Saturday June 14, 2003


Omigod! It is sooooo incredibly humid here. The humidity has been above 80% at points. You could go stand in the shade outside and you’ll start sweating buckets. And I’m already a sweater. Well, I’m not a sweater. I’m one who sweats. But if I was a sweater i’d be one of those big, fluffy ones that you wear on a cold, clear, windy day that puts you in the mood for hot chocolate with marshmallows in it.

My point is that … what is my point? I miss California weather. Air’s not supposed to have so much water in it. But I love the thunderstorms. We’ve had some good ones lately. Nothing like lightning and thunder to remind you that you should take your crazy self in the house instead of standing under those trees pointing at the cumulus clouds with a golf club.

Cross Burning? Get With the Times

I saw this in the Baltimore Sun and just couldn’t pass it up.

Two Alabama men sentenced for burning cross in yard
Huntsville, Ala. — Two white men have been sentenced to 8.5 and 11.5 years in prison for burning a cross in the yard of a white woman whose black friends visited her at home.

Michael Allen White, 21, and Benjamin Michael Sloan, 20, pleaded guilty to federal charges of conspiracy and intimidation. A co-defendant, Lee Wayne Bray, 20, was sentenced last month to six years in prison.

Aren’t there better ways to spend your time than being openly racist and stupid. Couldn’t they have hacked a web site or something? Sheesh. Going retro, I guess. Racial issues aside, this just goes to prove my point that young males are the cause of 75% of the world’s problems. And old men are the cause of the remaining percentage. The only thing more destructive than a group of young men is a group of young men being controlled by old men.

Can’t they make some kind of medication to control the stupidity of guys? You never see video footage of a college girl on the news trying to jump from her 5th floor hotel room balcony into the pool. And missing. That’s a dumbass guy thing. Rioting because your town’s basketball team won a championship? Guys. Wilding? Guys. A culture of rape and sexual harassment at the nations prestigious air force academies? Commited by young guys and covered up by old guys. You get the point.

And the prevailing attitude, whether spoken or unspoken, is: Boys will be boys.

And I know there are some messed up women out there. True enough. But I think if you trace it back you’ll eventually come to the source of a long chain of events and experiences, which will lead to … some dude. Some chain of abuse or mistreatment. Not that we aren’t all responsible for ourselves, of course, but damn.

Ugh. Sorry. This is why I shouldn’t read the news. It pisses me off.

Sometimes I get the feeling that many women don’t know how guys think — or don’t think — most of the time. So here’s a funny little anecdote to illustrate my hypothesis.

Anecdotal Evidence of the Idiocy of the Male Gender

A few years ago I was playing a gig at A.P. Stump’s, a classy restaurant in San Jose. That strip in downtown San Jose is a diverse collection of weekend night-time partyers, club-hoppers, post-hockey game crowds and hispanic cruisers. The restaurant tends to serve the yuppy crowd, though.

So during one of the tunes a group of people walk in together. They’re three couples, late twenties, good lucking, dressed up for a night on the town. As a musician it’s my job (or pastime) to notice and admire the women folk that walk in on the arms of these guys.

During the set break I went into the restroom. I didn’t really have to go but figured I should before the next set. So I’m standing there in one of the stalls. The door to the restroom opens and I hear a group of guys walk in. They don’t know that anyone else is in there. And the conversation between them went something like this:

“Aw man. I have to show you the downstairs. There’s a few more rooms down there.”


“Yeh, there’s probably no one there right now, though. They use it for private parties mainly.”

“Man, wouldn’t it be wild if we went down there and there was a big %$@! orgy going on.”

The third guy laughs and says, “Man. Oh man. I could use that right about now.”

At this point I was still standing there. I was listening and not urinating because you can’t pee and laugh at the same time without rupturing something. I think you could die that way if you’re not careful. So I was contained and still quiet when I heard:

“Is it just me or do you just wanna tie up every woman in the world and ass %$@! them?”

That’s when I started peeing. You could hear the embarrassed silence in the restroom. No one else is supposed to hear these kinds of conversations between a group of friends. I stepped out of the stall, washed my hands and went back out into the restaurant. And a few minutes later the guys come out and sit down at the table with their attractive, cleavage-y girlfriends. Doting on each other. Very charming. Just watch out for that one, honey.

Running Milestones

But anyway, that’s not what I was going to write about. That just slipped out. I have achieved a very important milestone for the first time in my life ever. I jogged a mile non-stop. Eleven minutes and 24 seconds or thereabouts. That’s an average of 5.2 mph. I’m so proud of me. Woo freakin’ hoo! Actually, I’m just glad that all of the painful exercising I’ve been doing has been paying off. Because I did two more sets of jogging alternated with walking after that. Unheard of.

I’ve been pushing it on the treadmill lately and thought I was just hopelessly unfit but it turns out that backing off a little on the pace (from 6-6.5 mph to 5 mph) bit let me see where I am. Still a long way to go. I don’t really have a long term goal other than to get in shape, lose some of this extra padding and feel good.

But anyway, that’s enough for now. I’ve ranted long enough.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s