Thursday, October 21, 2004

Cheap

I went to college for a sememster in London during the winter of 1987. I spent more time seeing bands than I did in class.

One night I was at a club, waiting to get into to see a band. I think it was the BoDeans, or somebody like that. Anyway, there was a sign up behind the door person that said: "Admission 7 pounds, 6 pounds for UB40." I told the doorperson "I like UB40, especially the Labour of Love album." The doorperson said "No, you idiot. UB40 means you're unemployed." I replied "Oh. Well I am unemployed." This was true since I was a student and was legally prevented from working in England on the visa I had at the time.

I ended up getting in for 6 pounds.

Currently listening to The BoDeans on Launchcast --- a song called "Heaven", which believe it or not is off a 2004 release. Boy they're sounding terribly mainstream these days. Why, again, did I like them?


Cable TV

When did cable TV all of the sudden become such an expensive proposition?

It seems like I've had cable T.V. forever. I even had it as a poor college student. At 20 bucks a month, it was a luxury that I could afford. I had no movie channels back then, but I had access to the great late 80's MTV which had Remote Control and the still great 120 minutes. I also watched a lot of the budding Comedy Central, which back then mostly played snippets of live standup acts.

When I graduated and moved into various apartments around the metroplex, I upped the cable ante a bit. I had one or two movie channels, which became packaged with a few extras channels. For example, if you got HBO, the cable folks would through in Stars or some other lesser movie channel for free. My bill creeped up to about $40 bucks. Still it was worth it.

About 1998, I got hip to the ways of digital cable. I became addicted to this invention which provided ready information about whatever program I was watching, what was coming up next, and allowed me to search for programs. For this, I paid about $75, which included an HBO package.

Now that I'm married, cost control is out the window. My wife watches a ton more TV than I do. And she insists on having the premium cable package. We argue about this, but I think there's really only six channels that she watches on a regular basis. For her, I think she just wants the ability to watch 140 different channels. She has a set list of shows that are priorities. I'm more of a scanner. Save for a few shows such as the flagship HBO products such as The Wire and The Sopranos, there is no must see TV for me. I'll fly by a ton of channels and stop on whatever catches my attention. Usually it's a program about WWII German tanks or a shoe sting budget indie film shot in Canada. And the right for my wife what six channels and me to channel surf 140 channels on three different TV sets, we pay $118 a month! That's a ton of money for something I could easily live without. I could switch to $20 basic cable in a heartbeat. But my wife wouldn't hear of that. So I'm taking a hit for the Council team.

Somebody at Comcast at least oughta send me a Christmas card.

Thursday, October 07, 2004

37 and counting

Every now and then, I catch myself doing something that would have never occured 15 years earlier.

Take yesterday. The Dallas Morning News Food section has a front page item on chipotle onion brisket with corn tomato salad. The food section is laying on a table of the break room at work. And it looks really, really good. I want this brisket like a crack head wants a pipe. 15 year ago, this mental fix would have been sated by a trip to Sonny Bryant's for a BBQ hit. But I don't think this way any longer. So I pick up a pair of scissors and cut out the article. It was if I was watching myself from afar as I performed this act as my brain was screaming "What the Hell??". Then I remembered "Oh yeah. I'm 37." 37-year-olds by houses, have kids, put money in 401K's for their retirement, take up cooking out of either a hobby or neccesity and, apparrently, the clip recipes out of daily newspapers for future use.

This weekend, there's a rock show I've been looking forward to --- Sam Phillips will be doing her torch song thing at the Son's of Hermann. I've always wanted to see her, but never have. I liked her best when she was in the pop rock realm of Bikini's & Martinis, but this new turn will certainly be good and different. She's playing on Sunday. I plan on making the brisket on Sunday too. But I'm more looking forward to making the brisket. That must be because I'm 37.

Wednesday, October 06, 2004


nonsense Posted by Hello

Talk Talk Talk

I cannot bring myself to watch the debates --- either presidential or vice presidential. That's sort of unusual for a person who makes a living writing about government. But then again, I've studied each party's political philosophy for 20 years. I've written about campaigns. And I've also taken the next step and written about how those political philosophies have effected people's lives. And I made up my mind long ago about what works best. It wasn't slogans that formed my basis of opinion, it was actual evidence that I witnessed first hand.

So when a couple of guys who are incredibly far removed from my life toss slogans back and forth at each other for an hour and a half, I get bored quickly. I've heard everything there is to hear. So, like everybody else, I find myself watching for the stumbles --- the visual attraction of a spetacular crash which compells most people to watch car races. And I think that's what compells most people to watch a debate. Some want to watch to have their own opinions reinforced, a few tune in to get informed, but most are looking for a car wreck. And maybe the guy who get's left in a smoking heap on debate night deserves to lose, although it rarely happens.

But really, the debates really aren't meant for people like me. They're for people who might make up their minds based on who looks more "presidential." And I've yet to cast a vote based on a candidate's looks.


Tuesday, October 05, 2004

Fried and Fired

So.

I've had plenty of crap jobs in my 22 years of employment --- many of them involved nametags and food preparation. All of them inspired me to go to college. But I still admire those who slug it out everyday in jobs I escaped through higher education. Once, the Chuck E. Cheese I worked at in North Dallas got robbed on a Sunday night. I had the night off then. But I remember as a 17-year-old that I wished I'd been there. That way, I could have played a starring role in the Sunday-night heist --- John, the innocent victim with a bad haircut. Death didn't concern me much at age 17. But I'm sure it wouldn't think it was so cool now that I'm 37.


Take this cat who's a manager of Long John Silver's in Richardson, Texas. This guy makes sure the fine people of this North Dallas burb get their high fatty food dosage for an incredible run of ten years. He's got six kids. And a couple of weeks ago, a couple of robbers hide out in the store until closing time. Then they jack the place. They order the employees on the floor and take the manager to the back of the store at gunpoint. The guy has been robbed before and fears for his life. He sees a hammer, grabs it, and whacks one of the robbers on the noggin. The criminals flee, dropping a bag of cash in the process. So you'd think this store supervisor would be promoted to district manager by the appreciative heads of Long John's. Nope. He gets canned for violating corporate policy --- at Long John's you're supposed to submit to the demands of robbers, lest anybody get hurt.

Well kids, it seems to me that when it comes to a money or your life situation, corporate policy should go out the window. It becomes your choice --- nobody should dictate how you should act in such a charged situation where instinct is the order of the day and calm, collected decision making is impossible.

He'll probably sue Long John's and get a well deserved amount of back pay. It's doubtful that a Dallas County jury would see it Long John's way.

I'm sure in the end that this guy will get plenty of job offers. Hell, I'd hire the guy if I owned a fast food joint.