I have drafts of posts dating from months past. When I say "drafts of posts," mostly I mean "I wrote a paragraph and never got back to it, or didn't know where to go with it, or just sort of had an 'ooo, shiny' distraction and forgot what I was going to say." With a tip of the cap to George Martin playing with half-written Beatles songs, I submit my "Mean Mr. Mustard" et al mash up.
The Sun is Up. Now Go to Bed.
Dawn: When men of reason go to bed. ~Ambrose Bierce
When it comes to bedtime, I'm rarely referred to as "reasonable," much less a man of reason. From an objective, standing on the sidelines point of view, reason has little to do with my behavior. My name's Stim. I'm a night owl and I'm one of the seemingly chronically sleep-deprived.
Crossed Out by the Borders
Borders, Inc., or whatever their official corporate name might be, is closing its last remaining doors. The final 400 stores will be shuttered by the end of September [of 2011]. The final 11,000 employees will add their names to the unemployment list. None of this gives me pleasure or even a moment of shadenfreude, although human nature would allow me that moment. You see, Borders and some incredibly stupid managers led to one of my periods of unemployment.
However many years ago (let's say 15), I was a not-quite-humble bookseller (my actual title, "bookseller") for Waterstone's booksellers. Anyone who spent a couple minutes in Britain during the mid-1980s through the early 2000s couldn't help but notice all of the maroon awnings hanging over sections of major shopping areas. The maroon awning became an instantly recognized symbol of the very successful book store chain.
News From the Elevator
The office building has all-knowing elevators. Those elevators with the little screens that run Captivate or another brand of instant info technology that gives you yet another way to ignore everyone else who's invading your personal space on the ride up or down.
During this latest ride between floors, the all-knowing elevator told me that 1 in 10 Americans are on anti-depressants. Not only that, but it's estimated that only 1 in 3 people who should be on anti-depressants are actually taking medication.
I find that depressing.
7 Things I'm Surprised That You're Surprised That I Like
Are you surprised that I like:
1) Movie musicals. Not all of them. Frankly, relatively few. But that's the filmmakers' fault. Buried in a box lies a piece of paper saying that I have a B.A. in Film/Video from an actual accredited school. Not that I ever put it to occupational use. Match my interest in film with Ms. Stim's love of the old MGM musicals (Arthur Freed's unit, of course), and especially Gene Kelly. A class in movie musicals taught me how to appreciate the "integrated musical" [in an integrated musical the songs and dancing support the storyline; not just people breaking into song for no reason.]. For any macho guy who thinks musicals are for women and wusses, read what the late Mike Royko, Chicago's greatest journalist, had to say about Fred Astaire.
[Sorry for the break, but, seriously, click through on the link above. It's Mike Royko. Likely it will be the best thing you read today. Certainly better than the blog you're reading now.]
Best News of the Day: Dickhead Punches Monaco Prince
I love shit like this. Around 2:20 A.M. Sunday night/Monday morning/whenever, former club owner & ex-Rutgers football player, Adam Hock, punched out Prince Pierre Casiraghi of Monaco and his three friends in a bar fight.
The alleged details just make my class warfare & cynic of human behavior bones shake with joy.
A Lump of Protoplasm
Today I am a lump of protoplasm: energyless, no motivation, paper that should be pushed around my desktop remains unpushed. I breathe air, drink water and generally consume resources that could be better used by someone who's actually contributing to the world. But, no. I sit spacing off, rotating my swivel chair left to right to left to right ..., a drag on American productivity. Nay, a drag on the continual struggle for human survival.
And yet ... and yet ... in my near comatose state I'm still worth more to the human race than these clowns:
[ok, that was my re-write of the headline]
Essentially, the representatives of coastal North Carolina lapped up the cash of real estate developers and set aside whatever, if any, capacity for critical thinking they may have. In short, the NC legislators want to make it illegal for estimates of rising sea levels to include projections based on current ("sea levels"/"current" - ha, climatology humor) scientific models. Estimates have to be based on past rises of sea level, beginning with year 1900. Whereas, the scientists project a meter rise along the NC coast by 2100, the legislators say their "projection" will be a mere eight inches.
I propose we bury these coastal reps up to the necks in the sand, say about two feet from the current coastline. If their projections are right, and global warming is a hoax, they'll be fine. Otherwise ... by 2100 there will likely be well in excess of eight billion humans on Earth. Who will miss a few idiot politicans?