So... Why "The Bone?"

There are a couple of reasons, actually.

1. I was skinny as a young child. Not much has changed.

2. Ninth or tenth grade. I should note that I had ridiculously bony knuckles. I punched someone in the arm while hanging out over at Ben Nahoum's house (probably Jose San Vicente, but it could have been Ben, or maybe Nathan Roll). That person, whoever it was (I don't recall) started bitching about the aforementioned bony knuckles, and someone started calling me "The Bone." The name has stuck for well over a decade.

3. [reason #3 edited. you are not cleared for that information fnord]

Bone is a Google search

bone is connected to the
bone is a big hit at daytona bike week 2002
bone is the toe bone
bone is flow
bone is 9
bone is stuck in your throat
bone is located on 114th and dodge
bone is always in danger
bone is back from nyc
bone is bringing out the
bone is in the video
bone is only half funny
bone is da bomb
bone is living
bone is 9 inches long and is a hand puppet
bone is a game in which you try to help rover find his missing buried bones in his back yard
bone is a type of connective tissue that consists of cells in a fibrous organic matrix of collagen
bone is active
bone is bringing out the worst in him mandy says
bone is under the rock
bone is breaking down
bone is a chronic disorder that affects the structure of skeletal bone
bone is made mostly of collagen and calcium phosphate
bone is formed only in childhood and adolescence
bone is broken
bone is made from 925 sterling sliver
bone is 12"
bone is irregularly quadrilateral in form
bone is the latest movie to offer a sampling of fraser's largely unsung versatility
bone is film noir
bone is like hair
bone is the oldest table of prime numbers
bone is a good first novel that could've been even better if it were told chronologically
bone is always being removed
bone is not easily obtained; therefore a bone substitute is the next best option
bone is more like fanciful local mythology with a logic and history of its own
bone is individually handcrafted using high quality cotton velvet for the exteriors
bone is connected to the foot bone

Well, the figure's official: $75 billion (that's billion. With a "b") to prosecute this war. And that doesn't even include money to occupy Iraq after the war (estimated at $20 billion a year, according to the last figure I read), rebuild, provide much-needed humanitarian aid after the bombings stop, and so on.

Seventy-five billion (billion!) dollars. That's a lot of cash. You could buy a lot of shit with that kind of coin.

Updates will likely become sporadic for the next couple of weeks. I have to issue grades this week, and then it's off to sunny California for a week-and-a-half of kicking it old-school. I'll have Internet access at my dad's house, but may not have the time or inclination to update (which is OK, as most of the people who read this- if there actually are any!- are the very people I'll be visiting in Cali).

That's it. Back to class.

Went to an anti-war rally at Fort Lauderdale Beach today. It wasn't very big- about 50 people or so- but the people that were there were into it. A lot of people honking their horns and throwing the peace sign in support, and a slightly smaller (but not by much) number throwing the bird or yelling cogent statements like, "Move to Iraq, you Commie bastards." (That was an actual quote). It was a great experience, and I'm really glad I went.

One advantage of small protests: this shit doesn't happen.

J.B. called tonight; she was discharged from Miami Children's Hospital and is now home. Yay!

I'm being interviewed by New York journalist Chris Nutter for a book on straight men and gay culture (the previous link goes to the article that forms the genesis for this upcoming book). He got my name from rad guy David Leddick, whom I initially met through my work with the South Beach Gay Men's Chorus. I'm one of many men being interviewed for this project, and it sounds like it's going to be a fun experience. Although he's going to be in Miami Beach next week, we won't be doing the interview then because I'm going to Cali at the end of the month. It looks like we'll do the interview over the phone sometime later this spring.

While waiting with Julie at the doctor's office today, I found myself watching Fox News' war coverage in the waiting room. I was especially entertained by the station ID stuff, where Fox described themselves as "fair and balanced." Apparently, they think that just because they say that they're fair and balanced, that it will become true, when the evidence shows that they are anything but.

I would direct all interested parties to FAIR's website for excellent analysis of the mainstream media.

The whole world will soon be reading this.

Salam Pax's blog.

Finally, Some Good News...

Senate thwarts Bush's plan to drill in ANWR.

In other news... visited J.B. at the hospital yesterday and today. She has a fractured collarbone and scapula and is in a lot of pain, but she's gonna heal.

When I was bitching to Tone last summer about my lack of job security as a high school teacher, his comment went something along the lines of, "At this rate, school will consist of students being locked behind a chain-link fence in a big dirt yard for seven hours a day."

Well, perhaps not. Not if the schools can take a cue from Corporate America. From BBspot comes this brilliant idea.

A whipsaw of emotions today, over the course of an hour or so...

The H-ML Concert Chorus got straight "excellents" ("2s," for those of you in other places of the country) on the stage today at district evaluation. This is a huge improvement over last year, so I was psyched. The talent is there in that group, and they just need to mature as musicians. For the first time with that group, I feel the building blocks are there for a great ensemble in the future. (BTW- H-ML Singers got a superior with straight "As" at their evaluation a month ago. Don't think I mentioned that here before, so there ya go).

I was missing chorus senior J.B. at districts today. Since she's one of the most dedicated students I've ever had, and she's also president of the chorus, I was really concerned that she didn't show up to evaluation her senior year. J. called after we got back from districts with the news that she got into a massive automobile accident last night- multiple fractures, possible internal damage, the works. She'll be out for a couple of weeks, at least. That completely sucks. I'm going to swing by and visit her tomorrow prior to rehearsal in Miami Beach.

Not too long after that, Viviana A., c/o '00, called. She was probably my best chorus officer during my first year at HML. She's newly married and has a baby, and is doing very well. That was wonderful to hear, especially after the news about J.B. Viviana will be in town in April, and it will be great to see her (even if it's a little weird that all my students are having kids before Julie and me).

Speaking of former students, I got a letter from Chris "The Navy Owns My Ass" M. '03 a few days ago- basic training is kicking his ass a little, but he's doing well. He invited me to his graduation from basic, and I would love to go, but for the fact that both State for H-ML Singers and graduation from FAU for Julie are the week after.

A great exchange between Chris M. and myself from last year-

CM (making fun of another military-bound student): The Air Force is gay.

CR: Don't even talk. You're the one who's joining the service branch that had a song written about it by the fucking Village People!

That's it- this post is long enough. Buh-bye.

And Now For Something Completely Different...

Terry Jones (a Monty Python cast member) has unexpectedly found himself in agreement with the policies of George Bush...

Sunday January 26, 2003
The Observer

I'm really excited by George Bush's latest reason for bombing Iraq: he's running out of patience. And so am I!

For some time now I've been really pissed off with Mr. Johnson, who lives a couple of doors down the street. Well, him and Mr. Patel, who runs the health food shop. They both give me queer looks, and I'm sure Mr. Johnson is planning something nasty for me, but so far I haven't been able to discover what. I've been round to his place a few times to see what he's up to, but he's got everything well hidden. That's how devious he is.

As for Mr. Patel, don't ask me how I know, I just know- from very good sources- that he is, in reality, a Mass Murderer. I have leafleted the street telling them that: if we don't act first, he'll pick us off one by one.

Some of my neighbors say, if I've got proof, why don't I go to the police? But that's simply ridiculous. The police will say that they need evidence of a crime with which to charge my neighbors.

They'll come up with endless red tape and quibbling about the rights and wrongs of a pre-emptive strike and all the while Mr. Johnson will be finalizing his plans to do terrible things to me, while Mr. Patel will be secretly murdering people. Since I'm the only one in the street with a decent range of automatic firearms, I reckon it's up to me to keep the peace. But until recently that's been a little difficult. Now, however, George W. Bush has made it clear that all I need to do is run out of patience, and then I can wade in and do whatever I want!

And let's face it, Mr. Bush's carefully thought-out policy towards Iraq is the only way to bring about international peace and security. The one certain way to stop Muslim fundamentalist suicide bombers targeting the US or the UK is to bomb a few Muslim countries that have never threatened us.

That's why I want to blow up Mr. Johnson's garage and kill his wife and children. Strike first! That'll teach him a lesson. Then he'll leave us in peace and stop peering at me in that totally unacceptable way.

Mr. Bush makes it clear that all he needs to know before bombing Iraq is that Saddam is a really nasty man and that he has weapons of mass destruction- even if no one can find them. I'm certain I've just as much justification for killing Mr. Johnson's wife and children as Mr. Bush has for bombing Iraq.

Mr. Bush's long-term aim is to make the world a safer place by eliminating 'rogue states' and 'terrorism'. It's such a clever long-term aim because how can you ever know when you've achieved it? How will Mr. Bush know when he's wiped out all terrorists? When every single terrorist is dead? But then a terrorist is only a terrorist once he's committed an act of terror. What about would-be terrorists? These are the ones you really want to eliminate, since most of the known terrorists, being suicide bombers, have already eliminated themselves.

Perhaps Mr. Bush needs to wipe out everyone who could possibly be a future terrorist? Maybe he can't be sure he's achieved his objective until every Muslim fundamentalist is dead? But then some moderate Muslims might convert to fundamentalism. Maybe the only really safe thing to do would be for Mr. Bush to eliminate all Muslims?

It's the same in my street. Mr. Johnson and Mr. Patel are just the tip of the iceberg. There are dozens of other people in the street who I don't like and who - quite frankly - look at me in odd ways. No one will be really safe until I've wiped them all out. My wife says I might be going too far but I tell her I'm simply using the same logic as the President of the United States. That shuts her up.

Like Mr. Bush, I've run out of patience, and if that's a good enough reason for the President, it's good enough for me. I'm going to give the whole street two weeks- no, 10 days- to come out in the open and hand over all aliens and interplanetary hijackers, galactic outlaws and interstellar terrorist masterminds, and if they don't hand them over nicely and say 'Thank you', I'm going to bomb the entire street to kingdom come.

It's just as sane as what George W. Bush is proposing - and, in contrast to what he's intending, my policy will destroy only one street.

Sincerely,
Terry Jones

[edited 3/16/03: Mr. Jones has a few editorials regarding Iraq in The Observer. You can find a couple more here, and here.]

The Department of Fatherland Security has put up a site detailing what citizens need to do in case of terrorist attacks or the like.

One of the pages details the optimal contents of a first aid kit. Among the items listed: tweezers and a "tube of petroleum jelly or other lubricant." These will come in handy if you are John Ashcroft and you want to masturbate.

There are these ridiculous "visual aids" on some pages showing what people can do to protect themselves in a variety of attack scenarios. These pictures are so ambiguous as to be worthless for their intended purpose... but there's wonderful humor potential in them. This site, for instance, has some great captions for the pictures. Tom Ridge says that you must visit this site, now. (Thx to Jenn for the forward).

Freedom Fries, Part II

Apparantly not realizing how stupid this action makes them look, two members of the U.S. House of Representatives (Bob Ney of Ohio and Walter Jones of North Carolina) have changed the menu at the House cafeteria in D.C. Gone: "French fries." Now on the menu: "Freedom fries."

When asked about this development, officials at the French Embassy pointed out that french fries actually come from Belgium. A great quote from an embassy spokeswoman: "We are at a very serious moment dealing with very serious issues and we are not focusing on the name you give to potatoes."

I am assuming that neither of these representatives are planning on French-kissing their wives (or their mistresses) any time soon.

Becoming Amish is beginning to seem like a viable lifestyle choice. Granted, I wouldn't be able to play around on the computer, but at least I wouldn't have to deal with cars and the attendent problems that arise when you own one.

A diary of the last 12+ hours:

11:45 PM: I leave Josh's house following "Gaming Night."

Midnight-ish: I get onto the Florida Turnpike.

Midnight-ish + one minute: My right front tire disintegrates. It takes me almost half-an-hour first to clean out the trunk so I can get to the spare, and then to change the tire.

12:30: Grimy and exhausted, I get into the driver's seat, turn the ignition... and the engine doesn't turn over. Dead battery. I walk a mile or so down the turnpike to a call box and back.

1:00: A tow truck arrives. It costs $40 to jumpstart the car (I paid with my credit card- this becomes significant later). The jump doesn't work. I then have the car towed to my mechanic's. The good news: the garage is near my house. The bad news: My house is a little over 20 miles away. This is going to be an expensive night.

Almost 2:00: We get to the garage, run my credit card... and the towing place says it's maxed out (this is a platinum card, mind you). I try my brand-new Discover platinum card next- and it's apparently maxed out as well (it turns out to have been a problem with the towing company's system). I have to go to my house and get cash- I couldn't go to an ATM because, heh heh, there's not enough money in checking to pay the guy. I finally get home for good around 2:30. I call in sick to work, check email, and go to bed.

7:00: I get up, and begin dealing with the car. I finish with the auto mechanic and the tire center by 12:30 PM. Grand total for the night's festivities (including towing, mechanic, and tires- only one tire died but another was getting ready to go so I replaced it as well): around $450.00. Fuck me.

I am now going to get a little sleep prior to rehearsal tonight.

Yay!

Julie found out this morning that she got the 10-month clinical fellowship job at the VA hospital. It was her first, and now only, interview. Woo-hoo!

It's a great gig. She'll be doing every type of speech/language pathology possible (aphasia, voice, swallowing disorders, and so on). Her supervisor is widely published, and the doctor over the department is evidently a well-published and highly respected authority on voice disorders and their treatment (she'll be working very closely with him). As Julie wants to specialize in voice, this is the best possible placement for her. She's already completed one hospital externship where she worked in the NICU; having this fellowship on her resume in addition to the NICU experience will make her extremely employable by hospitals once she finishes her clinical fellowship year and becomes fully certified.

Someone from Broward Greens sent a couple of great editorials through the Yahoo! group. Here's a quote from one of them:

As one savvy official observed, "occupying Baghdad comes at an unpardonable expense in terms of money, lives lost and ruined regional relationships." Another expert put it this way: "We should not march into Baghdad.... To occupy Iraq would instantly shatter our coalition, turning the whole Arab world against us, and make a broken tyrant into a latter-day Arab hero... assigning young soldiers to a fruitless hunt for a securely entrenched dictator and condemning them to fight in what would be an unwinnable urban guerrilla war. It could only plunge that part of the world into even greater instability."

Those comments may overemphasize the risks, but they are from top-notch analysts whose judgments I respect. The first comment was made by Colin Powell in a Foreign Affairs essay in 1992; the second is in "A World Transformed," a 1998 book by the first President Bush.

Heh.

My plans tonight are to grill some steak and have dinner with Julie, and then write lesson plans while listening to the Ramones. Oh, yeah.

Reclaiming Your Inner Geek

I quit being afraid of the moniker "geek" back in junior high school or so. When you get threatened with bodily harm in gym class on a daily basis, solely because you play piano and collect comic books, you have three choices: change (and become a complete tool like your tormentors), ignore the fuckers, or flaunt your idiosyncracies. I selected a combination of options two and three. I found that by going with my instincts and not letting my interests be dictated to me by the rest of the herd I became a much more self-actualized person. I think that many of my positive qualities (an openness to new experiences, a wide knowledge base, and, I daresay, excellent taste in music and literature) are based on my being a withdrawn, fairly unattractive guy in high school. (My friend Casey went through something similar with the same results- she credits her interests and intelligence to her "four years of mandatory ugliness").

Queer rockyrs Bitch and Animal wrote a (cover your ears, ye easily offended) "Pussy Manifesto" which reclaims the use of that term for empowerment's sake. I think that's the spirit in which I use the word "geek" to describe myself. It's certainly an appropriate term in my case. I play roleplaying games, log far more many hours per year reading than watching TV, listen to indie rock and They Might Be Giants, perform classical music, follow both comics and independent cinema to some extent, have obscure political perspectives about which I'm fairly rabid... and, heh heh, I maintain a weblog. Not a big deal. In my mind, being a geek is a good thing.

To me a geek is someone that has fringe interests about which they are almost obsessive. Those interests tend to fall into the following categories: tech, games ('puter and RPG), and certain types of literature, media and music. They aren't necessarily limited to those categories, though, nor are all of those criteria necessary for the geek diagnosis to be made.

Over the past several years, the techie community seems to have claimed the term "geek" exclusively for itself. That kind of bugs me, because it seems like the same type of bullshit elitism that was promulgated by those long-ago junior high school bullies (albeit of a gentler nature). So, if I don't use Linux as my OS and can't write a string of code to save my life, I'm not a geek? I disagree with that notion.

Techies, the geek tent is a big one. Let my people go.

Holy crap!

The Polyvinyl Records showcase with Rainer Maria was absolutely incredible.

Saturday Looks Good To Me opened the show, and at first I wasn't impressed. They played well and all, but looked as if they had no desire to be on stage, at least during the first song. Then the guitarist broke a string, and that kind of loosened them up.They ended up playing a great set- solidly written, danceable rock songs with great lyrics.

Mates of State played next, and they're now one of my favorite bands. It's a guy and a girl, playing only keyboard and drums. Both of them sing (a lot of harmony and counterpoint). Oh my God. Everyone should be required to see them perform.

And of course, Rainer Maria rocked. They get better every time I hear them (this was my third time seeing them live).

Wow. Good stuff.

Sorry, all- got a little dark there. I'll now return to the normal palate of odd links, smarmy anti-war rhetoric, and chirpy updates about my life that include the words "rad" and "awesome" (what can I say- I'm a California boy).

Christ, I'm tired. been going to bed after midnight the last few evenings. No reprieve now, as I need to be at an a cappella ensemble rehearsal at 5:30. Hopefully good sense will prevail and I will crawl into the sack when I get home from this rehearsal.

While performing a much-needed "ethnic cleansing" on the computer room/library (ah, the joys of having a graduate student and an obsessive bibliophile sharing a home), Julie found a letter to us from my mom, dated January 2000. There were a couple of things in there- the first was a smaller envelope, with what is evidently a photocopy of her drivers license (I have no earthly idea why she mailed that out. There was probably a reason, but I don't remember it). I say "evidently," because I couldn't bring myself to open it. Not out of maudlin sentimentality, mind you, but because she had written on the back seal, in the near-uniform upper-case printing probably learned from my engineer grandfather, "I miss you." It was powerful- almost like getting a message from beyond the grave.

There was also a color photocopy of a photograph taken of her during a hospital stay around that time. Scripps had this volunteer program where they would take animals around to the hospital patients, and would also take pictures of the patient with the pet if wanted. Anyway, the photo is of my mom in a blue hospital gown, propped up in her bed, holding a large, gentle black dog. There are IV tubes in her, and she looks wan and fragile- regardless, there is an intensity and sadness and beauty in her eyes and smile that is radiant, almost transcendent. I'd describe the picture in more detail, but I can't bring myself to look at it- her- again.

I flew out to Chula Vista to see her not long after that; she had relapsed and gone back into the hospital, and we were told by the doctors that she might die anytime (she had been on the edge since New Year's, going in and out of the hospital. As it was, she stuck it out until February 17th, dying at home). We talked about the photo while I was there, and she told me that the picture was very spiritually significant to her because it was taken at the point during that previous hospital stay where she was closest to death. That would be that last time I saw her, until my dad and I went to the funeral home to visually identify her body prior to her cremation.

The letter was postmarked January 18th, 2000. It's hard to believe that the vibrant, beautiful woman who mailed that letter, the person who had the deepest, clearest understanding of how to live life of any one I've ever known, would be dead 30 days later.

fuck...

Jesus Christ, it's been three fucking years. I'm waiting for it to stop hurting.

The War on Drugs, the War on Iraq, the War on Terrorism: whatever. It's the war on our personal freedoms that keeps me up nights.