:: Archipelapogo ::

:: 31.5.03 ::

I think they have a rodeo there...

The Dallas Observer writes this week about a meeting of a support group for young gay people that tried to meet in a mall and were put through a lot of crap from a security cop.

According to an e-mail "news alert" circulated by (PRIZM!), the head of mall security first told those at the meeting they had to remove a sign-up sheet. They did. He also told them they had to take the rainbow flag from their table, because it was offensive to other customers, who apparently were idiots. They did. Then he told them they had to remove offensive clothing--e.g. a PFLAG (Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) T-shirt--not only from their persons, but from the mall property, again because it was offensive. They did.

Then they were told groups of more than four aren't allowed to gather in the mall. Just scram, or the cops would be called, charges would be filed, etc.

Mesquite's not too far from Dallas (about 20 minutes East if I'm thinking coherently). If you live in the area and this disturbs you, I'd encourage you to not only not support the mall, but be sure to let them know why.
:: Scott [+] ::
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So it goes

So the Mavs season is over. It was a good run guys, and thanks for playing your hearts out. What happened in the fourth quarter Thursday night though? It was looking so promising. Oh well. Go sign PJ Brown. Get rid of Bradley. You proved you can play with the big teams in the West now. Keep that in mind next year. Enjoy your summer. Oh and Nick Van Exel, sorry about all that stuff I said mid-season about how we should've traded you for Brian Grant. You were a badass in the playoffs. Stevie? Give me a call, I'll buy you a drink.


:: Scott [+] ::
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The scary man is in the mirror

It's long been my opinion that every grouping of people has the one crazy guy. Be it a social club, academic organization, recreational activity, or, most notably, work group, there's always the one guy that everyone is kind of wary of. Not so much creepy like this guy or disgusting like this woman, but more teetering on the verge of losing it. You know, the person you think of when you see the most recent office shooting in Akron, Ohio or something and you hope that the loon in your office isn't next. The department of government slack doesn't seem to have one, at least as far as I can tell (and I've been here for almost a year now).

Today, while waiting at an ATM with a co-worker, we found ourselves noticing some smiley faces that had been laminated and hung from the ceiling, like you'd see in an elementary school classroom or something. I said to my co-worker "is it just me or does the little holes they punched in these things in order to hang them look kind of like bullet holes?"

Via his reaction I realized....maybe I'm that guy in my office.

:: Scott [+] ::
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How the West Was Won

Yesterday I picked up the new Led Zeppelin triple-CD live thingy called "How the West Was Won". I'm pretty blown away. The 25:25 version of Dazed and Confused alone makes up for the $17 I paid. Unfortunately, my headphones at work are killing me. Okay, one of them is. I seem to have grown a tumor or a cyst or something in my right ear. I'm hoping it's just a zit. Whatever it is, it's bloody painful. I can't really find out on my own. I keep bending my ear looking in the mirror to see if I spot anything, but whatever it is it's stuck down in a cranny that's not visible to me. I even went to the bathroom at work to see if I could rotate my head in the corner mirrors to try to catch an angle on it. No good. After fogging up the glass with my nasal exhalations and being walked in on twice, I gave up. Not to mention I was getting wet spots on my pants due to some asshat that can't keep the water in the sink when he washes his hands. I'd ask a fellow agent in the Office of Government Slack™, but the thought of someone that I have to see and function with and try to maintain a professional relationship with staring in the canal that leads to my grey matter doesn't really appeal to me. Such is life.

Bonus unrelated links:

Minor Threat DVD out in Fall!

Curse in 106 languages!

Mt. Everest Cyber-cafe. This seems incredibly unneccessary what with the trashing of Everest and all. Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.

:: Scott [+] ::
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Parking Lot Observations

I'm a big parking lot lurker. Not that I hang out in parking lots or anything creepy like that, but I observe a lot about life in parking lots. Couples having fights, parents trying their best to deal with unruly children, things of that nature. I also look at cars obsessively. Not so much what the car is or how big the engine is or how nice the wheels are or anything like that. But the condition of the car, the little things that people to their cars to personalize them, the stickers. The stickers tell you a lot. Especially about your neighbors.

It's easy to see where they went to school (off the top of my head, in my parking lot, there's Duke, Missouri, a University of either Idaho or Montana, and a host of SMU parking passes and stickers, as the campus is about 3 miles away). But other stickers too. Like the one for the Mexican television station (on a car with Mexican plates). The various sports teams, most of which are Cowboys or Mavs (so far my car is sporting the only Burn sticker I've ever seen on a car). The fact that I finally figured out that the guy that lives below me is most likely Guyanese, judging by the flag hanging off the rear-view mirror of his mom's car. And then, there's the old lady.

Old lady has lived here as long as I have, but she keeps her out of state plates. She's got beenie babies wedged between a box of kleenex behind the back seats. She's got the stars and stripes at least four time on her car, a combination of Chinese or Sri Lankan manufactured stickers and polyvinyl banners. And two stickers that really kind of freak me out.

One reads "This car stops at all garage sales"

The other: "Vote Freedom First" with a National Rifle Assoc. logo.

This scares me much more than Bill O' Reilly's latest lambasting of anyone that isn't white. Much more than the Magenta terror alerts. Much more even than Ari Fleisher leaving his post, the implications of which are numerous (I mean, is he really expecting his job to get harder in the future? If so, then watch out).

I see the car all the time. Every time I pass, I picture this old woman and her band of vigilante grannies scouring the classifieds for ads of yard, garage, or estate sales. Planning their schemes and escape routes. Packing their pearl-handled 45s with bullets and donning Nixon masks with support hose. Pulling up to an unexpecting suburban home where the housewife is counting change and regretting the fact that they tried to sell their old wares instead of dialing up Goodwill.

I can see them chanting "One Two Matlock, let's go!" before scurrying out of the teal Malibu and screeching "Put your ever-loving hands up dearest, this is one Vanna White of a hold-up!".

"Grey Fox" Gerty will hold the owner at bay while the rest scour the tables, looking for anything that may have a resale value. "Big Momma" Mabel will take the clothing racks, checking for designer labels. Virginia "the ViXeN" will take the appliances, checking the circuitry for anything that may still work. At the flank, "Sweet and Spicy" Sue Ellen will take the table of miscellaneous items, flipping them over to check the little orange sticky-dots that indicate some supposed worth. As they leave, loading the bags of loot in the trunk and peeling out, they harmoniously cackle with glee.

Cut to an overhead shot at Gerty's kitchen table, a la the Been Caught Stealin' video (and hey, one of them could have blue hair too, I'm sure). As they revel in their precious plunder, another soccer mom is calling the cops to report the dangerous, yet powder-smelling, GranMafiosa.

Remember kids, next time you buy a piece of china from an old woman at a Church Bizarre or Rummage Sale, you're supporting geriatric terrorism.
:: Scott [+] ::
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C'mon Grandma, with you on our sides those boys don't stand a chance!

I'm horrible. Today's reason is because I was watching a tour bus of elderly people arrive at the museum and get off the bus to go in. What was the first thing that popped into my head? "Oops! I crapped my pants!" It's okay though. I began laughing to myself and then choked on my smoke. Karma.

Best lines:
"Grandma: Hey, how do you know so much about Oops I crapped my pants?
Grandpa: Well I'm wearing them, and I just did."

:: Scott [+] ::
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I love the game!

Mavs Win! Mavs Win! Okay, it's only game one, but this is massive. And it was due to a predictable factor, free throws. Who thought the Mavs could miss their first f/t and then hit 49 in a row. 49! Are you kidding me? And I don't care what anyone says, listening to it on the radio is just as exciting, if not more so, than watching it on the teevee. The hope has risen about 400% now. Can I get a w00t!?!?
:: Scott [+] ::
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Tiny little dots

Walking to the pop machine to purchase my Monday Morning pick-me-up, I was pleased to see the new Alabama State Quarter with it's classy Helen Keller tribute. I wasn't even aware that she was Alabamian. But really, what else would the State of Alabamer put on there? Fire hoses and German Shepherds turned on Civil Rights protesters? Bear Bryant? (okay, that really wouldn't surprise me).

My only qualm with it is this: The quarter has her name in Braille on the back, but it's far too small for a human to read. Who was this made for? Intelligent yet visually challenged Hamsters? Hyper-sensitive hermit crabs?

:: Scott [+] ::
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Hell, yes!

I will go to Giraffe Manor someday:

The Giraffe Manor, built in 1932 by Sir David Duncan, is situated on 120 acres of land just a few miles from the centre of Nairobi, Kenya's capital city. In 1974 Jock Leslie-Melville, grandson of a Scottish earl, and his wife Betty, who also founded the African Fund for Endangered Wildlife (AFEW), bought the Manor. They then moved five babies of the highly endangered Rothschild giraffe to their property where they have been successfully reared and they now have their own babies.

When Jock died, Betty decided to open her house, now called the Giraffe Manor, to visitors. Exclusive, spacious and elegant, it is the only place in the world that you can feed giraffe from your second floor bedroom window, over the lunch table, and at the front door. Guests can feed and photograph the giraffe and the Warthogs at the Manor, and also wander through the adjoining primeval forest to view the bushbuck, dik dik, and more than 180 species of birds.

I have actually fed a giraffe once. It was at one of those drive-thru safaris. The drive-thru part was okay, but the part where you could get out and walk around was really cool. I got to play with little kangaroos (their tails are extremely dense), had a baby camel suck on my finger, hold a two-week old leopard cub, and fed a giraffe a branch. His tongue wrapped around it about four or five times and we played tug of war for a little bit with it until I decided that I didn't want to hurt him and let him have it. I'd love to go to this place, and all things considered, their rates aren't that bad. (via plep)

:: Scott [+] ::
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Head Exploding Perspectives

It's not exactly new, but it's new to me, so I thought I'd share. Check out the MegaPenny project for great visuals on how large one billion (and more) pennies would look all stacked up.

Added bonus for Denise: the MegaMoo Project.

(via a completely unrelated MeFi thread)

:: Scott [+] ::
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N.O.W.P.G.A.?

There's been a lot of talk and controversy about Annika Sorenstam playing at the upcoming Colonial Tournament (in Ft. Worth, I might add). Blogging guru rcade wrote an excellent column over at SpoFi that really sums up my thoughts. Just thought I'd share it.
:: Scott [+] ::
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Reason #452,910 that marketers have their own special spot in hell

"Shock and Awe" to become an ad pitch for computer games, hot sauce, and maybe condoms.

The phrase that described bombing attacks on Baghdad is listed in 28 applications with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office for use in marketing a variety of products. The first application, for fireworks, was filed March 20, the day U.S. bombs started raining on the Iraqi capital.

With fighting in Iraq all but finished, entrepreneurs are trying to cash in on names and phrases popularized during the war. Trademark applications include those for ''Operation Iraqi Freedom'' firearms, a ''Baghdad Bob'' bobblehead figure representing the former Iraqi information minister and key chains picturing Saddam Hussein on an Ace of Spades with a target on his face.

So far, the most prominent trademark being used on war-related products is an old one--the Hoyle joker owned by the United States Playing Card Co. The company licensed the trademark to closely held Great USA Flags, which is selling ''officially licensed'' cards showing 55 wanted Iraqis.

I'm so booooooooooored with the U.S.A., but what can I do?
:: Scott [+] ::
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Guzzlefish?

Guzzlefish is a new site that will let you select CDs that you own (as well as desire and are willing to swap) for all to see. I spent way too much time half-assing my job the last two days putting in my collection (compilations excluded). If you like, you can check it out here. Yes, I'm that guy that owns way too many "Greatest Hits" collections. But really, what else do you need by The Cars?
:: Scott [+] ::
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For Mother's Day

At a party that I went to on Friday night, I wound up in a conversation with a girl that I've recently become acquainted with that works at a Rape Crisis Clinic. I've hung out with her when she had the task of keeping a crisis cell-phone with her in case someone called. Fortunately, I've never been around her when the phone rang.

I've known* one woman that has been full-on raped. One woman who has been pilled, stripped, had pictures taken of her, and thrown out on the front lawn in a t-shirt. Another woman that was teasingly assaulted by two friends, that fortunately didn't go too far. As I've heard their stories, all from them, I've been struck by the mental trauma that these women have experienced. All of them had tears in their eyes, and you can see the pain in their expressions.

Statistics vary from 1:3-1:6, but according to the girl I was chatting with, the accepted industry standard is about 1:4 women in the United States being sexually assaulted or an attempt at sexual assault at some point in time in their lives. If that's too sketchy for you, I'm willing to use the number 1:10. I'm close with a lot more than ten women right now, and I'm appalled at the thought of any of them having anything like this happen to them. It's infuriating to me as a safe white male**.

Speaking with said friend at said party, I told her my stories, even though I know they pale in comparison to what she's heard or seen at her work. I questioned her as far as what I can do about it. Basically, what she replied to me is what I'll lay out for you now.

One: Be aware that it happens. Every day in every city. Do not forget this.

Two: Erase the stigma behind it. Why is it that so often when we hear about a girl being raped, we get the questions about what she did/wore/said to provoke it. There is no excuse. When she says no, she's means no. That's when it should stop, period. This is not an issue of discussion. To make the victims of rape somehow culpable to the crime is to make them feel guilty about what happened to them, which leads to less reporting of the crime. Still, 3 of every 5 rapes committed in this country are not reported to the police. Why is this? If you get mugged or your house gets broken in to, or somebody threatens you with a gun, you have no shame in calling the cops. Why are rape and sexual assault not the same?

Three: To the men of the world, when you hear somebody talking in a demeaning way to or about a woman, speak up. This is not to say that we as straight guys (or gay women) can't enjoy a beautiful woman when we see one. However, to take her down a notch and objecitfy her leads only to a feeling of superiority, which, admittedly in fewer cases, leads to feelings of control, which, in fewer cases, leads to sexual assault. Ask yourself why racist epithets are now, thankfully, for the most part socially taboo, yet bitch and slut are completely acceptable. Remember, it could be your sister or girlfriend or mother or daughter that somebody is talking about.

The Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN) has a great page of statistics. The one that struck me the most was this:

If the rape is reported to police, there is a 50.8% chance that an arrest will be made.

If an arrest is made, there is an 80% chance of prosecution.

If there is a prosecution, there is a 58% chance of a felony conviction.

If there is a felony conviction, there is a 69% chance the convict will spend time in jail.

So, even in the 39% of attacks that are reported to police, there is only a 16.3% chance the rapist will end up in prison.

Factoring in unreported rapes, about 6% of rapists—1 out of 16— will ever spend a day in jail. 15 out of 16 will walk free.

[Probability statistics compiled by NCPA from US Department of Justice statistics.

This should not be. Think about it. Do your part. It's important.

Here are some things you can do if you have been assaulted or know somebody that has, as well as ways to help protect yourselves and your children.

Happy Mother's Day to all the women of the world.

*This, of course, presumes that all of the stories are true. Seeing the aforementioned fear and pain in their faces leads me to believe they are credible, and with one exception, all three were girls that I have been very close to.

**Yes, it happens to men too, on a smaller, but still significant level. It's just as bad, and probably more taboo, than normal man on woman assault. I've not forgotten that, and neither should you.

:: Scott [+] ::
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Sweet!

New From Monument to Masses mp3's. New album entitled The impossible leap in one-hundred simple steps to come out June 3rd.

:: Scott [+] ::
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Busted!

Dallas Graffiti artist Sekt turns himself into police. (You can find information and a picture on this graffiti blog, but you'll have to scroll down as there aren't any permalinks.)

Dallas man arrested on felony graffiti charge. Police expect to arrest more graffiti "taggers" after a 19-year-old Dallas resident, who police say uses the aliases "Sekt" and "Corpse," turned himself in to Denton police. Police say Jay Stephen Voltmann is responsible for one-third of all reported graffiti crimes in Denton from January to March. The crimes resulted in more than $10,000 in damage on both city and private property and cost taxpayers more than $6,000, police said. His signatures are also common in Dallas, where more than 100 of his graffiti marks were found in a quarter-mile of Deep Ellum, said Denton police Officer Rachel Fleming.

I'd say that Sekt was more of a tagger than a real graffiti artist, since he would go for quantity over quality, for the most part. That said, I figured he'd be a seasoned professional, not some wiry 19-year-old, but oh well, what can you do. Sekt's stuff is figured prominently throughout the entire city, on the backside of billboards, streetlights, buildings, even bathroom mirrors. It's hard to go anywhere for a day and not spy something. I always figures that there was more than one person behind the scene. Maybe there was and one guy decided to take the fall. Regardless, I'm kind of surprised that he would turn himself in.

:: Scott [+] ::
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Had to get away

From tomorrow this morning until Wednesday night, I'm going to be visiting my sister and her husband (and my pops and mom are there too) here...

Yeah, you can hate me for it, but I won't care. Keep in mind this is the first time I've left the confines of the Texas/Oklahoma borders in nearly two years. See you on the other side, don't be late.

:: Scott [+] ::
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...With a side of attitude

Jaq recalls some memories from his restaurant days and having customers that were either really dumb or just flat out unreasonable. Having worked for a pizza place in Tulsa for two years and change during high school, I definitely got to deal with my fair share of asshats. Working in a restaurant (or retail, for that matter) will totally change your perspective on how you treat people that are there to help you. This isn't to say that there aren't shitty waiters or times when a cook really fouls things up, but for the most part, I've become very very patient in those environments. What's the Dave Barry quote, "A person who's not nice to the waiter is not a nice person" or something like that. That said, amongst all the memories from the foul (someone leaving a dirty diaper on a table) to the fun (having to build a pizza that looked like a cell for a kid's science project) there's one really good story that I thought I'd share.

For most of the time that I worked at said restaurant, I closed on Saturday nights. This means that I would be there until the restaurant closed (12:30) and make everything pretty for the next day. There was this one guy that was deaf that used to come in all the time, usually when nobody else was in there, and order a pitcher of beer and either watch TV or play video games. He'd always wear the same Bengals jacket and write down that he wanted a pitcher of Budweiser with one glass, even though half the time I'd already have it poured for him by the time he got up to the counter.

So one night I'm cleaning around the pop machines and he's playing pinball, which I can view from my stance although there's a good fifty or so feet inbetween. He'd set his beer mug on the machine behind him, and right as I happened to glance over, I saw that the mug was beginning to slide down the sloped control panel of the game. Being way too far away to run over and save it, my mind quickly processed the possibilities. Of course the first instinct is to yell, but, you know, I quickly realized that that wouldn't do any good. So I just had to stand there and wait for my future mess to be made. I kind of chuckled to myself as I heard the mug hit the floor and shatter, spilling beer all over his jeans, which is what made him turn around and see what happened. I poured him a new beer, on the house, which he sheepishly accepted and finished off while I went to fetch a broom and mop. Jsut one of those little anecdotes I'll never forget. You got any? (I bet you do).
:: Scott [+] ::
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Test your Geographical Knowledge

Time wasting fun. I aced The U.S., Central America, and South America. Asia I was pretty good. Canada was about 2/3's right counting only first tries. Europe, well, Western Europe's a breeze, but the former Eastern bloc is damned tough. Africa was a bomb. I did surprisingly well on the Middle East. And the Carribbean, well, let's just say to attempt that one (outside of Hispaniola and Puerto Rico) would've been a complete waste of time. And yourselves? (via bifurcated rivets).

:: Scott [+] ::
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How to prove you REALLY liked a book

Move to the town it's set in.

:: Scott [+] ::
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