Jon's Favorite Weekend Quote

"Don't try fighting me. I'm Jon and you're a Tater Tot; I win by default."

A Flash Of Brilliance Or Get It The Hell Off Me!

After hitting the comic shop I decided to head to Home Depot to see if they had that Black and Decker tiller/cultivator thing in stock.
The route I took brought me past CiCis Pizza, and, as it was after 1:00 I figured that it probably wouldn’t be completely packed, so I decided to stop there for a late lunch.
It actually wasn’t too crowded, but still crowded enough that I didn’t want to hang out there any longer than I had to.
After that I stopped at Home Depot and found that the tiller was in stock, so I picked one up.
From there it was off to Target to get the weekly shopping done.
Before I could do any shopping, though, I had to answer nature’s call, which I hate having to do when I’m in a public place, though I was amazed to see that the systems that are in place to monitor whether or not I need to use the bathroom were apparently not working today as the bathroom was actually open and available. Given my pressing need to use the facilities I thought for sure that it would be closed for cleaning.
One of the reasons I hate spending a significant amount of time in a public restroom is that it’s pretty much impossible to get anything even remotely like peace and quiet, which, quite frankly, I view as a prerequisite for a positive restroom experience.
I had no hope of getting peace and quiet to begin with, but if I had, that hope would have soon been shattered by this little kid loudly making use of the stall next to me.
The whole time he was in there he was singing to himself, but beyond that he kept loudly talking to his dad, who was outside the stall waiting for him.
Of course, what was kind of odd was that the dad was apparently even more annoyed by the kid than I was:

Kid: Dad?
Dad: *Sigh* What?
Kid: I love you!
Dad: Just hurry up!

After that it was time to wade through the obstacle course of ccrying, screaming – and apparently parent-loving – children and try to get my shopping done.
As I was trying to get to a particular item, I had to move past the aisle and wade for a father and a pack of girls – I’m thinking that a group of children should have a name of its own, like a pride of lions, or a murder of crows – to get out of my way. The father was moving along without paying too much attention as to whether the group (Gaggle? Pod?) of girls was actually moving with him, choosing to simply trust that they would actually pay attention when he told them to “Hurry up.”
I stood there waiting for the lat of the girls to get out of my way when I became aware of tiny hands grabbing at my leg and I turned to look down on some little girl who was grabbing onto the cell phone case on my hip and saying, “You got a new phone!”
I stood there saying, “Uhhh…?” and internally screaming “Get it the hell off me!”
The girl grabbing at a strange man was enough to get the father to actually pay attention to what his daughters were doing.
That the girl was grabbing at me because she mistakenly thought I was her father didn’t make things any less uncomfortable.
As I moved on the thought occurred to me that there should be stores that cater exclusively to singles and childless couples. I mean, it makes sense; we’re a pretty desirable demographic, as, after all, we tend to have a lot more disposable income than those people saddled blessed with the litle monsters financial burdens miracles.
Of course, I realized that there’s no way for stores to legally discriminate against families, so the only method to weed them out would be to provide some disincentive to shopping there, which wouldn’t be quite foolproof enough for my tastes.
Then I had a flash of brilliance. Casinos, bars, and strip clubs can legally keep children out, so the solution is obvious: create casinos and strip clubs that also sell groceries, electronics, and other consumer products and household goods.
It’s the perfect solution. I mean, it even solves the problem of old people, as they’ll be parked in front of the penny machines all day long, keeping the aisles clear of sideways carts.
In the alternative, I suppose I could finally give in to Stacy’s suggestion and start doing my shopping online at Harris Teeter, but I don’t see how that’s going to get me a lapdance while I’m buying produce.

Wait, I Thought I Was The Only One

Catching Up

One day last week I noticed that I was out of paper towels. I didn’t want to bother going out and buying some at the time, so I decided to just stop and pick some up on the way home from work the next day.
An exciting story, I know, but the point is that it got me to thinking about how there are some things – like paper towels – that I kinda-sorta buy in bulk, but the bulk quantities never seem to last quite long enough. This line of thought led me to conclude that I should finally bite the bullet and get a Costco membership.
So I went online and signed up and a few days later my card arrived.
On Saturday when I did my weekly venturing out into the world I stopped at the local Costco to activate my card.
I’ve been in Costco a few times with other people, but I never really paid that much attention because I wasn’t there actually shopping. When that dynamic changed on Saturday I noticed just how horrible the place is. It’s like something taken directly out of my nightmares; it doesn’t just have products in bulk, it has people in bulk.
Way, way, way too many people, and all of them in my way, scrambling to find the supposed deals that membership entails.
Speaking of deals, I have to say that I was unimpressed. People say you can save a lot by shopping there, and I’m willing to believe them, but I personally didn’t see much evidence. I saw a TV that was being sold at a decent but hardly phenomenal price, for example, but when I left and went next door to Target I saw the exact same TV being sold for the exact same price. What is that membership fee paying for, exactly?
I was also annoyed about the activation of my card, which involved getting my picture taken and printed on the card because god forbid someone should come in pretending to be me and save fifty cents on an industrial-sized tub of peanut butter or something.
Not really a big deal, but the principle of the thing just activated my Fuck You Reflex, which is related to my Suck My Dick Reflex and my Blow It Out Your Ass Reflex. Of course, that’s hardly surprising, given that most everything activates one (or more) of those reflexes. Fortunately, I have a pretty strong Restrain My First Reflex Reflex.
I know I’m going to have to go back at some point to justify the cost of the membership, but I don’t think it’ll be soon.
By the time I got out of there and got to Target I was in a pretty foul mood, which wasn’t helped at all by the equally obscene number of people there shopping, or the fact that everywhere I went there was a crying/screaming child. There was just no escaping them.
So I grabbed the bare minimum amount of stuff I needed and got the hell out of there, as the mantra I had been repeating to myself – I will not go insane I will not go insane I will not go insane i will not fucking go insane – wasn’t really doing the trick.
On Sunday I drove down to Reagan National Airport to pick up Scott.
I hate driving someplace for the first time, especially when it’s likely to involve a fair amount of traffic.
My GPS didn’t help matters any, choosing a bizarre and less than straightforward route to get me there.
Once I got there I decided to just park and wait inside, as the cell phone waiting area was tiny and cramped.
So I found the baggage claim area for his flight and sat down and waited, only to get a text message from him telling me that he was waiting outside, as he didn’t actually have any checked baggage.
Eventually we found each other and were on our way.
His flight didn’t get in until 9 PM, so, assuming that I’d have to drive him home, I figured it would be pretty late by the time I got home, sometime well past my usual bedtime. So in preparation I took a nap during the day and caffeinated myself pretty heavily in the afternoon.
Turns out he’d left his car parked at work, which put it essentially on my way home, so I ended up getting home much earlier than expected. The nap and caffeine had done the trick, and pretty much overpowered the Tylenol PM I took in an attempt to get to sleep.
Just as I was, finally, drifting off, my phone rang.
It was some sort of recorded “Public Safety Message” telling me that some undefined incident that had occurred earlier in the evening on my street was “under control” and that there was “no cause for alarm.”
If there’s no cause for alarm, why are you calling to wake me up at 12:30 in the morning?
I only want to be woken up if there is cause for alarm.
And thanks for being incredibly vague about this “incident” that I’m not supposed to be alarmed about. Was it a robbery? A murder? A terrorist attack? Seriously, referring to something as a generic “incident” doesn’t really inspire peace of mind.
The whole thing reminded me of Homer’s Everything’s OK Alarm on The Simpsons.
In any case, all of these things combined to make for a very tired Monday.
Now that Scott’s returned we’ll be reinstituting Riff Trax night, though this week we’ll actually be using it to see the latest Harry Potter movie.
And that – with the exception of the awesome facts that MTV’s The State: Complete Series came out on DVD today, I ordered it from Amazon for a great price, and will be receiving it on Thursday – is pretty much all that’s been going on since I last posted.

Awesomeness Downgrade

Last week when I went to the comic shop I picked up the trade paperback collection of Sleeper Season One.
I’ve read it before (along with Season Two), but I never actually owned it, and it had been a while since I’d read it, so I was eagerly anticipating rereading it.
Sleeper is a comic that is crafted from 100% awesomeness.
Even though I already know how it ends, I find myself impatiently waiting for the September release of the Season Two trade, because I just need another Sleeper fix.
(I posted a Facebook status stating that I can’t believe I have to wait until September for it. My friend Gretchen responded that waiting and wanting are good for you, as they build character. My response? Screw character; I want it now. Besides, I’ve spent most of my life waiting and wanting; at this point I’ve got character spilling out of my ears, and having it hasn’t done me a bit of good.)
In any case, after finishing Season One, I had to go back to reading Showcase Presents Legion of Super-Heroes Volume 3.
Talk about going from the sublime to the ridiculous.
Sure, the old Legion stories are entertaining in their way, but contrasted to the excellence of Sleeper...well, it’s a major letdown and a total awesomeness downgrade.
On the topic of awesomeness, though, They Live is currently airing on HDNet Movies and recording on my DVR, so I think I’ll go watch that.
Not much else to write about anyway...

Tiller-less

Yesterday I stopped at Home Depot on the way home to pick up some more of that lawn patch repair stuff to use in the front yard, as the test patches in the backyard have actually been yielding new grass.
I also wanted to pick up some kind of tiller thing for the immediate purpose of breaking up the soil in the areas in which I need to use the patch repair stuff, but also for the future date on which I decide to do something different with the flowerbeds, as I'm not really all that thrilled about what was left behind by the previous owner in the way of flowers.
I found the perfect one; a Black & Decker model that uses the same battery system as all of the rest of my stuff.
Naturally they didn't actually have any in stock, and weren't selling the display model.
I'd intended to mow the lawn - the front and side, anyway - when I got home, but by the time I did I no longer had the energy, so I put it off until today.
I also did some hedge trimiing, and then did the patch repair thing on one of the bigger sections of dead grass, using a shovel and a rake to break up the soil, since I'm still tiller-less.
And that's been pretty much all the excitement in my life.

A Conversation at Work:

My boss: That will free you up from some "grunt work."
Me: That's good, because I certainly have plenty of that.
My boss: We're definitely going to be moving away from that kind of thing. I've got some good projects lined up for you.
Me: ...great.

Why I Heart Slacktivist Continued:

In his most recent post about the Delaware legislature passing legislature that would add sexual orientation to anti-discrimination laws, Fred "Slacktivist" Clark demonstrates yet again why I Heart Slacktivist:

Those bills never passed. "Discrimination against gays still legal in Del.," read the headline on the paper's Web site, year after year after year.

That headline was celebrated, each time, by Christian conservative groups who were always ferociously opposed to the idea that gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered persons should enjoy the same legal protections as everyone else in the state. Those groups liked to quote Leviticus to support the idea that homosexuality was an "abomination" to God. The idea, I guess, was that homosexuals were sinners and thus real, true Christians were therefore obliged to ensure that it remained perfectly legal to deny them access to housing or employment.

It's tempting to respond in kind, to say, I'll see your Leviticus and raise you a Deuteronomy:

Do not have two differing weights in your bag -- one heavy, one light. Do not have two differing measures in your house -- one large, one small. You must have accurate and honest weights and measures ... For the Lord your God detests anyone who does these things, anyone who deals dishonestly.

In other words, no fair not being fair. You can't have one price for one group of people and a different price for a different group. You can't have one housing market or one job market for one group of people and exclude other people from that market -- that's differing weights and measures, something the Lord your God detests. Inequality, discrimination, disenfranchisement and the dishonesty of double-dealing and double-standards turn out also to be abominations before the Lord.

And there's nothing in Deuteronomy to suggest a loophole that says it's OK to have differing weights in your bag so long as the short-changing one is for homosexuals. The Bible says, unambiguously, that these Delaware Christians' crusade in defense of legal discrimination is abominable and detestable.

So what we have here is a theological dispute -- a disagreement over the interpretation and meaning of the scripture. I'm confident I can win this argument, but before we get bogged down in the theological details of such a dispute, allow me to point out the most important thing to remember about all such arguments: They don't matter. Not even a little bit. Because none of what any of us thinks about the interpretation and meaning of the scripture is in any way relevant to the question before the legislature, a wholly secular body charged only with the wholly secular matters of law and justice.

Sometimes I Surprise Myself

Friday evening as I was moving some of my newly-purchased tools out to the toolshed my neighbors were in their yard setting up patio furniture and greeted me through the fence.
We talked for a bit and they asked if I had plans for the 4rh. I confessed that I did not, and they told me that they were having a barbecue and that I was welcome to join them.
Surprisingly enough, come Saturday afternoon, I did.
Even more surprising was how sociable I was, having conversations with multiple people, and sticking around for several hours before throwing out the "stuff to do" line and excusing myself.
As is always the case, I was sort of the odd man out, as I fell somewhere in between the primary age groups of the people there.
I didn't do much today beyond going grocery shopping. I didn't exactly fill up the refrigerator, but there's a lot more stuff in it now. The freezer is actually pretty full, though.
Other than that I've been making some half-hearted attempts at drawing, but just haven't been feeling it, and some half-assed attempts at straightening up the house a bit.
And now I've made a quarter-assed attempt at posting a blog entry.