I'm a softie...

So, I've got a new roommate for a few days. Anyone who's seen my apartment would say, right now, "Are you kidding? There's barely room for you in there with all your stuff!" Well, the new roommate doesn't take up much space...he sleeps in the kitchen, in a box. No, it's not a dog. It's a pigeon.

Yeah, I can hear you all saying, now, "What in the hell is he doing with a pigeon in his kitchen?" I'm still asking myself that same question.

I was running late to get to work today (happens to me a lot this time of year...I'm at my best when facing a deadline, and there aren't any right now...or, at least, they're all four weeks away.) But, of course, on the day I'm running late, something had to happen to delay me. That something, today, was Edgar (my name for the pigeon.)

I saw him on the driveway when I walked out to my car, and was a little surprised. There are pigeons in the area, yes, but I've never seen them in Kaysville before. So I backed out of my spot, and started down the drive, expecting at any moment to see wings beating as he retreated to one side or the other.

But I didn't see anything. I thought, briefly, about just driving, because he had been in the center of the driveway and if he stayed there, I'd go harmlessly over him. If....I didn't like the thought of being the instrument of his destruction should he try darting out from under the car at the wrong moment. So I put it in park, got out, and walked around to see where he was, fully expecting him to have vanished while I wasn't looking.

He was sitting there, eyeballing me in return. He took a peck at the ground, pretty nonchalant about someone a hundred times his size standing there, looking at him. And I began to suspect that something wasn't right...

So I took a step forward, and he walked over to the side of the driveway. I'd accomplished my objective, he was clear, I could move safely...but now I was curious about the bird. I walked over and bent down to pick him up, expecting him, once again, to take off at any second. Even as I started to pick him up, I was still somewhat surprised at how calm he was. This was obviously not just any old pigeon...this one had been handled a lot, being around people was no big deal to him.

I tried to turn him to one side to get a better look, and he went off balance a bit, stretching out his left wing to try and correct the situation. The right wing didn't move.

And, suddenly, I really wasn't all that concerned about what time I'd get to work. There was a vet clinic on the way, it'd take me maybe ten minutes to get him dropped off...but I couldn't leave him sitting there. This was somebody's pet, and it was helpless. I haven't seen a whole lot of stray cats in my neighborhood...but it would only take one, and Edgar would meet a horrible end (I hadn't already named him at this point, just so you know...I'm a soft touch for a hurt animal...but I'm not THAT soft.)

Well, the one vet clinic I knew of, the one on the way to work, actually didn't do much with birds...but they gave me the address of another clinic that did...about five miles BEYOND work. I debated with myself for a moment...I could go to work, leave the bird in a box in the car, and then go to the other clinic later...but, no; the bird was injured, and belonged to someone (by this time, I'd seen that he had a band on one leg, and a colored wire wrapped around the other...there was no longer any question about the bird's status, vis a vis being wild.) I hopped on the freeway, drove to the next town, and tracked down that clinic.

They were somewhat surprised when I told them this was not my pigeon. In some areas around here, pigeons have become so numerous that they're becoming pest animals. The vet dug through her records, trying to track down someone who could interpret all the markings on the leg band and let us know who the owner was. When she finally found the number, the man it belonged to was no longer involved in pigeons...but he offered to put them in touch with someone who was. In the meantime, my coming paycheck was getting steadily smaller and smaller as I was NOT at work...

And since I'd obviously been concerned enough about the bird to go to this much trouble, the vet laid it all out for me. The wing was broken, and without attention, might never heal properly. Even with medical attention, there was a good chance the bird would never fly again. The most common procedure in this case is to put the bird down. Pigeons aren't endangered or otherwise protected, so there would be no help available from animal conservation groups. To properly diagnose the problem, it would take at the very least an x-ray, and could get spendy...but the bird would probably never be safe in an environment where it needed to fly to live. There was a small fund available that did pay for animals to be euthanized in cases like this...this was all assuming, of course, that they found the owner and the owner had no interest in keeping the bird (most people who breed pigeons have quite a few of them, so it sounded like a lot of expense for just one bird, in my mind...)

But I've also got a baby horse at my friend's place, who's effectively crippled because of a spine injury. She'll never be safe to ride, and we're still not altogether certain she'll even make it through the winter (she was doing good for a while, but she's recently been having some trouble...her injury has pinched the nerves to her hind legs, so sometimes they just won't bend properly...) Despite the vet's assurance that there was nothing that could be done, I couldn't bring myself to put her down (in fact, I turned around and spent close to $150 on a blanket for her because I know the cold increases muscle tension...which would put more pressure on the pinched nerves...)

With that thought in mind, I couldn't just let the vet put the bird down. So I called this same friend, who's an even bigger softie for injured animals, and said, 'Your husband would shoot me for making this phone call...but I found this pigeon in my driveway, with a broken wing..." She started laughing and told me to bring it up, she'd find some way to convince her husband that another bird was no big deal.

I left the bird with the vet, while they tried to track down the owner, and went to work, now an hour and a half later than I'd have gotten there, which was already several hours later than I really WANTED to get there (I think I've been coming down with something this weekend, because I slept a LOT more than usual). And I kept thinking about the bird. It was silly, really, I couldn't, rationally, justify all the trouble I was taking. The only justification that I had was that it FELT right.

Well, the clinic called, and asked if I'd managed to find a home, and I said that yes, I would take the bird back. I picked it up, called my friend again when I got home, and asked what all I needed to get to keep this bird alive until I could get it to her...which will be either the day after tomorrow, or Friday night, but we're not sure which, yet. I made my shopping list, went out, and spent more money on groceries for the bird than I did on groceries for myself (his were also heavier!)

So, here I sit, in an apartment where I'm not supposed to have any pets, with a bird in a box on the counter in my kitchen. And I feel good. Sometimes you've got to go to ridiculous lengths for somebody helpless, knowing full well you'll get little or no reward for your efforts. It keeps things in perspective. After all, if everyone wasn't so caught up trying to work for their own benefit, if people thought about things in terms of 'US' instead of 'ME', the world would be a better place.

I just wish it hadn't taken a crippled bird to remind me of that.

Well, whaddaya know...the pendulum really does swing back...

I got to spend time hanging out with my cousin last night. Roy's a great guy...always been one of my favorites out of all my cousins. And, for a while, he seemed to be a 'golden child'...he married a beautiful girl, had a couple of beautiful baby girls, and was buying a house that, once he had it paid off, he could turn around and sell for a hefty profit and move into another place.

He's always been a hard worker. He used to install carpet for a living...then he finished his schooling and started working with computers. The timing seemed incredible...everyone was looking for someone to help with web-pages, to do repairs to their systems, to troubleshoot their networks...

And then came the notorious 'dot-com' bust. The company Roy was working for went belly-up. And for years, he struggled to keep enough work, of any sort, to keep a roof over his family's heads...carpentry, tile-laying, cabinetry, and any other odd job he could find. He tried regular jobs...and every time it seemed he'd found one that would finally get him back out of the hole, the company went under.

A couple of years ago, he started working for a venture capitol firm. These are guys that would find properties (like mines, not houses) for sale, businesses that wanted to buy them, and people who had the money to invest in the businesses, and bring all the elements together. It was slow going. Those are tough elements to coordinate. For several months, they were working on one project at a time. A lot of their clientele was international, which meant conference calls had to be at all hours of the night (when you're trying to get someone to invest millions of dollars, you do it on their timetable). There were weeks on end where he would be at work by six am on Monday, and average about three hours a night for sleep all week long.

They had to move out of their house, and dump it on the market to avoid a foreclosure, moving back in with her parents. That's a situation that's guaranteed to put stress on a relationship...and before the stress got too bad, they moved back out, to an apartment that was just barely big enough for them and the kids. And Roy was still working his ass off, knowing that if he put in the effort, somewhere along the line, the payoff would come.

Well, they're out of the apartment. They have another beautiful baby girl, born right after Christmas. The business is growing...slowly, but it's growing. They added a new partner a while ago, who deals specifically in real estate. Just when Roy found himself in desperate need of a larger place to live, that partner found a beautiful home...HUGE, new, well-appointed (the detail work around the fireplace is cast bronze, among other wonderful details). It's the kind of place I'd think about buying if money was no object (like that's ever going to happen in theater...)

And because of Roy's tireless, ceaseless efforts on their behalf, from Day One, often at the expense of his family, the company is picking up the house payments. Roy was almost serene, in a way...yeah, he had concerns he still worries about; but there was an almost awe-struck humility in his voice when he talked about the house and how he ended up in it. Roy's not a proud man...but he's not often openly humble, either.

It was good to see that the pendulum really does swing back the other direction. Granted, nothing on that scale has ever happened to me...but I've never been in as desperate a situation as Roy was...and I've never worked as hard to get out of it as he has.

Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

Well, it's about time...

So I finally met my next-door neighbor yesterday. I've lived here almost two and a half years, and I had no idea who lived just east of me. The only thing I knew was that he never shoveled snow off the sidewalk beyond the fence that marks the edge of his property (heard that from my landlord, and saw it, myself).

I decided to shovel the snow before I went to work yesterday. We'd gotten about three inches, which isn't usually too bad; but this was the really wet, easily packed snow, so it was more demanding than I'd expected. In our fourplex, I'm one of two residents that actually even has a snow shovel...and I've been the only one to use it for the last four snow storms.

I'd just gotten warmed up to the task when my other neighbor, Keri, gave me a laugh by waving at me frantically through her living-room window. She's an EMT, and still owes me dinner for sewing the patches on her uniform back in late June (I'm not holding her to it, it just makes for a good icebreaker any time we cross paths...) I got all the walks shoveled, and was working on the sidewalk, when I noticed the other neighbor was out, shovelling his driveway.

I admit...it was tempting to just call it good when I got done. I mean, what had he ever done for me? But I also grew up in a neighborhood where it was just common habit to help the neighbors shovel snow...so I shouldered my shovel and walked over and asked if he needed a hand.

The first thing that ran through my mind when he turned around was, "Well, no wonder he doesn't shovel any extra snow!" He was an elderly gentleman. He smiled, and said he could handle it. So I repeated my question..."Yes, but would you like a hand?"

Half an hour later, as we finished the driveway and stood enjoying our work, I reflected on everything I'd learned about my neighbor from taking that little bit of effort...he graduated from Utah State fifty years before I did. He was a widower...told me with a wistful smile about a girl he dated while living in Logan named "Thelma Darling" (I had a 'cinematic moment' in my head, seeing an introduction, love-at-first-sight moment..."Miss Darling? I'm Mister Wright...") He had no idea I lived in the fourplex, much less that I was in the unit closest to his house. He's the only one still at home.

There were two old women in the neighborhood where I grew up...one had divorced decades earlier, the other was a widow. Both had renters, that never bothered shovelling the snow...they'd just pack it down. While I rarely saw either one of them, any time I did, they smiled at me. And it felt good. This reminded me of that feeling...hearkened me back to a much simpler time in my life. For a few moments, all was good with the world.

And then I had to go to work, and shovel snow there, because nobody else there ever shovels it...they just walk on it and pack it down, until it gets icy. Bad news, when your office is located at the bottom of an inclined ramp on the shady side of the building. And it only takes about ten minutes to clear the ramp. It's another case of me getting the jobs nobody else wants to do (which, I feel, is one of my strongest selling points to staying on staff. Hey, I don't care what they have me do, I've done worse...trust me, I've done worse.) And it was back to the world of getting the bills paid, fixing the car, trying to keep all my conflicting commitments and prioritizing which conflicts had to be set aside...but part of my soul had been refreshed, and I tackled the world with a new sense of enthusiasm.

Next time I'm out shovelling snow, I'm going past the fence again.

Why, George?....

In an earlier post, I alluded to some dissatisfaction with George Lucas' Star Wars prequels, which won this comment...

If Lucas went wrong with the Prequels, then why did he make so much damn money off them? Why did millions go see them?
Sure there were flaws,but so did the originals. Get off the band wagon of hatters,cuz you know you went and saw them!

Yes, I did go see them. And it's an intense measure of how disappointed I was that I only saw them ONCE. I have THREE copies of the original trilogy (four, of the original Star Wars) from different editions that were released. I have the novelizations of the films (the original trilogy). I have multiple characters in a Star Wars role-playing game that I've been playing, off and on, since late 1990. (Yes, I realize, this officially brands me as a geek. I've never claimed to be anything else.) I don't have ANY of the prequels. And the only one I'm likely to get is ep 3. If I buy the other two, it'll be for the lightsaber battles, to study the fight choreography (I DID like that...lightsaber combat in the prequels is far more exciting than it was in the original trilogy. It's one of the few places where I really felt there was an improvement.)

Why is it, when you voice a dissenting opinion, people conclude that you hate something? ("Hater" only has one 't' by the way...if you're going to call me names, please spell them correctly at least.) My big problem with the prequels is the shortcuts that Lucas took in the telling of the story...it would not have been that difficult to make the characters more complex, the plot events less contrived.

So, here's the list--

Jar Jar Binks--I realize every story needs a little comic relief. When that appears to be the sole justification for a character to be in a story (Ep 1), it chafes me. One of the things that made the original trilogy so fun was the witty banter between the characters, the way the comedy was woven into the story, instead of being a sideline to the story. And I just can't accept that any being THAT completely inept, on every level, could ever survive for that length of time.

Besides, how much more poignant would it have been, in ep 3, if Jar Jar had STILL handed over the control of the Republic to Palpatine and he WASN'T such a simpleton and so easily manipulated?

Visual Design--I loved the look and feel of the original series...and when ep 1 came out, NOTHING looked like it had come from the same design school, except the lightsabers and Tatooine (more on THAT next). In fact, with those exceptions, nothing looked familiar until the end of ep 2, when the clone troopers were moving out. Then you saw intimations of the Star Destroyers to come. Ep 3 was full of foreshadowing designs. It was also, far and away, my favorite of the prequels. (And, I will plead guilty to the 'hater' title here...I thought the Naboo ship designs stunk on ice.)

Planets--Why is it that NOTHING happened on a familiar planet, except Tatooine? Padme couldn't have been from Alderaan? Tatooine HAD to be the nexus of every colossal upheaval that hit the galaxy? If you're going to make up a bunch of new planets, either stick with it, or else give an equal spread of old and new (which would be my preference, that 'sews' the two series together more effectively).

Character names--Jar Jar? Shmi? Count Dooku? (that one sounds like a four-year-old's nickname for taking a trip to the toilet!) Anakin's nickname being 'Ani'? (I realize that shortened names are supposed to be endearing...that one was annoying...as one of my friends put it, "It's no wonder he went to the Dark Side...I would, too, if people were always calling me 'Ani'".)

The 'Secret Marriage'--Anakin is in CONSTANT company with people who are trained to perceive the inner thoughts of beings from all over the galaxy, and can sense events happening hundreds of light years away. They couldn't tell he was keeping a secret from them? I don't buy it. I also think it was un-necessary, there are plenty of ways you could still have the marriage be the source of his downfall...

My personal favorite would have been to have Padme realize he was falling away, and turn to Obi-Wan for help. She realizes that her children are going to be born and their father is no longer the man he used to be, and she's got to take steps to protect them. Obi-Wan spirits her away to Alderaan, confronts Anakin, who is furious that his best friend has betrayed him...and THAT is the trigger to his fall. It's still spawned by love of Padme, it makes Anakin a stronger character because he's not led to his fall like someone's pulling him along by the lower lip, and it's an EXTREMELY easy fix to the story, that wouldn't have made the films any longer. (This is a big one...it's just bad storytelling to me.)

Contradictions to earlier references--it's one thing when someone writing a story in a universe you created screws up the continuity. That happens all the time. It's another thing when you can't be consistent with your own storytelling. Ben tells Luke that Yoda trained him, so where did Qui-Gon Jinn come from? (Not that I have anything against that character, he was one of the things about ep 1 that I really did enjoy) Leia REMEMBERS her mother, fer cryin' out...she describes her mother to Luke at one point! Not possible if Mom died in childbirth! He at least side-stepped the issue of Threepio being BUILT on Tatooine by having his memory wiped...but while we're on Threepio being kit-bashed together by Anakin...if he's a custom-built droid, why do we see other threepio units in the original trilogy? It's another plot contrivance...c'mon, Padme was a PRINCESS. She couldn't have a protocol droid of her own? She had to get hers from Anakin?

Why do the aliens keep getting more and more cartoon-like? Sebulba has legs, and walks on his hands? Wattoo looks like a combination of a cherub and a pot-bellied pig, with a long snout...and flutters around like a hummingbird? I realize you want to breathe a sense of wonder into the galaxy with characters like that...and show that there are other evolutionary paths than the human standard...but there's a certain point where flights of fancy become implausible, and a lot of characters (mostly in ep 1) went WAY over the line.

I also always imagined that the Clone Wars was the Republic fighting an army of clones, not fielding one...given the dubious ethics of cloning, I'm not sure how I feel about Jedi leading swarms of clone troopers. It does work...so I can't say he went wrong there. I'm just not sure it was, dramatically speaking, the strongest choice in the overall scheme of the story.

Yeah, there's probably more...but that would require me to sit down and watch the prequels again...and I'm not real eager for the experience. I have a hard time watching some parts of the Special Edition of the original trilogy, because there were subtle, but fundamental changes that shifted the whole dynamic of the character (C'mon, Han shot Greedo, the Rodian never got a shot off...and having Greedo shoot first cheapens Han's whole transformation, because suddenly he's no longer this hardened smuggler who'll take the first shot to save his life...) I wish they'd made the ORIGINAL cut of the trilogy available on DVD...I realize that there are things in there that didn't fit with what Lucas REALLY wanted to do...but they fit together. If it works, don't fix it...and they worked. Yeah, if you get nit-picky, they were kind of simplistic, morality stories, but they were well-done morality stories that took simple archetypes and breathed new life and dimension into them.

It was a real let-down to see him take complex archetypes and simplify them. Why'd you do it, George?

Read between the lines...

I recently got a comment encouraging me to get off the 'hatter bandwagon' (I'm assuming the comment was supposed to read, "hater") after I made some disparaging remarks about the negative image of the average American, worldwide. At first, I laughed, because the comment couldn't have been serious. Could it? I mean, just because I point out that a couple of rednecks posting racist comments on an Arab news website is BOUND to make people think Americans are a bunch of jerks, doesn't mean I hate my country.

But, just in case there's any lingering doubt, I want to set the record straight. I've lived overseas...not just visited as a tourist, I mean LIVED, been in the country, shopped at the grocery stores, bought new shoes because I'd been there so long--lived there. As fantastic an experience as it was, I wouldn't give up America for it...not even if you paid me. Flawed as the American system may be, I prefer it. The problem is, people keep trying to make the American system look like something else.

Big businesses and lobbyists are trying to make it, with some degree of success, their own private legal bodyguard. Some liberals are trying to turn it into a clone of governments in other parts of the world. Some conservatives are trying to turn it into a theocracy. Some commentators are trying to make it the scapegoat for every issue that goes wrong in the world.

I love my country, dammit, and always will. Love it enough that when I think it's going in a bad direction, I'm going to speak up and say so. Love it enough that if I was called upon to do it, I would take up arms and fight to protect it. And I resent it when anyone casts aspersions at my love for my country...anyone from the President trying to chastise me (not individually, of course, but lumping me in with the group) for questioning his policies, all the way down to the guy who left the comment on my post, because he didn't read what I said, he read what he thought I was saying.

That being said, I've decided to start posting my list of MY POLITICAL VIEWS--

I BELIEVE that the current administration is no more (and no less) corrupt than any other administration we've had in the last forty years. I just believe they have been incredibly inept in their corruption. That's why everyone is hearing about it now.

I BELIEVE that the war in Iraq was not justified, under the guidelines originally stated. But I also believe that war in Iraq was inevitable. Saddam Hussein would have kept thumbing his nose at the UN and rattling his sheet-metal saber until he actually did have something that would be a threat, and then we would have had to do it anyway. But I still don't appreciate being misled, regardless of whether it was intentional on the part of the administration, or unintentional, on the part of the intelligence community.

I BELIEVE that if politicians want to get us into wars, then they should get the hell out of the way and let the generals figure out how to fight them. That's what they're paid to do. That's why they become generals in the first place. If there is one lesson we SHOULD have learned from Vietnam, and forgot going into Iraq, it was that any time you start letting the politicians dictate how the war is going to be fought, you're going to get hosed. I also believe that politicians and generals should return to the Greek tradition of leading from the front ranks. I think we'd have a helluva lot less war in the world that way.

I BELIEVE that, until the United Nations is willing to back up their mandates with REAL military force, the world at large is going to continue to laugh up their figurative sleeves whenever 'sanctions' are threatened. Iraq made money, hand over fist, while under 'sanctions' (granted, it all went straight into Saddam's pocket...but it went into the country). Obviously, Saddam didn't take them seriously. Neither did all the corporations who took kickbacks. And don't get me started on the governments that were supposed to be regulating said companies.

I BELIEVE, to quote Mr. Spock, that the function of all diplomats is to extend any crisis indefinitely. Everyone keeps talking about diplomatic solutions to so many of the world's problems. Well, we've been trying those 'diplomatic' solutions for a couple of centuries, and they haven't been working.

I BELIEVE that no matter whether or not the U.S. withdraws its troops from all over the world and minds its own business, trouble is going to find us. We were minding our own business when Germany sank a passenger liner and brought us into WWI. We were minding our own business when Japan decided to pre-emptively attack us and draw us into WWII (Okay, that one could be argued...we WERE supplying the British...it was good for the economy. If you're going to shoot someone for being a good businessman, you better start packing a lot of ammo.) The only time Isolationism works to avoid political upheaval is when you've got nothing worth taking in the first place.

I BELIEVE that Congress and the President could resolve the budget deficit in very short order, if they weren't such greedy bastards. Yeah, it's a demanding job...but it's only part of the year, in Congress--and I think the President's pay scale should be modeled after profit-sharing...if the economy is good, he'll get a hefty paycheck. If it sucks, he won't get diddly squat. In fact, I think all politicians should be paid that way...it'd teach them to keep their mind on the greater good...the city, the state, the nation...instead of how to keep lining their already bulging pockets. (And you thought they hated the flat-rate tax!!!)

Yeah, there's more...but I've got to plan out how to phrase it...or I've already said it (almost all politicians are inherently corrupt, anyone who WANTS to be President should be disqualified for the job, stuff like that...) This is good for a start. Pass the word!

Hello, Dysfunction, my old friend...

I read D'art's post, and it struck a nerve. So I hope you don't mind if I try to provide some constructive answers...and if you do, well, that's too bad, because I'm going to do it anyway. Hopefully, what I say is actually helpful, and not just me making an ass of myself spouting platitudes. But just about everything I'm going to say is based on my own personal observations, which takes it outside the realm of 'platitude', in my book.

However, why me? Why now? To what fucking end am I being ground into the bedrock of the cosmos?

I can think of a few reasons, just from what you said in your own post. Since you already seem to have recognized these, however, I'm not going to point them out (I hate being beat over the head with stuff I already know, myself, so I'm not going to do it to someone else.) Like you, I believe that things happen for a reason. The agnostic/atheistic/rationalistic part of those who read this can scoff, if they so choose...but too many times, I've seen (or experienced) events happening which, at the time, seemed needlessly painful--but in the long run, they were preparation for a larger event that would have been crippling, if not for the earlier experience.

The biggest reason I can think of for why this is happening to you is this--sometimes we don't realize that what we wanted isn't what we needed. I had two very close and dear friends get married back in the early 90's (93-94, if I recall correctly). It was a surprise to all of us that knew them (mostly the fact that she said 'yes'...), but they seemed to be a very good couple. They shared a huge number of interests, he was a gentle, patient sort that balanced well against her temper, stuff like that. They made it until summer of '97 (that really was a shit year for me, side note...my roommate crashed his motorcycle and died the day before my birthday, my dad had a heart attack and died two days before Fathers Day, two of my best friends got divorced, I almost managed to cut my thumb off while packing to move and had to finish the move with one good arm, and another one of my friends died at the end of the year...)

Anyway, back to the point. In spite of the incredibly painful crash-and-burn of the divorce, they both remarried within a few months of each other...to people much better suited for them. People they would never have appreciated fully if they hadn't been through the earlier marriage. It taught them a different perspective.

I feel for you, D'art. I've never been married, and therefore, never divorced (although I've had two brothers divorce, as well as several friends.) My own personal experience with Dysfunction came in 2000, when I found out just how messed up my own 'happy family' situation really was. My brother ended up going to prison for a crime he committed some twelve or thirteen years earlier...thanks in no small part to the efforts of my sister. The family split pretty much right down the middle--three of my siblings against me, one older brother, and Mom in whether or not my other brother needed to go to prison to get the kind of help he really needed. Those rifts have been healing...slowly...but my sister is still pretty much alienated from the rest of the family to some extent (my mom, for various reasons, has gotten to the point where she 'doesn't feel like she's even got a daughter anymore'.) This was about the same time I got hired on at Lagoon full-time...and I told my mom I was thankful, because that at least gave me something to focus on besides my family ripping itself apart.

I tried, on more than one occasion, to play the peacemaker, to bridge the gap...and had my own words thrown back in my face with venom and bile. So I quit trying. If I didn't say anything, they didn't have any ammunition to throw back at me. I don't know if it was the right choice; but it was the choice I had to make for my own well-being.

Hang in there, man...I'm sure every new day feels like a kick in the gut (if not a few inches lower)...but you can get through it. If you ever need someone to sound off to, directly, look me up. I don't generally offer guys a shoulder to cry on (it's not masculine and all that)...but I've got a good sympathetic ear. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help. I mean it.

My uncle's funeral was today...and my sister came to it. When I first saw her, I didn't know what to do...luckily, a cousin also saw her come in and jumped into conversation with her. So I spent most of the funeral trying to avoid looking at my sister, at all...and knowing, at the same time, that at some point, I was going to have to face her--not confront her, I figure that will happen in due time as well, but actually be in a situation where I'd have to be able to be one-on-one with her and still not make an ass of myself.

After the graveside service, several of us were chatting...and suddenly, I found myself face to face with her. And I knew what I had to do. It took a helluva lot for her to come to this. She's been skipping major family functions ever since the whole situation went to shit in the first place. And I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if she'd worked up the guts to come out to this, and I was the one that turned her away. I walked up, and gave her a hug, and told her I was glad to see her. And, surprisingly to myself, even, I meant it. Yeah, I'm still perturbed about what she did, and I still don't understand why she did it...but she's my sister. If I can love my brother, even after learning he did something that could get him sent to prison, how can I do any less for her, and still look myself in the mirror every morning?

And, for the first time in a long time, I had hope that one day, my family might actually feel like a family again.

A crying shame....

I just stumbled across an article about the Calypso, the ship used by Jacques Cousteau for almost half a century. There used to a be a TV series, 'The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau', that was a record of many of his voyages. It made marine biology household conversation, and brought a consciousness of the ecological importance of the world's oceans out of obscurity.

The ship, itself, started its life as a minesweeper in the British Navy. And for such a bold beginning to its life, and such distinguished service throughout its career on the seas, it is suffering an ignominious fate. Rotting, slowly, in a shipyard in La Rochelle, waiting for legal wrangling over its fate to be resolved. Both Cousteau's widow and his first son (from a different marriage) are claiming ownership. In another couple of years, the point will be moot.

The ship is already condemned. The stern is coming apart at the seams. The deck is all but rusted through. Rails and stairs are rotting and splintered. La Rochelle is ready to pay ANYBODY to come take it away...in it's current state, the ship is an embarrassment to have on the waterfront.

I know there are atrocious things happening in the world. Our government is in the throes of multiple developing scandals. Extremists in the Middle East are killing dozens of people daily. All over the world, victims of inhumane regimes languish in prisons (or worse) without any hope of ever tasting freedom.

But somehow, this ship, an icon of discovery and exploration, has managed to bring a sadness to me that surpasses all of that. Maybe it's over-exposure and desensitization. Maybe it's the fact that corruption, war, and injustice seem to be eternal companions of humanity. I don't know. But to see an artifact of one of the great explorers of human history just sitting there, wasting into oblivion, because two people can't come to a compromise...well, that puts an immediate 'face' on the problem of human intolerance and inflexibility, and brings it home in a way that a list of names and statistics never will.

That, or else I'm just too damn tired and getting maudlin with the hour.

Memories....

So, I was writing an email to a friend just a little while ago. I'd been wondering if I would actually really have anything to write about tonight...I've got fragments of ideas for stuff to write--a declaration of my political beliefs (which will be a rather cynical document, when I get around to writing it), there's two or three stories I've said in earlier posts needed to be told elsewhere...stuff like that. But I didn't really have anything that felt 'ready' to write tonight.

And then the email happened. I got started talking about a situation that arose in my family about six years ago--we used to be quite a close-knit group, but since then, I've pretty much lost all contact with my sister, and rarely hear from one of my brothers. I'm not so far gone as to say that I never want to hear from them again...but I'm definitely ambivalent on the point at this moment. I won't go into the details of the situation, because this really isn't the place...it's one thing to air out your dirty laundry, it's another thing to run it up the flagpole for the whole world to see, y'know?

Anyhow, as I was relating some aspects of this whole situation to my friend, via email, I was absolutely amazed at the amount of rage that I felt suddenly welling up. This is stuff that happened years ago, stuff I thought I'd put behind me...and suddenly, here I was, putting a literal twist to the phrase, 'typing furiously'.

It kind of disturbed me. And, I think, even more disturbing to me is the fact that I was pleased, in some corner of my soul, that I still had that much passion over it. I don't like being angry. I don't even like being around angry people...I can, literally, feel myself becoming physically ill if I'm around angry people for very long. So why is it that I get this rush of satisfaction from finding myself angry enough to start spouting expletives to one of my friends? (at least it wasn't AT one of my friends).

I'm not sure. But I suspect it might have something to do with the fact that I so often keep an even keel, and tend to just let things slide off me. You sometimes wonder, when you meet someone who's too 'laissez-faire' about life, if they don't actually TRULYfeel anything...they just get a limited sampling of what's going on, but refuse to let themselves really feel it. And the fact that, even years later, I can still be this intense about something means that I haven't numbed myself beyond hope. I'm thankful for that.

I'm also thankful, though, that I haven't gone into this much depth with anyone about it for so long. Because, intense as these feelings were tonight, I don't even want to think about the kind of raw edge that would have been on them when they were freshly forged.

Maybe, time and distance being what they are, I'll eventually get to the point where I can be objective enough to write about the whole situation. Maybe I'll say 'screw objectivity' and write it as a memoir (a real memoir, not one of these this-is-loosely-based-on-experiences-AROUND-my-life books that Oprah's been choosing lately). I like that idea...it'd be cathartic...I can vent all the rage, and still scream at the top of my lungs all the things I wanted to...I don't have to worry about whether or not it becomes a sermon. Granted, if it does turn into a sermon, it's going to be a very colorful one.

Great...just what I need...another writing project. At lest this one would be non-fiction. And I could stop telling people I was living in a soap opera...although 'living in a non-fiction book' just lacks a little something, y'know?

Is it any wonder?

This'll be short, because it's late and I'm tired. But it was a realization that dawned on me the other day.

I have, for years, wondered why the entire world seems to have such a scaldingly negative perception of us...not just the government, but the American people in general. There are those that would say it's because we elected the government...and there may be something to that. But I saw something a couple of weeks ago that actually cast the whole situation in a completely new light for me.

I was scanning through some news articles online, and came across some commentary on the Al Jazeera website, an op-ed article about the Palestinian/Israeli situation, and the challenges that still needed to be overcome to achieve peace. It was actually surprisingly objective about the whole thing...at least from my very limited perspective.

But then I started looking at the comments posted about the article...and I was appalled. There were about three or four Americans that had posted responses--and they were some of the most bigoted, anti-Semitic, jingoistic stuff I've ever read. Seeing that, I suddenly found myself wondering how many people in the world are only exposed to the 'average American' in this manner...and it suddenly made sense to me why so many people in the Arab world have the impression that all Americans want to grind them into the dirt, crush their government and religion, and leave them flailing for a place in the world. I almost...almost!...put up a post that said, "Hey, don't listen to these assholes. We don't all think this way!" (The thing that was really scary, to me, was that there were two or three of them--Americans--that were arguing back and forth...but they were all so rigidly aligned against anything that didn't come from the USA that their arguments were basically over semantics...)

So, if anyone from the Middle East ever reads this--no, not all Americans have it in for you. Some of us would be quite content to live and let live...if it hasnt' become too late for that.

On a similar line, I wonder what makes terrorists think they're actually going to gain the objectives they claim to be striving for. Does ANYONE remember a situation in history where terrorism actually won any significant objectives? (I'm not talking about resistance-- striking against military targets. I'm referring to operations that are aimed specifically at civilian, non-combatant targets.) There's no precedent I can recall for it...and with a few millenia of history to look at, you'd think that someone would look and say, 'Hey, y'know...this tactical approach has never actually worked. The only thing it's ever won for its perpetrators is bad publicity and international ire..." But I don't think I'll ever truly understand the thought process of terrorists, anyway. And, actually, that's something of a comfort to me.

New random question to be passed around--

What's the weirdest injury you've ever experienced?

In my case, it was jamming a safety pin through (not just into...all the way THROUGH) my finger trying to repair a set of suspenders right before a show a couple of years ago. And with that, I bid you all good night...

In Memoriam....

So, I was thinking, today, that I'd get on here and write some kind of dissertation on where I feel George Lucas went wrong with the Star Wars prequels (believe me, I can go on at length on that one...yeah, I know it's his story to tell, but it irks me that he did such a half-assed job of it).

Instead, I want to take a moment to pay respects to my Uncle Earl. I found out this morning that he had passed away earlier this week. It's really an odd kind of emotion I'm feeling. I never really felt close with him...in fact, when I was younger, he actually kind of scared me. I was well into my teens before I realized that his being an irascible curmudgeon wasn't anything to be taken too seriously...it was just his way of relating to people. He always did let us know he was happy we came to visit...he just usually managed to give at least one of us a really hard time somehow first (teasing runs in my family...I don't think we'd know how to relate to each other if we were not allowed to do it).

In another way, though, I feel a real affinity for him. He always seemed to me to kind have been the black sheep of his generation of the family. I can't really put a finger on where that came from, aside from the fact that he never seemed to enjoy showing up at the family reunions we had (he was always happy to see family...he just seemed to prefer them a few at a time.) I have, on a lot of occasions, felt like the black sheep in my family (I'm the only one who works in the arts, I'm the only one who has stayed single well into my 30's...although my brother Rob--the same one who sent the 'Find the Mormon' picture earlier posted--is also a good contender for the title. For that matter, I can make an argument for any of my siblings being considered a 'black sheep'...but I feel that, at this point in life, they have more in common with each other than I do.)

I have a lot of memories of my uncle...most of them are fragments, snippets and brief flashes of images. Like he lived next door to a tennis court, and kept a bushel basket of all the balls hit over his fence on his back porch. In all the years I knew him, I only once ever saw his front room--we always went in through the back door. He was almost always watching TV when we visited...he'd talk with us while watching the news or whatever. But there's one memory I have of him that really defines who he truly was, I feel...

In his prime, he was quite an outdoorsman...camping, hunting, snowmobiling, all that stuff. As he got older, it got more and more difficult...and when it finally got to the point where he felt like it was more trouble than it was worth, he decided to get rid of all his gear. He called my dad, and we went down to pick up a bunch of stuff...some big tents, a few other camping odds and ends, and a snowmobile. Dad pointed out that we'd likely never get around to using this stuff--and Uncle Earl looked at him and said, "Maybe not. But I know your kids will never fight each other over it." Part of him sounded so sad when he said that...like he felt he'd somehow failed to teach his kids something. I don't know...but that's the way I remember him.

Our last visit was kind of a shock for me. Mom told us that he was not doing well, that they were probably going to have to put him into a nursing home, and asked if we wanted to go for a visit while it was still an option. All of my brothers living locally went down, all four of us with Mom. He was skinny...not like I am, this was kind of disturbing--emaciated kind of skinny. And he couldn't remember any of us. But when my aunt reminded him of whose children we were, he was overjoyed, and kept going on and on about how great Dad had been, and how honored he felt to have 'such distinguished gentlemen' visiting him. I'd heard him say the occasional kind word...but it was unsettling to hear him just be so effusive with his praise--of Dad and Mom, of my aunt, of us...it was then that I was pretty sure I wasn't going to see him again. I just got the impression that he knew that; and he was trying, in that one visit, to tell us all the stuff he'd always wanted to say, but never felt comfortable opening up to say.

I'm glad I made that visit. He lived for several months afterward; but that last visit gave me a chance to see him as I never expected to, and gave me a whole new appreciation for him. I'll miss him...

I Never Write This Much Anymore...

Wow...Four nights in a row. Now, if I could just figure out how to summon up this kind of enthusiasm for one of my novels, or for revising one of my plays...ANYTHING that would actually have a truly practical purpose (after all, I can't really submit a blog to a publisher, now, can I? I mean, it's already being published, why would they want to print it and pay me?)

On politics--this will be brief, as politics and politicians both disgust me. I'm not sure which is more disturbing to me...the fact that my government lies to me on a regular basis, or the fact that I'm so tired of it I can't even bring myself to be outraged anymore. An old friend of mine said something that I agree with wholeheartedly--"Anyone who WANTS to be in authority should automatically be disqualified for the position." I just can't bring myself to see any of them in a charitable light...I suppose they're a necessary evil, but I have yet to meet anyone who works in politics that doesn't do it for their own agenda, as opposed to the altruistic facade they put on for the voters. It's all a crock. This is one of the few areas in life where I truly feel jaded...and have since I was old enough to understand what was going on. Doesn't matter which party they represent, what level of government they're working in, they're all full of shit. (Apologies to the fraction of a percentage point of politicians out there who actually did get into politics to make a difference, as opposed to fleecing the public--there's a reason the Founding Fathers set up Congressional sessions the way they did; it was so Congressmen could go home and WORK at a real job instead of leeching the public fund for a monthly stipend larger than some successful corporate profit margins!)

Okay, rant over. On a lighter note, my brother sent this to me a couple of days ago...I'm sure some (if not all) of you will get a kick out of it.

Can You Spot the Mormon?

It might be a little tricky, but if you look carefully, you should be able to find her...

Yes, my family does have a warped sense of humor...

I feel like I've come home, somehow...

Maybe it's a silly thing, I don't know...but when I moved away from Logan back in '01, even though I kept contact with several of my friends up there, a part of me always felt like it was missing something. I know several of you, right now, reading this, are saying to yourselves, "Miss LOGAN? What are you, crazy?"

Well, maybe. But it's the only place I've ever been where I truly felt at home. For all that I enjoy the options available from living further south, if I could move back to Logan and make an equivalent living, I would in a heartbeat. But there's only so many theater jobs available in Logan, and there's already an overabundance of people to fill them.

But being here, a slice of the cake...there's so many of you here that felt almost like family to me at one time or another (yeah, my definition of 'family' has changed drastically in the past few years...funny how having one sibling turn on another in an effort to get him sent to prison will do that to you...but that's another story. Someday, I'm going to have to tell all these 'other stories' I keep referencing...) I've felt like my life is kind of running a grand circle...not in the bad "I'm not getting anywhere" sense, but rather in the "I've been here before, but I never saw it from this perspective" sense. And getting back in touch with JayC, Erica, Joel, D'art...I'm not going to go down the whole list...anyway, getting back in touch with you all makes me feel like another section of the circle is in place. I'm curious to see what new perspectives and opportunities this one will bring.

In other news---

I was looking through some of the archived posts last night and this morning (the thing I love about working for an amusement park is that the off-season is INCREDIBLY flexible...I pretty much set my own hours right now...); all the stuff on religion reminded me of a couple of quotes I picked up while I was on my mission (before you give up in disgust, hear me out...these are not what you're expecting!)

They're both from LDS prophets. Neither of them are quotes that I hear in common use among LDS people...too radical a concept for many of them, I'm sure.

The first, ironically enough, is from Joseph Smith, who once said, "True religion is between you and God." That's right, THE LDS prophet basically said, "Mind your own damn business, let your neighbor determine his own relationship with the Lord." I wish more people knew that quote...and followed it.

The second is from Ezra Taft Benson, who was (for those who don't recall/never cared) the LDS Church leader in the late 80's and early 90's. His words--"You cannot do wrong and feel right." I'm sure he didn't mean it in the sense that I'm taking it here, but...well, regardless of what anyone may say, everyone has their own path through this life. Some of those paths are going to have a lot of detours. Some of those paths are to different destinations (my take on the concept of the Afterlife is that you will end up in that state of existence where you are most comfortable living...unless you truly were a soul-rotted maggot that did everything in your power to make everyone else miserable, like Hitler...and even then I'm not 100% positive...too many factors I don't know. See the first quote for clarification...)

So if atheism is your thing, who am I to argue? Maybe it is...for you, for now. Doesn't work for me, personally, but as long as you don't disagree with my desire to believe, I'll gladly grant you the right to refute my beliefs. Same for Islam, or Catholicism, or any other religious/non-religious affiliation out there. As my mom so eloquently put it, for years and years and years--"I don't care if you do, if you don't care if I don't."

Coming soon to a Bitchcake near you...

So it appears that I will soon be among the fortunate few that comprise the Bitchcake community. I'm excited by this...and maybe just a little nervous. I haven't been writing much in the years since those of you who already know me actually knew me (if that makes sense...) I don't know if I'm up to par.

But, in honor of my impending arrival (we'll see how timely Erica is with getting me set up), I wanted to borrow something I saw on one of the blogs there...

Everyone has their firsts.

First time you painted a house: Wow...I don't even remember how old I was. Not very. Dad was big on giving us the chance to help out (that's not a euphemism...I wanted to paint.)

First time you missed the bowl: Ummmm...Can I maybe get back to you on this one? I'm sure it was even further back....

First time you stepped in doodie: Probably right around the same time as the house painting. We had a dog while I was growing up, so did the neighbors, and leash laws were unheard of.

First time you misspelled a word: I have no recollection of that event. (Just the 'first part'...I've misspelled a lot of words.)

First time you broke a guitar string:

First time you realized that growth was not there a week ago:

First time you saw Mommy kissing Santa: Never, to all of the above (but I do recall, at around age 8 or so, realizing that Santa's handwriting on the gift labels looked a lot like Dad's...)

First time you cut your own hair: That goes back into the hazy days of early childhood, too. Couldn't tell you, but it was early.

First time you got plastered on purpose to numb the pain: Never been plastered, period.

First time you sneezed and something came out of your nose and landed on someone else: Yep, another one of those "I know it happened, it was just so long ago I don't remember" things.

Everyone has their lasts.

Last time you painted a snail: Never.

Last time you had to pee so bad you thought about just pissing your pants: Ummm...two months ago, driving up to Park City to paint the set for 'Suessical.'

Last time you smiled: As I was typing this.

Last time you ate something that was not yours: Well, does reclaiming the bag of chips I bought for the scene shop count?

Last time you broke a cymbal: Never.

Last time you blamed someone else: For what? If it's their fault, I always blame them...just not always out loud (that's a fast way to get people to stop signing your paycheck, after all!)

Last time you did something odd because you thought you were alone, but you weren't: Another one of those I-know-I've-done-this things...don't recall.

Last time you wasted time on stupid blog posts: Including tonight?

Last time you shaved your right thigh because your wallet rubs and gives you ingrowns: Never.

Last time you shaved your left thigh, just for symmetry: See above.

Should I get my boobs done? What are you asking me for? They're your boobs...but I prefer the natural look, regardless of size.

Ruffs

posted by Kyle # 2:53 PM

Everyone has their firsts...

First real best friend: Noel Cooley (if anyone has seen him, tell him I miss him...it's been years!)

First school: River Heights Elementary (the old one)

First Screenname: Oh, geez...ummmm...Phelan, I think...(so many tricky questions!!!)

First Cell phone: I got suckered into going with MCI just after my dad passed away, thinking it'd be a good thing in case something happened to Mom. Carried it for three months, then put it away.

First funeral: One of my great-aunts, I think (I was young!)

First pet: A mutt named Willy. (My family had other pets before that, but they all belonged to older siblings. Technically, Willy was the family dog, but somehow the family dog always ended up becoming mine.)

First piercing/tattoo: No piercings, and the only tattoos I've ever had were temporary.

First big trip: Another one of those that comes from before my active memory...White Sands, NM, then up through CA to the Redwoods. The only thing I recall about the trip is my sister's appendix went bad on the way home.

First flight: Salt Lake to Dayton, OH, as I recall.

First celebrity love: Why couldn't this have been in the LAST section? That would be easy. I had all kinds of crushes on celebrities growing up. Probably Cheryl Tiegs. (Kevin, it's entirely possible you and I are the only ones here who even remember her...)

First time out of the country: Niagara Falls. The Americans have the Falls, but the Canadians have the view.

First job: Other than mowing the lawn? Delivering newspapers.

First MySpace friend: I don't have a MySpace page. Do not invite me. (This answer was already here, from where I copied and pasted...couldn't phrase it better.)

Everyone has their lasts.....

Last person you hugged: Ummmmm...my friend, Marla, or her little girl. I don't remember (it's been two weeks, who pays that much attention?)

Last song you heard: I don't know...a song I don't know by a group I don't know. The last song I can positively remember hearing and identify was 'Kickstart My Heart' by Motley Crue (it was on the radio...and I'm a child of the 80's, get off my back.)

Last car ride: Does driving myself home from work count? I barely pay attention and it's a lot like riding along. (Another pre-existing answer I choose not to rephrase.)

Last time you cried: I don't recall for sure...but I got misty-eyed over the Christmas Holiday when I saw my horse's foal playing with the other babies (she's got a spinal injury and we were afraid she wouldn't even make it through the winter...)

Last movie you watched: Do you count movies I listen to while I'm on the computer? The Addams Family...and before that, Dragonslayer (Marla and her husband got the DVD for me for Christmas!)

Last food you ate: Generic equivalent of Cheez-Its. (thanks for the reminder, I'm starving!!!)

Last person of the opposite sex that you talked to: the clerk at the store where I stopped on my way home from work.

Last item bought: Candles and a jigsaw (not the puzzle...the power tool.)

Last shirt worn: A fleece pull-over I inherited from the Olympics...still wearing it, in fact.

Last phone call: The costumer from the film yesterday...needed to see if they'd fired the pistols they rented from us, so I know whether they need to be cleaned before going back into storage (they do...)

Last text message: I don't do text messaging. I mean it. Even if someone sends me a text message, my phone only displays who sent it, I can't read it at all.

Last thing you touched: My keyboard, duh...Oh, you mean aside from that? My forehead (I'm getting a headache, because the last thing I ate was the damn generic Cheez-its!!!)

Last Funeral: Hmmmm...y'know, I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I don't even remember his name. One of the guys I went to school with at USU...but it was years ago (the very sad end to a very sad year...the same year my roommate and my dad died, and two of my best friends got divorced. Also the last time I went to the emergency room.)

Last time at the mall: During the tree holiday. (A pre-existing answer again, but this time I changed one word.)

Last person you saw: The two girls walking across the parking lot at the store where I talked to the aforementioned clerk, whilst purchasing the aforementioned candles and jigsaw.

Last thing you drank: Water (Yep, didn't change this answer either...)

Last thing you typed: Aside from this? An email to a girl I met online...

Last Person that broke your Heart: Kate. Relationships are supposed to be a two-way proposition, but there wasn't a whole lot of traffic coming the other way.

Last time you were Happy: When I finished getting the costume closet at work organized.

Should I get a nose job? Once again, why ask me? It's your nose. Worry about it if the shade from it is stunting the growth of your moustache, I say.

Kyle

Don't worry, I'm not adding more to the list. Time for me to go chase down the Cheez-Its (yeah, the generic ones) and get rid of the headache so I can stop touching my forehead.

The Curse of Online Dating

Boy, just when I thought used car salesmen were shifty...

Okay, I admit it...I'm pathetic. I got an offline IM several days ago from a girl, telling me to check out her profile on a dating site. Right there, I should have known this wasn't all it seemed. But since I'm chronically willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, I went along with it. Spent the twenty minutes cataloguing my life, and the additional hours anguishing over just what to write in the descriptions...want to sound interesting, but not desperate...confident, but not psycho...

I did finally find her profile on the site. According to it, she's a man...but, then again, according to the site, half the women describing themselves as 22 are, in fact, 32, and this site also has somehow managed to make it possible to be from Kansas City, MO and San Jose, CA at the same time, so I'm not sure what to think. It's a moot point, because when I emailed her(?) to ask about the discrepancy, I got no response. Somehow, I think I'm relieved.

(That makes me wonder...is the reason FTB's picture looks so familiar because it actually IS a bad picture of Ashley? Wouldn't that be embarrassing, to stumble across someone from work on one of these sites? I mean, hey...FTB's 10 years older than Ashley, and from a different town...but in light of what I just said, ya gotta wonder...)

But the experience did get me started poking around online dating sites again (yes, my social life is so incredibly non-existant that I'm willing to spend time sitting in front of my computer, hoping against hope that the perfect girl is going to email me out of the blue and put an end to the loneliness...or something like that). I tell ya...you want to talk about bait-and-switch tactics, the most sleazy car salesmen could take notes from these guys!

Okay, in all fairness, I do have to say there is, in fact, one site I found that is, truly, free. They are also not so much a dating site as a socializing site (although I did meet my last girlfriend there...well, the last girl I went out on a date with, anyway--but that's another story). The great thing is they've got all these tests that the site members have written, about nearly anything you can think of...everything from the expected, "Are we compatible?" tests to devilishly tricky and intricate trivia tests about Star Wars, Shaun of the Dead, Russian history, WWII...and personality analyses that can tell you which muppet you most resemble or whether you would have been a loyal Nazi had you grown up in Hitler's Germany. (Yeah, I've wasted a LOT of time on that site...email me if you want the name, I'm trying to avoid product placement.)

The rest of them, however, are a real treat to deal with. I don't know who thought of it first, but they've all pretty much adopted a fairly successful, but thoroughly misleading, tactic. Free profiles. I mean, after all, what good does a dating site do you if nobody registers with it? So they put out the word..."Sign up with us for free!!!" And thousands upon thousands rush to do so (and, yes, I'm part of the guilty masses). Each site seems to take some kind of devilish, sadistic pleasure in contorting the limits of your consciousness to come up with some individual variation on what is, basically, a glorified stat-sheet. They'll get you to endure hours of furious concentration, hunched over your keyboard, visions of your dream-mate(mates?) flashing before your eyes, feverishly clicking this option and then typing in side notes or clarifications. Then there's the personal little hell of "Describe Yourself and Who You're Looking For."

Now, if you're in the market for a cheap piece of ass, or you have absolutely no discretion whatsoever, this is easy. I've seen a few people go so far as to answer the "Describe" section with, "My picture's right there. You tell me." I've seen others whose description basically read, "I'm young and I've got big boobs." These same intellectual giants then turn around and answer the "Who You're Looking For" section with, "I want someone who's into the same stuff I am."

HELLO?!!! How the hell do I know what you're into, other than the barely-there lingerie in the picture? (And why is it, half the time, that the women who post pictures of themselves in lingerie are the last women in the world you want to see in lingerie?)

But, for those of us who try to be articulate and lucid, the box provided is a ridiculously small space in which to summarize, much less describe, who we are. I hope I never have to write classified ads for a living, because it takes me at least five or six tries to get the word count down to the point where their system isn't spitting my submission back up like a six-month old baby trying split-pea soup for the first time. Finally, removing all pronouns, adjectives and adverbs, and half the prepositions, I get something that describes me. It reads like poorly-translated Japanese stereo instructions, but it describes me.

AT LAST!!!! I'm now free to peruse the galleries of waiting women, free to pick and....oh. Wait a minute. Y'mean THIS part isn't free? Well, on most of 'em, the perusal is free, you just have to pay to be able to do anything more than the equivalent of Joey on Friends, saying, "How you doin'?" Winks, flirts, icebreakers, whatever you want to call 'em...I'm never sure whether to bother with one or not. I mean, what do I say if I actually decide to write an email? "I saw your picture and I want sex?" I'd prefer something more sophisticated than that to be my introduction...but first off, I'd like to know if I'm wasting my time writing...so I'll send a flirt. Except that, if I send a flirt, it says I'm a cheap bastard that isn't willing to cough up the money to write an email...oh, the dilemma...(just as a disclaimer--I have yet to get to the point of being so desperate that I've actually PAID to use one of these sites...but I don't know if I can hold out much longer...)

The topper (and, incidentally, the instigator of this rather lengthy diatribe) was one I stumbled across tonight. I really should have known better. I mean, REALLY should have known...I'm looking through profiles on a site (one I just registered for, natch!) and I see a very attractive, very wholesome looking girl, theoretically from Idaho Falls (you'll see why I say 'theoretically' in a moment, trust me.) So I take a look, and reading through her profile, she says, "You can find out more about me at *such and such a webpage*."

Hmmmm, I tell myself. Doesn't look like what you'd normally associate with somebody's homepage...but maybe it's on a business-hosted website or something like that. (Again, the benefit of the doubt...I think it was Mark Twain who said, 'No man learned anything being kicked by a mule a second time.') So I look it up.

Sonuvabitch...it's ANOTHER dating site. And, whaddaya know, they've got a 'special offer' going, free if you register now! Ah, what the hell, I figure. I've already spent a ten-hour workday, what's it going to hurt? So I sit down and start filling out their twenty-minute profile.

An hour later (in my own defense, filling out the profile was NOT the only thing I was doing during this time period), I get done. I've checked all the little boxes yes or no, according to my preferences, added side notes where encouraged to do so, and even wrote a decent little description of myself AND of who I'm looking for, that wasn't too long and actually reads like it was originally written in English. Okay, let's see what my profile looks like....

I kid you not...the screen came up, "That option is only available to paying members." Are you kidding me? I can't even look at my OWN profile? Well, what the fuck can I do on this pieceashit site, anyway? I start poking around, the profanity growing more and more intense with every 'Only available' screen that comes up, until I find one that lists what options are available at the different membership levels.

As a free member, I can chat with people online, or I can send and receive instant messages with people online. That's it. I can't even browse who's online, it's strictly luck-of-the-draw. Which, basically, leaves me stuck sitting at the computer, waiting for someone to A) look at my profile, and B) decide it's thought-provoking enough to contact me (and then I have to pray they IM me or look me up in a chat room, because I can't even read my own fucking mail!--and, yes, the expletives were in fact part of my thought-process at the time, I didn't just add them for dramatic effect.)

It took me all of two seconds to digest that tidbit of information, go through the realization process delineated above, and locate the button to access my account information. For what they wanted me to pay for a month of play on that site, I could get two good steak dinners at Applebee's. Without another moment's hesitation, I clicked on 'Cancel my Account'...only to have a confirmation box pop up. Yes, dammit, cancel my account!

The next screen was a password confirmation, and a comment box asking why you chose to cancel your account. So I told 'em. There's a lot of dating sites out there, after all, and some of them are even free. And, frankly, I'd rather have the two steak dinners.