First of all, my level of frustration at Blogger is almost as high as my level of frustration at Paypal (got scammed, no recourse, I look to be out 600 squeeds). I had a History Friday post, a long one, about half done, only to find that it somehow ate about 800 words, leaving me with maybe the middle 30% of what I wrote. So thanks to Blogger you guys missed a post about baseball forfeits. Eh, maybe later. So we're gonna do one of those "cleaning out the craniattic" posts and I'm telling you right now, it's gonna suck.
So let's see, let's see, what shall we discuss...well, that scumbag Sandusky was convicted of being icky to kids. Too bad this isn't colonial Maine. Know what they did there? They gave you a shovel at dawn and gave you until dusk to dig a hole. However big you dug it, that was your home for the duration of your sentence. Better hope you contrived some way to stay dry. And certainly Sandusky deserves no better.
I hope you don't take this the wrong way but I think there are degrees of what today is called child molestation. A guy like Sandusky, a creepy old dude who preyed on children, is a flat-out child molester. He deserves all the "extra attention" he's gonna get in the hoosegow. But lookit: my first sexual relationship was in high school, when I tagged a very annoying Greek girl who nonetheless gave it up like a champ with regularity. When we met, I was 15 and she was 17. But you know what? She turned 18 and for a few more months I was still 15. According to the legislative nuances of statutory rape, she committed a felony every time she took her mustachioed mouth and did what she did best - and I ain't talking about whistling. Was anyone being taken advantage of? Only when she asked me to get a wet paper towel and help with the cleaning up. And despite being deeply, DEEPLY annoying, she didn't deserve any time in the clink for making a man of Sue Jacobs' boy. But these days, a DA with an axe to grind could've made both our lives pretty miserable.
In other news...
There's this chick flick out there, it's called 500 Days of Summer. Didn't watch it because I have zero tolerance for that kind of cinematic excretion. However, Tootsie, who is a sucker for this kind of nonsense, was watching it semi-recently. And as I was passing through upstairs I saw that there was this one sequence where Our Hero, Joseph Gordon Leavitt, walks to work after bedding his dream girl for the first time, to the lilting strains of Hall and Oates' You Make My Dreams Come True. I bring this up because I think the scene pretty well encapsulates what a man thinks and feels when he's found himself in a relationship with the great love of his life. Also I think it's directed quite well; a number of long takes, which I always respect, and everyone on the street is kind of color-coordinated, which is a plus. It's a two minute segment - give it a watch:
Depending on your browser I think you might have to click the youtube link and then come back. It's OK. I'll wait.
In other other news...some quick hits:
I find myself jealous of everyone who's currently out in Vegas whooping it up and having a grand old time. I wish I were there, or at least I did until I called Josie to wish her godspeed and a safe trip (only to find that she'd already got there!) and she told me it was over 100 degrees. No friggin thanks. Here's the important equation: fat man + unbearable heat = Jew Jerky.
My brother and his family are about two hours away, they're coming over for some laughs and bologna sandwiches. My niece Piper will be there, who just LOVES her Uncle Gary and Auntie Tootsie. She's by far the most beautiful thing that the Jacobs family has ever created; I'm still astounded at how that could have happened. Like her parents she's whip-smart; unlike them she's a joy to be around, ha ha ha. Looking forward to some conflict-free family time. Here's her first picture and some background to her rocky debut. The first comment is me; is anyone surprised?
When I see Piper I always feel a tinge of emotion at my Dad's loss, because he knew she was coming but never quite got to meet her. Ross wrote about his passing far more eloquently than I ever could. It still brings a lump to my throat.
I don't want to end this post on a downer so I'll drop in a quick joke: Guy walks into a podiatrist's office. Says "Doc, you gotta help me, I think I'm a moth." Doc says "But..but...I'm a podiatrist; why did you come to me?" Guy says, "well, your light was on."
Wokka wokka, and by the way, wokka.