrendous, maybe victims of bad sound on their stage, but either way, awful.  The Go! Team played an hour of super-enjoyable cheerleader rock, I only wish I had caught their whole set.  

Finally, I just had a "Burrito as Big as Your Head" from La Bamba just down the street from me.  Bad decision.  May be a long night...

Use of taxes

You may not know this, but sales tax in the city of Chicago just went up to 10.25%.  The highest in the country.  Not only does that suck, but if sales tax is going to be 10.25%, you'd hope to have fewer potholes and less crime obviously, but I would really like to address two pet peeves.  

First, the mileage markers on the lake shore running trail need replacing.  Today, I set out to run 6 miles and ended up running 7.5.  The mileage marker I was looking for to turn around never came, so I decided to keep going to the next one, half a mile away, and it didn't come either, at which point I was half way to Evanston and decided I better turn back, seeing as though the furthest I'd run before away was 5 miles.  Overall, it went fine, though I did lose almost 5 pounds of water weight in the process, which probably isn't too good.  So now here I sit guzzling water, unlike to pee ever again.  

My second pet peeve is cyclists riding their bikes on the sidewalk.  Let's be clear: in the city of Chicago, IT IS FUCKING ILLEGAL to ride your bike on a sidewalk.  ILLEGAL.  Besides some pending litigation stemming from a cyclist on the sidewalk riding her bike into my car (and yes, she's suing me) that I shouldn't probably discuss here, a huge girl on a bike almost rammed into the back of me as I was running home on the sidewalk.  She took evasive action at the last second and almost wiped out into a bush.  Then she flipped out about how I was taking up the whole sidewalk and was, quite frankly, a total bitch.  I might point out that her width was at least double mine, so me taking up the whole sidewalk that she fit on is a mathematical impossibility.  Rather than get upset, I asked her if she was aware that it was illegal to ride on sidewalks in the city.  "No it isn't, no it isn't," she retorted, like some sort of retard who says everything twice, and wobbled off down the sidewalk.  

I am so pissed off about this that I am going to talk to my alderman tomorrow.  Since I won't be bringing a brown bag of cash, I'm not sure anything will get done, but I'm going to ask for signage, at least around my place, telling cyclists to keep the fuck off the sidewalk.  Either that, or I'm going vigilante and poking a golf club through their front spokes until word gets out.

Why Small Talk Sucks

Seeing as though we have a wedding to attend this Saturday, Mrs. Bumdad suggested that I might consider getting my first haircut in almost three months.  I think my hair looked just fine, but anyone who's married knows that doesn't matter.  So off I went to get a haircut.

The girl who was cutting my hair was nice enough, the typical Midwestern farm girl type--pretty, but 30 pounds overweight and working towards making it 60.  We made the required small talk, and she revealed that she had a dog of whom she was very fond, a French Bulldog.  Still not sure exactly what a French Bulldog is, but I'm willing to bet it runs away yelping if another dog sets foot in it's yard.  But anyway, we chatted for a while about the dog before I asked what she did with him all day while she was at work (she lived in an apartment in the city).  At that point she paused and a look of grief came over her face--had her dog just died?  She maintained the silence for a good 10 seconds while I contemplated what the hell was going on.  "Actually he lives most of the time with my ex-boyfriend.  We broke up and now we have joint custody of the dog."  Having explained her sorrow she reverted to her grief stricken look and eventually went back to pecking at my hair with her scissors in silence.  

Neither of us said anything for the next 5 minutes.  Awesome...

A Long 18 Years...

I always thought, and I guess I still do, that I'd want a smart alec kid.  The sort who sees the humor in someone stubbing their toe, rather than a kid who'd cry in sympathy.  Well, today my daughter was having a rough patch, fussy, nothing would make her happy.  Finally, I tried lying on the couch and holding her above me, doing the "flying-baby" of which she is quite fond.  She was okay with that, but still not thrilled.  As I was about to lower her, she puked all over me.  And proceeded to giggle--happy as could be--as I surveyed the scope of the barf with a gagging look on my face.  If that's how it's going to be, it may be a long 18 years for Bum Dad.

Fart sounds

My daughter is wonderful.  Yesterday she was unhappy about something, so I stuck my tongue out at her and made a fart sound (I don't recommend this for dealing with unhappy women over the age of 3, however).  She immediately smiled, so I did it again and again, and she became more and more excited and giggly each time.  Finally, she decided she wanted in on the fun, and stuck her tongue out.  She crossed her eyes and fixed them on the tip of her tongue and looked expectantly at it, waiting for the sound.  She starting straining her neck forward, trying to figure out why her tongue wouldn't make a noise.  When she surmised that that wouldn't work, she tried darting her tongue in and out like a little frog.  Still nothing, so she decided it wasn't going to happen for her and reverted her attention to my tongue farts, a big grin on her face.

Rich? and Fish and Chips

I was sent a news story today about a girl who was made a ward of the court so that a judge could change her name from "Talula Does the Hula From Hawaii."  Are you fucking kidding me?  I may have a zany sense of humor, but even I think that just sucks.  Oh yeah, by the way, this happened in New Zealand.  I would have suspected California, but no.  I guess proximity to the Pacific makes you crazy?  Other names that were allowed in New Zealand: "Number 16 Bus Shelter."  Not allowed: "Fish and Chips" and "Sex Fruit."  Personally, I'll take being named Fish and Chips over a bus stop.  Maybe the kid was conceived there? [Must. Not. Make. Mom. Joke.  It hurts.]

We have a wedding to go to next weekend, and I had to go downtown and buy a new suit today.  I'd been nursing my old one along for almost 10 years, it was time (Yes wife, you're right.).  So I headed down to Nordstrom and after various parking debacles--I really hate downtown Chicago in summer; tourists everywhere!--made it in and asked a sales guy for some help.  Sure thing, he said, and led me over towards the suit area.  As were walked he looked over at me and says, "Rich?"  I did a double take and realized I hadn't misheard him, and said, "What?"  Was he trying to ask how much I wanted to spend?  Did I look homeless?  Was he confused because I had on shorts and flip-flops but a nice watch?  Seriously?  "What?"

"Rich," he says, thrusting his hand towards me.  Oooohhhh.

"Bumdad."