Christmas Jeer

It's that time of year, again, isn't it?

I have some specific Christmas memories that I feel like sharing.

1978. My parents are separated, we're living in Stanton, the worst city in Orange County, if crime rates, property values or population density are any indication of quality. Mom, who is clinically depressed, alcholic and suicidal, is living in a cheap one-bedroom apartment some three or four miles from our house, but we never see her. I'm pretty much convinced I'm a space alien.

Despite having some pretty sympatico friends in SoCal [I moved from NorCal Jan. of 1976], I hate SoCal. The cheap pervasive commercialism, the oppressive sameness of the strip malls broken up only by actual malls, the porno ads on the abandoned gas station by my house [an UNTHINKABLE site in Modesto, where there was literally a white church with a picket fence on most corners], the thick, horny, pot-addled kids I had to go to school with, the weather - which seemed to be too stupid to know that it should get at least a little colder in the wintertime. I had some issues with the whole scene.

So Dad drives us to the most depressing mall in the area, Buena Park Mall, which was the last mall to get enclosed ... and this is about a week or so before Christmas. And he gives us about fifty or seventy-five bucks each and tells us to buy our own Christmas presents.

Which is better than getting nothing, I admit.

Fast forward some four years. Parents have reconciled. But things are getting worse. Mom is back on the sauce, and this time she has landed in the ICU for Christmas. She's about 5' 6" or so. But she has pneumonia and has dropped to under 85 pounds, probably in the high 70s. The docs at the hospital call us every day and give us the prognosis, a couple of times it has been "We don't expect her to make it through the night." So we go down, and camp out in the ICU, and see her. Usually she is unconscious. Sometimes she opens her eyes, but she can't talk, she's intubated. I'm 18 years old. I have a girlfriend, but the girlfriend is really not too much interested in supporting me emotionally, doesn't come to the hospital. Doesn't want to talk about it. So Christmas is pretty bleak emotionally that year for my family.

Sitting around ICUs so many times I've gotten to see some pretty harrowing things. People saying goodbye to children who are dying before their eyes, from accidents that happened that morning. You get a terrible future presented to you in an instant. These experiences have made me a lot more appreciative of the people around me, and hopefully a lot more forgiving. I understand grief.

So the words I would use to describe my Christmas feelings are "weird" and "ironic".

Brazil Nuts

The title of today's entry is part of a joke I'm working on. As in "My roommate said he wanted Brazil Nuts so I drove him to Mr. Jon Jon's for a waxing."

I think it's funny.

I got to the bottom, or at least the side, of the Gary Miller fired-by-KSPN thing. An email from a dude at the TV station Miller still works at said that Miller was "pushed out" by the co-host of his radio show, D'Marco Farr. And that D'Marco "isn't a good guy." So this time it wasn't for peeing on some cops. Dreams die hard, or at least my twisted ones do.

Just got the book written by my ex-girlfriend's sister, the notoriously Christian Dawn Eden. Her blog is here I must add that the woodcut she uses to illustrate the blog likes much more like her sister [my ex] than it does her. Scroll around her blog for a photo and you'll see what I mean. By the way, the Mom in that family is a Jew for Jesus, Dawn is a born-again Christian, Jennifer, my ex, is a Rabbi and their half-brother Adam was in the Israeli military for a time. You get the picture: issues.

Having no religion means fewer religious arguments. And, to date, I have started zero holy wars.

Just got back from a brief visit to Napa and Sonoma. To me, California does not get any prettier than those areas. Could I live in Healdsberg? Yeah, I think so.

But I am not a huge wine person.

Die as in Diet

I'm exercising and on a diet right now. What next, a toupee?

I had a good laugh when the diet center folks told me my goal weight should be between 136 and 172. When I was in super duper shape [first year of law school, 1990. I was 27. I made the decision to get in shape, instead of say ... study], I weighed about 170 at my thinnest. I'm 5' 11" people! If I weighed 150 I would be impossibly thin. Who are these people who want me to resemble that grotesque phasmid Adrian Brody? Only a crazed sadist would find him attractive.

But, by the same token, when will Kate Moss lose than baby fat that has been stalling her career for oh these many years?

I love the Geico "Cavemen" commercials. There are four spots, and all of them great.

Things that cut against my grain culturally: those little roadside memorials people leave, presumably, at the site of whatever tragic thing happened to their loved one ... again, presumably, their untimely demise. I hate those things. And here is why: the capacity to suffer with nobility and quiet strength is a virtue that resonates in our culture as a very part of our self-reliant, self-determinative nature. And I think it is both arrogant and uncaring to show everyone within sight your memorial of grief. What if EVERYONE did that? I've lost friends, loved ones, family members in unexpected ways. I never for once thought that it would be appropriate to reveal my suffering in a public way, in an exhibitionistic fashion ... do something instead, with that energy. Do something positive.

I ate a bunch of uncooked eggplant tonight [in a salad]. And then spoke with the gf, who informed me that it contains a poison, solanine. It is, apparently, a member of the nightshade family. My roommate prepared this dish. If I show up on Cold Case Files, you have your smoking gun folks.

I am contemplating taking a job in the Chandler, AZ area. It sounds like more of the same. But there are a few plusses about the area: (1) cheaper real estate, (2) warm winters, (3) the most excellent spring training baseball, (4) Fender guitars is based in Scottsdale!, (5) I know a couple of people in that area [about 3 or 4], (6) my Dad and Step Mom live in Tucson, (7) it's close to California, (8) the job is with a company I respect, and (9) major airport nearby, 4th largest metro area in the US so no lack of things to do. Downside: IT'S F*CKALL HOT in the summer. And the culture reminds me of my least favorite city in the US, culturally: San Diego [the devil made a deal with San Diego: best location in the US, lowest average IQ.] And it is bleeding conservative in AZ, although as I age, I do find myself resembling the latter era Goldwater in my beliefs. Odd, no, for someone who at one time subscribed to the Nation, the Progressive and probably a couple of other hard left publications. But those were the Reagan years, could you blame us?

I was listening to the genius Keith Olberman on the Dan Patrick show this afternoon [I hate DP, love KO] and he actually compared Joe Girardi [the baseball Marlins manager who was fired after 1 season, and then was named Manager of the Year] to Cincinnatus, the farmer/warrior who was implored by the Roman senate to lead the country while it was under siege. He did so, successfully, and then returned to his farm. I mean, WHO IN THE HECK NAME DROPS CINCINNATUS?

Lisa: Ha, only one person in a million would find that funny!
Professor Frink: Yes, we call that the "Dennis Miller Ratio."

Olberman wins the Dennis Miller Ratio award for the day.

BTW, Gary Miller got fired from ESPN Radio last week. Anyone know why? I don't. I know that he had problems earlier in his career [didn't get fired, but he did get suspended]. This is from the October 15, 1997 New York Times:

"The ESPN broadcaster Gary Miller denied in court yesterday that he urinated onto off-duty police officers from a dance club's second-story window early last Saturday. Miller, a host for ESPN's ''Baseball Tonight,'' pleaded not guilty in Cleveland Municipal Court to charges of public indecency, aggravated disorderly conduct and resisting arrest."

I'm hoping he got canned for something equally cool.

Thor's Day

I have a Norwegian roommate. He is about as different from me as a person can be.

Can I confess how much I love the show "Top Chef." I just really love seeing people work through problems. Real people doing real problem solving. I don't always agree with the judges, and last year I felt that Tiffani and Lee Anne showed more inventiveness than Harold did, but Harold came through week after week. Trivia: all three were 28 years old at the time. Is that when people generally reach their creative peaks? Maybe.

I need a snack.

The election wasn't so much a victory for the Dems as it was a stunning self-inflicted defeat on the part of the Elephants. I hate talking about politics unless I have three or four hours to talk, uninterrupted. I need that long just to explain my policy position. Maybe I should move in with Al Gore. I find that when people really clearly understand the facts, variables, cost-benefit data and implications, the issues really narrow. That, in my opinion, is why the "hot button" issues increasingly come to the fore. They're easy to define, easy to sound-bite and most of them don't really impact that many people. Abortion, gay marriage, death penalty. These are issues that move quickly and easily into black and white territory. But health care, deficit, middle east policy ... those issues are much harder to discuss.

I saw "Borat" again last night. Didn't really enjoy the second viewing. The first viewing [I saw it in preview last Summer] was awesome. I only want to see movies in preview from now on.

Wandom Thoughts

My brother used to have this friend [most of my brother's friends are "used to haves", he is not good at staying in touch with people. He's democratic that way. Today's friend is just as good as yesterday's friend. And tomorrow's friend? Who knows!]

So, to not digress, this friend, whom I'll call "M", was this short guy from ... Philly? I can't remember. But he was this short guy who liked to lift weights, claimed that the Mob was going to pay him to go to accounting school so he could be their made guy, but instead was in the post doc program at Irvine, where my brother was a lab rat.

M had this speech defect, and it was somewhat exagerrated as he liked to say the word "random" a lot. Like "Your argument is totally wandom!" He loved to talk and talk and talk about all manner of things, and he was one of those smart guys who thought that since he was smart at one thing [molecular biology], he was smart at all things. And he was pretty manipulative, especially in his relationship with my brother, who at the time was a real pushover. I grew weary of his "smart smartness" and dubbed him "the thinking man's a**hole" back in the mid-80s.

Compare that to the cool sensitive guy who my brother knew at the lab. That guy, Dan, got a brain tumor and died.

And yet, I still live.

Irony. My sister has strived for a life where she could meet a doctor, get married and live in genteel semi-retirement for pretty much her entire adult life. My brother has always been a worker bee, not really after the golden ring. So he marries the doctor and gets the genteel semi-retirement, and she is the worker bee living paycheck to paycheck.

If anyone approaches you and wants to play a game called "Mexican Train" run, don't walk, as fast as possible in the opposite direction. I'll explain later. Or maybe never.

The rash of celebrity divorces is staggering. How can Ellen Barkin, Reese Witherspoon, Britney Spears, Kirstie Alley and Jennifer Aniston all be on the market at the same time?

Speaking of which, a friend just got divorced. His 2nd. I still haven't entered into marriage #1. People are lapping me like I'm standing still.

Every family should have a designated historian. Someone handy with a camera and trained in its use. Without that skill, the archives will be pretty shoddy my friends. My family was lucky enough to have my dad be that person. He has native artistic sense. I have none, absolutely none.

If you haven't checked out the clip for Ricky Gervais's new comedy - the clip with David Bowie - please check it out. It is downright hilarious. RG is the best straight man since Benny [that's Jack Benny, not Benny Hill.]

My Future

Right now, my future is a freaking open book. I could do pretty much whatever I want from here on in. It's a weird feeling. Not as liberating as I'd like. Not annoying. I feel like I'm swimming in gravy.

People peg me as being really competitive. Which is true. But in the grandest scheme of things, I prefer doing things that are purely expressive that don't get judged. Conversation. Playing music. That's where I have my fun.

I've been thinking about the other John Stewart a lot recently. What a great, brave body of work he has. Aside from "Daydream Believer", which is a fine song. But "Mother Country", "Lost Her In the Sun", "Kansas Rain" and "Armstrong" are fantastic songs.

When I was about 9 or 10 years old, I started paying a lot more attention to music. I grew up in the Central Valley of California, the area known as the San Joaquin Valley, Stanislaus County, between the Tuolumne and the Stanislaus Rivers which, during the Spring were large and powerful rivers.

The area, the city of Modesto - my birthplace - was about 60,000 people at that point. Too large to be quaint, too small to be thriving.

I spent a lot of time listening to KNBR 68 from San Francisco, which at that time was an AM station that played music. Soft rock, much of it popular and much of it [I didn't know this at the time, how could I!] obscure.

So I grew up listening to the aforementioned "Mother County" by John Stewart, the John Prine-penned "Hello In There" as performed by Bette Midler, Neil Young's "After The Goldrush" performed a capella by the English folk group Prelude, Pink Floyd's producer singing his novelty hit "Oh, Babe, What Would You Say?", and many other songs that were - to the mass record buying public - obscure to say the least.

So when my family moved to Southern California in 1976, I was shocked to hear what other teenagers liked to listen to. I had no idea that groups like Kiss, Black Sabbath, and Led Zeppelin were popular. If they weren't on Kasey Casem's American Top 40 or on KNBR, I was pretty much ignorent of them.