November 30th, 2006

Boss Coffee

You'd better dance, little lady; dance, little man...

There's some discussion of the confrontation between W and Senator-elect Webb at the reception for newly elected Congresscritters the other day at Blackfive and Ann Althouse's blog, and the reactions in the comments are so predictable and tedious. It's part of what's burned me out on politics of late - people aren't really thinking any more, they're just reflexively jerking in response to stimuli and that's boring, to say nothing of useless. Maybe part of the problem is that we're all just reacting too much in the heat of the moment, instead of sitting back and thinking about events and ideas, weighing them to see if they really have any significance in the long term. Or, as the Bride does here, looking at things from a different point of view. Is Webb deliberately - or unconsciously - playing a role as he steps into a Senator's shoes? What sort of character is it, and can we get any insights by looking at Judd Smith?

My friend Richard down home is in the hospital, but my friend with the breast cancer may not have it after all. It all reminds me that I'm getting into the stage of life where people I know are liable to start dying on me.

In other news...well, there isn't any. Last night was largely wasted reading blogs and eating pizza.
Aside from the dreams earlier this week, I'm sleeping surprisingly well, considering that I'm using Solzhenitsyn's GULAG Archipelago for bedtime reading.
wombat

There's only me, there's only mine...

Yeah, we're back in the Siberian part of the weather cycle now. It was 9 degrees outside when I left the apartment and fired up the Sportage, and while Yahoo says it got up to 19 sometime today, I wasn't outside at all so I really can't say. It's 15 degrees now, out at the airport where nobody lives. Almost nobody. There's a few houses you could hit with a .22 from the end of the runways.

Cold or no cold, I need to do some grocery shopping. I'm out of milk, I could use more eggs, and if I'm going to do something with that can of pumpkin (like, make pumpkin bread) I should probably get some nutmeg, allspice and cinnamon so it doesn't taste like drakh. I'll probably go to Wal-Mart for it all, since I could really use a new toque, preferably one without a sports team logo or a funny-looking ball on top.

Got my quarterly chewing-out today from my supervisor, who is unhappy with my lack of initiative and attention to detail. She's right, of course, but I'm not much interested in being a Theory Y employee in a Theory X department. There's also the motivation problem - since I'm leaving here next July/August, it's really hard for me to care much about making long-term or even short-term fixes in things like the procedures manual. Well, I'll make a token effort to find more work to do, but I don't expect much to come of it; no matter what happens, I'm not going to make it to the top of Maslow's pyramid in this joint.

It's 1730 now, time to go out in the freezing cold and catch a bus. Hope the net don't break.
Boss Coffee

You don't care about winning, you just don't want to lose

I should know better than to go into places like Cheapo or Discland, because when I don't find what I'm looking for I usually browse around and find two or three other things I wouldn't mind having. Tonight was a good case in point. After finishing my shopping at the WalMart and grabbing some beef at the Arby's, I checked out Discland hoping they'd have a copy of Blue Oyster Cult's On Your Feet Or On Your Knees, which is probably around here someplace in the wrong CD package, but the place is enough of a mess that I don't want to rummage through another half-dozen boxes looking for it. As luck would have it, they didn't have that CD (or Hall & Oates' Along The Red Ledge, or BTO's Head On...) but I wound up walking out with the Eagles' One of These Nights, Lou Reed's Definitive Collection and Husker Du's Candy Apple Grey, the last of which was worth it just for the title.
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Oh yeah - I see BTO's Head On has finally been re-released on CD. About damn time.
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