You scored as Pillow. You are a PILLOW.
Soft and cuddly, you are a great and loyal friend, but a bit of a push-over.
People love the fact that you are reliable, but you should also learn to stick up for yourself, jeeze
Which Random Object Do You Represent?
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I'm baaack .... And except for an upper respiratory infection (bad recycled plane air, says my doctor) and a pile o' work, I'm not too much worse for the wear. I'll be posting more words and pictures later this week, but this will have to keep you interested for now.
This is fascinating reading, and the clearest, most concise explanation we'll probably see as to why federal involvement in Katrina's wake was delayed. It shows a situation, in my view, made worse not by political incompetence, but politics in general. There are no valid excuses here per se, but there is definitely more than a shrug and a blank look. And it cetainly elevates the issue above partisan finger-pointing. You may have to register with the NY Times to read the article, but it's free. And it's worth it.
If you’re going to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you’re going to San Francisco
You`re gonna meet some gentle people thereWell, I can only hope the people are gentle, because my hair won’t support the use of flowers. That’s right. To quote another 60s classic, I’m leaving on a jet plane. The powers that be have determined it would be a good thing for me to mix and mingle with other people who write about the insurance industry. Based on my experience, it will either be an extremely boring bunch or quite the rowdy one. And the shindig happens starting this weekend at the San Francisco Fairmont All things considered, I’d rather be staying home. Take one part general travel jitters, add about a million parts separation anxiety (this is the first time I’ve left Mrs. Z at home in more than seven years) and stir in a dash of domesticity, and you’re left with a recipe for travel ambivalence. That said, San Francisco is one of the few cities I have an active desire to see, and I have an agreeable colleague as a travel companion, so I’m sure I’ll survive — perhaps even thrive. Meanwhile, my thoughts are still dominated by another city: New Orleans. Nearly two weeks after Hurricane Katrina slammed into the Gulf Coast, my thoughts on the tragedy are only now starting to resolve to the point where I feel I can write about it. Here are some of those thoughts, in no particular order. I find myself nodding in agreement with this guy, who comments that: “I fully expected that watching the events of 9/11 on TV (only a couple weeks after I'd been in both NY and Washington for job interviews) would be the most horrifying experience of my lifetime. I was wrong.” Indeed, I would imagine that if you played word association and said “national tragedy” to a random sampling three weeks ago or more, a solid majority would say 9/11. And yet, here we are, facing an event that will probably end up having ten times the death toll and as deep (or maybe even deeper) an impact on our national culture. Call me a pessimist (it would be a first), but I can’t imagine New Orleans ever being the same – at least in my lifetime. I’ve been pretty emotionally erratic in Katrina’s wake. I spent two days in sadness, but I’ve been given more recently to fits of anger over the disgusting politicization of the talk surrounding the storm. I can safely say that 9/11 never made me as angry as I have been over this. For God’s sake, people, there is no enemy here … only our countrymen and brethren in the family of man. Can we please postpone the self-righteous indignation and finger-pointing until we have resuced the living and buried the dead? All in all, it maybe best that I’m getting away. Though leaving Mrs. Z at home breaks my heart each night my departure gets closer, I long for a fresh perspective. Maybe it will wash over me when I pass through the Golden Gate. Maybe I’ll see it in the face of an impassioned Giants fan. Maybe I’ll find it in the industry babble that is my reason for leaving. Maybe I won’t find it until I’m home again.
Two posts in one day! And you have her to thank. Feel free to make your own list. 7 things I plan to do before I die:1) Finish a novel 2) Get back to New York 3) See the great Wall of China 4) Quit smoking 5) Play George to Becky’s Martha in “Who’s Afraid of Viriginia Woolf?” 6) Get a tattoo 7) Play Richard III 7 things I can do:1) Do a 360 while holding a wheelie 2) Eat and enjoy food so spicy it makes me sweat 3) Make cashiers swoon with an inpromptu snippet from a love song 4) Shoot a three-pointer 5) Make killer sauces 6) Write zippy headlines 7) Make people laugh 7 things I cannot do1) Walk 2) Run 3) Jump 4) Grapevine 5) Tie a tie 6) Sing one song while another one’s playing 7) Stay mad 7 things that attract me to the sex of my preference:1) Shortness 2) A wicked smile 3) A sense of humor 4) A bouncy butt (hey … honesty frees the soul) 5) the ability to simultaneously display devotion and independence 6) Self-confidence 7) Open-mindedness 7 things that I say most often:1) I Love YOU! 2) Give me a smokie treat. 3) Now that I have your attention … 4) That's Hot! 5) Oh dear God! 6) I'm not drunk! 7) Where are my keys? 7 celebrity crushes: 1) Gwen Stefani 2) Liz Phair 3) Angelina Jolie 4) “Mythbuster” Kari Byron5) Xena & Gabrielle (you can’t have one without the … other!) 6) Drew Barrymore 7) Anna Paquin
1.Money isn't made out of paper. It's made out of cotton. Well, yes and no. Paper money is made from paper made of rags. Cotton or linen fabric is beaten to create cotton or linen fibers. You have probably heard of "rag paper" or "fine linen writing paper." This is where it comes from. 2. The Declaration of Independence was written on hemp paper. True, but not shocking. Much of the paper of the day was made of hemp.3. The dot over the letter i is called a “tittle." True. The term refers to any raised dot in writing, however.4. A raisin dropped in a glass of fresh champagne will bounce up and down continuously from the bottom of the glass to the top. Sometimes, depending on the raisin and the champagne. After a while it becomes soaked and sinks to the bottom5. Susan Lucci is the daughter of Phyllis Diller. False. Although their ages don't preclude their being mother and daughter, Phyllis Diller and Susan Lucci are not related. Phyllis Driver was born in Ohio in 1917 and married Sherwood Diller in 1939; they had five children together before divorcing in 1965, none of whom was Susan Lucci (who was born in New York in 1946). 6. 40% of McDonald's profits come from the sales of Happy Meals. Not true, although when they were first introduced, 40% of McDonald’s sales might have been attributable to Happy Meals.7. 315 entries in Webster's 1996 Dictionary were misspelled. Which Webster’s? There are many dictionaries that carry the Webster name. 8. The 'spot' on 7UP comes from its inventor, who had red eyes. He was albino. Uh-uh. 7Up’s creator, Charles Leiper Grigg, wasn't an albino. In photographs (albeit black and white ones), he appears normally pigmented, and we've yet to encounter a biography of him that makes any mention of his displaying traits of albinism. (By the way, though it is possible for an albino to have reddish or violet eyes, most people with that condition have blue eyes, and some have hazel or brown eyes.)9. On average, 12 newborns will be given to the wrong parents, daily. Impossible to verify, making it likely this number was pulled out of someone's ass.10. Warren Beatty and Shirley MacLaine are brother and sister. True dat.11. Chocolate affects a dog's heart and nervous system; a few ounces will kill a small sized dog. Sadly this is true. According to the SPCA, cocoa beans contain the stimulants caffeine and theobromine. Dogs are highly sensitive to these chemicals, called methylxanthines. In dogs, low doses of methylxanthine can cause mild gastrointestinal upset (vomiting, diarrhea, and/or abdominal pain); higher doses can cause rapid heart rate, muscle tremors, seizures, and death12. Orcas (killer whales) kill sharks by torpedoing up into the shark's stomach from underneath, causing the shark to explode. No one has ever witnessed this behavior in nature. Moreover, the two aren’t natural enemies.13. Most lipstick contains fish scales. Sort of. A fish scale extract is one ingredient.14. Donald Duck comics were banned from Finland because he doesn't wear pants. False. In late 1977, the city of Helsinki found itself in a bit of a financial crunch. With monetary resources limited, Mr. Markku Holopainen, a local Liberal Party representative, proposed at a meeting of the board of youth affairs that the city economize by discontinuing its purchase of Donald Duck comics for youth centers in favor of hobby and sport publications. His suggestion was heartily approved — and was later incorrectly lambasted by international tabloids as being morally, rather than financially, based.15. Ketchup was sold in the 1830s as medicine. True (Dr. Miles Compound Extract of Tomato)16. Upper and lower case letters are named 'upper' and 'lower' because in the time when all original print had to be set in individual letters, the 'upper case' letters were stored in the case on top of the case that stored the smaller, 'lower case' letters. True.17. Leonardo da Vinci could write with one hand and draw with the other at the same time. There is no evidence of da Vinci being ambidextrous. (He was left-handed.) On the other hand (d’oh), he was proficient in the practice of mirror writing, or writing that could only be read if held up to a mirror.18. Because metal was scarce, the Oscars given out during World War II were made of wood. Not true. During World War II, award winners were given statuettes made of plaster, which they were later able to exchange for gold. The only wooden Oscar was an honorary one given to ventriloquist Edgar Bergen.19. There are no clocks in Las Vegas gambling casinos. This is true, as a rule. There is also a scarcity of windows. Both practices have the same effect: masking the passage of time.20. The name Wendy was made up for the book Peter Pan; there was never a recorded Wendy before! Not true. The name Wendy appears twice in the 1881 census of England, one born 1840, and one born in 1880. The magazine Family History also states that Wendy, along with the names Marian and Shirley were once boys’ names, and that in 1797 a boy named Wendy was apprenticed to some one in Glos.
But the name may have even older origins. History makes reference to two different emperors in China who have the name "Wendi" (sometimes also referred to as Wen-Ti).
However, J.M. Barrie’s 1904 novel certainly popularized the name.21. There are no words in the dictionary that rhyme with: orange, purple, and silver! True. Well, “quicksilver” rhymes with “silver,” but that’s cheating.22. Leonardo Da Vinci invented scissors. Also, it took him 10 years to paint Mona Lisa's lips. Wrong and wrong. Although commonly ascribed to Leonardo da Vinci, scissors were likely invented in 1500 BC in ancient Egypt. These were likely shears with the joint at the far end. Modern cross-bladed scissors were invented by Romans around AD 100.
The entire painting that would later become known as the Mona Lisa was painted in less than four years (1503-1506).23. A tiny amount of liquor on a scorpion will make it instantly go mad and sting itself to death. Untrue, since the scorpion’s venom has no effect on the scorpion itself, nor on any member of the same species. So definitely do NOT try this one at home.24. The mask used by Michael Myers in the original "Halloween" was a Captain Kirk mask painted white. True, per the Internet Movie Database. 25. If you have three quarters, four dimes, and four pennies, you have $1.19. You also have the largest amount of money in coins without being able to make change for a dollar (good to know.) True.26. By raising your legs slowly and lying on your back, you can't sink in quicksand (and you thought this list was completely useless.) True. Simply laying down and swimming is all that is needed to allow escape. The sand's higher density will gradually push a human body upward, eventually allowing the individual to easily paddle toward more solid footing.27. The phrase "rule of thumb" is derived from an old English law, which stated that you couldn't beat your wife with anything wider than your thumb. This is a long-standing myth. While we are not certain of its origin, the term "rule of thumb" or similar exists in many languages and cultures. Its likely origin is that the thumb is often used for rough measurement by carpenters, seamstresses, and many others. In fact, the measurement of an inch is believed to have been derived from the distance between the tip of the thumb and the first joint.
The wife-beating claim has been debunked, for instance by Christina Hoff Sommers in her book Who Stole Feminism?. In particular Sommers notes that there is no mention of this in the legal commentaries of William Blackstone.28. The first product Motorola started to develop was a record player for automobiles. At that time, the most known player on the market was the Victrola, so they called themselves Motorola. Not quite. Motorola started business manufacturing radios for cars, not record players. A number of early companies manufacturing audio and film equipment in the early 20th century used the suffix "-ola".29. Celery has negative calories! It takes more calories to eat a piece of celery than the celery has in it to begin with. It's the same with apples! True of celery. Not as true with apples. There are 15 calories in 110 grams of celery. There are 57 calories in the same amount of apple.30. Chewing gum while peeling onions will keep you from crying! No, but putting a piece of bread between your lips and gums may help, as will cutting onions under cold running water. 31. The glue on Israeli postage stamps is certified kosher. True. However, American stamps are kosher, as well, since their glue is also composed of vegetable oil. But they’re not necessarily certified.32. Guinness Book of Records holds the record for being the book most often stolen from public libraries. False. A recent American Library Association survey indicated the most stolen books are about dreams, witchcraft, astrology and the occult.33. Astronauts are not allowed to eat beans before they go into space because passing wind in a space suit damages it. False. Three days before a flight, astronauts are put on a "low residue diet" so their diaper-style undies won't fill up so fast. If farts could damage a space suit there'd be a lot more astronaut fatalities.
I hate it when she makes me feel guilty. She doesn't do it on purpose, of course. But she's a much more regular blogger than I, and her writing is fucking awesome. And she's training to be a MASSAGE THERAPIST! Meanwhile, here I am, the professional writer, and I'm not producing jack! I'm ugly. I need chocolate. Hold me.
I had a friend ask me today, “Why do you believe what you believe?” It's a tricky question. The way I see it, you might as well ask someone why he or she loves someone else. Obviously, there are some facts that go into that decision: common interests, shared opinions, physical chemistry and the like. But when it comes time to make the commitment to loving someone, there's no "reason" to it. It's a gut-level instinct that says, "This is right." The same can be said of faith. There are a number of facts that inform someone's choice of religion. For Christians, there is the logical principle that you cannot have creation without a creator. And there are the historical documents, both biblical and secular, supporting the existence of Jesus. But when it comes to choosing a faith, it is made based on that same type of gut instinct. Look at it this way ... if you are certain of something, there's no belief to it. It's knowledge.
In the Obscure Observance Department, today is the Irish celebration of the “ Battle of the Boyne.” In the sake of unity, however, I would urge my Protestant brethren to avoid razzing their Catholic friends with a Nelsonian “ HAH hah!” *** Today's top Springfield State Journal-Register headline: Two accused of flipping Today's top Chicago Tribune headline: Shrub poisoned zoo monkeys The two headlines combined: Two accused of flipping shrub-poisoned zoo monkeys. *** Mrs. Z and I watched our new DVD of the Cameron Crowe classic "Say Anything" last night. Twice. In a row. The second time, we watched the commentary from Crowe, John Cusack and Ione Skye. "Say Anything" pretty much summed up our high school experience. Crowe's writing, which goes from honest and conversational to poetic without missing a beat, is only topped by Cusack's unforgettable character work as Lloyd Dobler. Of his character's mindset, Cusack said: "Optimism is a revolutionary act." Indeed.
I found out over the weekend that the lovely Mz. Ouiser is coming to Illinois this week for a visit. I was amused to hear that she really has a yen for some Karaoke. The fact that Mrs. Z and I are Karaoke junkies is not a great secret, although we have been inactive for more than a month. It is curious to me, however, that the woman I hold up as Metropolitan Culture Girl — whom I’ve long regarded as a poster child for escaping the Midwest and Getting a Life — yearns for the relatively rustic pleasures of a Karaoke bar. I won’t analyze it any further, however. It’s always a treat to see Ms. O, and Mrs. Z and I wouldn’t mind terribly if we were dynamite fishing off Lake Springfield, so long as we had a chance to socialize again.
... but what are we to make of this? Live 8 performers' record sales are booming. Maybe fans are rewarding these artists for their generous donation of face time for a worthy cause. The one appeasing fact from this article: their was some actual fund-raising going on. The recording of the McCartney/U2 duet "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" is selling like hotcakes on the Internet, with proceeds going toward the poverty-stricken. So it's not like the epic concert's only purpose was to tweak the G8's leaders -- a goal which seemed decidedly unambitious to me. Ok, so I am cynical. By the way ... thanks for your patience in between posts. Mrs. Z are done with one show ( Ragtime) and are a month away from starting another ( Jekyll & Hyde). Yes ... the audition which was causing me some anxiety went well.
I just made my first funeral song choice. It's "Lux aeterna" from the John Rutter Requiem. Its music speaks so beautifully of the mystery and peace of death. Either I am getting old or I'm finding new and bizarre ways of dealing with audition stress (more on that next week).
The beloved Mz. Ouiser threw down the bloggauntlet to me, so to speak, by posing five questions for me to answer in this space. (This is emerging as the blogosphere equivalent of a chain letter. You can see her interview here.) When I agreed to this, I suspected her questions would be hard — but not this hard.
What are the 5 most important things you feel you should do before you die?
Well, I’m going to cheat right off the bat and divide my answers into things I should do and things I want to do.
a) I should help conservatism change its popular perception as a judgmental, narrow-minded, bullying sect.
b) I want to play George to Becky’s Martha in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”
c) I should stop smoking.
d) I want to see the Great Wall of China.
e) I should get off my *** and write a novel, already.
If we had to roll in your shoes for a while, what are the five most vital things you'd like us bipeds to learn?
a) Paraplegics can get their groove on. One of the perceptions I had to fight when I was younger and still fight to a certain extent is that a lot of people are incapable of thinking of the disabled as sensual beings. I may be wrong, and it may be some latent self-esteem issues buried in my nooks and crannies. But I don’t think so.
b) There’s a time for independence, and there’s a time to let someone to open the freaking door. The older I get, the less prideful I am when it comes to accepting help.
c) If you can learn to pop a wheelie, you can rule the world.
d) Snow sucks. “You have tire chains for that thing?” jokes suck worse.
e) It’s amazing how good sitting in a “normal” chair feels every once in a while.
You and Becky are such a fun, fabulous couple; you get my vote for Springfield's sweethearts. What do you feel is the secret to your successful marriage?
I could spend a whole blog entry on that. Careful selection is a must. I’d even go so far as to propose this maxim: never marry someone you haven’t broken up with at least once.
This may sound radical, but here’s my theory. We’ve all heard that if a thing seems too good to be true, it probably is. On the other hand, if a thing is good enough to return to after you’ve walked away from it, it bears close consideration.
Also, at the risk of re-stating an old cliché: never go to bed angry at your partner. First, it makes for a rotten night of sleep. Second, it belies the idea that your relationship with your spouse is the most important thing in your life. Third, it gives resentment a chance to burrow its way into your soul.
Do you advocate the Hal Prince style of directing or the Stanislavski? Why?
I lean much closer to Stanislavski than to Prince. Prince one said “The worse thing that can happen is to get back from artists exactly what you asked of them.” He may have been saying that he prefers actors have ownership of their work, but what he means is that he really doesn’t care what the actors do, as long as they look pretty. That’s just wrong. A director must provide his vision for the show to the actors and collaborate with them to find the best path toward realizing that vision.
By the same token, I think one can go too far with The Method. I don’t think it’s absolutely necessary for an actor to be able to completely empathize with a character. In fact, a total surrender to the role can be dangerous.
One of the greatest challenges a director can have is knowing his actors well enough to make a suggestion that will resonate with them. My high school drama mentor told me to play Max Detweiler in “The Sound of Music” as if he were secretly a Jew. It worked. In my first directing gig, I was having trouble with my young lead getting the gist of Winnie the Pooh. I told him to try playing Pooh as if he were … well … slow. His eyes lit up, and from that point on, the young man grasped the essence of Pooh.
What 20th century musicians/composers do you feel made the greatest contribution to American culture, and why? (Other than the Beatles. Yes I am evil.)
a) Irving Berlin — the Father of the Pop Song, as far as I’m concerned.
b) Elvis Presley — A fantastic entertainer, he essentially created the crossover hit.
c) John Williams — He has provided the music for almost half of the top 10 grossing movies of all time. Penning the “Star Wars” theme alone makes him a fixture in pop culture.
d) Frank Sinatra — One of the first artists to fully realize the potential of turning talent into power. He also set the precedent for musicians who decided popularity in one field was not enough.
e) The Rolling Stones — Sure their music is good, but their influence has been establishing a blueprint for long-term success. Whew! Would you like to assume the hotseat, dear reader? Let me know by posting a comment. I'll come up with five questions for you, but you must answer them honestly and completely, and you must post them on your blog. If you don't have a blog, you can post them here.
Seriously. Just before I left, I saw a black derby on top of the couch. And I thought, "I'm going to wear that this Friday morning." "I'm going to make people look at me." It worked. At every turn, passersby were riveted to me and my hat. And I flashed each of them a smile As if to say, "Made you look." And my smile stayed with me. Because, in some small way, I was living life on my terms. Find your black derby today.
Behold ... the new and improved profile picture.
Hmmm ... there I am! And with that, this blog is officially a multimedia presentation.
Watch out, Britain. You’re supposed to be the relaxed-and-groovy country. If Orwellian measures like this were taken in America, the government would be lambasted for telling its citizens how to dress “for their own protection.” And I shudder to think what would happen if George W. established the cabinet position “Secretary of Antisocial Behavior.”
As I looked over my blog to see how regularly I’ve posted as of late, I made a disturbing discovery. I haven’t had an original thought in more than a month. Sure, I’ve posted regularly, but for the past thirtysomething days, it’s been link upon link. I dress them up with witty titles and lines, but it’s nothing that required any great creative investment on my part. This led to a pang of guilt. I was going to label it “self-imposed guilt,” but then I started thinking. ****WARNING: Philosophical babbling ahead**** Isn’t all guilt self-imposed? What is guilt but the soul’s alert system warning us we’ve done something incompatible with our internal code of ethics? So is there such a distinction as deserved and undeserved guilt? No – at least not according to the definition we’ve just established. It becomes a matter of examining the internal ethical code that resulted in the “guilt alarm.” Of course, that leads into dark territory. If you you’re given to punishing yourself with guilt excessively, should you re-examine your morals every time you feel guilty? And will that erode your morals? It’s about this time that my head explodes.
I'd never get away with this if it were any other day but Friday.
Watch as the Terri Schiavo allusions begin in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...
Today’s news finds Russian president lamenting the fall of the Soviet Union. I kind of miss the old U.S.S.R. myself, but only because the James Bond series hasn’t been the same since the Cold War ended. I’m sure this address will have prominent place on the agenda at the next State Department meeting.
Democrats opposing John Bolton’s confirmation as U.N. ambassador are criticizing him for being someone who, while willing to work with other nations, will take the hard line if he feels it’s in the United States’ best interests. I’m not sure why they’re so surprised: look at the philosophy of the guy who nominated him. Besides, just because someone has been critical of an organization doesn’t mean he can’t work with it. And while we’re at it, imagine what a loss it would be to lose out on someone who could actually make a very important world organization better. But no … we’ll probably end up with a candidate who believes that if the majority of the U.N. Security Council supports something, it must be right. I have no strong opinion on Bolton, himself, except it’s a bit disconcerting to keep reading “Bolton this” and “Bolton that” in news stories about the flap. I keep getting images of Michael Bolton as our ambassador to the U.N. “How am I supposed to vote for this resolution …?”
Apparently, when you're a world leader at a beloved pope's funeral and the seating is alphabetical, you have to.
Here’s an interesting study: how many times have you set your alarm wrong (or forgotten to set it at all) and slept late as a result? How many times have you woken up on time anyway? I bring this up because this morning, I rolled over and looked at the clock – only to discover I’d forgotten to turn the alarm on. I normally get up at 6:30 a.m. It was 6:38 a.m. Be thankful for the little things until the big ones come around.
For my friend who feels the fun in life is passing her by, for loved ones who scream that life isn't fair, for myself who thinks he can't do anything quite good enough this week, I offer the centuries-old wisdom of the poem below. (It is brought to wonderful musical life by Dead Can Dance on the CD I've provided a link to above.) Fortune presents gifts not according to the bookFortune presents gifts not according to the bookWhen you expect whistles it's flutesWhen you expect flutes it's whistlesWhat various paths are followed in distributing honours and possessionsShe gives awards to some and penitent's cloaks to othersWhen you expect whistles it's flutesWhen you expect flutes it's whistlesSometimes she robs the chief goatherd of his cottage and and goatpenAnd to whomever she fancies the lamest goat has born two kidsWhen you expect whistles it's flutesWhen you expect flutes it's whistlesBecause in a village a poor lad has stolen one eggHe swings in the sun and another gets away with a thousand crimesWhen you expect whistles it's flutesWhen you expect flutes it's whistles
I don't know whether to swear or laugh. Maybe I'll do both. Earlier today, a friend of mine sent me a link to a petition on the Democratic Web site regarding the filibuster-removal initiative now being considered by the U.S. Senate. Now, regular readers of my blog probably have me correctly pegged as a political conservative. However, this whole idea of changing the filibuster procedure to suit one party really bugs me. So, I decided to go ahead and sign the petition. I included this comment: I've never liked the filibuster as a matter of procedure, but I stop short of thinking it should be abolished -- particularly when the procedural change would target just one type of deliberation.
I also think detractors of this measure are doing the debate a disservice by referring to it as "the nuclear option." That type of rhetoric benefits no one.
That said, I will add my name to this petition.I immediately received the following automatically generated e-mail message: Steve:Thank you for taking action on Democrats.org. It's Democrats like you
who help us make a difference.
An account has been created for you on Democrats.org. To log into your
account, please click on the link below. If you did not create this
account, do not be concerned -- this information has been sent to this
email address only.
https://www.democrats.org/login/confirm_login.html?u=06138695&c=590b16a9Here are a few more things you can do on Democrats.org:
Build Your Online Team: Help us build strength in numbers: create your
personal online team of friends, family, neighbors -- anyone you think
would be interested in the Democratic message. We'll send you inside
information from the Democratic Party, which you can pass on to your
team.
http://www.democrats.org/ecaptains/Create Your Personal Democrats.org Webpage: Sign up to become a
grassroots fundraiser today. First, you'll create your own personal webpage on
Democrats.org. Then, tell your friends, send emails with a link to your
page, and urge people to visit and contribute. You can even see how
much you've raised.
http://www.democrats.org/epatriots/Make a Contribution: We can't win without your support. Your dollars
allow us to fund our field programs, spread our positive message, and
fight back against Republican attacks.
https://www.democrats.org/support/index.html?dsc=NETA254-- The DNC Internet Team
Well, as you can imagine, I was not thrilled. I sent this message to the Webmaster: I am NOT a Democrat and resent VERY HIGHLY being labeled as one in your automatic response simply because I agree with you on the filibuster issue.
I really hope someone gets this, because it has crystallized my distrust of your party . That's sad, as this is the one time I decided to reach across party lines to voice my opinion.
--Steve SykesI wonder if I'll get a response.
I was checking my In-Box on my e-mail just now (not my Bulk Mail box, mind you, but my In-Box), was greeted by the following dire subject line: "Your Tickle account will soon be deleted." Now, this was news to me -- primarily because I didn't know I had a Tickle account. I began to think this was just a bit of spam, but I went ahead and opened the message and learned that I, in fact, did have an account with Tickle.com's predecessor, e-mode.com. However, I haven't logged into Tickle for a little over a year. What can we learn from this? Well, somebody at Tickle dropped the ball at least a couple of times: - I apparently wasn't told in memorable enough terms why e-mode was changing to Tickle, nor why it would benefit me to stay active with the new site.
- I also apparently wasn't engaged by Tickle in the past year -- at least not to any real, personal degree.
- When Tickle finally did realize I had fallen off the face of the earth, the best they could do was tell me I was about to be deleted. Look at the subject line again. Why on earth would anybody OPEN that?
And that, boys and girls, is your e-marketing thought for the day.
After seeing how badly conservatives have bungled the Terri Schiavo situation, it was encouraging to see "the other side" make a questionable PR move of its own. Michael Schiavo has announced, before his wife is even dead, that he wants Terri to have an autopsy to prove once and for all her condition was irreversible. So much for dying with dignity. I wonder if Jonathan Frakes is available to narrate this one.
This post may ruin my reputation as a happy-go-lucky master of sarcasm and wit, but I don't care. It's been a pretty deep weekend. Below is the text of an e-mail I sent to the pastor of the church Mrs. Z and I attended on Easter Sunday. *** I grew up in a loving and extremely close-knit family. My father was an ordained music minister and associate pastor in the Nazarene church. My mother was his pianist, duet partner and colleague in ministry. Once I could sing, I filled out the Sykes Trio, and we spent many years ministering. When I was married, my wife took her place at my side, and our areas of church involvement increased exponentially. But somewhere along the way, I began to realize that everything I was doing for the church — singing, working with the youth, having a hand in puppets, directing the drama group — all of these were becoming more work than worship and more obligation than celebration. Couple that with all the cumulative experience I had firsthand with the inner political workings of the church, and you had a blueprint for a Christian life that looked secure, but whose structural integrity was in question. Then, in 1994, my dad — my hero, my pal and my role model — passed away suddenly of a heart attack. The shock wave of his death ripped my belief system apart. I still believed in God, but I found myself with so many conflicted and grief-saturated impressions of church that I did not want to go back. My mother, who loved and depended on her husband like few wives, fell into a sea of sorrow that would sweep her along for many years (and still pulls her under from time to time). Though we had many good memories of church, they were all inextricably tied to Dad, making them too painful to be cherished. And so, we fell away from church attendance. Though we went to church a handful of times in the 10 years after my father’s death, we weren’t anything close to regular attendees. And though we all still held onto our faith in God and our salvation, more often than not, we were stumbling blindly along as best we could. Then, this past Sunday, my wife and I came to First Christian Church to celebrate Easter. As we took our place in the second row, I looked around at the beautiful sanctuary and I looked within myself. I didn’t feel the overwhelming guilt of a prodigal son slinking back into the fold. Nor did I feel an electric charge knocking my socks off and proving to me unequivocally that this was The Church For Me. What I did feel was … home. I felt welcomed by the friendly congregation, but not overwhelmed by well-meaning church enthusiasts leaping over pews to be the first to recruit The Visitor into the flock. The hymns were recognizable. The spirit was familiar. And when you started your Easter sermon marveling at The University of Illinois’ “Miracle Comeback” in the NCAA tournament, I found myself chuckling and breathing deeply the air of fellowship. It felt good. Really good. Another thing that felt really good was knowing, after looking through the “About the Christian Church” booklet I picked up on the way into the sanctuary, that this was a congregation not weighed down by a dogma or an oppressive political structure. I just wanted to write you and thank you for being there, five blocks away from our home, when we were ready. Thank you for your warmth. We’re coming back next Sunday, and my mom is coming with us this time. I’ve not been magically transformed into a super Christian by any stretch, but I’m happy to say the lights are on, and somebody’s home. See you next Sunday.
I have a lot to write about ... er ... about which to write. Time is the enemy. However, in the proud tradition of Mz. Ouiser, I present a list of items on the blog docket: - Biscuits and bacon and booze: A St. Patrick's Day tale
- The Schiavo case: Many questions, few answers
- My wife, the historical anarchist
- Beauty pageants for the disabled
I am deeply ashamed. It's St. Patrick's Day, and I'm not wearing green (or even orange for that matter). I feel I've betrayed my Irish ancestry. I'll have to make up for it tonight by drinking and picking a fight with a relative.
For those readers outside central Illinois, you’ll have to forgive me for this provincial entry. While the first Monday following the second weekend in March may sound like a Nicean formula, it is actually the night on which the Springfield Muni Opera makes its casting calls for the coming season. This year, 315 auditionees (yours truly and Mrs. Z among them) will await news of their fate into the wee hours. This is a nightlong ordeal, as the first calls generally don’t go out until after 9 p.m. And when you consider that the staffs for four shows must make between 30 and 50 calls each, the most steadfast can hold out hope until two or three in the morning. Of course, merely sitting and waiting by the phone for five hours can be a little nerve-racking. With that in mind, I’ve brainstormed a list of alternate activities auditionees can pursue to make the longest night more bearable. Drink. Lots. This isn’t a terribly innovative idea; in fact, it’s somewhat of a tradition for certain veteran auditionees. This tip comes with a caveat, however: it’s important not to drink SO much that you can’t carry on a lucid conversation when the call comes (if it does). Take, for example, this hypothetical call Joe Thespian receives from an equally hypothetical director (let’s call her Laurie Ann O’Hootsmithen) of a similarly hypothetical show (say, Annie, Get Your Ragtime Music Beast). LAO’H: Hello, this is the director of … JOE: So’s yer old man! LAO’H: I’m sorry, but the Muni isn’t doing The Music Man this year. Actually, I’m calling to offer you the role of … JOE: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz … Watch a musical. Now this is sneaky. What better way to take your mind off getting cast in one of four musicals than to watch an entirely different musical? Mrs. Z and I have Brigadoon cued up and ready to go. I’m just waiting for the phone to ring at the very instant Harry utters the line, “The miracle is over!” Take the kids to Chuck E. Cheese. Forget your troubles. Play games. Laugh at life. And if you’re childless, canned vegetables are a great substitute. Watch 24. Then, imagine an episode in which Jack Bauer has to go undercover as a Muni auditionee as a matter of national security. JACK: Dammit, Tony, I need you to upload the grapevine-hitch kick combo to my palm pilot NOW! Think how free your summer will be if you don’t get cast. There will ever be a better time to jump on the Frisbee golf bandwagon. Sorry, I meant disc golf. Did I mention drinking? Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ...
Bad blogger. Bad, bad blogger. So go my self-recriminations when I consider blogging colleagues like her and him, both of whom are dealing with as much as I, have somehow have found time to post more regularly. With that in mind, I present the following quick takes on my life and the world in general: - Mrs. Zoom is in a period of mourning, as she will probably never be able to color her hair again. After a five-year hiatus since her last coloring incident (which ended in an allergic reaction), she again tried to color her hair black —this time with a “foolproof” ammonia-free dye. Just over 24 hour hours later, she was in the emergency room, her scalp and neck covered in welts and the pain in her back making breathing next to impossible. It really sucks when the suffering of loved ones causes you tangible pain. But it’s worth the trade-off to know there is another human being to whom you’re that close.
- This whole democracy in the Middle East thing is starting to gain legs — first in Lebanon, then in Egypt. Bushies should not feel at liberty to back-slap yet by any means, but the president’s idealism is looking a little less fanciful by the day. Read more here.
- Auditions for Springfield’s largest community theater venue, the Springfield Muni Opera, started last weekend and continue this weekend. Mrs. Z and I both auditioned. Look here in the next week or two for updates.
- I’m really looking forward to St. Patrick’s Day this year. Not that I don’t always celebrate it with gusto, but I am fascinated to see the subpoena-enforced appearances of many of the central players in baseball’s steroid scandal. That hissing sound you’ll hear is the last of the air escaping from the doomed dirigible of steroid naiveté.
More later …
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