cold and loose

We have a chance of snow flurries overnight; the seasons have finally turned. If that’s on tap for us then I don’t suspect they’ll be able to squeeze in the finish of Game 5 of the World Series today. If I’m a Phillies fan, and sitting nine outs from a possible World Championship, I’d be absolutely crazed today.

I have issues with our pets. At some point this morning our sole remaining rat, Biscuit, was found prancing in and about our kitchen – just on the floor along the floorboard, not in and amongst stuff. There appears to have been some sort of cage transfer issue and he found himself on the loose. Our two cats were napping/relaxing/sleeping on their respective thrones in the living room as Biscuit roamed. Since you don’t know it yet I’ll pass along that this whole portion of the house if basically one big room so one might expect a high probability of cat-on-rat carnage when this situation arose. Luckily, Biscuit was spotted (quickly?) by a non-rodent slaughtering mammal (me) and secured in his cage in the back of H’s room. My questions are these: what was the rat doing wandering around the house? He’s fully aware there are two cats living in the house because they occasionally manage to get near his cage and harass him (read: purring “I’m going to eat you” through the bars) which leads to terror-driven wheel running on his part. If I’m that rat, and I find my cage ajar in the AM, I’m finding the highest, darkest, safest place available; I’m not exploring the open ranges of the house with two killer cats lurking about the place. Second, our ‘killer’ cats are for crap. Don’t get me wrong here – the last thing I want is anything to happen to ratty-rat – but at least they could have shown some ability to sense or recognize there was a meal wandering nearby. What? They can show interest in the piece of string that G wiggles on the floor but an actual rodent does nothing for them? Useless, each and every one of them.

X is being a lawyer suddenly. (I just checked the Mass Bar Web site and they say results should be available by November 7th – not sure how – and mailed by November 15th. We await…) She gets dolled-up every morning and heads in to the Golden Triangle to swish around with the other attorneys. My prime responsibility in the house has once again returned: creating a breakfast sandwich and lunch options for little Ms. Sandra Day. I think she’s finally completed all of her paperwork that will eventually lead to real paychecks, quizzical health insurance, and taxes. She’s all grown up.

I’ll be spending some time over the next few days imagining how I’m going to configure my voting precinct so I can manage to get everyone through in a reasonable amount of time. Believe it or not, my goal is to keep the wait for everyone to no longer than 45 minutes – and that’ll be a drive through for many places. Herding people – it’s what I do.

t

sweet! law!

If the term cowpunk scares you off then you’d be best to either giddy-up along or skip the clicking on the little youtube arrow thing. There’ll be more afterwards.

This is a 1983 (year of my HS graduation) video of Jason and the Scorchers doing Absolutely Sweet Marie. This has everything you’d hope for in 1983 MTV offering: grainy camera work, huge hair, at least two guys singing into one microphone, girls in school girl outfits, guy walking down the street with his band joining him, cowboy hats, a bar, drinking, and a horrible overall storyline. Awesome. A few things to consider: first, Jason and the Scorchers were one of the greatest bar bands to ever live. Second, Jason and the Scorchers were one of the greatest bar bands to ever live. If I could possibly imagine any act whose music wouldn’t translate to video, it’d be these guys. In time you realize that CDs or videos will never properly reflect great live music that includes beer and smoke. If you get the through the entire horrendous three minutes than I admire your stick-to-ituvness. That is awful hair. Regardless, I’ll always love them.



X asked me a few weeks ago if I’d help her review for the bar; maybe 60 hours of time. She pointed out on night 2 that the initial askance/contract meant that asking was no longer required. I’m such a sucker. By the end of this summer I think I’ll be able to do well enough on the bar to at least be a public defender. Does that sound like a slap in the face of public defenders? Honestly, no intent.

We’re off to watch an episode of The Closer.

t

the actors' gill

Over the weekend we had a visit from more lawyers. I find myself sitting at the table on Saturday night surrounded by four lawyers – you can’t swing a dead cat, you know. I felt like Nixon. Here are a few things we learned over food and drink.

First, if you think for even one minute that underage drinking is a problem – you know, underage drinking in a bikini when you’re 17 – then you’d be seriously mistaken. If you think bare-bait fishing in some backwater hole out New England-way isn’t a problem – you’d be seriously mistaken. I’m not much on the great out-of-doors but I’m guessing that if ‘law enforcement’ cornered me at 17 with a bikini on, a beer in my hand, and a fishin’ hook in the water, my concerns would come in this order: me wearing a bikini, me drinking a beer, me fishin’. Apparently those State Fish and Game deputies have more than enough sway to ruin your life well into your run toward a professional career. Don’t dismiss the citation you get while shooting at badger from your Prius! I vaguely remember some question during my initial military background investigation that went something like this, “Have you ever killed anyone or caught a grouper out of season?” The sweat was pouring of my face as the lights blinded me and I tried to decide whether or not to ‘fess up to some killin’ I didn’t commit; or, if I’d better off telling the truth about that grouper I gutted and fried up with some collard greens. Don’t mess with bare-bait fishin’.

Second, it appears that Kt “Scorsese”, and her muscle Ms. X, were quite the stars of their very own power studio out in Western Mass back in the late 70s. WonderTwin One decided she was a director’s director in those halcyon days and used her powers of “persuasion” to decide that WonderTwin Two would always be the Prince, Ellen would be the Princess, and Super Christian would be the dog and/or pony. (Maybe it was his humble beginnings in the theatre that led him to excel in later life?) When Scorsese was approached by the forever-cast Princess, complaining that she didn’t want to be typecast…that she wanted to grow, she was given an easy out. “Fine. You can be either the Princess…or be the dog. Whatdya say?” I think an occasional turn as a dog (Tim Allen, Fred McMurray, etc.) only adds to one’s resume but it might not have been like that when you’re 7 or 8. I think at that very moment, while awaiting the answer, Christian was probably just praying that he’d not be the Princess – I think his typecast was probably fine with him. I suspect X was standing at the dressing table working on her Prince lines and thinking it’s good to have studio money behind you.

Kids, eh?

t