Shoot on Sight.

In the midst of tragedy, some folks rise to the occasion. They act selflessly to help those in need. Others act like animals. There was a rocket scientist available for news interviews in New Orleans:

Mike Franklin stood on the trolley tracks and watched the spectacle unfold.
"To be honest with you, people who are oppressed all their lives, man, it's an opportunity to get back at society," he said.

I hope to Christ that Mr. Franklin was a looter, and not an observer. I have a much easier time hearing uneducated things coming out of the mouths of the uneducated than out of those of the educated paternalistic apologist jackasses out there.

This is not an act of social revolution, folks. This is not a response to oppression. This is, by and large, a bunch of amoral ass hats seizing opportunity in tragedy. I'll give 1% of them a pass and assume they needed that which they took. I'm going to make an assumption (thereby making an ass out of you and me- my apologies) that the remaining 99% will be sitting on a stoop bragging about their free cokes a few weeks from now.

This is new to me, so let me know: is it wrong to wish cholera on people?

My Cat Knows That I Am Broke Because of Him.

As I sat in the vet's office for an hour and half tonight waiting for my appointment, I knew that Truman probably hated me.

The room was packed with idiots with dogs far too big for them, dogs they couldn't contain and which constantly jumped at Truman's carrier. It was also filled with idiots who just shouldn't own pets, like the old pierced and tatted up woman with the pitbull puppy whose nails she had painted pink.

It takes all kinds, from the man arguing with the doctor about the diagnosis she gave to his Boxer to the little boy punching a dog he thought got too close to his behemoth.

After seven weeks of these vet visits, it looks like Truman's starting to get better. He gave himself a cut on the throat from scratching, and despite all the medication, he kept making it worse. We're on the fourth batch of antibiotic now, but it looks like the steroid spray they gave him last time is doing the trick. The scratching is waning, and with it, the cringe-inducing blood splatters on the walls and floors. So, in that sense, despite the stress and aggravation, it was a good night at the vet.

While waiting to see the doctor, I read a copy of Cat Fancy, paying close attention to an article debating whether or not our cats love us. That I made Truman sit in a small cage while large dogs taunted him and he's still crying at me right now to pet him ends the debate for me.

Don't Try to Be Up to Date.

Sorry for the lack of updates. I was out of town all weekend, and recovering for the last couple of days.

Back to the grind, slowly but surely. Here's another 100 Words.

That's the Reason I'm not Hanging Around.

As I pulled out of the alley this morning, I saw an old friend walking what I thought to be an old dog coming towards me. Though I was running a bit late for fork, I stopped and rolled down my window and said hello.

We talked for a spell, but what do you really talk about when you haven't seen each other for over a year? Especially when the two of you live within blocks of one another. Times have moved on, and it's bittersweet. Nice to see an old familiar face, but a bit dismaying to think that this person had once been a fairly constant part of your life. And, it wasn't the dog I remembered, but a new one. Things change.

When the conversation turned to a, "hey- if you're ever looking for a realtor...." I realized it was time to get rolling. Exchange a couple of "we should get together sometime"s, and be on your way.

I have lots of people like this in my life. At its core, it stinks, but it sure makes putting together the guest list for the wedding a lot easier.

100 Words.

Fruitless Monday.

New 100 Words for you.

I drove straight to my folks' after work so my mom could measure me for the tux rental for Brendan's wedding. I own a tux, but, you know how it goes. Wedding's are big on matching, so it seems. Mine might be more a pot luck kind of affair. Maybe that would look pretty. Or, at least eye catching. You can learn things from such mundane events as being measured for a tuxedo. I learned that I am a very small man.

So, it goes.

On the way home, I stopped at two Best Buys as a result of the gift cards burning holes in my pocket. I wanted the first season of the Muppet Show. I can't explain why, but the desire's manifested itself into a sick sort of monomania. I always liked the show just fine, but nothing to justify tonight's feeling of needing to watch the Muppets while I folded laundry. The first Best Buy had nothing. The second had several. Unfortunately, it was no longer on sale. The extra nine bucks snapped be back into reality. With an hour of my evening completely wasted, I headed home.

I'm folding laundry with the TV off. This night could have been so much better.

Sunday Morning Brings the Dawning.

Trying to get back into the game again, I bring you a mediocre 100 Words.

Up early today, but not early enough to comfortably make 9:30 Mass, so I'm slowly getting ready for the 11:00. I've had my first cup of coffee, and I've more or less made the bed. So, I've got that going for me. There's still the matter of shaving, showering, and getting dressed, but I'm ready to face those challenges.

It's grey and gloomy outside, and I am thankful for that. Weather like this is more conducive for being a bit lazy, and I'm in the mood for some controlled laziness this day. I have to be away next weekend, and I want to milk the hell out of the lazy opportunities this day offers. I'll get some stuff done, the basic laundry/dirty dishes nonsense, but that's about it.

The only problem I have with laziness is that I'm not terribly good at it. I get antsy and restless. That's not to say that I'm able to turn the antsiness and laziness into productivity. Were that the case, there'd be no concern. I just end up not quite relaxed, but with no payoff. It's a sort of limbo that ends up only cured with a nap, which in turn makes me feel crappy and eats away at perfectly good hours of doing nothing.

It's quite a conundrum.

The Stainless Steel Virgin.

I guess that I haven't been following the local news too much.

At Mass last Sunday, they announced that the Mary of the New Millenium would be arriving at the church that day, and I kind of zoned out.

Then, I saw it, and had a real "holy crap!" moment. This thing is huge!

Completely Engaging.

As I stated at the end of last week, AMF and I became engaged last Saturday morning.

The ring arrived early, and I was able to buy it on Thursday night, thus turning my trip to D.C. into a real mission as opposed to a lark. For all the kids asking "man- how did you stand the pressure," I reply, "no pressure, kids. It felt just right." That said, there wasn't much time for planning the how and the where (for the journalists out there, the "why," of course, was already clearly defined). I pride myself on thinking quickly on my feet, however, and my pride proved justified. On the way from the airport, I had AMF pull off at the Monuments, and after a long muddy walk through FDR's spread-out affair (including a ghoulishly large statue of Eleanor), we arrived at Jefferson's. Once out of the small gathering of folks with nothing better to do on a Friday night, I got on one knee and proposed shortly after midnight. And, she said "yes."

The rest of the weekend was great, as well, despite AMF's folks being unable to come out at the last minute. We occupied ourselves with many a things, including visits to a winery, a bed and breakfast, and UVA. Truly a nice time.

And now, the planning begins, tentative date, October 7, 2006.

Rock on.

NEWSFLASH: AMF TO BECOME AMP.

That's right, folks. This hot piece of meat is off the market.

I flew out to D.C. on Friday, and proposed first thing Saturday morning. AMF and I are getting married, and I could not be a happier fellow.

Details to follow.

P.S. AMF- I love you.