Monday, August 29, 2005

Hurricane Katrina

I'm sitting here at 2:45 a.m., and I don't want to go to bed. Why? Because I know that there is a very good chance that when I would wake up, the country will be a very different place. If all goes as bad as they are saying, this could be the most catastrophic natural disaster in United States history.

New Orleans is a city built in a bowl below sea level. For years, city officials wanted to protect it from Mississippi River flooding, so they built levees. The levees, unfortunately, are only able to withstand a Category 3 hurricane. Katrina is either a Cat. 4 or 5. The water is going to burst the levees and flood the city.

Once the city floods, who knows if it will ever not be under water. Also, consider the wildlife in the Bayou area. Just think if crocodiles are swimming in downtown New Orleans.

My God, this is depressing. And once the storm gets inland, the flooding is still going to be bad. Think Cincinnati and St. Louis are out of the line of trouble with the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers overflowing?

Just think what gas prices are going to be in a couple days. New Orleans is one of the biggest oil refining cities in the country, and the New Orleans port is where much of the country's oil is tranported into the United States.

I'm tired of writing, but like I said, I don't want to go to bed.

I hope that tomorrow, I'll be able to say I was full of it, and that it wasn't anywhere close to this.

I hope.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

If the Cubs won the World Series

From the sportsjournalists.com message board...

Pretend letters to a mean advice lady named Mrs. McFadden

Dear Mrs. McFadden,
I was married a year ago to my husband, but it appears his attention seems to be waning. It seems that no matter what I do, he ignores me. We recently went out to dinner and the whole time we were eating, he was staring at the 16-year old waitress. I asked him what he thought he was doing, and he shrugged his shoulders as if it were no big deal. I will admit that she easily could have passed for 25, but 1) he is my husband and 2) I'd rather he not get arrested. What do I do?

~Perturbed in Pittsboro

Dear Perturbed,
You mentioned the fact you were eating. Stop. If you were eating, you're probably getting fat, so stop eating.

Love,
Mrs. McFadden

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Dear Mrs. McFadden,
My mother-in-law and I have always gotten along and I consider her one of my best friends. However, recently I have become suspicious of her. It seems she is running an illegal drug operation from her house. I never would have thought a sweet old lady would be an international drug lord! My wife passed four years ago, and Sherryl is my lone reminder of my days with Marlene. I don't know what to do. Should I report her?

~Confused in Columbia City

Dear Confused,
The cocaine particles I found in your envelope belie your concern. Perhaps you should consider taking care of your own problem before complaining about your mother-in-law. You are a drug-infested parasite, so stop writing me. Bitch.

Hugs,
Mrs. McFadden

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Dear Mrs. McFadden,
I believe that your answer last week to the boy wondering why his father was killed was a bit harsh. To say it was the boy's fault is irresponsible. I hope you will reconsider.

~Angry in Alabama

Dear Angry,
Really? Well, who's the one making $2 million a year to answer questions from this country's most idiotic people who can't solve their own problems? The boy came to me, and I gave him my opinion. Now I will give you my personal opinion. Please, feel free to rid the world of yourself of ingesting some carbonic acid. Believe me, no one will miss you except the bill collectors.

Happy thoughts,
Mrs. McFadden

Late Night Ramblings 8-24

I recommend eating only foods you know won't make you sickish. Not following this rule will only cause pain. I found out today. Or last night. It was either whatever I ate last night or this frozen boxed lasagna this afternoon. Whatever it was, wow.

School starts tomorrow. Not for me, but yeah, school starts tomorrow. It's kind of strange. The first day of school has always been a day I've both liked and hated. I liked it better at Butler because I liked the people better. Even if my work schedule makes it a little difficult, I'm glad everyone is back. I'm lucky to know the people I know.

Aqua Teen Hunger Force both fascinates and frightens me. It's also tremendously hilarious. I don't know who thinks up some of that stuff.

Every time the Cubs win, I think for a second that they have a chance. Then I smack myself in the face and realize that it's not going to happen.

And updated from the old blog, a timeline...

1981: Born six weeks early; spit up a lot; go to the bathroom in bad places; they thought I had "problems"

1982-83: I learn to walk, and not crap my pants in restaurants

1984: Brother born; I didn't like him much; collected grocery store paper bags and taped them

1985: Start preschool; became opposed to the idea of swimming; first baseball memory (Pete Rose); watched a lot of Sesame Street and Mister Rogers; still wet the bed

1986: Move to Mooresville; creepy Harold guy who used to own the house still hangs around the house after we move in; I like living in the woods, but next door kid Nick is a punk

1987-88: Move to Plainfield, start kindergarten; kindergarten is weird

1988-89: Start first grade; had "The Dream" that involved a pterodactyl and a crocodile

1989-90: Second grade; Mrs. Howard terrifies me; Evan Byah waved to me; hid dad's wallet because I thought it would be funny

1990-91: Philip gets dehydrated in St. Louis; get first cat (Peaches); collecting toy cars and baseball cards; third grade; Mrs. Lawyer makes me eternally scared to ask questions in class; Christian Laettaner hits "The Shot" to beat Kentucky

1991-92: Fourth grade; infatuated with guilloteens for some reason; infatuated with Mrs. Heldman (that might be something to reconsider including, but good Lord)

1992-93: Fifth grade; Colts player visits class; I become a trouble maker and get "talks too much" on my report card; traded baseball cards under the table during class; the Waco stuff; Grandpa (mom's dad) dies

1993-94: Sixth grade; Ace Ventura comes out; Channel One; Crash Test Dummies (Mmmmm mmmm mmmm song which was a terrible song); the Pacers become good, and the New York Knicks become hated

1994-95: Go to first MLB game: Sox vs. Angels; baseball strike; Seventh grade; Mr. Planker; the Eagle Creek Park field trip "incident"; I fished a lot and caught two fish; buried one of them in the garden

1995-96: Go to first Cubs game; Eighth grade; office helper with Mrs. Biggerstaff; Grandma (mom's mom) had bypass surgery

1996-97: Bush Stadium closes, Victory Field opens; Grandma (dad's mom) had bypass surgery; Freshman year HS; Wallflowers song "Sixth Avenue Heartache" gets stuck in my head for about three months straight; start French; hate French; the cats (Ralph and Curley) show up in our garage

1997-98: Sophomore year HS; CHAP; the New Harmony field trip (one of the best days ever); learn that I like writing; Mr. Potter's biology class and half-disected fetus pigs falling on my head; Pacers-Bulls Playoff series; Milwaukee

1998-99: Junior year HS; take a journalism class; cat dies; Cubs go to the playoffs; Plainfield wins the State Basketball Championship; Colombine; J-Day field trip #1 to Ball State

1999-2000: Senior year HS; on newspaper staff; elbow screwed up for four months after ice skating; trip to the photo shop; field trip to the Star; field trip see some French play at Shortridge Middle School; J-Day field trip #2 and staying over at Mrs. Burress's house where I got beat in a game of HORSE with a sitting down backwards shot by someone much shorter than me; wondered what came after high school; enrolled at IUPUI, then accepted at Butler the next day; registration at Butler; Graduated from high school

2000-01: Freshman year of college; was the quiet kid in orientation the guides are told to watch for; spent way too much time in the library; came home every day at 6 p.m.; wrote for the Collegian; got a couple awards; Mr. Levin helped my writing; Butler won a tournament game

2001-02: Sophomore year of college; orientation guide #1; make fool out of self again; Dinosaur Evolution; 9/11; Grandpa (dad's dad) got sick on 9/10, went to hospital on 9/11/01; reasons why other people remember 9/11/01 also happened; Butler got shafted

2002-03: Junior year of college; orientation guide #2; sports editor of Collegian; spring is a good semester; Butler goes to Sweet 16; went to Pittsburgh

2003-04: Grandpa died; orientation guide #3 Senior year of college; Collegian was like hell; probably the worst semester; Cubs lost in Game 7; quit Collegian; went to Dawgnet to work for Pulliam; Dawgnet great; took job at Star; Star job great; got internship for the fall; much better semester

2004-05: Fifth year of college; first semester was a lot of work with heavy classes, internship and the Star; slept very little, least of my life; realized that after May, I was on my own; second semester was quick and easy; really started to wonder what to do; sportsjournalists.com helped; one guy from the site said I have "talent," which is nice; went to Cooperstown, Niagara Falls, Boston, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, Washington DC, Baltimore, Durham (Duke) and Knoxville; a lot of states and one Canadian province; Cubs suck again; still trying to find a fulltime job

2005-06: We'll see what happens.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Late Night Ramblings, 8-14

My brother got a new iMac G5 desktop. He thinks it's better than mine, but I very much like my iBook G4. I'd probably marry it or something, but having that type of relationship with your computer is fairly wrong. While any relationship can be considered an awkward situation, one with a computer would be particuarly awkward. At the wedding, it would be "do you iBook G4 take Daniel to be your...whatever he is to you?" To which the iBook G4 would reply with the growling sound it makes when you turn it on. If you own a Mac, you probably know what I'm talking about.

I don't like eating around my cats. They always stare at me with those "GIVE ME A BITE OR PET ME OR LEAVE MY HOUSE, DAMMIT!" eyes. I love them. I really do. But they scare me.

There's a picture or three of me out there somewhere now with my tie around my head and my collar popped. Interesting. Speaking of which, I wore a suit today for the first time in a long time. Pretty different from what I usually wear.

A job in journalism typically means the end of any type of social life. The busiest nights are Friday and Saturdays. Of course, given my history of sitting around watching tv on those nights, it would probably serve as a boost to my standing in the outside world.

I've started playing this online game called "Nation States." Basically, you have a country that can be named anything you want. Mine is The Confederation of South Aardvarkland. Everyday, you have an issue or two that will decide the fate of your country. Currently, mine is a liberal paradise, but I'm considering turning psycho (or George Bush) on it. I should also consider trying to lower my level of dorkdum.

Talking about the price of gas has turned into the new talking about the weather. In the elevator? "I can't believe how much I spent on gas today!" Out to lunch? "Can you believe the gas prices?!?" Want to talk to the person in the bathroom stall next to you? "I've got your $3.00 a gallon gas right here!"

Speaking of oil products, any society that bases its entire power supply on a non-renewable resource gets what it deserves. Not to be cryptic, but the next century is not going to be much fun. Gas prices are just the beginning. We're running out of oil. Fast. Honestly, I'd love to think some alternative fuel source is going to come along and save us, but it's impossible. For that to work, we would have had to begin researching in the early 1900s. To get a good, reliable alternative fuel source in the mainstream market would take nearly a century to get in place. Everything in our society is built upon oil. Plastics, food production, manufacturing and other industry equipment. Hell, we would need oil to produce the equipment needed to produce the alternative fuel source. It's not going to be fun and we're going to have to figure a way to survive.

That last one was a pretty big downer.

I have a little brother. His name is Philip. Philip is 21 years old. Everything I say, Philip responds with "your mom." Understand that I enjoy the occasional "your mom" joke. But when it gets to the point of where I say "this food smells" is rebutted with "your mom smells," I get confused. Maybe I shouldn't look too much into it, but he's insulting is own mom. Perhaps she does smell. I might just be immune to it, and he is desperately trying to get me to recognize that fact. I doubt it, though.

Philip is sitting 3:00 from me with his computer. I'm going to pester him now.

Goodnight.

db

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Beginning again

I'm starting this thing over. We'll see what works here.