The return of the photo

The Widge loves snow!

I was hoping to post gushing reviews of life with a turntable, because my turntable was loaded on the local UPS truck for delivery yesterday morning, but the UPS guy arrived way later than usual, and I had already left for the evening.

Hey, my Widge just came over to help me blog, which he's doing by pointing at his photo and saying: "Snow! Yay!" and trying hard to add content by hitting the "Control" button repeatedly. I'll interpret that to mean that he wants to send a big shout-out to all his fans in blogland, and tell you all to keep it real.

In politics, since I've started watching the news again a bit and reading Newsweek, I have to say that I'm pleased at McCain's success. I liked McCain in 2000 too, so its like watching the obscure actor you've always liked get a starring role. You go, McCain! There'll be more issues discussed in blogworld as time goes on, but for now I have to lay down the ground rules: if you're voting for Hillary, you must leave my blog, right now, and never come back. Seriously. And please identify yourself in the comments so that I can cross you off my Christmas card list.

I think, actually, if you are compassionate at all, you have to vote for a conservative, and here's why: whenever a conservative gets elected president, liberals joke about having to move to Canada, or England, or some other lefty country for the duration of the right-wing term. But if a liberal gets elected, where can we conservatives go to escape all the social programs and defense budget cuts? Montana might seem like a foreign country we can turn to for refuge, but its actually just another state. Where else in the world could we achieve sanctuary among nice, right-thinking citizens without putting ourselves into a totalitarian military state, or at least a setting where we're highly likely to see bullets fly? I guess Vatican City is an option, but they don't really have the infrastructure to succor thousands of displaced American conservatives, plus its surrounded by the political quagmire of Italy, so we'd still probably bump into socialists every day. My point is: always vote conservative, because we have nowhere else to go.

How To Make Your Voice Heard in Politics: the Exciting Conclusion!

Having secured the necessary props, we must carefully consider the setting. Most would-be activists believe the best place to shoot a high-profile figure is a government building. They are sadly mistaken. In addition to being heavily guarded and in possession of metal detectors, these buildings are very confusing. Most high-profile figures who actually work there cannot find their way around. You will also become lost. And so might the television crews who need to arrive on scene to broadcast your message.

A better option is to proceed to the Union Station area and seek out a restaurant that charges more than $1.50 for water. (The Hard Rock Cafe doesn't count. Its not nearly classy enough, and its not in the Union Station area. Buy a map). Wait there until the lunch hour, which, in the District, occurs between 10 AM and 3 PM. You are almost guaranteed to see a high-profile government figure.

But wait: how do you recognize a high-profile government figure?! You could start be reading ever possible news magazine, and memorizing key names and photos. But a better option is to just watch C-Span, non-stop, for about a week. Pay close enough attention to differentiate actual elected officials from Congressional pages: the elected ones doze off at their own individual desks. The pages doze on steps, leaning against walls, and sitting on the floor. Don't shoot a page, they're too young. But get to know them: they might eventually become high-profile officials. If shooting at Congressmen isn't your style, consider lobbyists. Nobody seems to like them anyway. Avoid Diplomats at all costs: you want to get your message across, not start an international incident. Your best bet is to aim for somebody with an impressive title, but whose severe injury won't halt the process of government. The best examples of this type of official are: Congressmen, Senators, Supreme Court Justices, and the Vice President, although its much harder to casually run across that last fellow in a random restaurant. If your message is that important, you're going to need far more planning and organization than this essay can give. Visit your local library.

For those of you with reasonable aims, the best way to quickly identify an official is to look for a badge, and a whole retinue of hangers-on. This sort of tight grouping of several people indicates the presence of lobbyists and staffers, as well as being useful if you're not too accurate on the aim.

I cannot stress this enough: shootings cause chaos. This is exactly why you're shooting someone: chaos gets noticed. This also provides a complication: If you shoot first, and then state your opinion, nobody will hear you, and all your efforts will have been wasted. This is the sort of thing you need to get right on the first try. So, for maximum effect, follow these simple steps:

First, be sure to jump up on a table. For extra drama, try to break some glassware in the process. Next, state your political message, swiftly and loudly. Be sure to practice this beforehand: your message should be brief and easy to understand, and you should enunciate. If you mumble some gibberish, the waiters will escort you out before you finish, and instead of "activist" you'll be labeled as "nut-job." Which doesn't look as impressive in a biography. Then pull out your gun. (Make yourself a note: jump, message, shoot). Shoot quickly. Try to wound your target: that means plenty of news coverage through recuperation. Do not, however, be too concerned about hitting somebody else, or no one at all. As long as bullets are flying, it counts as a shooting. The more holes in the wall, the more effective your activism has been. If possible, shatter a few windows, and re-shout your message as the police and camera crews arrive.

Congratulations, you are now an activist. You can watch your moment of glory, along with several million of your fellow citizens, if they let you watch television in your cell. Don't let imprisonment concern you; your opinion has reached the masses, and plenty of criminals get paroled.

The benefits of this method of political involvement are numerous. You don't need to go through a complex registration process, be a certain age, or prove your identity. You could shoot under a false name, if you'd like. You don't have to obtain correct postage, or worry about finding the proper address, and then worrying that your Representative will ignore your note. All of America notices a good shooting. Prisons are generally clean, and you won't have to worry about putting food on the table while you're there. For the civic-minded activist, consider the fact that there are several hospitals in the region, and every wound you inflict helps keep the surgeons in touch with their training, as well as justifying keeping that hospital open for the general populace to frequent in their times of post-shooting need. You might even create a need for more doctors, thus furthering the American dream. I, personally, am amazed that so few citizens choose this method of political expression.

On the other hand, if the idea of sending a Congressman into a coma upsets you, you could always try voting. Its certainly more complex, less exciting, has minimal immediate impact, and you won't end up on the evening news, but there are those who swear by it. I tend to indulge in the occasional balloted event myself. Of course when I vote, its against gun control. Its just my way of looking out for my fellow citizens.

How-to, Part 3 (of 4)

(Disclaimer:this is SATIRE. Don't shoot people. If you feel the strong urge to shoot people, consult your local mental health professional.)

And even the most politically aware Americans can become skeptical and disillusioned. They want certain things from the government, but like frustrated lab rats are unsure of what lever to press. It can seem like a daunting task, getting the big, hulking giant of government to notice one tiny voice. If only there were an easy way to get good ideas out there, to get elected officials to take notice. Instead we see to have a pothole in our ideological structure. We have a government for the people, by the people, from which the people seem largely alienated. Has Democracy failed the common man?! Is there nothing the average American can do to make his voice heard over the rumbling groans of our political mechanism??!?

Fear not-- I have the answer, the one simple thing you, the common man, can do to have your voice resonate across the fruited plain. If you want to be noticed, to share your political opinions with a wide range of your fellow citizens, and to garner some serious media time, your best option isn't the pedestrian vote, and you needn't suffer through the time consuming expense of campaigning. You, the private citizen, have a far more effective option: shoot somebody.

I suggest you take aim at somebody fairly recognizable, somebody in D.C. I'm not saying you have to shoot the president-- in fact your message would get lost in the ensuing hoopla. But it certainly should be a government type with some degree of influence, or at the very least an important-sounding title. Shooting a movie star would label you a crazed stalker; shooting someone in middle America gets you tagged a brutal, bloodthirsty killer. Neither gives you a political voice. Only by pointing your scope toward the political scene can you become an activist, that higher sort of existence craved by all politically aware people.

Since it is illegal to sell or purchase firearms in the District, your expenditures should be low. Of course you could spend some time and cash legally purchasing a gun in another state, and then sneaking it into D.C., but why bother? If you're going to break the law, you might as well do a job of it. You therefore have two options: either kill a criminal and "inherit" his gun, or else just steal one. Killing shouldn't bother you on a moral level, otherwise you'd be at home penning letters to Congressmen, but in killing you run the risk of getting caught, and diffusing the impact of your message. Aside from that, how are you, gunless, going to kill an armed criminal? Unless you're dynamite with poisoned blow-darts, or an expert at knife throwing (and if you are, don't even bother with the gun!) stealing is the way to go. Since owning a gun is illegal, nobody is going to report the theft of his beloved Glock, and in the long run you'll have bigger legal issues to deal with anyway.

In order to steal a gun, you need to recognize potential gun-carriers. In D.C. there are three distinct types of criminal types you should familiarize yourself with:

1) Dead criminals. These have already been relieved of their weapons, cash, jewelry, cell phones, and vehicles, so they aren't any good to you. You're unlikely to see many, because these spend their free time hanging out at the bottom of the river, or rotting in garbage bags in alleys.

2) Successful criminals. In order to become successful, a criminal would have to be alive. Most likely this involves killing other criminals, police officers, innocent bystanders, etc. If you try anything shady, like trying to steal their gun, or asking the time of day, these criminals will kill you too. To avoid these types, stay away from anyone sporting platinum teeth, wearing jewelry bigger than your head, or driving a Lexus.

3)Apprentice criminals. Most of these will soon be dead criminals, although a few will become successful. Apprentice types often flaunt their criminal status, trying to look and act the part. These criminals look and sound like movie gangstas. They're too poor for a Lexus, so they ride the Metro. Steal a gun from a criminal like this. In fact the Metro is a great place for this sort of thing, because its crowded, and the guards are usually busy explaining to tourists why theres no food allowed.

As far as the actual theft, the most important point is: don't go bothering people unless you're completely certain they're packing heat. Roughing up tourists or the average commuter is not the sort of thing politically savvy people do. Besides, some of those commuters are pretty tough, and you'll have a hard time accomplishing your goals after being beaten to a pulp with briefcases and government-issue laptops.

Once your sure an actual gun is present, mosey up casually, ideally as the train door is opening at a station. grab the weapon, and run. Your goal is to not be stuck on a train with the ex-gun-owner, his buddies, and average commuters. That would end your political career. If need be, shoot the criminal and run. You'd be saving both the police and successful criminals some effort, as well as creating an opening in the job market for a new apprentice criminal. This is the sort of good-deed opportunity you, the politically astute, should try to get involved in. If pressed for time, however, it is acceptable to just grab the gun and run like hell.

(coming soon: the exciting conclusion!)

Visit the NRA

I think its time to pause in the essay, which will continue in the next post. The world is different than when I originally wrote it, back in 2000, so I feel the need to state a few things firmly:

1) DO NOT shoot people. Don't even shoot at people. In fact, don't ever shoot anything in a direction where there might be people.

2) Obey the law. If you aren't allowed to own a gun, don't do it. Support your local law enforcement agency.

Thats about it.

Meanwhile, not much happening, still have a cold, Widge still has a cold. Hope you guys don't have colds!

How to etc., continued

Not that it would matter if gun-owners were that conscientious. Lawmakers seem deeply concerned with the minutia of District firearm legislation, so much so that they spend an incredible amount of time on the details, picking through every tiny aspect of the issue: from the actual possession of guns, to various features that may or may not cross the line of legality, down to songs or shows that might potentially glorify the ownership, use, or concept of the gun, to the extent that, during my high school years a popular song on the now-defunct HFS had edits not only for language, but also to remove reference to a .45.

Of course none of this affects the die-hard criminal, and his lack of concern does not affect the outcry for legislation. With the multitude of other issues our government faces on a daily basis, not to mention the legions of issues it ignores, why is gun control one of the handful that garners such focused attention? It could be that gun issues, being easier to understand and much louder than economic events, liven up what seems to be a dull government. Our political system, in fact, seems somewhat like the family station wagon: generally dependable, runs decently, works well on a day-to-day basis, and possesses some nostalgic charm, but you certainly aren't rolling it out to impress a date.

The average eligible voter sees government this way: stodgy, rather than cutting edge, and a body that, like stereotypical parents, don't care so much what he thinks. As a result, a big slice of folks eligible to vote never actually go through with it. In addition to the not voting, most of our countrymen do not contact representatives, work for campaigns, staff the polls, or get involved in any other aspect of government more intense than watching the fireworks on July 4th. Rather than mention the whole not-impressing-a-date thing, most citizens cite statistics as the basis for their political lethargy: how could one vote, one letter to one representative, one measly volunteer in one minor campaign, possibly matter? It certainly seems logical. For years the government had lurched along perfectly well without me. The President makes difficult decisions on a daily basis without my input. Campaigns progress, congressmen wake up and wander into their offices, and survive days, weeks, years without ever hearing from me. Even my fellow citizens, who technically share my responsibility for the future of our republic, want no part of my opinion. Those deadbeats have even banned politics from polite conversation. With all this apathy around, why bother worrying about issues? After all, you'd just be wasting time better spent watching YouTube, or playing around with your Wii.

And yet against all odds there exist a number of folks who do have strong political views, and occasionally even excellent ideas. Rather than seeing the government as a babbling old crone, best left alone to her bingo and old stories, these folks view her as young, desirable, and totally worth the effort if you can her to look you over. And these people are in luck! America has long been a land of hope and opportunity. Our greatest export, the American Dream, hinges on the fact that ordinary people can, in fact, do extraordinary things. And in spite of daunting statistical arguments from the disillusioned, the fact remains that our political system is defined by its reliance on the common man and his needs.

(tune in to future posts for more!)

How to Make Your Voice Heard in Politics

(revised and updated)

We tend to think of Washington D.C. primarily as a large museum, full of interesting sculpture, classic architecture, and various antiquities like biplanes and senators. Occasionally it hosts that quaint three-ring circus we fondly refer to as the government. In general, it seems like a benign place, the sort of place you'd visit on a boring school field trip, a place that gets locked neatly every night and swept in the morning before the tourists arrive. But like any truly interesting city, D.C. harbors a dark, seamy underbelly. (Like almost any truly interesting city. Las Vegas, for example, manages to be interesting by being a dark, seamy underbelly, but thats a different essay.) The District is, in and around those gleaming monuments, one elaborate shooting gallery--one great big O.K. Corral, and has even occasionally carried the distinct honor of being murder capitol of the United States. This honor places it in the company of such other favorite tourist spots as Detroit and Newark.

The creative residents of D.C., ever eager to enhance the reputation of their fair city, have developed a staggering array of variations on the theme. There are drive-bys and gangland shootouts, of course, but District shooters really excel at the mystery murder. Take, for example, the case in which a police officer, dispatched to a minor domestic dispute (minor in the fact that it was not terminal for either party) noticed an odd oder nearby, and found, in a garbage bag on a neighboring lot, an unidentified body. Or the time a woman went missing, and the police dragged the river (a fairly logical step in missing persons cases in the murder capitol). They found no sign of her, but located three unidentified bodies. Of course not all bodies are unidentified, as in the case of the man who was about to give important testimony in a fraud lawsuit. He never made it, because, in the bored tones of the newscaster: "Unfortunately he was killed in an unrelated case."

Not all shootings result in murder, but most crimes in D.C. involve guns, and therefore shootings. This occurs in spite of the fact that the District's gun control laws are among the Nation's strictest. Occasionally a shooting stirs up public outcry for more laws, tighter regulations, and heavier punishments, and the government whips into a small frenzy of debate and study. So far, the shootings don't seem to be ending. Its possible that this is because we need even harsher laws, but I have a different theory.

Here it is: Any individual whose lifestyle that includes the distinct possibility of being shot at by, or needing to shoot at his coworkers (or sometimes his neighbors, or possibly random passers-by) probably isn't overly concerned with the legality of gun ownership. I have a hard time envisioning the drug dealer carefully filling out paperwork and patiently biding his time through a necessary waiting period. Gang members probably aren't in the habit of checking their weapons for illegal modifications before heading out to a turf war. Vigilantes and psycho sniper-type killers aren't likely to be respectfully studying the penal codes, or stocking up on legal weapons like frying pans. I could be wrong, but the whole idea of tougher gun-control stopping violent shootings is a bit like trying to prevent cases of Grand Theft Auto by beefing up the punishments for jaywalking... (tune in soon for the continuing essay...)

in consideration

short short tiny note today as i continue to write. I do a lot of whining and complaining, and some of you have been very good natured about it. I wanted to make note then, that today is a beautiful day, I had a lovely long walk this morning, a good, hearty laugh, and a marvelous cup of coffee (a rare good cup that I made!) and I'm feeling good, alert and sharp, so much so that I accepted the offer to chair our knitting group. Just so you don't think of me as a constant complainer. Instead you should think of me as Madame Chairman.

By popular demand

or, technically, lack of organized protest, I'm revising my shooting thing for a future right here, in blogland, with you guys. If any of you are out there. But what started as mild proofreading has progressed into a serious rewrite, so you'll have to wait a bit longer. I can hear your tears now, but never fear, loyal blog-readers (all two of you)! Your wait will not be long.

Meanwhile, Natalie named her iPod, for computer-related reasons. I didn't know it was possible to name an iPod, although mine appears under the seriously unoriginal title: "Skip's iPod". Natalie's has an actual name, which is cool. So henceforth my iPod will be known as Nixon.

As promised

see, I found a folder of stuff I wrote for my creative writing class in college, about 100 years ago. Some of it is horrendously bad, as only forced writing can be, but there is some funny stuff, including my essay on shooting public officials, which I may or may not eventually run here in serial form. But I also found a longish compilation that frankly sucks, but has some good little elements, and this particular bit made me laugh. So here it is.

Al Gore peeked cautiously around a corner.

"You gentlemen are lucky," he whispered over his shoulder. "everyone is out at a peace summit. The two shadowy men behind him kept quiet as they crept through the empty halls of the White House. They didn't need to, all the staff and aides had gone along to the summit with the first family. The lights were off, the front door locked, and the key hidden, as usual, under the welcome mat out front.

"You know, I actually invented peace summits," Gore continued, as he opened a door. "I mean, my name isn't on the patent, but I once wrote a letter to my congressman, and I said: what we need is a forum, so that leaders can get together, and discuss peace." The three men passed into a shadowy room, full of darkness and large furniture. "I said it should be called a garden of peace, because the peace would grow, like a little plant, but summit works fine too." Gore flicked a switch.

"Oooooooooo!" the Cuban and Chinaman sucked in their breath in awe.

"Now, Mr. Castro, about my payment..." Gore ventured. The bearded leader blinked at him.

"Payment? Oh yes, we've decided to pay you in the form of two pandas."

"Pandas? What am I going to do with pandas?" Castro shrugged.

"We're throwing in some sand too. China learned how to engineer perfect test-tube pandas, and in Cuba we have much sand. Americans love pandas and sand. You twisted capitalists."

"Look, Mr. Castro, ever since I didn't get elected Tip and I have had some trouble making ends meet. Now I've just used my private knowledge of White House secrets to sneak you gentlemen in for a Lincoln-bedroom pillowfight, and all I get are pandas?"

"Thats capitalism. Its not my fault you have an inadequate government and debauched populace. Two male pandas, thats all."

"Male pandas? Two male pandas? Thats not fair, I can't even breed them and release their offspring into protected bamboo groves." Gore pouted. Castro merely shrugged.

"This is not my problem. We could send one male and one female, if you'll recruit footsoldiers for a communist uprising here in America. And you can design your own commune." Castro pulled the biggest cigar Gore had ever seen from his pocket.

"And if I don't?" Gore asked, trying not too look too eager. A commune of his very own! It would be poetic justice, since the original idea for the modern commune had, of course-

"We'll kill you," Castro said, simply, puffing out a ring of thick smoke.

"I see your point, and I suppose I can work with you on this matter." Castro smiled.

"Yes, we thought you'd decide that. You may select which landfill you want to re purpose for your commune, and begin building your bamboo groves. But first, would you take a souvineer photo of us?"

to my Hokie friends

well the Hokies are experiencing a feeling that Penn Staters know well: the defeat of their team. Cheer up, Gobblers, you're still the ACC champs. I think, however, that you've been grossly unfair to your football team, with the assistance of the media. The entire Hokie Nation suffered a horrible tragedy, and almost from the start you all expected this small group of young men to rebuild the morale of the entire body of Hokie fans, worldwide, and then carry it on, victory after victory, into one long memorial season. Now every mention of the Tech team, every interview with a coach or player, and every article on every game hearkens back to the shootings, and pins hope on the team's success as the engine of healing. That's a lot of pressure for a bunch of guys who are working through their feelings and memories, trying to make it through classes, and handling all the regular pressures of college life and life in general, just like everyone else. Here's what should have happened: all you Hokie fans should have recognized that the greatest monument to Hokie healing and resilience is the simple fact that these players continue to take the field. Even if they lost every single game, the fact that they keep playing, that the students keep attending classes and the faculty and staff keep working: that's the healing, that's the memorial to the victims: that the Hokie Bird didn't sit trembling behind a locked door, he stood up and went out to face the light of day, and struggle through his failures as well as revel in his successes, to live and play and eat and fight and cry and laugh as the victims of this shooting intended to do, because they weren't sainted martyrs, they were just college kids, and neither the team nor the students should be expected to live up to some ideal or carry on some glorious crusade in the memory of slayed heroes: they should just be college kids. In the long run, it won't really matter that this particular team lost this bowl game. What will matter, over the years, is that these players took the field with dignity and spirit, and that is what should personify V-Tech, what should be its calling card to the world, that along with the quality of its education, the history of excellence, the diversity and vitality of its students. I'm not saying that you Hokies or anyone else should forget the shootings: I'm saying that every future act ever committed by any Hokie anywhere should not have to be tied back somehow to this tragedy. I'm saying that in the future when the media or the gawkers or the misguided start in on the lurid details, the Hokie Nation should hold its head up and say: yes, but we aren't a university of victims, and our successes and glories aren't defined by these shootings. We were a great school before, and we always will be, and nothing can ever change that.

and I promise some humor for the next post.

The title is really the hardest part

Or, in Fight Club terms: I am Skip's crushing lack of titular creativity.

Well the Widge and I both have sniffles. He's snoozing now, and I decided to clean the bathroom, for the first time this year. I know you're all thinking I'm blogging in order to stall, but already I cleaned, I'm just waiting for the floor to dry before putting back the diaper pail, toys, and other random stuff that somehow lives in my bathroom. I think instead of thinking of it as random stuff, I'm going to consider it art. Some people spend big money on knick-knacks and random sculptures and stuff for their house, but mine is genuine, pure in the sense that it was created without an eye toward artistic display. My home is a monument to Neo-Victorianism, my clutter comes with all the edge afforded by those T-1 cables and blister-wrapped batteries, the bookcases spill over with odd bits of paper, and the entire thing is somewhat surrealist, post-modern. If we walked away from the house now we could sell the whole mess to a gallery, to be lovingly re-assembled in some cavernous museum, with some vague, haunting title that has no link to the stuff itself. With us here, its just clutter, stuff and junk piled up, but without us around using it, it would all become haunting. There's nothing spookier than a well-stocked changing table, waiting dustily for a baby that will never be powdered here again. And every haunted house the world over is chock full of bookshelves, volumes worn and tattered and musty with secrets they will never reveal.

See, justifying clutter is quicker and easier than removing it.

In the real world, congrats to WVU, and I know you'll all be tuning in to whatever channel is carrying the V Tech game, so keep your eyes opened for #72. From all of us here in the Skiphaus: win those oranges, Forky!

Happy New Year (for real)

Let me be the very first (since its 0015) to wish you a Happy 2008!