taxing

Taxes are done, across the board.

I had a discussion a number of years ago with a co-worker: she was dating someone, it was pretty serious, and she was telling us about how he wanted her to attend his church with him. Being an atheist, she had absolutely zero interest in going to his church, an ultra-conservative version, much less any church. His response was to offer a different, less conservative option. Her response was to this attempt at compromise was to dig her heels in at her current position. The point of the story, and the discussion we had, was compromise, and what it means. It isn’t about religion – that’s just my real-life analogy. If two parties start out at point A and point Z, and the holder of point Z offers point O or point M as a compromise, then your sitting powerfully on point A isn’t participatory. You aren’t compromising, or even discussing the option, you’re just sitting on point A. I think about this often while listening to the political rumblings from inside the Beltway.

On Saturday I took in The Agony and Ecstasy of Steve Jobs at Woolly Mammoth in D.C. Mike Daisey has written a number of one-man monologues that I’ve missed in the past: I promised myself to make sure this one didn’t slip by. Daisey is a brilliant perfomer who takes you on winding journeys over nearly two hours of information and irritation. He spent a month in China last year (?) gathering information about Apple’s (and, truthfully, probably every other computer company’s) labor habits. Of course, it’s easy to pose Apple as your foil since the company, and Jobs, cry out for harassment. The piece is interleaved stories of Apple’s marketing / geekdom strategy (the funny bits), and the issues in Chinese factories (disturbing). Daisey flawlessly combines the two into a strong finished product. I certainly won’t miss any of the future shows as they invariably arrive in D.C.

In my desire to re-hash older entries, I’ve latched onto an Andrew Sullivan gripe that’s right up my alley. If you remember this, then you wouldn’t doubt my attachment to this idea. Of course, it’s the same herd of folks that obsess over their smart phones: at concerts, while talking to you, on the toilet, and etc. Yes, I understand that some jobs require constant contact, but most of them don’t – put it down, walk away.

I’m back in class tonight. I promise I’ll try to suffer in silence through the mindless, useless guidance from my ‘instructor’. That was pleasant enough, right?

T

p.s. The World Snooker Championships kicked off this week. I know, you’re as excited as I am…

new season

moth effect

For this first portion, The Moth, I’ll give you a very stern warning in a minute or so. I came to the The Moth a few weeks ago after a recommendation from radio. The process of storytelling is something I care quite a bit about. I love listening to those that can tell a tale, especially about real life, that puts you right in the midst of what’s happening in people’s lives. They post each week, maintaining five at any given moment, for free at iTunes. The majority of them are funny and quirky, but the story by Anthony Griffith, which is still up, is absolutely stunning. I’d say listen to the other four that are up right now, and enjoy nice 15-minute breaks in your day. As for Griffith’s, be warned that it is extremely emotional. You might want to be alone; I was walking home from the bus station and trying to not fall down from pain. Great stuff, all around.

Moving along.

I’ve been assigned as ‘front of house’ for the first half of my quarter in the school restaurant. I’ll be dolled up and ready to take orders, serve from the right, and try not to mess up who gets what dish.

I’m thinking of gnocchi for tonight. Kids and potatoes.

gang load

I haven’t scanned the Internet in order to figure out this new senatorial “Gang of Six”. Before I do, let me explain a few things.

This is Gang of Four:


This is Gangs of New York:


This is the gang from one of my favorite movies, Bottle Rocket:



A bunch of senators hanging about the lush Hart Senate Office Building is not a gang. I can’t even imagine the meeting where these stiffs sat around trying to give birth to some creative, 24-hour news channel, moniker.

“Right. We need a name for this effort, guys.”
(PowerPoint is brought up, sticky notes handed out to everyone for brainstorming)

“First and foremost, there are no bad ideas. Remember, we are a Six Sigma / ISO 9000-certified Congress.”

“How about, ‘the Half Dozen’?”

“Not nearly strong enough, ‘the Dirty Half Dozen’?”

“Wait a minute! ‘Saxby and the Crapos’!”

“Shut up, Saxby. Why does your name get to be the lead? How about ‘The Kent Conrads’?”

“Really, Kent? That’s your idea?”

“Alright, knock it off. If y’all keep going on like this…no gang!”

“Sorry, Dick. Now that I think about it, earlier today ol’ Tommy Coburn was telling me that we really look like some kind of gang. Now you say ‘gang’ – maybe there’s something to this…”

“Let’s be a gang. Maybe we can be the ‘Gang of Threes’ since there are three of us from each party.”

“Warner, you’re an idiot. Clearly, we should be the ‘Gang of Two’. Two parties: One Gang!”

(Chambliss writes down that catchy, ‘new’ campaign slogan.)

“Frankly, Dick, I don’t like either name. Maybe we should recess and figure this out after we take some time off and sign some papers.”

“Excellent, meeting adjourned. Oh, wait. One more thing: you don’t talk about the gang.”

I don’t know. After hearing about this gang this morning, I heard part of an interview with some Tennessee congressman. When asked if he would consider tax increases in order to help alleviate the deficit, he said: “Well, that’s a 'what if' question. There’s no way for me to know.”

Hey, Congressman, if I punch you in the face, would it hurt? Or, is there no way for you to comment on that ‘what if’.

** The members are: Saxby Chambliss, Mark Warner, Tom Coburn, Mike Crapo, Kent Conrad, and Dick Durbin.

thor's hammer avoided

There’s a new play on at Theater J here in D.C.: Photograph 51. It’s the story of Rosalind Franklin and her place in the discovery of DNA. Well, her place, her life (I think), and probably the lack of fame she received during her lifetime. Of course, I immediately knew that I need to see it. Don’t judge me.

For those that know me, and eat waffles (could be one-in-the-same, or different people), I’ve become obsessed with the maker of my waffle irons. Vitantonio Manufacturing is/was based in the Cleveland area as early as the in the early 1900s (probably before that…), and made loads of awesome stuff: waffle irons, pizzelle makers, cheese graters, pasta machines, food strainers, etc. All the older stuff, from pre-1960, is fantastic for collecting and cooking (I think I just bought my sixth or seventh waffle iron). At some point, they either sold the company name, or someone else took over, and the products post-my birth don’t seem nearly as high quality, or interesting. Based on the limited research I’ve done, apparently the family split at some point, one side bought out the other, who then started some crap company called Villaware. It failed. I think Vitantonio ended up going under during that same period. Is this too much information?

We took the golden wagon in for a safety inspection ($16) and dropped about $800; living the life of the rich-and-famous.

I have a story that revolved around FedEx and me discussing addresses and delivery options out in British Columbia. It was lovely. I don’t have the heart to recreate right now because I just had an e-mail exchange with the Dean at my school, who irritates me to no end. Fortunately, my co-worker put the kibosh on my body slam e-mail before I hit send. Sometimes, cooler minds prevail.

I’ve had one week off before starting the next quarter. I’ll be working in the kitchen and dining room at the school’s restaurant for the next eleven weeks. I’ll try to bring my smiley face for those nights when I’m on wait staff duty.