Drink Rum

It's rare that I find something on broadcast television that I really like. Most of the shows that I do like, I don't watch on TV, I just Netflix them on DVD later. I do have to admit that I have the guilty please of being addicted to Judge Judy and Judge Alex. While I was laid up, I spent a lot of time watching court TV shows and I find them very interesting. Anyway...

A couple of weeks ago, PBS launched the debut of its latest mega-miniseries documentary called "The War". It's a Ken Burns piece. For those that don't know... Burns is probably the one of the best known/regarded documentarians in the business. His new piece is about World War II and is focused on its effects on four cities in different regions of the US and the effect of the war on the inhabitants... some who went off to war... and some who stayed home.

I watched the first 2 1/2 hour episode and was very impressed. As are many people based on the reviews that have been coming out.

Everyone except the Hispanic watchdog groups. They are (were) angry that there was not a significant focus on the impact or contributions of Hispanic Americans to the war effort. Burns spends a lot of time on black americans and japanese americans, but only about 20 minutes of the 9 hour piece is dedicated to hispanics. That angered the people who have nothing better to do than to get mad about that sort of thing. They argue that if blacks and japanese get their moment, why not the hispanics? After all, there were hundreds of thousands of hispanic americans in uniform over the course of the war.

There were also women. There were german americans too. There were rich people. There were poor people. There were people from all walks of life who served. Except Japanese americans. They were not allowed to serve in the US armed forces during the war out of fear of their loyalty. And that Japanese citizens on the west coast were rounded up and sent to camps. Many had their lives completely destroyed. They were destroyed by a government that was going to war to promote freedom. Appreciate some irony.

Then there were the blacks. The could serve in the army. Just not in the white man army. They were still segregated. They would fight against racism abroad while having to accept it in their homes. Look... irony.

Those stories are compelling. Those stories are important to the nation identity (not all roses) of the United States in the 1930s-1940s.

The hispanics weren't segregated. They weren't sent to camps. They represented about 2% of the fighting force of the US might in the war. I don't deny them that they contributed a deep personal sacrifice. The film even states that in the beginning. The film is about a country at war. It's not about race. There are stories that talk about how the country treated people of different races. Those are important.

The fact that the hispanic legion has grown into a political entity today doesn't mean that a documentary has to cater to their desires. I noticed that there's nothing in the film about Australian Americans in there... my grandfather fought and served the US Navy in the war... where's his story? There's nothing telling the story of my other grandfather and his tales in the skies of the Pacific... where's his story?

It's not about people. It's about a country. It's a shame that people are so stupidly divided these days and so self absorbed that they can't see it for what it is.

Posted by Monty at 1:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Happy Monday peeps.

This weekend was rather entertaining. Saturday I was reminded just why I used to own a convertible car. The weather was beautiful and I had the opportunity to drive a Mini Cooper sans top in the evening. It was a lot of fun. I miss driving for fun. I used to do it all the time. Driving at night with the top down is about the best driving there is. Also, driving a Mini is like driving a go-gart. The steering wheel is on the small side, but not quite gimmick small. The handling is extremely tight, so going around corners is a lot of fun. I think I caught myself in at least two, "weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"s.

Two years ago I was faced with a decision as to what new vehicle to purchase. It'd be my first new car. I'd just driven my Jeep Grand Cherokee into the ground and I wanted something new. I'd narrowed my choices to the Toyota 4Runner or the Honda S2000. The 4Runner is your standard mid-sized SUV with better than average performance for its type. The S2000 is a two door high performance roadster. It also only had two seats. Which reminds me of:

Sammy Davis Jr.: That's ok... because God is our co-pilot.
Jimmy "The Greek" Snyder: Good, you'll need him!
Dean Martin: God is our co-pilot?
Sammy Davis Jr: Uh-huh.
Dean Martin: Remember our car?
Sammy Davis Jr: Yeah.
Dean Martin: Two seats.
Sammy Davis Jr.: So?
Dean Martin: Where's he gonna sit? Huh? Where's he gonna sit?

Wow. A little flashback there to one of my favorite movies ever (Cannonball Run).

So anyway... I did the mature responsible thing and bought the SUV. It being the more practical choice. (Also for the SUV haters, the S2000 was just about as bad as far as environmental impact.) Plus, the SUV continued my middle class destiny. House in the suburbs. Miserable job in the city. An SUV. I was only missing 2.5 kids and a dog. I got three dogs instead. Saturday I began to regret my decision. The credit union has an Audi TT roadster for sale that I might borrow one night... just to see if I'm still interested in the concept.

That went longer than it should have.

Sunday, I went with Phil to the Washington Redskins game. For those not in the Washington DC area... going to see the Redskins at home is pretty much an all day event. The parking and traffic at these things is so frigging nuts. We left my house at 1:30PM to see a 4:00PM game that ended at 7:00PM and we got back to my house at 10:30PM.

So... I've become a bit of a snob. The last two times I saw the Redskins I was in a corporate box or in a swanky lodge. They don't let the riff-raff in. Now... keep in mind... the cheapest seat in Fedex Field is $79 so even the riff-raff have to have some cash. But anyway... in the swanky sections... you deal with a different crowd than you do in the nose bleeds.

We were in the upper deck with the unwashed masses.

I got my first taste of what was coming when we got on the shuttle bus to take us from the parking lot to the stadium. We'd payed $30 for the honor of parking at a strip mall business and getting a bus ride to the stadium. Oh, we did get paper wristbands too.

On the bus, Phil and I grabbed a couple of seats and were very excited to be going to the stadium. Also excited were the drunkards in the back of the bus that I quickly dubbed the "Passed Out by Halftime Gang". They were clearly housed. And I'm not talking crippled with Vicodin House... I mean torn up drunk. In the sea of burgundy and gold jerseys (I was wearing mine... I'm such a joiner.) there was the occassional blue and white one. The Redskins were playing the Giants of New York and there were a few folks who'd obviously made the trip south to support their team. There was a such a guy and his lady friend who were two of those folks. The drunks in the back began heckling them. It wasn't terrible, but it was annoying. At one point a drunk in the front of the bus told the Giants fans that they had to expect it. Probably at that level, yeah. Except it eventually got ugly. Not on the bus though.

So Phil and I found our seats and with our $8 beers sat down to watch the Redskins look like morons and lose the game to the Giants.

Behind us was a guy who I wanted to refer to as "Ham Sammich" or "Dr. Roundboy" I could decide. Throughout the entire game, the guy did not shut up. He was clearly an authority on well... everything... and kept babbling at volume about everything to anyone who would listen. Sadly he was continually indulged by his row mate who was a wonderful mental midget of a woman. I'm sure she was nice... but I felt dumber for sitting in front of her.

Two seats over from us was a guy in a Giants jersey. Hammy the Roundboy immediately began taunting him. The Giants guy was fairly good natured and ignored him... which made the Pilsbury Dough Ass just get louder. Eventually, the Giants guy made a reference to the "big fat guys" on the field. That seemed to have hurt Big Man's feelings. He was quiet for a glorius 30 seconds before he went on a rant about how everyone can't be skinny like him.

At half time I went into the mensroom. It was jammed pack with drunk people. In there was one poor Giants fan who was being screamed at by basically everyone. Just lots and lots of screaming. At one point I yelled, "More peeing, less b-s-ing!" I had to pee and didn't want to miss the game. Anyway... when I got back to my seat, there was some random Redskin fan that was trying to start a fist fight with the Giants fan. He didn't take the bait, but I was beginning to feel bad for the Giants fans. They were taking more crap than I thought justified. But of course there were a group of Giants fans several rows back that were just as bad. They were trying to pick fights with our whole section.

No offense New Jersey, but please... please keep your population within your borders. I have tended to dislike people from New York city... for some reason they seem to think that entitles them to something. People from New Jersey are worse because the want to be from New York and are just bitter. And their state smells horrible. Anyway...

So the Giants won the game. As we were heading for the door, I told the Giants fan, "Well... it looks like your bravery was rewarded." He said thanks and extended his hand, which I accepted.

The rest of the two hours it took to get to the car was basically people in red yelling at people in blue. At one point, there were two Redskins fans yelling at each other. That confused me.

I don't remember what the point was. Oh... it's a shame that people can be such jerks at football games. Either hassling the visiting team fans or just being as stupid as possible. (You know it was bad if I'm complaining about someone acting stupid.) Taunting the visiting team is really fine... but when it basically comes down to looking for someone in a different shirt to punch them in the eye... that's insane.

All things considered, it was still a great time.

This was a long post without much of a point it seems.

Posted by Monty at 1:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

October 13th will mark my triumphant return to paintball.

It'll be interesting to see how the knee holds up. I've been cleared and had a follow-up to be recleared to place (with brace). The issues that are on-going are repetitive motion-based vs. stress on the joint. In theory, the joint is stronger than it was before the injury from all the therapy. I'm going to have (hopefully) more troubles walking to and from the fields than actually playing the games.

So wish me luck everyone. It's been almost two years since I've been on a field. I need to get my gear in gear. Heh.

Posted by Monty at 6:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Europe is once again on fire with the cries of revolution. The French had one. The Russians had one (or four) and Brits had a revolution everytime they peed on Ireland, Scotland or Oliver Cromwell was alive. Now it's time for the Belgians to have a revolution.

That's right... the Belgians are up in arms and close to splitting into two new nation states. Gone will be the Belgium of old... a country that served mainly as a large speed bump in the Western European theater of both World Wars.

In the north... you have the Flemish. They want to recreate the forgotten state of Flanders. They are a tech heavy group with a thriving economy. And they hate the people of the south.

In the South... you have the Frenchies. They want to recreate the forgotten state Wallonia. They used to have a thriving industrial economy that has since tanked and now have high unemployment. And they hate the people to the North.

I'm going to have to side with the Flemmies. If for no other reason than if there was a large portion of the United States that was pro-French and French speaking, I want to be in another country too.

Not to mention the fact that Walloonians are a boat anchor to the economy.

So I really hope that the country can hold itself together for a couple more years though. I want to visit Brussels. Belgium is like a beer and chocolate mecca and I'd like to spend an afternoon swimming in both. Maybe swimming in a pool filled with beer on a floaty raft made of chocolate.

But if they split, I'll just have to adjust my list to places to conque-- visit in Europe.

Speaking of country fragmentation... has any movement been made regarding giving Texas back to Mexico.

I think that'd solve some immigration issues.

We tell all of the illegal immigrants that there is free amnesty for them if they all go to Texas and become citizens of Texas.

Then we unannex Texas and declare it Mexico II.

Illegal immigrants gone.

Texans gone.

Win - Win

Then when people say "Remember the Alamo"... they'd better say "Remembremos el Alamo... Que Lastima!" Because they'd be in Mexico.

Have a good weekend everyone. Except the French and Texans.

Posted by Monty at 1:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

OK, so forget the previous post.

That one was a waste of bandwidth... and... segue.

My e-mail inbox has become a spam bucket. I get a couple hundred e-mails a day... 99% of them are spam. I've had the same e-mail address for over a decade and I think it's time to pull the plug on it. I've already set up a super secret e-mail address that I'm trying to keep spamless... we'll see if it's worth the hassle of transitioning to using it full time. I'm often tempted to just abandon it as I have abandoned phones. (I hate phones, by the way. Although a guilty pleasure is blowing an airhorn into the receiver when a telemarketer calls.)

So anyway, this latest bit of blech is courtesy of Jesus. He sent me an e-mail about my free bible. I guess it wasn't him, but it was one of his friends. Apparently... if I read this book (again) I will become saved. Saved from what, I don't know... maybe from the whales. I'm used to getting all sorts of spam. I get phishing attack mail from all sorts of dorks. I get all the latest deals on every drug under the sun in new and creative spelling. Lot's of free porn too. I can even refinance my house with a new and better loan. And now... salvation spam.

I read the bible. I understand there are several versions of it out these days and I'd entertained the idea of reading different versions... but I think they all end the same way. The story starts off kinda slow, but it does have a very James Cameron ending.

I've gotten some very interesting spam from several religious cults. Christian bible slinging seems to be the most prolific in my inbox though. I've gotten a little Jew spam. No Muslim spam though. They really should give up. Based on all of my research... I'm going to hell (or whatever the equivalent is... Denmark I guess) according to all of the big religions. Islam even lists me under the "jihadable" category. That's pretty neat. Even the peaceful, non fanatic ones are allowed to kill me. Cool.

Ya know what I don't get much of? I don't get any voodoo spam. I'd actually like some of that. I get Wiccan spam (wicked wiccan of the west?) but that's boring. No pointy hats or anything. But no Voodoo spam. That sounds like a band name... Voodoo Spam. How much fun would it be to go voodoo dolling people? Hey, you! Here's a pin in your ankle! Ha ha!

But no... I get free King James Bibles.

I sure wish people would stop trying to save me. Why people seem obsessed with spreading religions is beyond me. I don't want any. Don't spam me, don't door to door visit me, don't send me snail mail saying "come on down! your the next contestant on the Wheel of Poo-crap!". People can believe what they want. That's fine. As long as they don't bother me with it.

I figure I've got some more good years left on planet earf ahead of me... then my health will fail and eventually it's time for the dirt nap. I'm really fine with that plan. I don't need anything beyond it. I don't want to be resurrected or reincarnated, or anything... just let me sit in my little box and turn to mush. Maybe on the 10th anniversary of my death (not a passing mind you... passing is what you do when it's 3rd and long or when you're stuck behind a tractor on a back country road) people can dig me up and throw my gooey bits at each other like a really gross snowball fight.

With my luck, someone will cremate me and ruin my fun.

But back to the point. Jesus... if you're listening... and according to your marketing you always are... just like Santa... and the FBI... so Jesus... tell your peeps to take me off the list.

Also, has anyone had any success with just abandoning e-mail?

Posted by Monty at 2:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's Monday afternoon in northern virginia.

I'm sitting at work. I haven't slept. I haven't eaten. I feel like crap.

I feel sick. But I'm not.

I'm on the downside of a great weekend.

The more I enjoy my diversions and playing with friends, the more I loathe my day to day life. Somehow, despite having more work to do than ever, I'm completely bored. Some of it is even mentally challenging... but I just don't care. I have no vested interest in the success or failure of this organization. My motivation level is zero.

This weekend was awesome. Which I think makes monday even more the suck by comparison. I think there is a very ugly implosion in my not-to-distant future. It almost came this morning actually.

OK, this posting is really, really crappy.

Let me think of something that's actually worth reading to write... hmmm.

I was reading something earlier today about the hidden intelligence of George W. Bush. He really does hide it well.

Oh, here's something... someone sent me a link for a job posting with a Democrat's anti-republican web site. I should probably take the opportunity to mention that I don't really care for the Dems that much either. Republicans and Democrats both seem to eager to either spend my money or tell me how to live my life... and I really desire input on neither.

I'm going to start my own political party I think. Can you have a party of one? I think I've heard of them at restaurants. If I had my own political party, I wouldn't want anyone else to join. That way I wouldn't have to compromise on my platform.

Yeah, this isn't interesting either. It's not even interesting to me.

I think today has really just been one big step closer to me selling off everything and becoming a pirate of the caribbean. or a beach bum. or just a bum.

Wow... new winner. Worst post ever.

I promise there'll be some better material later in the week.

Actually... probably not.

Boy am I angry.

I'm going to go fax the dictionary to china.

Posted by Monty at 1:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's been a while since I've had a weekend involving back to back nights of drinking. Even more rare is the fact that beer was the beverage of choice for said events.

Friday night was the scene of a sushi party... but it got started pretty late so it became a drinking party. Beers of the evening were Jack's Pumpkin Spice Ale (are you ready for Halloween?), some chinese beer in a missile of a can, and whatever Pam and I purchased at the grocery store. I think she said it was made by alcoholic monks in New Zealand or New Hampshire or something. It was good... as far as I know.

In case anyone thought I'd make a good sushi chef... my sushi rolls were quickly dubbed rice/fish burritos. How was I supposed to know that making a sushi roll the size of my forearm was a bad idea? I don't know how it tasted but, my roll was later used to defend my home against rogue, government agents.

We ended up spending the rest of the evening playing craps in the dungeon. Basically... everyone sucked at craps. Except Paul. But only when he was properly motivated. If I would "hoot" at Paul or sing him a little song, he'd make money. My hooting won me $400. I can't really explain the "hoot". If you see me in person, I'll do it for you. The consensus amongst the group was that if I did that in Las Vegas, I'd get kicked out of the casino. I certainly welcome testing that theory.... in like 6 weeks.

Saturday was dominated by the 6th Annual Wakeman's Grove Invitational Blues Jamathon. (Did I get the title right, Leo?) Once again... beer. Beer and Jello shots. Oh man. I finished off the remaining Jack's Pumpkin Spice Ale (I got yelled at for not bringing enough for everyone... actually I think my response to whether or not I brought enough for everyone was, "I brought enough for me and one person that can kick my a$$."... boy that's was spikey of me.), moved onto Sam Adams SomethingorOther and finally into Leo's Guinness. I was smart enough to wait until after Leo went on stage before I informed him that I was drinking his beer. (Thanks Leo!)

Good times. Good food, good music, good beer, good friends.

Big thanks to Leo for making the event such a hit. Big thanks to Blue for lending me a jacket (who knew it was going to be 2 degrees last night?).

Phil, time to get practicing on the bass man. We're committed to doing a set next year.

Also, can you sing? All I can do it hoot.

Posted by Monty at 3:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Upon my return home this weekend, I had a lovely form letter in my mailbox.

It was from the Office of Personnel Management. It said that I had been considered for the vacancy I applied for but that the position opening had been canceled. This, of course. is code for "the job was given to a political appointee".

The job in question was for the government management position for the White House internet operations. It's the job I've been trying unsuccessfully to get for almost 6 years. This was my third and final, failed attempt to do so.

I got a call last week from the program manager on the contractor side of the White House wanting me to come back and take up my old job where I left off. I haven't called him back. I don't know if I will.

Actually, if I call him, it'll only be to tell him no.

My career at the White House and any further desire to work there is over. I had six very good years there. I believe my thoughts and ideas were put to good use and my team and I built something amazing. The year after that was the begining of the end. Ideas weren't what people were looking for, it became a "yes man" only environment. My final two years were a nightmare. I was under more stress than any one person should deal with and the job I was doing made me sick to my stomach. I only stayed as long as I did because I was hoping to move into the government spot that I was denied.

It's a bit sad to have strived for a goal, or in this case a position, and fail. Whether or not that is better off for me in the long run is a good question, but it was my goal and I certainly missed it. Where I am now, I have no goals. Neither does the organization though. I guess I need to figure out what I really want to do I suppose.

I keep coming back to the thought that I peaked professionally at 30. Since then I've just been drifting and not accomplishing anything.

I'm once again giving serious thought to selling all of my assets and buying a boat and becoming a caribbean boat tour guide type person.

or a pirate.

Posted by Monty at 10:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Hi kids... I'm in Las Vegas at the moment. Something very odd caught my attention this morning. I saw an ad for a new show featuring celebrity look-a-likes. That's nothing new in this town... except for the fact that all of the look-a-likes were midgets.

Picture, if you will, a midget Elvis. Then try a midget Brittney Spears. It has to be trying to draw the "trainwreck spectator" crowd.

I was baffled.

This town has done some bizarro stuff... but this was mega-nutz.

I've also noticed that all of the restaurants here are decided that coolness and sensuality are more important that the actual food. There's a sign in the hotel for a pan-asian place that features a sultry woman on all fours on top of this guy's table while she feeds him a tuna roll.

I walked by the place. There was no babe on the table action at all. It was full of a bunch of people who seemed more involved in the cool factor than the fact that they were eating half-sized portions of food that was likely coming from a nearby PF Chang's. Taking a big plate and putting an itty-bitty bit of food in the middle of it and then flinging mystery sauce (aka mustard+worshetchirestechestershire sauce) all around does not make the meal filling or even good. If I wanted to see random sauces flung around I'll go look at a Jackson Pollack exhibit.

Yes... I took the high road with that last line.

Anyway... Las Vegas is starting to feel like LA junior. I've never been to LA, so I don't even know if that's accurate. I've seen LA on TV and movies... and maybe that's what they're shooting for now. I don't like it really. I used to like the californication influence on Las Vegas. It made it much more relaxed of a place than the overly New Yorked Atlantic City where old money goes to die. The whole stinking town smell like Ben-Gay and slow death. I'm sure when I'm 76 I'll love the place. Hopefully they'll bury me under Trump Tower.

Lucky for me I have no plans to live that long. If I get to that battered of a state, I'll knock the regulator off of my oxygen tank, give the tank a hug and light it.

I'd suck to be the person who had to clean that room. Last laughs are all ways the best, I always say.

Actually, that's not true. I've never said that before in my life.

Ummmm.

By the way, I took the Colts over the Saints by 6. Hopefully that wasn't a boo-boo. I'm fresh out of do overs.

Posted by Monty at 3:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)