A man and a woman started to have sex in the middle of a dark forest.

After about 15 minutes of it, the man finally gets up and says, "Damn,
I wish I had a flashlight!". The woman says, "Me too, you've been
eating grass for the past ten minutes!"

I guess at my core, I'm a bit of a romantic. The great book (and okay movie) Fever Pitch had a line about how immersing yourself in something bigger than you is good for the soul. That's not an exact quote but you get the idea. Essentially, it's healthy to forget all the intellectual bullshit that can bog down our days and let yourself ride a wave. Bear with me, dear reader. This thought reoccured to me on Tuesday night after being strung out from a long work day, a tough exercise session, watching a little of the returns, I finally dropped my exhausted self on to my bed a little after midnight.

Phone rang. It was an uncle from my ex's side of the family, euphoric with the election. He's a good guy and has waited nearly 70 years for a moment like Tuesday night, so I was happy to listen to the party for a couple of moments before he moved onto his next celebratory phone call. I hit the pillow and a few minutes later, off in the distance, I could hear some chemically serene young democrats whooping it up, packing as many syllables as is possible into chanting the new president-elect's surname. Part of me wanted them to hush up, part of me wanted to join in.

I think that is what drives people. It's what motivates people to sprint across Grant Park to get a space for everything. Not only do you want to be there for the speech itself, but the experience of being in the park, being part of shared moment is almost as important as the words coming from the podium.

We have family in DC and my ex hatched a plan to take our three troublemakers down in January to witness the big moment. I felt like the Grinch when his heart grew three times when my eldest asked her Mom "Can Dad come with us?" Seriously, moi? I must be doing something right. That too will be one of those transcendental moments.

I was thinking when I was working the Bills games that there was no fun in rousting drunks (which apparently I was pretty good at) or settling seat disputes. The fun came in the silly high fives from goofy strangers, the fist bumps from players' moms, the food offers from tailgators after the games. There are, of course, copious amounts of assholes and knuckleheads in those lots, but there are folk too who are just savoring the moment, losing themselves somewhat in that moment. That's finding unabashed joy on a very minor scale in comparison, but I could see people seeing the forest for the trees on Tuesday Night.

It was a grand unshackling, made all the better by the sense of community in a place where 40 years earlier the same location was such a scene for conflict. It's only a first step, to be sure, but the footprint runs deep.

I actually heard voting described as that this morning while waiting to vote. That made it sound like it didn't matter who you voted, provided you were polite about it. I vote at the Senior Citizens home on Richmond and Summer and it was jumping (so to speak) at 7:30. Glad I went early as they had an unusual line of about 15 people, but they moved quick. Since I was done in short order, I swung by Spot where they were out of coffee? What the hell was that about? Nobody could think to put another pot on with the line to the door?
Geesh!

I think of all the pundits, commentators, reporters who will struggle with finding something interesting to say today. (e:Zobar) 's footnote about the party lineup on the ballot was the first useful thing I've read in weeks.

In lieu of hearing "with 2.5% of the vote counted, we project Guam to be going to...", I think I'll be a no spin zone until after class tonight.

I think if it wasn't for Tom Reynolds, nobody would give a rats ass about Chris Lee or Alice Kryzan. It will be nice when both the national wallets of the democrats and republicans dry up in that regard.

Let's make Joe Mesi and Mike Razenhoffer settle it in the ring.

Shouldn't Dennis Delano have to say something to somebody to get a vote?

Shouldn't Dale Volker be forced to acknowledge that his being in Albany for 30+ years is part of the problem that he is promising to fix? "Vote for me so I can get myself fixed." That's a promise I could almost endorse.

Did Jon Powers ruin it for my political future?

Nobody had enough money to take on Louise Slaughter or Antoine Thompson? That's sad.

Will Keith Olbermann or Bill O'reilly have anything to talk about next week?

Is there cheaper tv out there somewhere?

There's a lot on my mind....

Been a bit of a downer with another memorial mass today. It was a beautiful service for a good guy at the UU Church on Elmwood. He had a broad enough reach that the place was literally full to overflowing. I found myself standing on the top step of the choir loft to be inside. He was a pretty good friend who had a great appetite for life and knew just the right wine for the occasion. His sons talked a little and I have tremendous admiration for both young men. They were moving, funny, and very poised in front of what might have been a little over 800 people. I don't know if I could do the same. It was truly a worthy sendoff for a true man of the people. Every service should end with "Into the Mystic." You can let go and be hopeful at the same time, no mean trick that.

Helped a good friend move on Saturday and I'm still paying for it (my rationalization for skipping yoga today). A countless series of laps up and down her three stories, culminated in my lugging up a sideboard. Said sideboard spanked a relief map of what vaguely looks like a relief map of Michigan into my left shoulder. Woke up this morning feeling a little beat up. Walk, snap, crackle, walk, fuck!

Missed the hoo-ha at the 24 to be a good guy. I wanted to be there, but I got dolled up as a zombie to escort my young son and a few cohorts up and down Anderson and Lexington. A nice houseparty followed, complete with a firedancer. That was pretty awesome. Met up with some old friends and staggered home around 12:30 where the Zombie makeup was looking a little too permanent. Don't worry, picture to follow.

Hope everybody had a great one, I'll see you for new year's if not before.

Kind of puts this electoral nightmare in perspective a little bit

As I am sure, the Roswell peeps probably know, Roswell Park does a memorial service for patients who die during a six month period. With my father-in-law's passing back in February, his turn was tonight. My mom-in-law got the invitation a few weeks back and I think was torn a little bit. You want to go, but you don't want to go. I quietly wanted to go for my ex, my mom-in-law, bro, etc, but I had a feeling it would of the vague sort.

We went over together to the auditorium across from the main hospital building. I was a little taken aback by the numbers of people who turned out. Even more shaky was the amount of people in the deaths column. The service was non-demoninational and very-well intentioned. With the exception of a baby with the Krupe and one woman very much still grieving, it was fairly quiet. A children's choir sang quietly as pictures of the loved ones rolled by. It almost reminded me of that moment on the Oscars when they salute the passing of the dead movie stars. Will people applaud when Pop shows up?

Pretty soon, there he was, big as life. A good family friend placed a photo that I worked on for the original memorial service. My Pop was a denture wearer so for his program, I gave him a full set of teeth. Seeing him blown up to fill an auditorium movie screen made me strangely appreciate my digital handiwork while getting teary eyed at the same time. I didn't hear much of anything till the end of the service when we were directed to head out for a "remembrance gift" and refreshments. Nobody felt like crowding in for refreshments.

Afterwords, I hung out at the house with my younger two while their mom took her mom home and retrieved our eldest from a babysitting assignment. It was nice and centering. Homework was done, prepwork for tomorrow was all set and Edward Scissorhands was on the DVD. After skating the highs of finding costume parts, the lows of a misbegotten Zoo event, the high/low of my final Bell's Palsy check-up, the high of getting a raise, and the real low of what I guess was some left over grief, I looking forward to payday and free and easy weekend.

Hoping to get to the party......

More of that socialist propaganda, eh

With some video being the order of the day, I thought I'd toss a little more gas on the 25,000 journal climb with this little number. It's a compilation of the couch gags from the beginning of the show. With 20 years, that's a lot of couches. Enjoy

It's some trying times. I've been of the opinion for sometime that I am sort of without a demographic to call my own at my workplace. There exists a lot of vigilant Neo-cons republicans at my office. That in and of itself is no big whoop. I don't mind diversity of opinion. That is a good thing. Lately the cadre at lunchtime has been complaining every god damn day about how Palin is taken out of context, how the media is in the tank for Obama, factual inaccurate quotings of both McCain and Obama. It's making my head hurt and I'd really like it to stop.

I actual yelled at my boss to stop already. The turning point was her lauding Palin for being an advocate for special needs kids. The only thing Palin has done for special needs kids so far is to have one, and then politicize it. I grew up in a house with two special needs brothers and after 40 years of case reviews, autisms, down's, group homes, developmental centers, sheltered workshops, schizophrenia, oxygen tanks on the bedroom wall, suiing NY State to keep a school open, I heartily submit it is a wonder the Governor can sit down given all the talking out of her ass that she's done. I sympathize with the baby for sure, if for no other reason, his unfortunate moniker, but as the ever thoughtful (e:james) reminded me, her position made her advocate for the cause, largely because she said she'd be a voice.

Now I chuckle like the next guy at her delusion that the word also is a verb, but after watching her greet these poor folks who think they have somebody who will give a rats ass about what their child is facing made me mad. At six months in, I don't believe you can possible have an understanding as to what lies ahead with kids in those conditions. Every once in awhile, fortune does smile. I remember a "Dr. Bernie" who basically went back to school to learn how to manage my younger brother's illnesses. I'm sure her position as governor or future contestant on Dancing with the Stars will ensure that the various twists and turns that Downs can take will be administered to for her boy. And that is great. That is how it should be, for everybody and it is not.

Rare is the politico who actually genuinely gives a crap. Bill Hoyt was the last one in this area. He led the charge keep the Campus school at Buff State open and "walked the walk" to keep the West Seneca Developmental Center open. Two things that were desperately needed by a large number of families including mine. And before any GOP guys start slapping me around, this isn't a diatribe against one party or for the other. This is me lamenting the falsity of what the campaigns are turning into. Special needs kids don't need to be reduced to a talking point, especially by somebody who just took the first step and on very long road.

Government does have the power to not only give hope, but actually deliver. I don't care about Ayers, shopping sprees, that one, alaskan successionists, middle names, train rides to Delaware, different flavors of tax plans, Joe the plumber, who voted with who on what and so much more when none of that matters. Nothing on the stump is going to come to pass anyway. As I sit and listen to the giant sucking sound of my 401K turning into a 201, that notion of Palin suddenly being a champion to the special needs kid galled me. Don't tell people you're going to be advocate. Advocate, that's how it gets done.

Mike the marketer