High Times

I'm a tree-hugging hippie, and proud of it.

One of the things that I never really wanted to do with my little part of the internet was to fill it with all sorts of political rhetoric. I'm not informed enough, nor smart enough to try and persuade anyone to see things from my point of view, so for the most part, I'll leave that work to the people who can "talk purdy."

Today, Senator John Kerry came to Madison, WI and I thought it would be a good chance to get out of work and go show my support for the candidate that I'm going to vote for next week. I'm not going to bother you with my reasons for supporting him, I'm just saying I'm voting for him next Tuesday.

Before I went to the rally, I was sitting at my desk and overheard a phone conversation coming from the person who sits in the next cube. "Are you going to the rally with the rest of the tree-hugging hippies?" he asked his friend.

I'm not quite sure what it was about this particular rally that made him choose that way of describing the democratic party, but I'm guessing he drank some bad Kool-aid a few years back and it's really been bothering him since.

Maybe it was the fact that Bruce Springsteen was going to be at the rally that really bothered him. That guy has been asking for it ever since he put out that hippie anthem "Born in the USA."

Another reason could have been that our Senator Russ Feingold was going to be there. I don't have pictures of it, or actual proof, but I've heard it from good sources that he likes to give trees some of his extra special lovin' whenever he gets the chance. I'm not trying to start rumors; I'm just saying what I've heard.

So, I walked to the rally with a few other people from work and tried to pay close attention to the people that were heading that way as well. I kept trying to look for Woody Harrelson and his hemp pants, but I just couldn't seem to find him. I guess when you're standing in a crowd of 100,000 people; you might not notice all of the hippies in your midst. They're a shifty lot. After all, there are quite a few trees for them to hug, and there just isn't enough time to stand there and enjoy any particular tree. You have to get to a tree, hug it, and then move on. It's not a part-time job, my friends, you really have to bust ass if you're going to be a tree-hugger.

All the while that I was standing there and listening to the performers and listening to the senator speak, I kept looking for the evasive tree-hugging hippie. Eventually I realized my error. To the person who sits next to me at work, every one of us that was in attendance was a hippie. Whether they were the man in the 3-piece suit clapping politely, or the young college student with the "Buck Fush" button on their jacket, we were all tree-huggers.

Having been to the rally and having seen the people that were there, I think I like being a tree-hugging hippie. There are much worse things that a person could call me.

So, regardless of who you are, what you believe in, or where you live, get out and vote next Tuesday. I don't care if you're voting for Bush, Kerry, Nader, or Badnarik, get out and vote. Call yourself a Christian Conservative, Progressive Democrat, or Undecided Independant, get out and vote.

A cale of two

When my wife and I started talking to people about the fact that we were going to take a trip to San Diego, all I heard was how beautiful the city was.

"You're going to love it there," was probably one of the most common things that we heard when preparing for the trip.

Honestly, I couldn't wait for the trip. I was going to get to go to the San Diego Wild Animal Park and get to see all sorts of animals that I've never seen before, and get up close with a cheetah, an animal that I've always wanted to see up close. I was going to see the Pacific Ocean again, something I had only seen once in my entire life.

What was one of the first things that I saw when I left the airport? A sign for "Dirty Dan's Platinum Plus Topless Dancers." I guess when people said the city was beautiful, I should have asked for some sort of clarification as to what exactly they meant.

As I explained in an earlier story, I don't have issues with topless dance clubs, but I could not believe how many I saw (from the outside) while in the greater San Diego area.

By the time that my wife and I had gotten to the resort that we were staying at for the weekend, we had seen no less than 4 topless dance clubs and had found out, to my surprise, that Dirty Dan's Platinum Plus Topless Dancers was a chain. We saw at least 3 of these clubs before we left San Diego. Apparently Dan is doing pretty well for himself.

My theory on Mr. Dirty Dan, or Sir Dan as he is known in the British Isles, is that he was looking for a clever name for his club in the early 80's and wanted to capitalize on the fame of the hit TV show, Solid Gold. One thing he didn't want to do was to mess with Dionne Warwick, so he just decided to try out names from other various precious metals and jewels until he found one that worked with the classy sort of establishment that he was out to create.

After the focus group testing for "Dirty Dan's Silver Sluts" and "Dirty Dan's Diamond Damsels" gave him some fairly negative responses, Dan was forced to go with his third choice.

I guess I should have expected something like this when I heard about the large Naval and Marine presence in San Diego. I always wondered what "Semper Fi" meant. Apparently it translates to "Shake that ass for me."

Inglewood

The woman sitting next to me just smiles and says, "That's why I have headphones."

Sadly, I only have my Gameboy SP for entertainment and can't use it for the first 10 to 15 minutes of the flight. Does anyone know why? Isn't it a bit sad to think that a multi-million dollar plane could possibly be rendered useless by little Johnny's 80-dollar game system? Or in this case little Glen. Not that I'm little in any way. Um... so where were we?

"Really? Why?" as her friend starts to mock her. He thinks it's funny that she keeps saying the same two words over and over whenever being asked a question, and starts to repeat the phrase in order to make fun of her.

I can see the amusement factor in such things. I've been known to do it from time to time. There is a rule of diminishing returns in comedy though. When someone does something once, you can mock him or her for it, sometimes twice. After the person has said something like that 10 plus times though, you're just beating a dead horse... and risking becoming one yourself, not a horse, but you get what I'm saying.

At this point, all I can think of doing is to pull a Samuel Jackson on them. "I double dare you! Say "Really? Why?" Again!"

Of course, I don't have a gun like he did in Pulp Fiction, I'm not really intimidating in any way, I'm not all that tall, I don't have a cool looking afro, and I'm white... but I think they'd get the point. Isn't that what really matters?

Thankfully she fell asleep shortly after we got into the air. I still maintain that the flight attendants may have spiked her drink, but it really didn't matter to me as to why she shut up, just that she did.

One of the worst things that can happen to you when flying is to be stuck in a middle seat. Sarah is at a point in her pregnancy where she needs to have an aisle seat. She's going to the bathroom every hour on the hour, if not more, and she's one of those people that doesn't like to inconvenience anyone, so she wants to sit where she doesn't have to bother anyone every time she gets up.

I'm the opposite. I love the window seat. I could have guzzled down 5 sodas/beers before getting on the plane and I'd fight for that seat. If I have to get up and bother you while you're trying to sleep or eat, it doesn't matter to me, just as long as I get to see things from 30,000 feet. Hell, it doesn't matter to me if it's cloudy over all of the United States; I just want something to look at out that window.

The worst thing though is getting stuck in the middle, which I was on this flight. The only person I would be annoying (more than usual) would be Sarah if I had to get up, and let me tell you something, annoying a pregnant woman is not something you want to go out of your way to do. If you follow the logic that a soon-to-be mother is eating for two, then you'd have a tendency to believe that they're bitching-for-two, if they're mad at you.

So, I did my best to just stay out of Sarah's way and just play my Gameboy and entertain myself by watching the Simpson, via brain Tivo. Thanks to my incredibly long attention span, those activities kept me busy for approximately 5 to 6 minutes.

Eventually, the plane touched down in Chicago, and we were able to escape Ms. "Really? Why?" forever. I will say this though, if you're ever sitting next to me on a plane and hear me utter those words, just take out the spork that you're giving with your in-flight snack and jab me repeatedly until I stop. Eventually I'll get the point.