Updates, In Sort of a Rambling Fashion

So, this is ye olde pointless rambly post, mostly to catch my brain up to my life. We'll see how it works out. Most of the funny has been going on at It's Still Football, so that's part of the explanation. I also haven't had much to say other than "Wow, Friday Night Lights is a good television show," or "The mortgage industry is comprised almost exclusively of the dregs of humanity," or random personal-life things that are kind of boring and would turn this into the livejournal-y emo blog that doesn't have the kind of tone I like to play in. Nobody really needs to read about my navel-gazing, and it's not as cathartic to get it in pixels as I thought it might be.

That said, let's play Pro v. Con/Yay v. Boo/Tip of the Hat v. Wag of the Finger with Things. But I'm not stealing those titles. Instead, we're playing

Victory Right/Wide Left

Victory Right - The following conversation this weekend actually occurred:

Riggs: "Yes, but when two girls make out it's sexy."
Josh: "When Riggs talks about two girls making out, it's not sexy
anymore."
Riggs: "Why isn't it sexy anymore?"
Josh: "I don't know, but I'm mad at you for making it unsexy."

Wide Left - I look hugely creepy in the pictures from this event.

Victory Right - Last week, I was walking out of the Hancock building, and passed two tourist-y types, which isn't out of the ordinary. This, however, is:

Woman: "The energy here is very bad."
Man: "So we shouldn't go in today?"

I should say not. Very weird, made me laugh. The energy? What energy? Is there a spooky aura around the Hancock that only wackos can see?

4-Yard Rush Up the Gut on 2nd Down - I've already broken my system, because I couldn't decide where to put this anecdote. On that same lunchtime walk, I also passed a clump of three or four protesters on the corner of Chicago and Michigan. I guess Cheney was in town briefly, though I don't know where he was specifically, and these people had three signs.

• One that said "Cheney War Criminal" (Points for brevity, I guess)
• One that said "You suck, Dick." (Right, I get the joke.)
• One that said "Don't shoot me in the face." (Oh, man, can we be over the face-shooting thing? Please? At least on protest signs?)

Please note that the face-shooting thing is still funny in satirical student films. Not that I'm thinking of one specificaly. Okay, I totally am.

Anyway, my point is that the only people who can get worked up over things sufficiently to exercise their rights to assembly and free speech and whatnot are the people who are least likely to be effective. These delightful examples of the American Spirit unfortunately were the wild-eyed, unwashed sort, with the poster-making accumen of a 5th-grade civics project. Well, plus the dick jokes. So, I initially got a chuckle out of it, and then was disappointed by the fact that we're kind of going to hell in a handbasket as much because of the gap between rich and poor as the gap between loony and cleverly industrious. I guess the difference is that those who are less-familiar with clever satire and the benefits of a regular shower end up with their signs on a (randomly chosen?) street corner, and those who are clever with the commentary are Steven Colbert. So, there's still kind of a meritocracy. That's good. I guess. I don't know what my point is.

Wide Left - Stupid timing-of-life stuff. No, emo-blog! Get away!

Victory Right - Mr. Marmalade, though my preparation for same might be sliding into the Wide Left category.

I Have No Idea - The Castle. I think it'll be good. I don't think I understand yet, necessarily.

Kicked Directly Into the Back of the Offensive Line, and Then a Meteor Strikes the Stadium, Leading to the Extinction of Life On Earth - This job is dumb.

This is the Jump.

Doing My Civic Duty!

A public service announcement I wrote on a piece of paper and placed on the el seat:

DO NOT SIT HERE: MOIST

I'm really glad I didn't give into the guy who kept asking if I, or my travelling companions, wanted to sit. Because after he gave up on that, he stood up, shouted "Excuse me! Does anyone have any newspapers or something? Because someone peed on this seat." Someone? Sir, I have a sneaking suspicion you peed on that seat. So, after telling a couple of randoms that they shouldn't sit there, because there's a 75% chance of urine, we decided to make a sign. I'm proud of myself.

This is the Jump.

Did This Happen on Purpose?

First of all, I'd like to thank the Department of Installing Potholes for being so clever as to wait until there was the pinnacle of inclement weather to install and hide their deepest, most jagged specimens. Not only was there a pothole placed in just such a fashion that it would be mostly underwater, and indistinguishable from the rest of the slushy mess under a viaduct on South 81st Street, but it was made in a way that punctured the hell out of my tire. So, that was great. Also, nice job wrecking the Michigan Avenue-LSD Entrance Merge Tunnel Thing, because that makes people drive three miles an hour to get on The Drive, because the entirety of that roadway looks like the surface of the Moon. Good news: as soon as one gets past the Battle of the Marne area, everybody and their brother wants to floor it, which is a dicey proposition on a donut. I'm friggin' thrilled.

I don't buy the "salt erodes the street, and then eventually a pothole forms" theory of pothole evolution. I'm a Pothole Creationist. Some malevolent organization comes around and removes sections of the street and replaces it with weirdo rebar and, I don't know, caltrops, and then - if they're really dedicated to their craft - they put a decorative layer of grey slush and un-drainable water to mask it. Because really, cars and trucks gradually create potholes? That's insane. Do cars take parts of the roadway with them? Is it like The Great Escape? Do they hide the asphalt in their wheel wells, and then empty them when they're out in the yard for exercise or gardening? "The Krauts found Charlie Pothole. We're going to have to redouble our efforts on Tango."

In other, vaguely related news1, I'm really disturbed by the Carmax radio commercial that starts with "Kelly, I can't believe you're finally sixteen..." because it's at that point where the announcer (who is decidedly NOT sixteen) pauses just a leeeeeeeeettle too long before saying "and your mother and I are very proud of you." The pause makes you sound like a creepy predator in Indiana, Iowa, or Uruguay (um, "thank you," I guess, Wikipedia). It doesn't help that your harpy daughter then launches into fury over the fact that you didn't buy her "the bluuuuue one! BLUE BLUE BLUE!" and then my ears bleed. So, screw you, Carmax Commercial of Creepiness.

1I was driving in the car when I heard the commercial.

This is the Jump.