Today's blog is based on the on-going antics of Michael Vick, currently the star quarterback of the Atlanta Falcons NFL team. For those of you living under a rock, Michael has agreed to a guilty plea in the case where he has been indicted for running an organized underground dogfighting ring. There's more to it than just that, but I'll save it for CNN.
Today I want to specifically talk about this article here: http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/law/08/22/vick/index.html
Apparently the NAACP's (National Association for Advancement of Colored People) Atlanta chapter has said that they don't think Michael Vick should be banned from pro football. They've also said that Michael Vick only agreed to a guilty plea deal in fear of "rolling the dice" in a trial where he may be found guilty, anyway. They ALSO said that Michael is being persecuted more for having "just killed some dogs" than he would have been if he had killed a human being. They also, ALSO said that people hunt deer and other animals all the time, and nobody ever finds anything wrong with that. Holy shitballs. I simply can't let that dog lie (pun intended).
Here we go.
Let's look at the first thing the NAACP has said about Mr. Vick. They claim that they don't think he should be banned from NFL football. They think that he should pay his dues and then be allowed back in. Personally, being an animal lover, I think what he's claimed to be "fully responsible for" and guilty of is an abominable act and that anyone that supports him is either condoning his activity as being acceptable or capable of lending a blind eye to it. That, to me, is just as bad as committing the crime, and he should in no way be allowed back in to the NFL, nor would I want him endorsing my product line if I ever had one. It's a well known fact that those who commit acts of cruelty upon animals are susceptible to sociopathic behavior. Do we really want sociopaths in our NFL? Do we want our kids growing up with these types of role models? Anybody remember Jeffrey Dahmer?
The NAACP also claimed that Michael only agreed to a guilty plea bargain because he was fearful of "rolling the dice" in a trial where he could've been found guilty of much, much more. I agree with that, but not for the same reasons that the NAACP would. I agree to that because he's afraid of the extra charges the prosecution has in store for him should he not agree to the plea bargain. The prosecution obviously has enough evidence to send him up the river for years, otherwise they wouldn't have threatened him with it. I'm completely against plea bargaining in the first place, by the way. It's a mockery of the judicial system. Does it save taxpayers money? Probably. Is it worth it? Not a penny. You're letting a criminal off easy. The NAACP probably thinks that because he's "colored" (using their terminology, not mine) that he will automatically be found guilty. I'd like to think that isn't the case. I mean, after all, OJ Simpson is "colored" and he got off, right?
I'm going to lump their last two comments into one, because they are of similar nature. They said that he is being persecuted more for "just killing some dogs" than he would've been if he had murdered humans. They said that people hunt deer and other animals all the time, and no one ever goes after them. "Just killing some dogs?" Really? He didn't "just" kill some dogs. He body slammed one. He electrocuted several. He hung others. And let's not just look at how he did it. Let's look at why. He killed the dogs because they didn't perform well enough in his illegal dogfighting ring. Dog fighting is barbaric. Any animal fighting rings are barbaric and despicable. Killing animals because they don't perform well in those situations is equally barbaric and despicable. I for one couldn't imagine body slamming any animal at all, even if it were attacking me or mine! I could think of about a million better, faster, more humane ways of killing something that was endangering my life or someone else's. I could think of those ways on the fly, as well. Body slamming an animal shows to me that he got some sort of sick enjoyment out of doing it. So does electrocution and hanging. Why not just shoot it in the head? Seems like you'd go to a lot less trouble to me. Not that I would find it more acceptable. And I can't believe that they brought up hunting animals. People hunt to eat the animals! Hunters don't body slam deer! They shoot them in the lung, heart, or head and get it over with quick, then they pay homage to the beast they've just killed and eat it! These are animals that are effectively raised just for hunting. Hunting is not a crime because it's a means of sustenance for some families. I don't personally hunt anymore (I have before, but don't now for personal reasons), but I certainly don't have a problem with it. Hell sometimes hunting is a necessity for nature in order to keep individual ecosystems in balance. It's not a bloodsport. You're not pitting an otherwise innocent animal in a ring to defend itself and making a profit from it.
These comments made by the NAACP this morning are representative of what they're about nowadays. They have turned from an organization that was useful in the days after segregation in order to get everyone on board to an organization that will blindly defend "colored" people in any light, no matter how dim. It's ridiculous. Anyone who says this has anything to do with race is, in fact, a racist. Blacks are not the only people who employ illegal dogfighting rings. Perhaps the reason that the NAACP feels a need to defend Mike is because they feel that there is a stereotype with pit bull fighting and blacks. Perhaps they feel this way because black rappers glorify it. Perhaps they're right.
But that doesn't mean they get to defend it.
That means that they should use their time more wisely and attempt to find a means of eradicating the behavior from their oh-so-more-important "colored" people.
No one on Earth is more important than the next. Not the President of the United States. Not a cop. Not the mother or the father of a child. Not a black person. Not an Asian. Not a Caucasian. We are all the same and we all shall have the same chances with the same repercussions. Anyone who feels differently is either a racist or is looking out for their own idiocy.
I say Michael Vick never sets foot on pro ball field ever again. Let him rot in the European leagues for 1% of his current salary.
Peace, J
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Thursday, August 09, 2007
"Minorities"
*DISCLAIMER: I am not wholly a "racist," at least not in a negative sense (meaning I don't hate anyone based on their skin color, and I try my damnedest not to prejudge based on it). I am a "racist" to an extent that I believe there are some common truths that exist only because of racism, or if you prefer the term (which I don't), "reverse-racism" (which to some people means being a non-Caucasian and being racist, which I find an extremely stupid term...you're either racist or not, and certainly being a racist has NOTHING to do with one's own skin color).
When thinking of a title for my blog today, I was racking my brain for a fitting epithet. Then it occurred to me that the most fitting title of all might just be the subject itself, albeit in quotes (just to add that little hint of a smack).
The term minority has historically been used in the United States to describe any person who was of a race that was in lower populace than the most-popular race of the region. (Actually, after some research just now, I found that it was first used in that context popularly by some European scientists in 1913.) Consequently, that meant that if you weren't a Caucasian, that you were probably a minority of the region you were in, considering the proliferation of Whitey in the US throughout the past couple hundred years.
Of course Whitey (aka Honkey, Cracker, Massa, Boss, Whitebread) is still the most popular race in the US, but that all depends on where you live. You see, I spent my teenage years in the Dirty South, where blacks and Latinos most certainly are NOT considered a minority (at least not by me). I spent the rest of the time before my teenage years in Louisville, KY, which a lot of you probably think is one of the most racist places in the US. Well, if you think that, you're ignorant. Don't take that term the wrong way. Being ignorant of a fact or some facts doesn't mean you're stupid. It just means that you have no clue what you're talking about on that particular subject. ;-)
Allow me to educate you: Kentucky is on the northern side of the Mason-Dixon line, Abe Lincoln fucking lived there and still has property there (any of you ever hear of My Old Kentucky Home?), and was a huge part of the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960's. As I grew up there, I congregated, befriended, and learned with a veritable mixing pot of different races. My Mother taught me in my earliest years that there was only one race: The Human Race. I still believe that today.
So now that you have a bit of background (if not a completely exhaustive one), hopefully the rest of this blog's viewpoints will make a bit of sense. If they don't, not to worry. It's not your fault. It's probably your parents'.
Today I read on CNN (sorry, it's an old crutch from my Army days) that Whitey is actually a minority in 1 in 10 US counties. That made me a bit happy to see at first, mainly because I despise the term minority when used in that context, and it felt good to hear it used the other way around. I don't believe in minorities when used in that context. It's untrue. No one is a fucking minority, and if I were black, Asian, or Latino and anyone ever called me a minority or referred to me as one, I'd probably jack them in the mouth. The only minority on Earth is a fucking panda bear and that's because they're too fucking stupid to breed.
We all get the same chance. If you do well in school and work hard at life, you're going to make something out of yourself. If you have no common sense, no ambition, no drive, no goals, and no desire to live life to the fullest extent, then yes. You're a minority. You're a minority then because you're not powerful enough to make it in life. Ever hear of Darwin's Theory? In case you haven't, it's based on the suggestion that only the strong survive. I believe in Darwin's Theory to a certain extent. I say to a certain extent because as a sentient race (again, The Human Race is what I'm talking about here) we have the ability to help each other out, regardless of where we came from, what we look like, or what life we've led.
I believe that everyone could use a helping hand here and there, but only to get them motivated. We all make mistakes and need a little help sometimes. We're only Human. Sometimes Nature makes life hard and wipes us out with Her tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes and other natural disasters. Sometimes our spouses get hit by a speeding bus and we're left without any income. Regardless of how it happens, it typically does happen to most of us at least once, and we could use some assistance. I'm perfectly fine with that. I'm perfectly fine with people making a mistake a time or two (most of you know I've made my fair share of them) and needing a little helping hand. However, if you don't eventually learn from your mistakes, in my opinion, you deserve to be left behind because you're just not fit for society. The same thing goes in the Animal Kingdom and we are no different with the exception of sentience. That sentience allows us a bit of leeway, but only a bit. If we go around helping out everyone all the time, we leave behind a lot of others who could've had a great chance and who could've possibly done something good for society, as opposed to some lazy idiot who's getting a full scholarship based on his or her skin color and not their merit.
Which brings me to the full point of today's blog. No one, and I mean NO ONE, should ever get a full ride or even a bit of assistance based on where they're from, what their skin color is, who their great-grandparents were, or how much income the demographic of their neighborhood makes.
Don't make enough money? Get a new job someplace where you will, or work harder at your job so that you can get promoted. That's called drive.
Not happy living in the 'Hood, the Boondocks, the Country, or the Big City? Save your money and move somewhere else. That's called common sense.
Not happy flipping burgers at the local McDonald's or working at the local factory? Go to college or tech school and learn about something that makes you happy. That's called ambition.
Upset because you weren't the star quarterback in high school or didn't get the Nobel Peace Prize for saving Darfur (we're still waiting, whoever you are)? Perhaps you should've followed your dreams. Those are called goals.
Desire, unfortunately isn't something you can really learn. That's where Darwin's Theory comes into the equation for humans. You either have the desire to get out of the shithole you live in (if you live in one...consequently I live in quite possibly the greatest place on Earth: Portland Fucking Oregon), or you don't. You either want more for you and your family, or you don't. No one can teach you that. No one really should. Desire is personal. What makes us all individuals is that we all have different desires.
If your desire is to live on a farm in the country your whole life and drive an hour just to get to the corner store, so be it. Enjoy that life because we appreciate the vegetables, meat, and grain that you provide for us.
If your desire is to live in Detroit, MI and build cars in a factory, so be it. Enjoy that life because we appreciate the cars you build for us to get to and fro (those of you who live someplace that requires you to drive one, that is).
If I were black, I would despise the NAACP, Jesse Jackson, the "Reverend" Al Sharpton, and any other person, black or otherwise, who felt like because of my skin color I was deficient, or "minor" (key word in minority). How come Asians don't have a NAACP? Why don't Latinos? Why is it just blacks? Sounds to me like someone needed a cash cow and is marketing blacks as stupid and deficient because of some mistakes that Old White Men made LAST CENTURY. And they do market blacks that way and they have turned it into a cash cow. Ask Al Sharpton how much money is in his bank account. Ask him how much he and Jessie make just for speaking on TV. How much of that money goes back to the black community?
I'm not picking on blacks. Let's take a look at the American Latino population for second. Latinos are some of the hardest working people on the planet. That's not racist. It's true. Look at the jobs they're willing to do that Whitey thinks he's too good for. All that food you're feeding your fat ass at the ritzy restaurants? It's created and prepared in fine fashion by Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Cubans, and other Latinos. All those nice, cozy, cookie-cutter McMansions that you like to watch your kids grow up in? Hand-built with care by Latinos. And you know what? If anyone deserves a better chance than you or I, it's probably them. I say that because they have enough drive, goals, ambitions, and common FUCKING sense to get out of the crappy school systems, crappy pay, and crappy government that they live in and risk their asses crossing a border guarded by racist Old White Americans (aka The Minutemen) just to survive and provide more for their families. They are the true underdogs here. They come to a country where they don't speak the language and get paid shit to do jobs that we think we're too good to do anymore just to have something better than where they are. Now I'm not saying I would condone such a program, but I would certainly think higher of it than a program that helps people who were BORN in America and have 300,000 times the chance of survival than someone born in Darfur, Cambodia, Honduras, or Chechnya.
Asians? Don't even get me started. You need no assistance because you could quite possibly be ruling the planet in 20 years. Of course I'm joking (somewhat), but how many poor, uneducated Asians do you know? Exactly.
I'm not mad at anyone for being more successful than I have been or than I will be when I grow up. I'm not mad at anyone who has more ambitions, more drive, more talent, or greater goals than I do (although I might be a bit jealous at times, lol).
What I am mad about is perfectly good, talented, brilliant human beings getting passed-up to go to their dream school that they've worked hard for all their lives to get into just because someone thinks that another person's skin color makes them inferior.
What I am mad about is lazy, ignorant people sitting back and collecting a welfare check and filling the world with more ignorant, lazy people who will no doubt do the same thing when they get older because it's all they've ever known while me and my wife have to work our asses off just to go to college and eat ramen. Our taxes pay for your ignorant, lazy asses to eat. And don't think that I'm talking about only blacks here because I'm not. There are just as many white trash families and others doing the same thing.
If you do well in school and work hard, you will achieve every single thing you desire. I do know that.
Because the only people who do well in school and work hard that die hungry and unsatisfied are artists. ;-)
Peace, J
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Depression :(
What a sad state of affairs. Ol' Mr. Happy Go-Lucky (that'd be me), who scoffs at depression, is actually feeling a bit of it himself lately. This would be about the third time in my entire life that I've ever really noticed being depressed.
The first time was when I was in the Army in Germany and Bunny had all ready gotten out and come home to the USofA. I had to spend four months in Germany by myself and there was this overhanging fear that I might not be able to get out. I was definitely depressed and scared that I'd not see my wife again.
The second time was when Bunny was in college and we had little money and little time together. That'll make anybody depressed. I got over that eventually because I knew we had to get the Little Lady through school. It just had to be done, for several reasons. I was okay with that depression, honestly. I knew it wouldn't last long, and it really didn't.
Now I'm feeling it again. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to "party" (well, maybe a little bit, but only if I could be alone while doing it and that's never a good habit). I don't want to eat. I don't want to work. I don't want to exercise (and believe me, I know how much good it would do me; I just can't seem to come around). I just ate a bunch of chocolate, and that made me feel a little better. Jesus Christ I just sounded like a woman. Do men get PMS? Probably. We just don't bleed.
At any rate, ya it's definitely depression. Worst part is, I know why it is here and I am the root cause of it (which is probably the case in like 90% of depression cases). The reason I'm depressed right now is that we don't have any money and I want to be in San Francisco. Really superficial, huh? Well, you'd have to know me pretty well to understand, I guess. I'm a superficial fucktard. That fact doesn't make dealing with depression any easier, however.
I want to be in SF NOW because of obvious reasons. David, Jared, and another of our closest friends, Sara are all there, and best of all they all live within a few blocks of each other (well, Davey and Jared live together, but you get the idea). That would make living in SF a lot of fun, because those three people ARE a lot of fun. On top of that, both Bunny and I stand to make a lot of money in SF. I know what a lot of you are thinking. "But that money will be spent living in SF." Anyone who says that either hasn't lived in SF lately or is just blurting out what they've heard. Bunny and I did our research and the only big difference between SF and Portland monetarily is RENT. Rent exactly doubles. Parking is horrendous there, as well, but we aren't taking a car because cars and California don't mix for several reasons, most of which stem from the costs of having one there. With all that said, we really want to be there and I'm depressed that we aren't because I'm job searching like a mother fucker and can't find anything.
Jared had a line on a spot at his place of business but I was lazy and missed my opportunity. There are some other opps potentially coming my way via a recruiter who got Jared his job when he and Davey moved there, but she's a bit flaky (like any good Californian) and I certainly don't want to rely solely on her. I'm searching craigslist everyday and most of the jobs I'm qualified for aren't in the city proper, and if we're not taking a car with us, I need to work (and live) in the city. I know, I know...I just need to be patient and it will all work out. Thanks, Dad. I appreciate the help. :rolleyes: Again, that doesn't help with the depression.
Then there's our money sitch. We happen to be in the worst tax bracket you can possibly be in based on income vs. tax amount right now. We get taxed 33% of our income, and if you match that to our income, it's a big fuckin' hit. But I don't blame our current lack of funds on taxes, surely. It's through a combination of continuing poor spending habits, college, and past mistakes. All of which are pretty easily remedied. It's not like we have a coke problem. Heck, I'd be okay with that, seriously. At least then I'd be high on coke! Right now I don't have shit to show for being broke. No nice car. Not even a nice apartment, based on our last one. I got 130+ channels on our TV with a whole lot of nothin' to watch (because we've seen it all and Comcast shows the same shit over n' over).
It's okay, though. We're going to get through it. We just had to do the vacation in Kentucky and that cost us A LOT. I had to do it, though. I made a commitment to my family and friends there. I also made a commitment to Bunny to show her where I grew-up, because that's an important factor when you're married. I needed to follow through with those commitments because 1) I made them and 2) they were important.
Now that's over, we can relax a bit and start SAVING. We're at least gonna try harder. We make enough money to be able to save hundreds (if not a thousand) per month, and it's just fucking atrocious that we can't, aren't, and haven't. THAT'S why I'm depressed. Not because we're low on cash. Because we SHOULDN'T be and it's SHAMEFUL that we are. But we won't be for long. Bunny and Jack are gonna be good kids and keep tabs on our ugly, ugly spending habits. Don't get me wrong, either: Most of this is my fault (as if you needed to know that little fact). Bunny was doing fine before she met me seven years ago, and that probably adds to my depression, as well.
Oh and I forgot one other "little" fact that has me bent outta shape: Our computer has a Trojan virus and I can't get rid of it and it's my fault that we got it. No, I wasn't downloading pr0n. ("Pr0n" is Internet dorkspeak for porn, for those of you who aren't savvy.) I was actually downloading a hacking program for pirating software. Well the joke was on me, because what I downloaded turned out to be a Trojan virus and Mr. Microsoft Systems Engineer (that'd be me) didn't scan the file he downloaded for viruses like he should've (and like I preach to everyone to do). So that all leads to my depression as well. I guess it surmounts to the old adage, "never buy a car from a mechanic." The same could probably be said about IT professionals and computers.
Please don't worry about me if you are or were planning to. All these issues are my own and I choose to write about them because 1) I like to write because it feels good and 2) it helps to make me feel better (which is working RIGHT NOW).
I love you all and hope you're doing well. Get at me if you haven't lately (especially YOU, William).
Peace, J
The first time was when I was in the Army in Germany and Bunny had all ready gotten out and come home to the USofA. I had to spend four months in Germany by myself and there was this overhanging fear that I might not be able to get out. I was definitely depressed and scared that I'd not see my wife again.
The second time was when Bunny was in college and we had little money and little time together. That'll make anybody depressed. I got over that eventually because I knew we had to get the Little Lady through school. It just had to be done, for several reasons. I was okay with that depression, honestly. I knew it wouldn't last long, and it really didn't.
Now I'm feeling it again. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to "party" (well, maybe a little bit, but only if I could be alone while doing it and that's never a good habit). I don't want to eat. I don't want to work. I don't want to exercise (and believe me, I know how much good it would do me; I just can't seem to come around). I just ate a bunch of chocolate, and that made me feel a little better. Jesus Christ I just sounded like a woman. Do men get PMS? Probably. We just don't bleed.
At any rate, ya it's definitely depression. Worst part is, I know why it is here and I am the root cause of it (which is probably the case in like 90% of depression cases). The reason I'm depressed right now is that we don't have any money and I want to be in San Francisco. Really superficial, huh? Well, you'd have to know me pretty well to understand, I guess. I'm a superficial fucktard. That fact doesn't make dealing with depression any easier, however.
I want to be in SF NOW because of obvious reasons. David, Jared, and another of our closest friends, Sara are all there, and best of all they all live within a few blocks of each other (well, Davey and Jared live together, but you get the idea). That would make living in SF a lot of fun, because those three people ARE a lot of fun. On top of that, both Bunny and I stand to make a lot of money in SF. I know what a lot of you are thinking. "But that money will be spent living in SF." Anyone who says that either hasn't lived in SF lately or is just blurting out what they've heard. Bunny and I did our research and the only big difference between SF and Portland monetarily is RENT. Rent exactly doubles. Parking is horrendous there, as well, but we aren't taking a car because cars and California don't mix for several reasons, most of which stem from the costs of having one there. With all that said, we really want to be there and I'm depressed that we aren't because I'm job searching like a mother fucker and can't find anything.
Jared had a line on a spot at his place of business but I was lazy and missed my opportunity. There are some other opps potentially coming my way via a recruiter who got Jared his job when he and Davey moved there, but she's a bit flaky (like any good Californian) and I certainly don't want to rely solely on her. I'm searching craigslist everyday and most of the jobs I'm qualified for aren't in the city proper, and if we're not taking a car with us, I need to work (and live) in the city. I know, I know...I just need to be patient and it will all work out. Thanks, Dad. I appreciate the help. :rolleyes: Again, that doesn't help with the depression.
Then there's our money sitch. We happen to be in the worst tax bracket you can possibly be in based on income vs. tax amount right now. We get taxed 33% of our income, and if you match that to our income, it's a big fuckin' hit. But I don't blame our current lack of funds on taxes, surely. It's through a combination of continuing poor spending habits, college, and past mistakes. All of which are pretty easily remedied. It's not like we have a coke problem. Heck, I'd be okay with that, seriously. At least then I'd be high on coke! Right now I don't have shit to show for being broke. No nice car. Not even a nice apartment, based on our last one. I got 130+ channels on our TV with a whole lot of nothin' to watch (because we've seen it all and Comcast shows the same shit over n' over).
It's okay, though. We're going to get through it. We just had to do the vacation in Kentucky and that cost us A LOT. I had to do it, though. I made a commitment to my family and friends there. I also made a commitment to Bunny to show her where I grew-up, because that's an important factor when you're married. I needed to follow through with those commitments because 1) I made them and 2) they were important.
Now that's over, we can relax a bit and start SAVING. We're at least gonna try harder. We make enough money to be able to save hundreds (if not a thousand) per month, and it's just fucking atrocious that we can't, aren't, and haven't. THAT'S why I'm depressed. Not because we're low on cash. Because we SHOULDN'T be and it's SHAMEFUL that we are. But we won't be for long. Bunny and Jack are gonna be good kids and keep tabs on our ugly, ugly spending habits. Don't get me wrong, either: Most of this is my fault (as if you needed to know that little fact). Bunny was doing fine before she met me seven years ago, and that probably adds to my depression, as well.
Oh and I forgot one other "little" fact that has me bent outta shape: Our computer has a Trojan virus and I can't get rid of it and it's my fault that we got it. No, I wasn't downloading pr0n. ("Pr0n" is Internet dorkspeak for porn, for those of you who aren't savvy.) I was actually downloading a hacking program for pirating software. Well the joke was on me, because what I downloaded turned out to be a Trojan virus and Mr. Microsoft Systems Engineer (that'd be me) didn't scan the file he downloaded for viruses like he should've (and like I preach to everyone to do). So that all leads to my depression as well. I guess it surmounts to the old adage, "never buy a car from a mechanic." The same could probably be said about IT professionals and computers.
Please don't worry about me if you are or were planning to. All these issues are my own and I choose to write about them because 1) I like to write because it feels good and 2) it helps to make me feel better (which is working RIGHT NOW).
I love you all and hope you're doing well. Get at me if you haven't lately (especially YOU, William).
Peace, J
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
My Old Kentucky Home?
Greetings Everyone! As some of you may well know, Bunny and I just got back from a trip to my first home, Louisville, KY. It was my first time back in seven years, and Bunny's first time there, period. Overall we had a nice vacation. The weather was warm, which was nice, however the humidity level for the first few days was unbearable. It didn't take us long to realize why everyone had A/C in their houses and cars (unlike Portland, where we get milder weather typically and the summer is actually our dry season, not muggy season).
But the story doesn't start in Kentucky and the weather most certainly isn't the most intriguing thing worth talking about. This story actually starts in Portland's airport. We took a red-eye flight to Atlanta, which we boarded at 10:20PM PST. The flight was to take exactly 4 hours, and we figured we'd get some sleep on the plane. Well, that would've been fine and good, however I wasn't thinking things through all the way and got seats in front of the exit row. Do yourself a favor and never do that. The seats don't recline. At all. So not only were we in non-reclining seats, but we also got to look back at the smarties in the exit row, who not only get reclining seats, but also get the extra legroom. Grrrr...
So without sleep and moving about three hours behind, we get off the plane in Atlanta at 5:56Am EST which feels like 2:56AM to us. As we're droning through the Atlanta airport, Bunny and I took notice of the considerably fatter people in the Southern-based airport.
I said, "Ya, they cook their health food in trans fats in the South, babe. Get used to it."
So then Bunny eyes these devices hanging on the wall that were encased in glass with the words, "For Emergency Use Only: Defibrillator" on them. WTF? Emergency defibrillators? If you're not savvy with what a defibrillator is, they are those electrical devices that are used in hospitals to resuscitate people in cardiac arrest. Apparently, the obesity issue is so bad Down South that the fatties are dropping like flies just from walking through airports that they don't even walk in all the time (moving walkways)! Nuts. Just nuts. We honestly couldn't believe our eyes. There was an emergency defibrillator on nearly every walkway. But more on that later.
So we get to our gate and are waiting for our plane, however no one else is. I kinda took notice that we were in the "international" wing of ATL, so it definitely seemed like something was up. We stuck around for a moment before realizing we should go look at a reader board. We did that, and found out that our gate was actually in a completely different concourse. If you've ever been to ATL, you'll know what that means: Taking a train to the next spot. Long story short, we got to our gate via running through the airport and taking a train with about five minutes to spare. I blame our grogginess for not thinking to look at a reader board for updates when we got off the plane like we should've.
So we get to Louisville on-time at 9:15AM EST and my Mom looks great! She had lost 50 lbs. in 16 weeks, and was hardly recognizable. That made Bunny and I really happy. She took us to Cracker Barrel for breakfast, and that was good. We went back to her place and took naps for a couple of hours and just generally took it easy. The next day we got to see my Dad, step-mom, step-niece, sister, her husband, and my niece and nephew who I haven't even met, yet and he's four. It was nice to see everyone.
I went shooting with my sister, Dad, and step-niece that morning. I taught my sister how to pull a trigger, which scared the shit outta me that she owns guns and doesn't know how to properly use them. I told her she was going to kill someone she didn't intend to kill, and that's when she pulls out this 12-gauge shotgun that would make a Marine shit him/herself. The thing was insane. Retractable buttstock, shortened barrel, pistol grips, all that crap. I'm like, "What the fuck do you need this thing for?" She showed me. It doesn't matter how you pull the trigger on a shotgun, and that's exactly why she had it. You just point it in your target's general direction and pull the trigger. Kinda takes the sport out of killing people, but whatever. If someone's in your house and your children are at risk, I guess you're not thinking about "squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it." You just want to alleviate yourself of danger. Whatevs. Shotguns are for novices. Or blowing open locked doors. That being said, after I showed my sister how to properly pull the trigger on her .38 Special revolver, she was doing much better. Good. No more errant bullets.
Bunny and I went to the Red River Gorge the next day, and were all geared-up for a great day. We got out of the car at a popular trailhead for a geological area called Gray's Arch (named after a dude who fell from it and died), and were immediately attacked by deerflies. No biggie. My Mom sent us off with some deet, aka OFF! We put some on us and it didn't do a damn thing. So we figure we'll just move out and so will the bugs. We started walking at a rampant pace (like we do), and the bugs got worse the further in we went. So we're like, "fuck it" and we started jogging down the trail. Nope. Even worse! We started getting bitten at some point and that was it. We made a mad dash for the car back at the trailhead and jumped in as fast as we could. You could see the vehement little bugs pinging against the windows of my Mom's Saturn LS200. They were angry little fuckers, and some were even humping the glass.
We drove outta there as fast as we could, and moved to another spot on the other side of the Gorge. The bugs were a little less plentiful, but still prominent enough to make rock scrambling and climbing extremely dangerous. Alas, we got out on a rock named Half Moon and took some great shots, swatting the bugs all the while. Disgusting.
We moved on down the trail a bit more and found a picnic table to eat lunch at, and we did so without any disturbance from the bugs, oddly enough. Just as we were finishing, here they came! We again made a dash for the car and decided to call it a day with that. I'm never going back to the Gorge in the summer ever again. That was the first and only time I've ever been there in the summer. Bad idea, Jack. Lesson learned.
So we continue on with enjoying our vacation. We go to visit my lifelong best friend (we grew up next door for 14 years and are 11 months apart) named Paul and his wife who I hadn't met, Blair. Blair is expecting their baby boy in September. Paul hadn't met Bunny, either, so it was nice for us to get together and shoot the proverbial shit. Paul and Blair have a great garden that they use to raise crops which they sell at farmer's markets on the weekends. They made us eggplant Parmesan, green beans, and golden potatoes, all from their garden. It was really, really good! So we got to talking around the table, and one thing led to another and we started talking about Portland. Paul was pretty much disgusted with Portland, and that was certainly a first for Bunny and I. I mean, who doesn't like Portland?! What is there NOT to like about this place? Apparently he was pissed because a lot of people in Louisville are "moving out to Portland to start a band because the scene is so much better." A-ha! Jealousy! No worries, we know it's the best place in America to live. That's why we live there. I can get behind that.
So Bunny left disgruntled with that, and thought that Paul was making fun of her and didn't like her. I told her that wasn't the case, that he'd probably just been nervous, and we wrote it off as that. The next day, we went out n' about in Louisville and I showed Bunny around the old stomping grounds where we used to skateboard, where I went to school, and where we just generally fucked-off and got into trouble. We got into the "cool" end of Bardstown Road (the main stretch in the Highlands, where I grew-up), and started noticing some very Portland-esque ambiance all around us, like local brewpubs, wineries, and restaurants even baring some semblance to Portland's. Weird. Then it hit us in the face like Mike Tyson on Vanessa Williams. A bumper sticker that read, "Keep Louisville Weird" with one of those registered trademark "R's" on it. We both stood there with our mouths agape. I couldn't believe such a dastardly and blatant copycat had done such a thing! Everyone who's anyone knows that Portland's motto has been "Keep Portland Weird!" for 20+ years. It was disgusting. Now Paul's disgust with Portland was very, very easily read. He's mad because his town is trying to "jock" Portland. And with reason. It pissed me off and I haven't lived in Louisville for 16 years. That's my hometown and it's always had its own vibe. Sure, it was always like Portland in that it had a heavy artistic community, was a "blue" area in a mostly "red" state, had a thriving and good indie rock scene, and a lot of gay culture. But this was just terrible. Now the place I grew-up and was proud of was now jocking the place I lived (and was very proud of). Just horrible. Disgusting, even. I have a cell phone pic of the bumpersticker. Any good Portlander would probably vomit if they saw it. What a rip-off.
The drivers. The drivers in Kentucky are amongst the worst I've seen. My Mother included. People pulling all the way into pedestrian crosswalks. California rolls at stop signs. Everyone goes at least 10mph over the speed limit. Everywhere, not just the Interstate. And I am now thoroughly convinced that no cars are sold in Kentucky with turn signals. I'm serious, too. Like 99% of the people on the road did not use a turn signal, evAr. I scoffed at the report that said Portland was number 5 in the nation for most courteous drivers. I don't anymore. Our drivers look like saints compared to these idiots. But I knew better. I obeyed the traffic laws while there because you can bet your sweet bippy that the second you do something against the law, a cop is gonna come down on you with all their buddies like a pack of hungry wolves. They never get the main rule breakers. It's always the ones who never do it who get caught. Oh and you can forget about mass transit in Louisville. They have a bus line, with a few hybrid buses. That's cool, but the bus system is terrible and the only people riding it are homeless. Oh wait...that's Portland. That's why we all take the Max and Streetcar. ;-) So you basically have to have a car in Louisville, but you shouldn't drive because you'll surely be killed by these maniacal idiots. It's a conundrum.
So the rest of the vacation went pretty well, and we got home to Portland and spent the last three days of our vacation by going hiking and hanging out with our friends. It sure was good to get back here. I love Portland and so does Bunny. It really is the best place to live in the Pacific Northwest. Even though I'm not a native, I married into being one since I married one, and that's good enough for me. I can't put a "Native" sticker on my truck. But Bunny can. :D
I'll have another blog in a day or maybe even today, but I'll let the usual suspects know. You know who you are. If you're reading this, you are one.
Peace, J
But the story doesn't start in Kentucky and the weather most certainly isn't the most intriguing thing worth talking about. This story actually starts in Portland's airport. We took a red-eye flight to Atlanta, which we boarded at 10:20PM PST. The flight was to take exactly 4 hours, and we figured we'd get some sleep on the plane. Well, that would've been fine and good, however I wasn't thinking things through all the way and got seats in front of the exit row. Do yourself a favor and never do that. The seats don't recline. At all. So not only were we in non-reclining seats, but we also got to look back at the smarties in the exit row, who not only get reclining seats, but also get the extra legroom. Grrrr...
So without sleep and moving about three hours behind, we get off the plane in Atlanta at 5:56Am EST which feels like 2:56AM to us. As we're droning through the Atlanta airport, Bunny and I took notice of the considerably fatter people in the Southern-based airport.
I said, "Ya, they cook their health food in trans fats in the South, babe. Get used to it."
So then Bunny eyes these devices hanging on the wall that were encased in glass with the words, "For Emergency Use Only: Defibrillator" on them. WTF? Emergency defibrillators? If you're not savvy with what a defibrillator is, they are those electrical devices that are used in hospitals to resuscitate people in cardiac arrest. Apparently, the obesity issue is so bad Down South that the fatties are dropping like flies just from walking through airports that they don't even walk in all the time (moving walkways)! Nuts. Just nuts. We honestly couldn't believe our eyes. There was an emergency defibrillator on nearly every walkway. But more on that later.
So we get to our gate and are waiting for our plane, however no one else is. I kinda took notice that we were in the "international" wing of ATL, so it definitely seemed like something was up. We stuck around for a moment before realizing we should go look at a reader board. We did that, and found out that our gate was actually in a completely different concourse. If you've ever been to ATL, you'll know what that means: Taking a train to the next spot. Long story short, we got to our gate via running through the airport and taking a train with about five minutes to spare. I blame our grogginess for not thinking to look at a reader board for updates when we got off the plane like we should've.
So we get to Louisville on-time at 9:15AM EST and my Mom looks great! She had lost 50 lbs. in 16 weeks, and was hardly recognizable. That made Bunny and I really happy. She took us to Cracker Barrel for breakfast, and that was good. We went back to her place and took naps for a couple of hours and just generally took it easy. The next day we got to see my Dad, step-mom, step-niece, sister, her husband, and my niece and nephew who I haven't even met, yet and he's four. It was nice to see everyone.
I went shooting with my sister, Dad, and step-niece that morning. I taught my sister how to pull a trigger, which scared the shit outta me that she owns guns and doesn't know how to properly use them. I told her she was going to kill someone she didn't intend to kill, and that's when she pulls out this 12-gauge shotgun that would make a Marine shit him/herself. The thing was insane. Retractable buttstock, shortened barrel, pistol grips, all that crap. I'm like, "What the fuck do you need this thing for?" She showed me. It doesn't matter how you pull the trigger on a shotgun, and that's exactly why she had it. You just point it in your target's general direction and pull the trigger. Kinda takes the sport out of killing people, but whatever. If someone's in your house and your children are at risk, I guess you're not thinking about "squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it." You just want to alleviate yourself of danger. Whatevs. Shotguns are for novices. Or blowing open locked doors. That being said, after I showed my sister how to properly pull the trigger on her .38 Special revolver, she was doing much better. Good. No more errant bullets.
Bunny and I went to the Red River Gorge the next day, and were all geared-up for a great day. We got out of the car at a popular trailhead for a geological area called Gray's Arch (named after a dude who fell from it and died), and were immediately attacked by deerflies. No biggie. My Mom sent us off with some deet, aka OFF! We put some on us and it didn't do a damn thing. So we figure we'll just move out and so will the bugs. We started walking at a rampant pace (like we do), and the bugs got worse the further in we went. So we're like, "fuck it" and we started jogging down the trail. Nope. Even worse! We started getting bitten at some point and that was it. We made a mad dash for the car back at the trailhead and jumped in as fast as we could. You could see the vehement little bugs pinging against the windows of my Mom's Saturn LS200. They were angry little fuckers, and some were even humping the glass.
We drove outta there as fast as we could, and moved to another spot on the other side of the Gorge. The bugs were a little less plentiful, but still prominent enough to make rock scrambling and climbing extremely dangerous. Alas, we got out on a rock named Half Moon and took some great shots, swatting the bugs all the while. Disgusting.
We moved on down the trail a bit more and found a picnic table to eat lunch at, and we did so without any disturbance from the bugs, oddly enough. Just as we were finishing, here they came! We again made a dash for the car and decided to call it a day with that. I'm never going back to the Gorge in the summer ever again. That was the first and only time I've ever been there in the summer. Bad idea, Jack. Lesson learned.
So we continue on with enjoying our vacation. We go to visit my lifelong best friend (we grew up next door for 14 years and are 11 months apart) named Paul and his wife who I hadn't met, Blair. Blair is expecting their baby boy in September. Paul hadn't met Bunny, either, so it was nice for us to get together and shoot the proverbial shit. Paul and Blair have a great garden that they use to raise crops which they sell at farmer's markets on the weekends. They made us eggplant Parmesan, green beans, and golden potatoes, all from their garden. It was really, really good! So we got to talking around the table, and one thing led to another and we started talking about Portland. Paul was pretty much disgusted with Portland, and that was certainly a first for Bunny and I. I mean, who doesn't like Portland?! What is there NOT to like about this place? Apparently he was pissed because a lot of people in Louisville are "moving out to Portland to start a band because the scene is so much better." A-ha! Jealousy! No worries, we know it's the best place in America to live. That's why we live there. I can get behind that.
So Bunny left disgruntled with that, and thought that Paul was making fun of her and didn't like her. I told her that wasn't the case, that he'd probably just been nervous, and we wrote it off as that. The next day, we went out n' about in Louisville and I showed Bunny around the old stomping grounds where we used to skateboard, where I went to school, and where we just generally fucked-off and got into trouble. We got into the "cool" end of Bardstown Road (the main stretch in the Highlands, where I grew-up), and started noticing some very Portland-esque ambiance all around us, like local brewpubs, wineries, and restaurants even baring some semblance to Portland's. Weird. Then it hit us in the face like Mike Tyson on Vanessa Williams. A bumper sticker that read, "Keep Louisville Weird" with one of those registered trademark "R's" on it. We both stood there with our mouths agape. I couldn't believe such a dastardly and blatant copycat had done such a thing! Everyone who's anyone knows that Portland's motto has been "Keep Portland Weird!" for 20+ years. It was disgusting. Now Paul's disgust with Portland was very, very easily read. He's mad because his town is trying to "jock" Portland. And with reason. It pissed me off and I haven't lived in Louisville for 16 years. That's my hometown and it's always had its own vibe. Sure, it was always like Portland in that it had a heavy artistic community, was a "blue" area in a mostly "red" state, had a thriving and good indie rock scene, and a lot of gay culture. But this was just terrible. Now the place I grew-up and was proud of was now jocking the place I lived (and was very proud of). Just horrible. Disgusting, even. I have a cell phone pic of the bumpersticker. Any good Portlander would probably vomit if they saw it. What a rip-off.
The drivers. The drivers in Kentucky are amongst the worst I've seen. My Mother included. People pulling all the way into pedestrian crosswalks. California rolls at stop signs. Everyone goes at least 10mph over the speed limit. Everywhere, not just the Interstate. And I am now thoroughly convinced that no cars are sold in Kentucky with turn signals. I'm serious, too. Like 99% of the people on the road did not use a turn signal, evAr. I scoffed at the report that said Portland was number 5 in the nation for most courteous drivers. I don't anymore. Our drivers look like saints compared to these idiots. But I knew better. I obeyed the traffic laws while there because you can bet your sweet bippy that the second you do something against the law, a cop is gonna come down on you with all their buddies like a pack of hungry wolves. They never get the main rule breakers. It's always the ones who never do it who get caught. Oh and you can forget about mass transit in Louisville. They have a bus line, with a few hybrid buses. That's cool, but the bus system is terrible and the only people riding it are homeless. Oh wait...that's Portland. That's why we all take the Max and Streetcar. ;-) So you basically have to have a car in Louisville, but you shouldn't drive because you'll surely be killed by these maniacal idiots. It's a conundrum.
So the rest of the vacation went pretty well, and we got home to Portland and spent the last three days of our vacation by going hiking and hanging out with our friends. It sure was good to get back here. I love Portland and so does Bunny. It really is the best place to live in the Pacific Northwest. Even though I'm not a native, I married into being one since I married one, and that's good enough for me. I can't put a "Native" sticker on my truck. But Bunny can. :D
I'll have another blog in a day or maybe even today, but I'll let the usual suspects know. You know who you are. If you're reading this, you are one.
Peace, J
Friday, May 04, 2007
Blog Changes
Hi Everybody,
I've made some changes to my blog as you can probably tell. I was getting some complaints that the white-on-black was difficult to read, and I noticed it myself in all honesty.
It's too bad, because now I personally feel like my blog looks like shit. But whatever. I need to work more in HTML and less with Blogspot's "easy" layout engines. Once I get some new coding down, I should be able to come up with something a little more creative and aesthetically pleasing at the same time.
TTFN, Jack
I've made some changes to my blog as you can probably tell. I was getting some complaints that the white-on-black was difficult to read, and I noticed it myself in all honesty.
It's too bad, because now I personally feel like my blog looks like shit. But whatever. I need to work more in HTML and less with Blogspot's "easy" layout engines. Once I get some new coding down, I should be able to come up with something a little more creative and aesthetically pleasing at the same time.
TTFN, Jack
Thursday, May 03, 2007
PG-13 Horror Flicks?!
Rant time again. This time, I'm attacking the MPAA and Hollywood.
It has come to my attention that as of the past, oh, say seven years, that Hollywood has been in cahoots with the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) on a means to make more money from horror films.
"Tell us Jack, what are they doing?" you might ask.
I thought you'd never ask! Let me tell you. I've seen so many new horror films (some remakes of old classics) coming out that are PG-13 rated that it's starting to really get to me. The directors and movie producers are trimming down their horror flicks as of late to get more kids in (in order to make more money off the movies), mainly due to the fact that kids love them and most parents hate them, therefore it's difficult for teens to get into R-rated horror flicks. So what are the kids doing now? They're telling their parents that they're going to see the new Harry Potter film and then as soon as Mommy or Daddy drops them off at the movie theater, they buy tickets to Grudge 2 and go watch that. Parents, your kids are smarter than you. Face it.
This is detrimental to true horror fans such as myself in many ways. What it does is tone-down the movie and make it more kid-friendly. Let's look at Grudge 2, for instance. Or even Grudge. Both of these films were PG-13, and they were okay. Not particularly scary by any means, but decent flicks. The trouble is, throughout both movies, I kept seeing scenes that I knew could've and would've been scarier if the money-hungry Hollywood execs that were producing the damned movie had not gone for the bigger bucks with the PG-13 rating.
It's just annoying when you're a true horror film lover and you're waiting to be scared, and the moment comes that you're supposed to be scared...and then nothing happens. Or worse, the camera cuts to black and you just hear a scream or guts flying about. Now don't get me wrong, I don't necessarily find blood n' guts to be that scary (seeing as though I've seen my fair share of them in real life, probably), and blood n' guts most certainly do not make a good horror movie good. It's the imagery that could be scarier. Instead of some atrocious monster such as Linda Blair in The Excorcist, which made a 12 year-old girl one of the scariest things I've ever seen, you get some watered-down makeup job or, even worse, some shitty CGI (computer-generated imagery) monster or spirit hanging there. I like CGI when used as a tool, but horror movies are better when they use physical special effects, in my opinion. A computer will never replace physical effects.
So now we've come to the deal that Hollywood has made with the MPAA. It used to be that if the genre of the movie was "horror," then the movie was pretty much automatically given the R-rating without further adieu, unless of course it was a kid's scary movie, like a spoof film or Scooby Doo. Now Hollywood has convinced the MPAA that they can make more money if they can somehow get more teens under the age of 17 to come see the movies, so the MPAA slackens the PG-13 rating a bit and voila! There you have it. You get watered-down horror flicks that could've and would've been scarier had they an R-rating. The amount of good parts that the editors have to take out of the film to achieve this PG-13 rating would make a horror film lover squeal with delight! Alas, the MPAA has such a strong hold on those prized ratings and Hollywood is so money-hungry that they're willing to compromise just to make that almighty dollar.
It's too bad, too. Too bad because Bunny and I will not give a PG-13-rated horror flick the time of day while at the cinemas. It's just not worth it. We've been burned by them too many times. We've walked out of now countless PG-13 horror films totally bummed and unafraid of anything that we just witnessed, and we're not doing it anymore.
Then there's the flip-side. There seems to be a select few movie makers who are going WAY too far with the R-rating nowadays. Let's take The Hills Have Eyes, for example. Dude. WAY TOO MUCH. I don't need to see a pregnant woman get shot in the head again, thanks. Melosovic all ready beat you to that one with his horde in Bosnia. Besides, that's not scary. It's despicable and about a billion other words synonymous with despicable. However, what is scary I suppose is subjective, so again, this is just my opinion. Hell what's scary to me is having a platoon of Kim Jong Il's finest troops bearing down on you on the 39th Parallel when you're out of ammo and down two Privates First-Class, so there you go. What's scary is true life. A movie about something that really happened is VERY scary and pretty much DEMANDS and R-rating because let's face it: The world is not rated G, PG, or PG-13. Hell the world is rated NC-17 in most sectors. And yet the Christians still try to hide their children away from the truth...but that's a different gripe that you can read about a few blogs down.
True life horror is the best horror, and perhaps I just contradicted myself with the whole pregnant woman getting shot in the head thing, but that's just bad taste to put that into a movie, honestly. I guess everyone has their limits, after all. (Sorry for bagging on you, Crazy Christians.)
Hollywood, get your act together and start producing R-rated scary movies again, please. That is, if you want the money of the ADULTS (who have more money than teens).
Hope everyone has a great day. Mine is going just peachy, thanks. ;-)
Peace, J
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Goin' to California
If there's one thing you can say about the Jack and Bunny Clan, it's that once we set our minds on something, we do it. Case in point, getting out of the Army years before our commitments were up. Finding jobs in the "real world." Getting college degrees at private schools that cost more than Harvard on salaries that would make McDonald's employees cringe. Moving to Portland (albeit from 12 miles away, but ya). Moving to San Francisco. Oh wait, you haven't heard?
That's right. Jack and Bunny are moving to San Francisco in the third week of January, 2008. It took but one visit for us to come to this goal. We went to visit our close friends Davey and Jared and Sara for a three-day weekend. It was spectacular! Of course it was a bit grainy at first but the first few hours are hardly anything to judge from. Unfortunately the last portion of the last day wound-up being nothing to judge from, either, but there were some...er....full bladder prediction problems in classic California bumper-to-bumper traffic on the way back to the airport that made that particular situation a bit "sticky."
So, first few hours and last two hours of our visit aside, we had a lovely time with all of our friends and really fell in love with the place. It took us a couple days after the trip to come to this realization, but we finally decided that we want to move there for several reasons.
1) To be closer to some of our closest friends, even if it means being farther away than some of our other closest friends (sorry Ed, Nate, and Portland Peetniks...we love you and will miss you).
2) We want to dance again and be a part of a scene that we haven't been a part of for years. That particular scene, the electronic scene, doesn't have a scene here in Bridgetown. It's all indie rock and punk rock here, which we like a lot and is a big part of our lives, but not nearly as big as the electronic scene is (was) to us. We embraced the indie scene here in Portland while we lived here, but now it's time for us to get back to our roots. It certainly has been fun going back to my teenage years and listening to all that lovely grunge.
3) San Francisco is a "bigger" city than Portland. By "bigger" I certainly don't mean in area, where Portland clearly has the upper-hand; I mean by population and caliber. It's just bigger that way. Consequently, that means that the corporate entities and jobs there are bigger, pay bigger, and have bigger opportunities, namely ones that might take us a bit further east (or west, depending on how you look at it). Our ultimate goal is to get to Germany in five years. San Fran could help with that by providing more funding and more opportunities, with the right employer.
4) Cost of living isn't that bad...if you're a DINK (dual-income, no kids). If you're a suburbanite and require a house with which to keep your boat, two cars, kids, etc., etc. in, then it's clearly not going to be the choice for you because houses don't come cheap and they don't come anywhere close to San Francisco. Apartments do come in San Francisco, alas they don't come cheaply, either. So that begs the question, "will my doubled salary cover my doubled rent?" Yes, it will. Especially when Bunny is also doubling hers. Groceries, beer, liquor, restaurants, and the like had a very negligible difference in price to what they cost here in Portland, and Portland is by no means an expensive place to live (although that gets worse with every Californian who crosses our border). The only real price differences we saw were in petrol and rent. Gas there averages $3.50/gallon regular, which might be the highest in the country for all I know. I wouldn't know because I hardly buy gas because we don't drive. $20 usually gets us by for at least a month. We wouldn't even be bringing our truck because parking is a real bear to mess with down there (and is also very expensive) and there's absolutely no reason to own a car there, same as NYC. I personally couldn't get my mind around why there were so many cars. I wouldn't drive there if you paid me to. So, the price of gas, parking, and car insurance means absolutely nothing to us.
So, there you have it. We're moving. For those of you who are just now finding out, I'm sorry we haven't gotten a chance to tell you in person yet. We tried to tell everyone we've come in contact with. We want everyone to know now so that you can all get the disappointment out of your systems now and it won't be such a surprise when the day comes. We have set a date and the plan is in effect to save as much money as possible, which consequently means that if you're not out playing disc golf with us on the weekends, that you probably won't see us much anymore unless it's at some sort of a party because we've moved into savings mode. Sorry.
P.S. Since we're in savings mode, we won't have any money for parties so if you want to throw us going away parties, please coordinate with everyone to make that happen. There will be parties...oh yes.
We love you all!!!
Peace, J & B
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