doodledee

Sometimes when you do stuff it becomes part of your so-called 'permanent record'. It'll follow you around, becoming part of who you are. That can be good, but it can also be a bitch.

I think the threat was greatest in high school, where [in theory] things on your record could prevent you from getting into the college of your choice. I suppose it's still a big deal when you enter the workforce, but for some reason, I don't think about it in that context very often.

In the Violent Femmes teen anthem 'Kiss Off', Gordon Gano wrote:

I hope you know this will go down on your permanent record. Oh yeah? Well don't get so distressed. Did I happen to mention that I'm impressed?

Until recently, I'd never actually seen any part of my permanent record. I always imagined a big FBI style folder stuffed with documents and maybe some sneaky spy camera pictures of me on my paper route or something. I bet in reality it's not nearly that cool.

I've realized now that all kinds of crap becomes part of your permanent record whether you want it to or not. Writings, pictures, stories and, perhaps most bizarrely, videos find their way into that big fat virtual file. The rest of you probably figured that out a long time ago, but it only became obvious to me recently.

Heavy.

Today I've gone through a lot of that 'what if' type logic. I think the seed got planted the other day when our plumbing started acting funky. More specifically, the floor drain in the basement backed up after Libby ran a load of laundry. Dammit.

It's so frickin' expensive to have those Rotor Rooter guys out, so naturally I wondered: what if I just tried to fix it myself? What if I rented one of those huge tools like they use and pretended I was a plumber? What if the snake gets stuck and I have to have the front yard dug up to get it out? Or what if it doesn't even fix the problem?

All those what ifs trigged a wave of non-related what ifs.

What if I skateboarded more?

What if I stopped caring?

What if I started something?

What if nobody but me likes olives? What if I buy them anyway?

What if I gave up?

What if I grew up?

What if the hokey pokey is really what it's all about?

Late Night Dunn Baby Update: The first baby was out at 11:50 or so. The second should be out sometime later this morning. That means they'll have different birthdays. That's pretty neat.

After to some quick googling, it sounds like twins being born across the midnight hour averages only one occurrence each week in the entire United States. Huh. That's a lot more rare than I though it would be. Double neat!

Pictures available soon.

Babies are here! Mother is resting and both parents are very happy.

Jackson Delatus Dunn - 6 pounds 3 ounces - 11/26/02
Samuel James Dunn - 6 pounds 8 ounces - 11/27/02

hb sd

The babies are on the way and Libby has gone to Rochester to welcome them. I've gotta stay and work one more day, then I'm heading down myself. Traditional late night loud music rules apply.

all I can see is black and white and white and pink with blades of blue that lay between the words I think on a page that I was meaning to send to you I couldn't tell if it bring my heart the way I wanted when I started writing this letter to you

Good stuff.

A collection of little updates. What fun.

Yard Sign Update: This morning on the way to work, I noticed that the previously mentioned 'Nuke Iraq' sign had been torn into several pieces and left on the ground. The little flag remained duct-taped to the post, presumably as a sign of 'respect'. I figure by now some well-meaning neighbor has fired up their leaf blower and blown the pieces into a neat little pile for later collection. Whirrrrrrrrrr!

Gig Update: GE it is. In 6 months I will probably know more about managing large fleets of vehicles than I really need to.

IMAX Star Wars Update: Big, loud, and awesome. Something like 20 minutes has been cut from the original version, but it didn't seem to change the flow of the story all that much. (Except for that one scene at the end of the movie where Jimmy Smits shows up out of nowhere. WTF? I loved that dude on NYPD Blue, but what's he doing on Geonosis?) The IMAX screen is like 8 stories high, but amazingly, Chaperone Bob said it "needed to be a little bigger" as we walked back to the car. Huh? Old people confuse me. Not that Chaperone Bob is really 'old', he's just more 'mature' and 'sophisticated' than I am. But he also buys my ticket, so I let it go.

Christmas Carol Update: Per Libby's scroogish rule, I'm not aloud to listen, sing, hum, imply, or beatbox any Christmas songs until Thanksgiving Day. With the late holiday this year, it's just killing me. That new 'jingle jingle' jingle for Marshal Fields is so damn catchy.

Dunn Babies Update: No babies.

Some group is going around the neighborhood handing out these 'No War in Iraq' signs for people to put in their yards. I'm guessing it's a program designed to help liberals suffering from Wellstone / Mondale / Moe sign withdrawal to ease out of the election season and back into normal society.

Apparently some doves must not have been home when the sign folks came around because a lot of the signs going up appear to be homemade. They look like they're made by kids, but more likely it's just adults with those fat Crayola markers. It's impossible to make something look like kids didn't make it when you use those things. You practically have to make a fist when you hold them they're so fat. How can you draw like that? You can't, that's how. (You can, however, make your own crayons now. Mint!)

Anyway, yesterday afternoon one of the homemade signs went up in the yard of a house down the street from us. Huge letters colorfully demanded 'No War With Iraq!'. There was also a big fanciful peace sign drawn in one corner. Well actually it was the Mercedes logo, but I think it was supposed to be a peace sign. (Ahhh, Edina.) Either way, I figured it was good to see some activism in the 'hood.

Not to be outdone by some peace loving German car fan, the house across the street made a homemade sign for their lawn, too. Same reliable fat marker on tag board construction and - in what I presume was a 'tribute to heroes' - a small flag duct taped to one of the posts. The only real difference between this sign and the other one was that the new one said 'Nuke Iraq' and had a big mushroom cloud drawn on it.

Uhhh... Are those really my only two choices? Then I'll take heads. No wait, tails.

I couldn't help but stop and take a couple of pictures. While doing so, I got a kick out of the fact that I was confronting two political extremes while standing - ideologically and quite literally - in the middle of the road.

Then a bus drove up and I had to move.

The other day this chick - who would best be described as 'spunky' - told me I spend too much time writing on this website. Maybe she's right.

Aww, screw her.

Huge riots happening in Nigeria, the host country for this year's Miss World pageant. As of right now, more than 50 people - conservatively - have been stabbed, bludgeoned, or burnt to death.

Apparently local Muslim groups are pissed because the competition celebrates a bunch of near nekkid ladies.

The riots were touched off when some dumbass journalist penned:

The Muslims thought it was immoral to bring 92 women to Nigeria and ask them to revel in vanity. What would Mohammed think? In all honesty he would probably have chosen a wife from among them.

Ouch.

Unfortunately, no information was available on what type of car Muhammad would drive on his way to the contest. Additionally, no information was available as to the ability of the contestant from the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia to find her home country on a map.

On a somewhat related note, I almost started a riot myself after seeing how much tickets for tonight's Jack Johnson show at First Avenue were being scalped for. I was ready to pay over face to get in, but $200?!? Ahhh, no.

Another one of those reports about how Americans are sucky at geography is out. It seems like they publish one of these every year. And yet people somehow are always astonished that their fellow citizens can't find anything besides their home state on a world map.

Being somewhat cynical, I guess I don't expect that many people to know where crazy places like Afghanistan are. (Somewhere over by France, maybe?) There are just too many little countries to keep track of and they change around too fast. Yesterday's Czechoslovakia is today's Czech Republic and Slovakia. Yesterday's Yugoslavia is today's Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and [maybe] Macedonia. Yesterday's Mexico is today's New Mexico. Honestly, who can keep track of all that? Test giving geography nerds, that's who.

That said, even I was shocked by this one:

Only 71 percent of the surveyed Americans could locate on the map the Pacific Ocean, the world's largest body of water. Worldwide, three in 10 of those surveyed could not correctly locate the Pacific Ocean.

How is that even possible? The Pacific Ocean covers like 1/3 of the entire world, more than all the land areas put together. Assuming the person knows that 'ocean' is not 'land', all they have to do is pick a section of water and point to it and they're gonna be right about half the time.

In conclusion, the people who can't find the Pacific Ocean on a map are actually more unlucky than they are stupid. Let's cut them some slack, people.

While driving around yesterday afternoon, Huna and I got passed by this car going about 85 miles an hour. At first I didn't think it was a big deal, but then I noticed that the car had handicapped plates on it. It struck me as really funny.

Today I'm still laughing about it, and I can't explain why.

Man, it's funny, though.

I also thought this SUV protest was pretty funny. What Would Jesus Drive? Ha!

The day after Halloween, I brought all our leftover candy to the office. I dumped it in a big Target bag and just left it sitting on the floor by my door. People went crazy. After about 2 days, maybe 70% of it was eaten. After a week, only M&Ms remained. It's been like that ever since. I eat a pack every once in a while, but nobody else seems to like them. What's up with that? I thought everyone liked M&Ms?

The new color M&M is purple. I guess it was a really close election. Apparently pink won the popular vote... Stupid chads.

Check out the results for yourself.

I got on this soccer team that plays indoors over at the Augsburg bubble. Some old friends from high school have a team and asked if I wanted to play. Hell yeah.

I had to miss our first game because we were in Chicago, but I played in the game yesterday. It was a great time. I hadn't played for a few years, and never indoors, but it went much better than I expected. Nobody bothered to tell me the rules before we started playing, so I made a few bad moves - like the time I slide-tackled a dude on the other team, a big no-no, I guess - but I eventually figured it out.

Today my back, butt, legs, knees, feet, and ankles hurt. I think I may have actually even whimpered once this morning. That's cute, right?

I got a little carried away while cleaning up the yard today.

Oops.

hb bp

The latest David Brooks column in The Atlantic was an interesting read. It's basically a rehash of that whole "I've got mine, you've got yours, let's just ignore each other" theory that seems so reasonable at first and then becomes quasi-revolting after further reflection. Unfortunately, his 'con' arguments are a little weak, so you get stuck with one of those "well, is it bad or isn't it?" aftertastes. Read it and make up your own mind.

One stat he referenced that I thought was neat:

During the most recent presidential election a Time magazine-CNN poll asked voters whether they were in the top one percent of income earners. Nineteen percent reported that they were, and another 20 percent said that they expected to be there one day.

Uhhh... beep beep beep... Doesnotcompute. I suppose it might explain the lack of concern over Bush's tax plan, though, who knows.

Other things I don't understand:

• Why Letterman always loses the ratings wars to Leno
• Why I keep buying Little Debbie even though I think Hostess tastes better
• How they got that monkey to blow his nose

The other day, Libby was feeling better than I was so she volunteered to go shopping for sick food for the two of us. Having been pre-med for 20 minutes in college, I knew the right things to get: gatorade, 7up, and saltines. She did a great job and brought home everything I had asked for.

This morning, I opened the fridge and found that she had also bought this little tiny bottle of apple juice. It's just like one of those giant bottles, only miniature. At first I was all mad, because nothing that small has an equally small price. But by tonight, I was totally over it. How can you stay mad at something so cute? You can't. You are powerless in its presence.

Stayed home sick from work today. So did Libby. So did Jeannine, I guess. It was probably something we all ate in Chicago.

'Pukeathon' is the only word that adequately describes the symptoms. Eww.

A week or so before we left for NYC, I wrote to Dara Moskowitz, the food critic at the local alternative weekly newspaper City Pages, for some ideas on where to eat while we were there. To my surprise, she wrote back with a nice list of fun places to go, some of which we tried, and some of which we didn't. Either way, it was really cool that she wrote back.

So today after lunch I picked up the current Pages and noticed in the table of contents that the weekly food column was titled A Visitor's Guide to the Eats of New York. Kick ass, I thought, she got a story idea from my note.

I page to the article and find that not only did she get the story idea from my note, but that my note leads off the article.

Behold the power of haiku.

Does all this mean I'm famous now? Uhhh, no. But seeing as I've never really had 'groupies' before, and this will probably be my last chance to, anyone interested in the job should feel free to send me a resume and a headshot.

Dara rocks.

Back home from Chicago to find ten million leaves on our postage stamp sized front lawn. I think I'll just skip the rake and use a shovel.

This trip brought to an end our Three Weddings in Five Weeks adventure. I have now officially fulfilled my 'YMCA' and 'Electric Slide' quota for the decade. To be honest, I'm not even sure I heard those songs at all three weddings - especially when I take into account the fact that my sister had some fancy jazz band for hers - but it sure feels like it.

Aw, who am I kidding... In a couple of weeks I bet I'll find myself sitting home alone on a Saturday night having a private champagne pour and offering toasts into a mirror. Then I'll fire up a little Boogie Woogie Oogie and slide the lonely night away.

I think I'll go with an up-do.

Today we toured the marshmallow factory where Keith's brother Killer works. It was really neat. We saw how they take tons of sugar, corn syrup, and gelatin and mash it all together to make the lightest, fluffiest, most delicious marshmallows you've ever tasted. Seriously, you haven't had a great marshmallow until you've eaten them right off the assembly line. Soooo good. They were making minis when we were there and I bet I ate 50. Barely had room for a 2000 calorie lunch at Portillos after the tour.

We also got to wear hair and beard nets. That's always fun.

We're in Chicago for Justin and Laura's wedding. The hotel has bitchin' fast wireless internet. Schweet.

I guess there's some huge trade meeting going on downtown today and tomorrow. As expected, a circus of protesters has come to town with it. The rumor is that the protesters are going to try and tie up traffic and cause a nightmare rush hour. Who knows how that'll work out.

In a truly bizarre move, one of the protesters punched a police horse during this afternoon's rally. People punch horses? Whaa?

I'm taking a stand. A stand against horse punching. I will never punch a horse - unless one punches me first.

In fairness, it's not so much a stand against animal violence as it is a stand against stupidity.

The word of the day is plutocracy.

plu·toc·ra·cy

1. Government by the wealthy.


2. A wealthy class that controls a government.


3. A government or state in which the wealthy rule.

I guess there was some big election today. Who knew?

The lines at our polling place were pretty long. We had to wait outside in the snow for like 20 minutes before we could even get into the building. You'd think that in Edina we'd at least have free coffee while you wait, but nooooo. I wish I'd have known who made that decision so I could have immediately voted against them.

It'll be fun to see how this whole thing shakes out. Especially when/if Mondale loses. I think the disenfranchised absentee Wellstone supporters have a pretty good leg to stand on. Bring on round 2.

Or better yet, bring on instant runoff voting.

Check Minnesota election results.
 

Interesting case in the Supreme Court today. Canada tried to sue R.J. Reynolds for $1B in lost tax revenue as a result of cigarettes being smuggled into Canada.
From AP story:

Canada's lawsuit alleged that R.J. Reynolds and related companies set up an elaborate network of smugglers to flood Canada with black market cigarettes after the government doubled taxes on tobacco in 1991. Authorities said the ring smuggled $687 million worth of cigarettes and alcohol into Canada from 1991 to 1997 through the St. Regis Mohawk Reservation that straddles the Canada-New York border.

I was surprised by this case for two reasons.

First, I was surprised that Canada was suing an American company in an American court. Why not just sue them in Canadian court? After doing some reading, I guess I still don't quite understand their reasons, but the fact that they did is more or less the basis for the Supreme Court rejecting the case. Apparently there's some really old law - literally from like the 16th century - that says it's illegal for a US court to assist a foreign country in collecting their taxes. In this case, the Supreme Court wasn't even sure if that was a valid law anymore, so they asked the White House to weigh-in on the issue. I gotta believe they knew the answer to that one before they asked.

Secondly, I was surprised to hear that cigarette smuggling was such a big deal. Turns out it's a way, way bigger deal than I thought. There are huge smuggling rings that operate domestically and all over the world.

An organization was recently broken-up that bought cigarettes in North Carolina, where taxes are low, and drove them to Michigan, where taxes are high. They were pulling in $10,000/week and sending the profits to Hammas. Who knew?

Internationally, estimates are that as many as one third of all cigarettes exported from the United States end up on the black market. That's like 300B cigarettes/year. The EU is suing RJR - again, in US Courts (huh?) - only they're claiming that Saddam Hussein is making tons of money off illegal smokes. That's one way to get attention in Washington, I guess.

The ugliest part is the allegation that cigarette companies aren't just aware of the problem, they're involved in it. And what's worse, they admit it, they support it, they rely on it, they depend on it. It's just gross.

My street has a block party every fall. We sit around with our neighbors and have a few beers and cook out and talk about how great the neighborhood is. It's a good time.

This year's was supposed to be on a Sunday a few weeks back. We had been pretty busy with a couple weddings around that time, but we were gonna be in town that Sunday so we figured we'd go. After all, it's party in your front yard - how can you say 'no' to that?

The big day arrived and I made up one of those giant bread and spinach dip bowls. Yum. Around about 5, I start watching out the front door for people to start setting things up. Usually a couple dudes bring grills and somebody brings a table and so on and so forth.

No one ever showed.

All day it had been cold and rainy. What's more, the Twins were playing a big playoff game that evening. Mix gently and apparently you've got a recipe for block party failure.

Or at least that's what I chalked it up to at the time.

Over the last couple of weeks I've come to discover that at least 3 other families on the street were watching out their front doors waiting for somebody else to make the first move, too. (Like me, I'm sure one eye was on the street and one eye was on the Twins game.)

It's time for better neighborhood leadership. It's time to elect a 'block captain'. We'll need somebody who can make a difference. Someone who can get people to rake their leaves and bring in their garbage cans. Someone who can pass a prescription drug plan without taxing Social Security. Someone who will let me rake my leaves into the street and/or my neighbor's lawn.

Carpe Diem, people. Carpe Diem.

Walter Mondale is old. Old like 74 years old. That means that if he wins the election, he'll be 80 when his term is up. That's not Strom Thurmond old, but it's still pretty old.

I wonder if he'll finish it out his term if he wins.

I wonder if people will take that into consideration when they vote.

I wonder if the IMAX version of Attack of the Clones will be any good.