Political season is upon us. But you probably knew that...

Real quick: Added a few new political links in celebration of the Republican Convention.

Listened to the tail end of Lt. Governor Michael Steele's speech, followed by Arnold's and Mrs. Bush's, and all sounded good to me.

While listening to Mrs. Bush (after marvelling at how badly her daughters read the jokes written for them in their intro speech), I took a page from Jack Bog's Blog and took the Political Survey he mentioned today.

Results?

Well, I appear to be a neo-fascist. Which shouldn't be any surprise, given my occupation.




On the left/right and pragmatism axes, here's where I rated:

Axis Position;
left/right
+1.7237 (+0.1038)
pragmatism
-1.0553 (-0.0635)

Whatever that all means.

Anyway, hope you're all enjoying the political season as much as I am...time to go watch the new Scrubs season unfold.

Catch ya later.

Change would be good (but change can also suck)

Tired of the JailBlazers? So am I. As Pacino said, "Just when I think I'm out, they suck me back in."

Kinda how I feel about our hometown, uh, heroes.

Damon appears to have straigtened out. Appears to. You know, for as much trouble as Damon's been, and despite the fact that his dad may or may not have been part of his drug issues, I appreciate the fact that Mighty Mouse is here. First, he's great for the press, always willing to give a frank appraisal of what's up in the lockerroom. And, second, twice while I worked for Seattle's Best Coffee in law school, his dad invited me and my friends up to Damon's suite in the Garden to watch games. Free food, free fun, and Damon's family...er...fan club (I think he's s'posed to use it for the kids...) there to cheer him on. In fairness, there was a girl there one night who, it was claimed, was president of his fan club. Who can say?

But despite Damon's alleged rehabilitation, our club still has Ruben "The Nanny Stopper" Patterson, Darius "Let's brawl at the stip club" Miles, and Zach "What gun?" Randolph, who are all remnants of the group that continues to make my head hang in shame.

Our team sickens me. It won't stop 'til we've cleared some of this crap out.

Let me make this clear: Zach Randolph is a hell of a player. But if we give him a max contract, I'm done. I'm only worth $30 per year to theBlazers (if that), but I'm betting that there are a lot of people like me who are sick of us having these guys who just don't know how to stay out of trouble.

Anyway, all that inspired by this from Friday's Blazer Blog :

Jason Fleming of Hoopsworld.com sent me a heads-up to this forum post over at his site:
"This is trade rumor from Sports Radio 950 in Philadelphia. The Bucks would send Michael Redd, Desmond Mason, & Marcus Haislip to Portland in exchange for Zach Randolph, Derek Anderson, and Portland's 2005 1st rounder. The host said that discussions had been going on for a couple weeks, and that Portland was very hesitant when it came to dealing Randolph, but after Randolphs recent incident...."I've seen fans speculating about a Z-Bo-for-Redd trade, and this might be more fan talk...or it could be legit. Either way, you have to think after his recent incident it's with a lot less trepidation that Nash and Co. put Z-Bo on the market...at least to gauge his value.

I can only pray to dear sweet God this is true. Derek's a useless player (about the worst shooter in the league in the 2 position) and Zach's rapidly turning into a thug waiting for the chance to hold us hostage. Sharif would be great as our starting power forward, and he's a model citizen. We get good character (which we need), Milwaukie gets something interesting in town (which, face it, is the best Wisconsin can hope for), and I'll buy a ticket next year. Everyone wins!

Hey, one last question...

What happened to my afternoon drive-time radio show?

I work in the Gresham area, and live in the close-in SE area, so I spend 30 minutes on the road (on average) every evening. And, on that drive, I like to listen to 1080 The Fan, Portland's Sports Station. I like to listen because I enjoy the interplay between Ian Furness and Marc Amazon, two hosts that obviously disagree for more than just ratings and who take turns being right.

That is, I used to. Now, Primetime Sports has introduced a new co-host to join Ian, some boot-licker from Denver named Dennis. What's the deal? Why do they have to mess with a good thing? I know, I know, it's probably a contract issue, but I still hate it when they rock the boat. The staff at these radio stations changes regularly, and believe me, that's fine. But could you at least give me some warning?

And why, after the changes are made, do they pretend nothing happened? Dennis, the suck-up co-host that's being broken in, was brought in 3 weeks ago as a new "producer". Ian took a couple days off, and Marc had Dennis on with him. I miss a couple days of radio, and then Marc is completely gone. His ads are pulled, his name's not mentioned, and I'm convinced that as Dennis is taking an increasingly-more-prominent role, there are shenanigans. So I e-mailed the producer of the show, and asked him simply "Is Amazon gone?". No response. There never will be. I'll never sense closure on this chapter of my radio life.

When Colin Cowherd left town, the TV news covered it, it was telegraphed weeks ahead on The Fan, and The Tribune even ran an article about it. I knew what was happening, had time to get comfortable with it, and when change came I rolled with it. What's wrong with telling me that someone's been canned? Or sent to a new station? Why do I need to pretend that Marc Amazon (or that prior piece of radio death, Kenny Vance) never existed? Where is the courtesy of telling me why I'm adjusting my listening habits from the norm that I've had for 3 years to some high-voiced, long-question-asking Denver-phile who doesn't challenge his co-host and therefore makes the show uninteresting?

Enough ranting. Time to go back to X-Box.

Remember, if at any time you want to read about something relevant, you can go here.

Assuming you don't, I'll catch ya later.

UPDATE: Finally, more info on the changes at Primetime Sports here.

Retreat doesn't always mean surrender

So, got to spend this weekend at a youth retreat.

As I've mentioned in the past, I'm involved as a leader in my church's college class. Our college class is called "The Journey," which I think is cool because it acknowledges the fact that our life (and our relationship with God) is never static, but we are always progressing from one point to another.

So, our merry band took off for a retreat upon the lovely Columbia River for the weekend.

At first, we thought we'd be stuck on Government Island. I use the word "stuck", which has a negative connotation. Really, Gov't Island isn't bad. It just lacks certain amenities that can help a weekend on the beach be more comfortable. Plus, being restricted to boat access with 50 or 60 people makes life needlessly hard.

However, at the last minute, the City of Washougal came through in the pinch and granted us access to Cottownwood Beach, which has all the charm of Government Island plus the needed amenities and road access, and is not so close to the lovely essence of Camas and it's smelly paper mill.

I want to share quickly what I like the most about my church's college class. As stated in my earlier discussion of college classes in general, church college classes are generally a mish-mash of post-high-school, pre-marriage people of all ilks. They can become a difficult thing to manage, because it is hard to balance the needs of people who are in college with those who aren't, of people who are 19 with people who are 26. Everyone's in a different point in their journey, and while you can try to pitch a big tent, not everyone always feels welcome inside. Our college group has acknowledged that this can be a difficult proposition, but we actively remind ourselves that we are trying to invite people of all sorts in, and we're accepting the challenge of being tolerant of all sorts while at the same time being firm about what we stand for. As a result, we have a menagerie of sorts, with nursing students, actual nurses, computer nerds, bohemian folks, probationers in rehab, athletes--you name it, we've got it, or we're working on it.

It's not often that I, as a criminal prosecutor, get to spend time with convicted felons where I'm not judging them and they aren't judging me. A couple weeks ago, a group of us were hanging out. (Now, to be clear, I don't exactly advertise my vocation, because some people are just intimidated being around a lawyer, not to mention one who puts people in jail). It was me and four guys who are in the Salvation Army's Adult Rehabilitation Center program in Portland, most of whom are on some sort of probation or parole, or recently got out of a situation where they weren't exactly happy with law-enforcement types. They were going around the circle talking about the various restrictions on their driver's licenses (all suspended), and I was just being mum (in an accepting, non-judgmental way) trying to establish myself as someone they didn't need to be afraid to be around. Then another guy walks up (the more bohemian sort) and announces to all "this guy's a DA." They all looked at me, not quite sure what to make of me. "And he's hard-core." This is true to a certain extent, but not something they really needed to know. Nevertheless, after I was done looking at this fella in shock, I looked back to find the group had scattered and I was alone.

I didn't appreciate this. It isn't conducive to making people feel welcome.

But the guys came back. I spent this weekend bonding with three of them. We're not best buddies or anything, but they know I accept them, and I think they accept me. And that's what our group is about--acknowledging eachother's place in the journey, and walking with eachother in friendship.

Anyway, my role this weekend was primarily to run late-night activities. This is a dangerous role for me, because I watch too much TV and have bad, bad ideas.

First night was "Fear Factor" night. Fear Factor, as we all know, is a game where contestants engage in feats of strenght, skill, courage, and gastro-intestinal intrigue for a prize of $50,000. Well, our budget was considerably lower, and our church insurance isn't all that great, so our Fear Factor focussed on the intestinal fireworks. Contestants engaged in a ring toss where you had to eat canned dog food (more food for the worse you tossed), a breath holding contest where worse performances entitled you to drink more gross-out smoothie (consisting of various items from our dinner burrito buffet mixed with apple juice), and some other disgusting competition which frankly escapes me because it was so sick and wrong. The winner got a stupid flashlight. The crowd was sickened. My job was done.

Until the second night. For the second night, we determined performance art should be done. Marc, the pastor, came up with the idea of "Man Babies" about a month ago, and reminded me of it in preparation for our retreat. So, we did Man Babies. This consisted of staging a story-time in front of the crowd (complete with "Camp Time", a children's book I found at K-Mart for $1.99) and then me and another not-so-slim guy coming out in Depends undergarments with 32-oz Gatorade bottles (with nipples in the tops) in our hands and making baby-type asses out of ourselves.

If you've never seen me in a diaper, there's a reason. It's just not pretty. The other guy was every bit as not-pretty, and the cumulative effect was a crowd that laughed just about enough to justify my embarassment. This was followed by a Trivial Pursuit game where we made two of our 40-something leaders face two of our under-25 students, with the losing team being force-fed baby food by the winners. This was funny enough in itself. It was funnier when the crafty, conniving loser 40-something enticed the brash 19-year old winner into pouring all of the food into his mouth at once, then spat it back all over her. The crowd lost it, and the night was an obvious success.

And now I'm back home. It was fun to get away, but after a weekend with a diverse group of people younger than me, it's nice to be home. I'm looking forward to getting a good night's sleep.

What did I get out of the weekend? A good farmer tan, some time out of my comfort zone with other people out of theirs (which is often very productive in terms of personal growth), and a new embarassing memory to add to the pantheon.

Since I've been gone, no links today. But it's good to be back, and we'll chat soon.

Catch ya later.

OH, WAIT, ALMOST FORGOT...

While discussing the topic of community (because we want to be a group where we can feel like we're part of something), we took a test called the DISC test. In this test, you answer a couple of quick questions that help to easily classify you, and then learn about what type of person you are, what motivates you, and how you inter-relate with the other people in your group. According to the questions asked, I ended up in the "C" section (no pun intended). My wife was in the "S" section. As the speaker spoke, my wife kept looking at me and telling me that I was not in the right place.

C's are analytical, concerned, accurate, orderly, and systematic. This almost completely fails to describe me. C's are concerned with being right, are obsessed with perfecting things, and are rigid and conservative because they focus on what has worked in the past to help them solve the problems of present and future. I am rigid and conservative, and tend to think of myself as logical in how I come to conclusions, but I agreed with my wife that although I have some C tendencies, I was supposed to be somewhere else. Where? We decided I'm an "I".

I's are optimistic, entertaining, people-oriented, and need recognition. This sounds about right. They are also interested in meeting results, but not interested in process, and are likely to forget details in trying to get things done. They are impulsive. Again, bingo. Basically, I'm an attention whore, and thus my blogue is making more sense to me.

Take the DISC test and see what you are. It's interesting, and it's a lot easier than other personality tests...

What were they thinking?

Here about the toy that depicts the September 11 attacks?

UPDATE: Here's another one...

The downfall of Western Civilization

Actual quote from an e-mail from a friend today:

"I saw Harold and Kumar go to the white castle last week and its freaking hilacious! I am compelled to designate it as "classic" status, right up there with Old School, Zoolander, and Swingers. Very funny movie."

Not only does this embarass me because this speaks volumes about what kind of friends I have, but it also concerns me because this guy is entering prime child-bearing age.

God help us all...

In the interest of equal time...

The latest on Al French.

I'd still trust him with my life.

Eeeewwww....

This is gross. Another reason not to set up automatic withdrawals on your bills...

Drunk guy game

Saw this game on Utterly Boring, and it's hilarious. It's on a German site, so don't bother looking for instructions. Use your mouse (move side to side) to keep the guy from passing out.

Highly addictive...

(Let me know your high score. My current is 64 meters...)

New house update

So we had our home inspection on our potential home yesterday.

Mix of good and bad, of course.

The good is that the house is generally in very good shape. The bad is that the roof isn't, and will (most likely) need to be replaced before sale.

Since that's something that most any buyer would demand be done, we're hoping that we can negotiate the seller into covering it. Because we're stretched tight in our budget.

Anyway, here are some pictures of the whole pad, as it is currently set up (it's still occupied). Like I said before, it's kinda small, but I think it's a great starter home...

That's all for the moment. Lunch break's almost over.

Catch ya later.

Grandfather (or Godfather) knows best...

Ah, to be a Gotti...

Please, let it stop!

As a dedicated Star Wars fan, it pains me to say this.

But enough is enough. Jar Jar Binks tolled the impending death of this franchise, and although I will no doubt see the Revenge of the Nerd...uhh, I mean Sith, it's gotten to be quite enough.

Word of Episodes 7-9 is circling, and I'm wondering what's left after Dance of the Ewoks (also known as Return of the Jedi).

Luke and Leah have buried the hatchet on their awkward love affair as they realize they're actually twins, and Han Solo becomes the apparent patriarch of the new Jedi Order.

Darth Vader has turned good just in time to die and become one of the floating cloud of witnesses.

The Emperor has been vaporized.

No new Death Stars are planned. By the way, how cool was the Death Star? When I first saw that, I couldn't wrap my head around it. It was a whole planet dedicated to destroying other planets. And how disappointing that one well placed torpedo destroyed it. You'd think that the Empire would have learned from the first one, and made it so you had to hit more than one spot to unhinge the whole second one. But, nooooooo... in the second Death Star, you could fly a whole fleet of ships right up to the soft spot, and fly them out before the whole house of cards crumbled. It actually seemed easier the second time, and that's when you knew that the Empire was never a real player. That still bothers me to this day.

But, I digress. Back to the new episodes. What more could happen? The Sith always travel in pairs (one lord and one apprentice), and Vader wanted Luke to be his apprentice to overthrow his boss, the Emperor. (By the way, if Vader was known as "Lord of the Sith", what did that make the Evil Emperor? Chopped liver?). So there can't be anymore bad guys.

Except anyone who had to watch the Ewok party. That turned my heart dark forever. If they really want to make new episodes, they should focus on the systematic elimination of all costumed or CGI characters. Ewoks first. I'll volunteer. I'll be "Darth Pieman" and I will use my extreme cynicism to punish all in my path.

Or, we could just decide that six episodes is enough, and leave the painful 7+ episode franchises to the horror and porn industries...

Just my take.

Catch ya later.

Interesting

I realize I've claimed to be tired of talking about the Kerry military history, but I found this interesting.

By the way, I went to the Beavers game with Al French last night, and despite a spate of jokes directed at him by his chums, he's doing well.

Apparently, we all almost died...

So, back in March we nearly all got pulverized.

Long live the next Ice Age.

The many phases of 12

This is Mr. 12 in my friend's car, getting ready to go off to fight in Iraq... Note the concern in his eyes.

This is me drinking away my sorrow at 12's departure.

This is 12, looking much improved in my stupor.

We wish him well, and we know we'll see him again soon.

Old Blogue migration

Heads up: If you think you notice more archives links than you used to, you're right. I'm migrating the old Blogue over here, and should be finished in a day or two. There might end up being a couple of dead or erroneous links once I do that, but I'll try to catch and fix those in the process.

Quick blurb

Okay, I'm getting tired of discussing Kerry's war record.

It's obvious to me we aren't going to get to the bottom of this. And it's clear to me that, given the passage of time, the multiple agendas, and the way hindsight effects us all, we'll need to take what everyone (including Kerry) says about his military history with a grain of salt.

As you know, the Swiftboat Veterans for Truth continue to bash Kerry for lying about his war record and for being a general weasel.

Just this week, one of these vets, Al French (a Clackamas County prosecutor for whom I used to work and who I would trust with my life) was outed in the Oregonian for basing his commentary in the Swifties' first commercial on hearsay.

Now, Al has made himself very clear on what he believes Kerry has said or done which is dishonest.

In the interest of full disclosure: first, I'm a registered Republic; second, Al French worked with me in Marion County and I've spent time with him professionally and socially; and third, I'm really not likely to vote for Kerry.

I'm not too preturbed about Al French basing his accusations towards Kerry on the hearsay of his friends. Although I 've seen a fair amount of guff directed Al's way for basing his conclusions on something that wouldn't be allowed into court, that's pretty weak. We all make important decisions based on what friends tell us. Life is not court. When I was out of town and The Missus found a house she liked, I told her to consult JLowe to decide whether or not I'd approve, because I trust JLowe implicitly. When one of my friends tells me something is true, and they mean it, I lean that way. When I check with several friends (as Al did), all of whom I trust, and they all say something is true, I'll bet on what they've told me 999 times out of 1000. So I don't think there's a particular problem with Al's assertions, provided he really did consult several people and provided he was in the general area of the occurences he discusses (which he was, just not right there).

Despite the fact that I believe Al French, we run into awkward situations, though, where we need to step back and scratch our heads. For instance, The Smoking Gun has found that one of the Swifties actually praised Kerry in very flattering terms back in 'Nam, and now has his bayonet so far into Kerry's back John's looking like an olive in a martini.

And so we end up having to consider the source of everything we hear, but since we don't know much about Kerry's accusers, I find myself just deciding to throw out the military career as a consideration and look at other factors, such as views on the economy and the likelihood of the candidate to allign themselves with my belief system. And, in the end, is it really appropriate to elect someone solely on the basis of what they did (or didn't do) back in 'Nam? I'm incredulous that Kerry made his military service such a centerpiece of his campaign when I don't particularly think what he did 30 years ago in the jungle really qualifies (or disqualifies) him for the duties of POTUS.

Pointless rant. Just saw that TSG article and realized how tired I am of the whole mess. Let's have our election and be done with it.

UPDATE: I realized that in my tired state while writing this, I missed the obvious point that a person's honesty does bear on their ability to serve (whether being dishonest makes you a better President politically is a question I won't tackle). My point is that I don't know that Kerry is demonstrably attempting dishonesty, or whether his accusers are, or whether all are just suffering from looking at things through a hazy 30-year-old glass. And if the dishonesty isn't provable (by either side), then I don't think that this topic merits much more discussion, when debates on policies, positions, and vision are more pertinent to present electability. Pieman 8/22/04 2:26pm

Anyway, the best part of any of my posts. The LINKS.

Can this bode well for the next Star Wars?

Next time your beer tastes like piss, this may explain the problem (although there's still no excuse for American-made PBR...)

Daddy likey!

Viva Iraq! This has to be the greatest story of this year's Olympics. Unless you count this.

Dumb, dumb, dumb. Punchline's on the third page.

As a right-thinking American, it pains me to show you this. (Courtesy of Chickenhead)

And, yes, we have games:

Swimming pool Sumo and Moonlander (remember that game?)

Enough already! Have a good night.

Catch ya later.

Got it!

So, at long last, the wait is over.

As you know if you watch this blogue at all, I've been house hunting. And it has sucked.

My wife found our dream home about 2 weeks ago. At the time, I was out of town, and it turned out she found it a few hours too late. Too bad for us.

So the other day she went on a house hunt, having the day off, and was finding that life, like gravity, is a harsh mistress. Eventually, however, the worm turned and fortune smiled its hideous face on us. And fortune was looking much better, for once, like that chick at the bar looks after you've had enough Kona Beer. The Missus called me to let me know that she'd found our house, and that I needed to come see it as soon as possible. She gave me the address, and I drove up to see this:




Looks small, huh?

In I went, and immediately saw that the inside appeared to match the outside. Small living room, no dining room, small kitchen, okay-sized bedrooms.

I hated it.

"But wait," The Missus said, "you need to see the basement."

She was right.

For the basement was fully finished, carpeted, walled, and all that jazz. And it will make a fantastic living room and office.

So what we had was a home with a formal living room, a real living room, a spare room that wouldn't have to be an office, and a nicely landscaped backyard (with an apple tree) to boot. The garage is also large and has storage space, and there's a tool shed in back. No longer too small, it was feeling just right.

So, we launched off to our agent's office to make a bid. We called our mortgage broker to make sure all was kosher financially. And we made a bid.

Now, we didn't bid full price. We couldn't. We're only approved for so much, and the house was listed for about $5000 more. So, we were only a bit surprised to see a counter-offer asking for full price (our offer had some other stuff in it which made our total bid about $9000 less than the seller was asking) but conceding to the rest of our wishes. We couldn't cut it, so we decided to split the difference.

Well, tonight, we got the good news. We're in. In like Flynn. And pleased as punch. And so on.

That's all for the moment. I'm assured that the rest of the home buying process is daunting, but, still, I am well on my way to being a land baron.

Anyway, I know my 3 readers were pulling for me, so thanks. You're all invited for the housewarming. See you there in October.

Catch ya later.

Okay, so I lied.

I know, I told you no more Hit & Run posts. I lied.

But this is it. Team photo time. Note the Coors light in the ugly back-row players hand. No doubt we lost this game...


If you're looking for me, I missed this game, so you won't find me...

On the top left is S Gray. If you listen, you can hear him whispering...

"Duck's in the pond."

Yet another reason why I don't like abortion...

I try not to get too serious in my posting, but this article reminded me of how distasteful abortion really is.

Al Gore in a brush with the law?

Way to go, OSP!

It appears that people have too much time on their hands.

A new time waster: trading shares in blogs. Fantasy football for geeks.

Enough pop culture references to destroy you...

Bill Simmons and Chuck Klosterman discuss sports, movies, and life in general. Can you believe some people get paid for this?

Looks like Kerry's joining the Hair Club for Candidates...

And the winners (and the losers) are...

So, exciting stuff happening (okay, not really, but I have to write about something).

First, I was finally able to sample the brisket at Cannon's, which has been an ambition of mine for some time. Since the days of the olde Le Blogue at Earthlink, I've shared my joy for Portland's finest cuisine.

Now, for those who don't remember, I spent a whole evening discussing the joys of Portland Barbecue, and I ended up opining that the best of the best, to my knowledge, was Big Daddy's, an upstart on Hawthorne.

Actually, I opined that Big Daddy's was about a tie with Cannon's.

So, now, I'm ready to finish my damned opining and be done with conjecture.

Cannon's is very good. Extremely good, in fact. Cannon's re-opened my mind to barbecue, and for that I'll always be thankful.

It wasn't an easy job.

My dad, as I've mentioned in the past, died at the too young age of 39, while I was still in high school. When he died, my dad had a known cholesterol issue, but what none of us were aware of was just how bad his issue was. As he died, on March 25th 1991, just short of his 40th birthday, my father had a cholesterol level that was the ungodly-high number of 498.

That, for those of you who aren't in the know, is fairly high.

So, post-haste, my mom took me to a doctor to see what my cholesterol looked like. At the age of 17, I already had a cholesterol level in the high 190's, and at that point, what with the unforeseen death of my father and all, we ended up aggressively pursuing ways to reduce my risk of teenage death.

First was the nutritionist. My senior year, my mom put me on a bean and crap diet that did little for my happiness level but was supposed to be very good for me. Foods could not taste good. Good food equalled death, so if it didn't require me using Bean-o to remain socially acceptable, then I was not supposed to eat it.

We soon learned that diet would not control my cholesterol, as it climbed into the 200's during my senior year in high school. So, since then, I've been on meds and a very strict diet.

Here's the thing. With Zocor and no red meat, my cholesterol never got below 215-ish. I was told that I would never have a sub-200 cholesterol again.

But no meat meant too many starches, and I was getting fat.

My wife found a book one day called Eat Right 4 Your Blood Type, and that was when my life became enjoyable.

I have an O blood type. According to the pseudo-scientist who wrote this drivel, type-O's are meat lovers and need meat to live healthy lives.

That was all I needed to hear. I embraced the diet, because it told me less starch and more meat was good (without being an Atkins Diet, which I equate with alchemy for all its wisdom and truth).

So, I started eating red meat again. And working out. Ended up losing 30 pounds and getting back to 197 for my cholesterol level, so I guess it worked out okay.

Which brings us back to barbecue. I had spent several years thinking barbecue was the devil, but with my new diet I was actually required to eat more meat. So, I went to Cannon's. And what I had was heaven.

That's why I was holding out great hopes for Cannon's.

And that's why it pains me to tell you that, for my money, Big Daddy's can't be beat. Except, maybe, by Yam Yam's, which I still have to try. And Campbell's. But, don't worry, I'll widen my perspective and report back accordingly.

Now, sadly, to report the loser for the night.

You'll be glad to hear that there will be no more Hit & Run reports, as our team was vanquished tonight in the play-offs by the dreadful Clackamas County Attorneys squad.

S.Gray, as always, was too intense. BD, the man of great sound effects, continued to have a weenie arm. Bosco and I roved the outfield fearlessly, and I believe I will be nominated for Player of the Game honors for a tremendous running catch I made for a put-out, but we just didn't have the offense to handle our able opposition.

Note: Again, tonight's beer was Coor's. I lobbied for PBR, but noone sees the big picture quite like I do.

So, where does that leave me? With more time to bother you, that's where. And, oh, what fun we'll have.

Anyway, here are some LINKS to keep you warm:

Been a while since I checked in at Brain Terminal. I enjoy this guy's work.

Meet Packbot, which is helping fight our war in Iraq. I saw an article today about how they can now carry rifles (but I can't find it). Next up: Terminator 4.

Don't open this at work. It isn't naughty; you won't get any done.

Last, but not least, Jack Bogdanski put me on his list of "Hap'nin' Guys", which must mean I've hit the bigs. Thanks, Jack. Again, good to have you back.

Anyway, I'm off. However, I'll

Catch ya later.

And, at the reception, 12, The Pieman, Chuck the War Hero and JLowe, doing his best G-Money maneuver... 

Congrats to SchnackFu for finally making an honest man out of DBoggs. 

99 Interesting Pictures

Madden 2005, Redux

Here's some more on the game of the month. Click here and here.

The Beer Connoisseur 

Congratulations to Mr. & Mrs. 12, who are no longer living in sin. 

Madden 2005 comes out today!

The Sports Guy opines.

Househunting

So, as you may now be aware, my wife and I are actively hunting for houses.

We started casually looking about a year ago. Casually at that point because we didn't see any possible way that we'd ever be able to afford a house until we paid down some more debt and all. You get the picture. Between my loans and The Missus', we had at least another couple years before we could pay some debt off and save a down-payment.

Turns out God had a better plan.

My dad was a collector. Some people collect stamps. Some collect baseball cards. Some collect belly button lint.

My dad, when not ogling Mary Hart's legs on Entertainment Tonight and fighting his urge to drink alcohol, collected life insurance policies while they were going out of style. When he died in 1991, he had two known life insurance policies. But I've spent years looking for the unknown ones.

In February, my mom called and told me to go to the Minnesota Commerce Department's Unclaimed Property page because I had something waiting for me.

Turns out that something was about $16k in insurance money, which I finally received last month. Hence, the urgency in the house hunt rose quite a bit. What, with the low interest rates threatening to get higher based on Alan Greenspan's infernal ill-timed tinkering, we need to get a move on.

So, we got ourselves a mortgage broker, an agent (actually a family friend), and a lot of time looking at houses while driving around and wasting gas and surfing the 'net.

What we've found is usually disappointing, but I have to get used to the fact that given my poor credit history (too many pizzas and beers in college, not enough foresight) I'll have to start humble and work my way into Trump-dom.

The Missus is getting frustrated, though. She found the ultimate home while I was out on my boondoggle. The story was that the place was a bit small-ish, but had a party room in the basement with a wetbar, padded benches, and a Tiki-Room set-up.

I was, of course, away. We were also two days from having our home loan pre-approved, but that didn't stop my wife from making a bid on the home (with permission, of course...), only to find out it had been snatched from under us just hours before.

My wife will never recover from that shock.

So, last night we drove around North/Northeast Portland (affectionately known to some as "The DA Ghetto", whatever that means) and found three or four acceptable properties.

At least, we thought they were acceptable. The Missus did site visits today, and all reports are negative. And she is frustrated.

That, and it's hot out again.

So, she's not happy, and thus, I'm not happy.

Househunting is a *expletive*. I just hope we find something soon, so we can throw our much-anticipated Halloween party. Due to the fact that some may take offense at the theme, I'll just have to let you guess at that, or contact me and brown-nose for an Evite.

Anyway, enough of my whining.

Links

This is very, very bizarre, and also pretty sad.
***Updated material here.

Portland's Z100 gets national attention.

Imagine this police chase.

On your next DUII, compare your BAC to these famous athletes!

Well, that's all. Couple pictures to follow, then I'm out.

Catch ya later.

To DBoggs, celebrating the end of a long, illustrious bachelorhood... 

Funny... 

 

Jack Bogdanski returns August 15th

For those who want to read a real blog, Jack Bog's blog has been an interesting read for Oregonians for two years. Jack recently took a break, but (much like Ross and Rachel) you knew he had to come back...

Olympic magic

Very nice...

Me and The Missus at the wedding of Bosco. Good times, good times... 

The Pantheon of Master Thespians

So tonight we sat down to watch yet another film from our friends at Netflix. Tonight's feast was the Grisham classic Runaway Jury, which is a fine film starring several fine actors. I was a bit upset because I had made an earnest attempt to cancel delivery of this movie due to the fact that I purchased it last week.

My wife was shocked to hear that I'd purchased it because I hadn't seen it before, and usually I only buy a movie that I know I like. When she asked me why I bought it, my answer was simple. "John Cusack's in it. I trust him. Nothing he does sucks."

So, strange tonight as I watched the movie, I ended up focussing on Gene Hackman. For the last hour I've been picking my brain, trying to remember a Hackman performance I didn't like, and I just can't do it.

And then I started thinking of other actors who were or weren't worth watching consistently, and now I'm blowing a half an hour sharing with you.

So, tonight, I list for you my
Pantheon of Master Thespians.

The ground rules:

1. Agism is allowed. I don't have to rank Erroll Flynn or Cary Grant just because my father's father liked them. I'm only listing people who I like. Your pantheon may be different, but it also likely sucks.
2. You're not allowed if all you play is yourself. Tommy Lee Jones, despite the wide variety of characters he's played (agent for secret government agency monitoring aliens; agent for government agency hunting a fleeing doctor; agent for a government agency tracking down Benicio Del Toro), he always basically plays Tommy Lee Jones. He's the same guy in the movie that he is in the Will Rogers ad playing during the previews where he is supposed to actually pretend to be himself. Al Pacino fits in the same mold. Sorry.

So, with the rules laid out, we begin. These, by the way, aren't necessarily in order.

1. Robert De Niro: Actually, he is at the top of the list. Despite some poor movie decisions over his career, how can you dispute the master of method acting? The prime examples of his expert skill are Raging Bull, Cape Fear, and The Untouchables. And, despite my bit about Pacino above, was there anything better than that scene in Heat where you finally had these two dynamos going at it, face to face, in the diner? (See Bill Simmons' discussion of that scene in his ESPN Page 2 Mailbag. The answer is, of course, no...)

2. John Cusack: On sober reflection, the one actor who's every film I'd go see just because he seems to care about his product. Starting out in quirky off-beat teen comedies such as The Sure Thing and Better off Dead, Cusack's breakout performance came in the role of Lloyd Dobler, the lovable but uninspired wannabe-kickboxer who woos the rich girl in the movie Say Anything.... My personal favorite Cusack flick is Grosse Pointe Blank, which never stops making me chuckle.

3. Bill Murray: You never would have guessed watching Meatballs that this guy would actually end up being a great actor. But after his performances in Rushmore and Lost in Translation, there's no doubt in my mind that he's learned to be more than just hilarious.

4. Matthew Broderick: Four words: Ferris Bueller's Day Off. 'Nuff said.

5. Morgan Freeman: Not only is this guy prolific (4 movies in post-production and 2 currently in production at this very moment!), but he never, never mails it in. This guy is awesome.

So what happened to Gene Hackman? Well, I was going to list him, but The Missus claims he fails under rule 2 (I'm not sure I agree; Henry Zimm was a different character for him) and I have to at least pretend to respect her opinion.

Your thoughts are welcome on this topic.

In celebration of Le Blogue's new home, which is better than it's old home, I'll be offering some delightful photos from time to time since I'm no longer eating up my own memory. This blog may actually get interesting after all.

Well, that's all for now. No links 'cuz it's getting late. But eventually I'll put something funny up.

Oh, wait, saw this today and couldn't stop laughing. I don't see nearly enough of these cases.

Portland's mustache competition? Now I've seen everything...

Play Panda Golf!

Enough already! I'm supposed to be going to bed.

Catch ya later.

JLowe's frog, Franco, eating a mouse. 

Le Neo-Blogue

Le Blogue, as you can see, has moved. This new context allows for some more flexibility, and finally enables comments by all of you. To see the old articles, you can see the old blog here.

Will do some new writing later.

Update: Link killed with old blog migration.

Just a quickie

That, of course, is what I always say, and yet I invariably end up spending an hour writing about useless crap.

But it's good useless crap, so I'm not complaining.

Hit & Run played tonight. In keeping with my prior discussion, we lost due to the presence of Coors Light (as opposed to PBR). I blame Josh Deathsheep. Never mind the shoddy play of myself, G. Freeway, or SGray, to name a few. We were obviously poisoned by the water of the Colorado Rockies, because we stunk up the field. 4-3; probably not enough to make the play-offs.

Well done, though, my friends. You played your best, and your best just wasn't that good.

It's once again hot here in P-Town, which means it's over 65 degrees. Actually reached an official temperature of 98 today, and I felt every degree of it as I squinted into the sun looking for the softball that was flying toward my insufficient hands. Really, I'm not bitter at all.

Really, I don't have much of anything to write about tonight. I did catch 5 minutes of Bill Clinton on the radio tonight on KXL.

You know, I have somewhat mixed feelings about Bill. I hated him for the way he acted while President. I found him boorish and, frankly, "unpresidential" in his personal behavior. It disgusted me to have someone in the White House who was so blatant in their philandering and then, when caught, so blatant in their deception. It bothered me that we had a president who's most memorable quote was "It tastes good."

On the other hand, Bill had his definite likeable side. He seemed compassionate, he seemed caring, he seemed like he was a man of the people. Whenever he speaks, I want to believe him and I feel, to some extent, like I identify with him.

I hate that.

Tonight's five minutes included his defense of Sandy Berger's archives-looting ("We all knew him as a man with a messy desk but a very organized mind") and his take that he could have predicted everything that trashed our economy in 2000-2001 except for the 9/11 massacre. But he said it so likeably.

It really is shocking the polar opposite that we elected. Of course, Gore was just as disinteresting as a candidate--as a person-- as Bush is. At least with Bush, you get a funny accent and that funny little furrowed brow.

Bush has spoken at times and made my hair stand on end, in the good way. You can take almost anything he said in September of 2001 and it rates up there with the greatest speeches I've experienced. Part of it was no doubt the emotional rawness of the times. Part of it was that he was saying what we all felt. And part of it was admiration that he stayed solid and unwavering while we were all afraid. You felt for him. He looks very small on T.V. (Chuck saw him speak in front of his military unit, and actually says Bush is pretty tall), and we all favor the little guy.

Mostly, though, I think its the ability of his speech writers. I have difficulty believing claims that Bush wrote substantial portions of those speeches. He came across practically eloquent, and that's not the Bush I know.

Not that I'm knocking him for that. Kerry's a good speaker, but I don't trust the guy. Clinton was great in front of a crowd, and probably ad-libbed a few speeches, but that was just talk, and talk is cheap. I do believe the claims that Bush believes in what he's doing and works to be consistent in his presidency, and that is presidential. Whether his beliefs and his version of consistency are what we're looking for in a president is your choice, as well as mine.

What's my point? There is none, except that I wish we had a president with Bush's character, Clinton's likeability, and Lincoln's guts right now. I probably speak for a few when I say our country just seems to be lacking a certain je ne sais pas ce qui.

Speaking of which, I hate the French.

So, links then...

To finish out my new-Batman fetish, the trailer.

The truth is out there.

Game time!

What I'd do if I were God

For Travis http://www.onion.com/

Enough for now! But don't fear. I will

Catch ya later.

Bon voyage

So I'm going whitewater rafting this weekend. Wish me well. If I don't live, remember me fondly.

Okay, so I'm exaggerating. My wife and I (and the JLowe family) are going with a bunch of the ladies' friends on a whitewater adventure. To be fair, the adventure is being undertaken by JLowe and the ladies. I am, to quote Martin Short in an old SNL skit, "not a strong swimmer," (couldn't find the clip, neither can this person) and tend to wuss out of the water sports.

So, as the rest of the posse floats down the raging waters of the Deschutes (or whatever Class V rapids they're rafting), I will be driving the vehicle that holds all belongings. JLowe is kind enough to bring his portable DVD player, so I suspect I will catch up on my movie watching during the down time.

Feh.

So, I've come to the interesting place in my career where I've learned that people actually read my blather, and indeed what I do (or don't) write may actually mean something in my real life. Although I got into this whole writing-on-the-internet business intentionally, I never actually thought you'd read it. Oh, well, c'est la vie.

Don't take anything I write too seriously. If I want you to, I'll let you know.

Anyway, had dinner tonight with Mr. 12, who (as I mentioned in an earlier post) is off to Iraq on the 16th. The plan was to go eat Phu, but thankfully 12 decided to have some steak instead. I'd much rather have the rib-eye that the pizzle on any day.

Twelve brought along one of our chums who's already been to Iraq. His name is Chuck (generic enough to use here). Chuck got a Purple Heart while in Iraq, because during his first or second week in-country his vehicle drove too close to a roadside bomb, and it ended up blowing off his right ring-finger.

Many insensitive jokes were told on his behalf before he got back, but mostly (I suspect) out of relief that nothing worse happened.

Chuck appears to be in good spirits. His hand really doesn't look that bad at all (the wonders of modern medicine continue to astound) and it's really just great to have him back. He gets married at the end of August.

So The Missus and I have finally planned a good vacation. We're going to Mexico in January (assuming my boss approves it) (if you're reading this, please approve it or I'll die). Check out our digs at here.

As far as I can tell, the plan seems to be that we have to try to take one trip per year, whether we can afford it or not. For our honeymoon, we went to Cabo San Lucas, which was very nice because my aunt donated a timeshare week as her wedding gift. We stayed at the Hotel Bahia (now called the Bahia Condo Hotel), which was just a couple minutes from the beach and, per my wife, served some of the best Pina Colada's she's ever had (see the poolside bar and a picture that looks suspicously like our honeymoon room here). For our first anniversary, we were very poor, with The Missus in nursing school and me just finally starting to get my stride financially with my current employer. So we journeyed to beautiful, scenic Forest Grove to stay at the lovely, rustic McMenamin's Grand Lodge. I hear your mind working. Despite my propensity for cheapness, this was actually my wife's pick.

Big mistake. The distinguishing factors of the Grand Lodge are that it is not rustic (it's across from a car dealer on Highway 99), it's movie theater was closed, and you have to use group bathrooms. None of these things appealed to The Missus. The most exciting parts of our anniversary adventure were drinking a bottle of champagne while eating our cake topper (which, thanks to Piece of Cake Bakery, was fresh, not frozen) and sneaking off to Aloha to catch Blackhawk Down (very romantic) because we were too bored to stand it. Nothing like dying troops in Somalia to spice up a weekend...

The following year, we took an anniversary trip and turned it into a birthday celebration for the entire family. A little known fact is that The Missus, Lady Lowe, and I all have our birthdays within 5 days of eachother. Poor JLowe almost had to buy us all a present, but instead we decided to head on down to Disneyland and all paid our own way. While there, we checked in with my old roommate, Joey D, and then went up to Santa Barbara to visit The Missus' brother, a photography student at the illustrious Brooks Institute (you can eventually see his work at his website, which is still being worked on).

Good trip, but didn't really excite The Missus too much.

So, this year she took the reigns and told me to shut my yap with all the complaining, and off we went to Italy. The picture at the top of my blog is from a street in Venice. We had a really wonderful time, and now whereever my wife wants to take me, I'll go (although I'll still silently mumble and grumble about the money part of it).

So, tomorrow she's taking me to Maupin, and I'm seeing her off as she tackles the extremes of Mother Nature.

Best of luck to her.

So, again, wish me luck. The way things go for me, I'll end up putting the van in the rapids and will drown that way. If that occurs, I will this blogue to my boss, who generally has more interesting things to say than I do, and who never runs out of good stories. Seriously.

Couple links for ya:

The new Batmobile at work

Super Dead

See the Swiftboat Veteran's Anti-Kerry commercial? Watch carefully to see Al French, the man who made me a prosecutor (hired me as an intern in Marion County, now one of the top guys at the Clackamas County DA's office)

This is almost enough to get me off the computer...

In fact, in my fear, I'm off. But, as always,

Catch ya later.