Dancing in the elevator

I think I have written about dancing before. I realized that I do the majority of my dancing in the elevator. Where I work there is no accessible men's room on the 4th floor. So it is a short ride down to 2. In these brief moments I am able to do a little dancing.

I usually begin before the doors are even fully closed. That's the carefree spirit in me coming out. On a side bar, I like to make funny faces too. As the doors are closing I'll, at the least, stick out my tongue or snarl. This is usually directed at no one. If I'm feeling more surly than normal, I'll even fly the bird, moving my outstretched arm in concert with the door. I think everyone needs to flip something off occasionally or snarl and grunt at imaginary monsters. The same goes with dancing. It is purely coincidence that all of this take place while I am riding the elevator.

So back to the dancing. Since I am limited by time, and space (although some would argue that the elevator has limitless space and that time is only quantifiable because we limit it too in terms of space) my gyrations are rudimentary and hurried. The majority of my dances begin with several fast arm pumps. These could be simultaneously straight out and back or downward, alternating like a robotic jackhammer OR a combination of both. Sometimes I will put both hands behind my head, interlock my fingers and shake head and arms together.

Usually my knees are bent and my feet are stationary.

Now I know white guys get made fun of for not moving their feet when dancing, but remember, this is all taking place in an elevator.

However, my hips do considerably make up for this lack of stepping. I can shake my pelvis in almost all of the 360 degrees available in one plane and arc to nearly 50 degrees in the transverse. The classic 'banana rocker' fore to aft is the standard. Or I do enjoy the 'boat rocker' left to right (similar to what Conan does at the open of his monologue, however, and I mean no disrespect to Mr. O'Brien, I don't need to use imaginary string to make my hips move). These two basic moves can be greatly varied by tempo, frequency, degree and intensity.

All of these variables, randomly assorted as best as I can, keep me entertained for nearly 4 seconds at least twice a day.

Like an ox

Man-alive! It's been twenty days since I last posted. I guess I've been busy at work. I spend less time diddling and dawdling on the computer, so....well, I guess I'm actually being more productive.

Yesterday over coffee, a friend (while discussing how busy/not busy we each are) quoted his boss "What's your work ethic like?". This was posed during an interview. I hate interviews. How would you respond?

I am not the best assessor of my own work. I take pride in my work, but like a methed out squirrel I can go from task to task, leaving somethings to be completed later. Once I was...look there goes a cop an a Segway...I wonder what dinner is going to taste like...my work review is soon...I hope the Internet is working later...

But when I'm on, boay lisssen! I can knock out some work. Talk about living in the moment. If the wind shifts I might find a new task. Now I wouldn't say I have a poor attention span. On the contrary, I can focus intently; often conjuring up great patience.

Like these damn posts...I start with an idea and it tends to fray into something else. But really I am hungry.

My girlfriend's iPhone

Inspired by http://andiferguson.blogspot.com/

My girlfriend got a new iPhone a few weeks ago. Like my girlfriend it's fancy and fun. You can find satellite pictures of my parents house in about 15 seconds, surf the web, look at youtube videos, and even call people with it. It plays music and can simultaneously tell you the time in Karachi and Des Moines. However, my girlfriend can cook a mean eggplant casserole in less than 30 minutes, waasssup iPhone!?!


Yesterday her car was burgled. Yikes! Her work laptop, back-up drives and iPhone were all stolen. Aside from the feelings of invasion, powerlessness and fear I think she came through unscathed. Resilient.


This is all wonderfully logged at http://andiferguson.blogspot.com/


As her blog hints to, some of us have an "addiction to being on the grid". Uh, yes. Constantly checking to see if I've missed a call. Making sure I sent that last text message to the right person. I even hallucinate and feel my phone buzz in my pocket, usually while driving, then lift my butt up, straighten my legs, dig into my pants pocket, to make sure that I did not miss that call that did not come through......


Am I an addict? On occasion, during the last few weeks I have accidentally left my phone at home. I'm not much of a morning person, so I can easily run out last-minute and forget to grab it off of the charger. As I speed away I usually do a 'once-over' to check to see if it's all there. You know, I have to be honest, I didn't really freak out about it. Now, I don't have an iPhone. I have an older Nokia flip-phone. It doesn't even close all the way. It is so ugly and beat up that it has "don't waste your time stealing me" all over it. But, still it has all my digits-in-it, and work numbers etc.

I've heard people say "I just need some rest...I just want to get away from it all for a minute!"
Turn off your damn phone. You'll get the message later. And do you really need the Bluetooth? (to be continued)


And this has made me think: "Are we better off now because of our hyper-connectivity?"


Sure we can read blogs, find old friends, research causes, support ideas, but has this made us smarter? More caring and considerate? More empathetic? Wait!! Are these really the things that are important? Am I using my own rubric to evaluate life? Maybe advancement (?) is measured in how many friends you have reconnected with via the Internet, or how many blogs you support. I dunno....


Are we really connected? Has the value of communication depreciated and cheapened? Or is it more accessible, more democratic?


It has just made me think.


My girlfriend's iPhone is fancy. But I enjoy talking to her vs. texting.

My dad's honkin'

About 15 years ago, while riding on the back of my dad's Yamaha, we cruised past some picketers in front of a factory.
"Toot-toot!" as he blew the bike's horn.
"Why did you do that?", I loudly asked over the wind and engine.
"To give them my support"
"What were they picketing for?"
"I don't know", he said, "But anyone who is willing to stand-up for something they want and believe in could use a little support"
He continued in his very deliberate, often too methodical explanatory style, "It doesn't mean necessarily I support their cause, but I will support their right to support it"

It took me a while to digest that. Years. But it has become a part of my values today.
I find it abhorrent when demonstrations, protests or simple dialog is censured, truncated or prevented because it may not be popular. Even when a supposedly crazy evangelist is preaching on the street corner. Don't shuffle him off, let him testify.

The KKK always wants to put up a cross on our fair city's square during the winter holidays. Do I agree with the KKK? Hell no! Do I think they should have the right to display goofy crap at Christmas? Absolutely. I guess the KKK's argument is that a local Jewish federation puts a menorah up during Hanukkah, so why not us?

In college there was a "Crazy-preacher-guy" who would stand in front of the student center and, well preach. He alway drew a nice sized crowd. He was afterall entertaining. He was a little to the right. Anti-gay, anti-drug, rock-n-roll, the usual. So, I went off on him one day, admittedly mocking him, but in protest to what he was saying. It kind of stunned him. No harm done. A few minutes later the fat campus police (sorry, ad hominem) came by and told him he had to leave. I was dismayed. "He doesn't have a permit", they said. I wrote a letter to the school paper and invited some of the other groups on campus to support his next demomstration. It never happened.

A few years ago Neo-Nazis were planning a parade through downtown. It was eventually cancelled due to fears of rioting and uncontrollable protests. Maybe it was a wise choice, but I would have loved to have been on the sidelines, cussing and screaming, booing and hissing all the while supporting and protecting the right for it to happen.

I don't want to let fear of what I don't like (or you don't like) prevent me from having the opportunity to evaluate and choose.

I have no idea

It is too easy for me to sit here and make up some moderately amusing posts. I landed on this blog and it caught my attention. Beautiful pics. Poignant.
http://jedidiahsnovelties.blogspot.com/2008/09/ike.html

How smart are you?

I just overheard someone on the phone ask "Hey Joe. You're a smart guy, right?"

Now how would someone respond to that?

"Well actually I am not very smart Susie. You see I don't even know what this thing I am using to talk with is called....a snorkel? How does it work? Are you trapped inside of it? Hello Susie? My third grade teacher told me I wasn't going to amount to much but I didn't really have time to listen because I was too busy gluing pencils to onto my elbows. I can't really talk now Susie I need to go make a peanut butter and jelly shoehorn. It's going to take quite some time to find the recipe on Google because I don't know if shoehorn is a compound word or not."

In today's news

I skimmed over the local paper today. The frontpage. Three separate pictures of McCain, Obama and Bush. The quotes above the first two were in regards to the scheduled debate between the candidates. McCaine believes it must be postponened to attend to the economic crisis, Obama thinks a president should be able to multi-task.



McCain No deates 'until we have taken action to address this crisis'

Obama 'Presidents are going to have to deal with more than one thing at a time'

The third quote above Dubya's picture read 'We're in the midst of a serious financial crisis'

It should have read 'No, I prefer 2% with my Frosted Flakes'

My stiff necks

About three times a year I have back spasms. Neck cramps too. Specific stiffness and tightness that throws my whole day off. It is usually caused by some type of sudden, herky-jerky motion. My freshman year of college, during the first week, an acute case of stiff-n-rigid neck was caused by a few minutes of over zealous headbanging. (It was 1994). I couldn't sleep, walk, eat, breath very well for a week. I would sit down in class next to a stranger and say "I'm sorry I smell like Ben-Gay, I have a stiff neck". Long live rock-n-roll, eh. The last nasty one I had I got when stepping out of the shower just oh-so oddly that my neck went "waahhhhhhttt!?"

This morning, was going well. I was a few minutes ahead of schedule. As I was riding the elevator alone to the second floor I suddenly did an impromptu dance routine. The doors closed and I did a double pump of my fist down toward the floor, knees slightly bent, head quickly bobbing back and forth. I may have even sung a few bars of some song. The more religious would say I was moved my the spirit. What ever it was, it was not from my frontal lobe. This was something deep, archaic. I think I felt my medulla pulsate. The entire event only lasted 10 seconds. I quickly realized something was wrong.

I moved ahead as the door opened. As I began my morning lecture the problem worsened. My breathing was truncated, my left arm would jerk back if I overextended it, simply pacing back-n-forth was taxing. After the class I swallowed 800mg of Advil and ate two donuts. This didn't immediately relieve me. I searched the local stores for a tennis ball to rub on my back, but couldn't find any. I was thing of asking if they sold massagers, but I think that is worse than telling people I stink like menthol.

So now I am simply waiting for it to go away. Practically speaking I have found that activity and movement are better for these than remaining motionless. Wait...I think the Advil is kicking in.

Richard Wright Has Died

Growing up my brother let me listen to Pink Floyd's The Wall. At one time there was a casette recording of me singing acapella "We don't need no education.....". I was only 7 or eight at the time, this was about 8 years after The Wall was released.

A few years ago I was tricked into going to a local dance club, is that what they are called, a place where overdubbed music is played to coincide with laser lights and girls dancing on the stoops. I sound old fashioned. Ok so let me get to it.

I love music. And I like to dance. But this wasn't my type of dive. I just stood there watching. Overhead on a large projection screen I saw a dated film playing. It was a band playing in the open air of an ancient arena. I soon realized it was Pink Floyd. Of course I couldn't hear any of the music or listen to any of the occasional interviews. But the way they moved, subtly, as they played the music had me entranced, I knew this had to be good.

The film was on a loop. I caught the title "Pink Floyd:Live in Pompeii". Can I recommend it....go get it and watch. There are some interesting facts about the film, research it for yourself, because I'm getting tired writing. But, damn sucka! is that a sweet, sweet music film or what!

A Dog Named Johnny

Originally posted on http://sensemaking-in-cincinnati.blogspot.com/ as a response to his post

Well my doggie left home at a quarter till three
And he didn’t leave much for Jen and Me
Just a chewed up frisbee and a dug up hole in the rear

Well I don’t blame him cause he dug and run
Be the meanest thing he ever done
He went and pooped on the neighbor’s lawn

Well he must of thought it was quiet a joke
Cause it upset some of my neighbor folk
Screaming and a cussing all over my subdivision

So I got on my blog to vent my ire
Typing and sending all over the wire
Hoping that soon I’d get a reply

Then two minutes later up on the screen
You’ll never believe what I seen
A reply to the blog that I had done post

It said “Hello there Master”
“I only got two paws, so I can’t type much faster
But that yard you got, Its just keeps me in”

So I dug that hole and I said good by
I know you’d get upset and cry
But I’m a canine, and I need to run around

And now I’m here, just down the street
The house I’m in is kinda neat
But better yet there’s a sweet Pekinese.

Now don’t you worry, and don’t you swear
I’ll still be home to shed some hair
But after a bone I’ll be running the town”

What could I do? What could I do?

So I sat there confused in a mental fog
I just been fooled by a rescued dog
And now he was telling me what to do

And I’ve thought about it then and now
How to wrangle a feisty bow-wow
But I’m gonna leave up to the bureaucrats

So I’ve cast my vote for the city’s animal cop
This township needs to make this stop
If they don’t…I’m gonna get

A cat, a hamster, a bird…anything but a damn ditch digging dog!

David Berkowitz and chickens

DAVID BERKOWITZ
The dog made the chicken cross the road

BASHO
The chicken steps out
Frost covers the path we walk
Along the asphalt

JERRY SEINFELD
And what’s with chickens crossing the road? Are they thinking “Boy I would love to cross this road?” Is it some kind of chicken marathon? “Hey look at me crossing this road…It’d be safer for me to fly across this road.” And what is up with airplane food?

MEL GIBSON
Occifer, I swerved vecause that shicken was….crossing in my road…way over that road…Jesus was killed by the shnickens.

JIM JONES
The chicken was going to a warm tropical locale; get the Kool-Aid ready.

SAUDI ROYAL FAMILY
Ha, ha, ha…..your chickens have to walk because oil is $122.89 a barrel!

MARC ANTHONY
Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your wings
I come to assist this chicken across this road
Not to roast it.

PETE ROSE
5 to 1 that chicken doesn’t make it across the road..he’s on our team?...make that 7 to 1.

C. EVERETT COOP
I have concluded that it may be hazardous to a chicken’s health to cross this road.

SIMON COWELL
That was THE WORST crossing of a road I have ever seen. Are you suffering from nerve damage in your feet? I am rather disgusted, really!

MALCOM X
The chicken didn’t land on this side of the road, the road landed on that side of the chicken.

J. EDGAR HOOVER
Pull the file on that chicken, and pull its feathers too, I think I need a new boa.

TUPAC SHAKUR
That chicken crossed the road because even though he was run-over a week ago, someone still makin’ money off these jokes!

EDDIE VEDDER
CHEEEEE-con, here he go he gonna cross the ro-oo-oo-OAD.
WAAAAAL-kin, across the road there he go arcoss the pa-hav-MENT!

GARY COLEMAN
What you talkin’ bout chicken?

ARNOLD SWARTZENAGER
Loook aht dows gurly cheekens, I gonna keek them een there gurly behinds.

JESSICA SIMPSON
Won’t that chicken die or something if it’s out of the water too long?

KAYNE WEST
That chicken crossed the road to hear the greatest musician in the history of the world.

KARL MARX
The history of the chicken has been marked by its alienation from that side of the road.

NIETZSCHE
Chicken is dead.

MARGARET MEAD
Whats all this fuss about chickens crossing the road?

MOSES
Ramseys, let this chicken go!
OR Witness the power of the Lord! (as the road, or course, splits in two…you know how it goes)

MICHAEL MOORE
The chicken crossed the road because there is better health care at a much lower cost to taxpayers on the other side and Charleton Heston is just creepy.

DAN QUAYLE
No, I’m sorry. The chicken crossed the r-o-a-d-e.

JOHN EDWARD (of Crossing Over)
The chicken crossed the road because I am seeing an M, M is it an M? Someone in your past has an M in their, is it name? An M, an M&M, you have eaten an M&M in your past and someone is trying to…hold on I feel sadness because you…hold… you know that someone has died in your past and they want to, wait….there is a vowel coming out it’s an I….A….E…O…U…please don’t forget that Y is still a vowel on the other side. You are crossing over because you need to eat M&M’s at the Y!

BOB DOLE
The chicken crossed the road because Bob Dole knows where that chicken should be. Bob Dole crossed that road when Bob Dole wanted to and Bob Dole knows what to do for his erectile dysfunction. Does the chicken have problems with his pecker? Bob Dole knows what to do.


STING
That chicken can cross the road ALL NIGHT LONG

OZZY OSBOURNE
Mmmmm blam bluba bluba when that bloody chicken gits ere I’ll bite its wreched head’off! Sharon!

RICHARD GERE
Are chickens really that much bigger than gerbils?

THE BUDDHA
The path to enlightenment is on the other side of the road.

CONFUCIUS
The chicken that crosses the road halfway has only half of his journey under way.

SNOOP DOGG
Fo’ shizzy my chizzy aint no thing but to do the…(cough, cough)….. walkizzle over to this side-izzy

AMELIA EARHARDT
Leaving this side of the road….we must be on you but we can’t see the other side……

ALLEN GINSBERG
I saw the best poultry of my generation destroyed by overcrowded coops, starving hysterical plucked, dragging themselves across roads at dawn looking for an angry punch line; Coxcombed headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of headlights and automated processing machines.

WILLIAM WILSON
Here lies a Rhode Island Red
Who caught his death under tread.
A good chicken is ne’er forgot
Whether he die by motor or in a pot.

LARRY CRAIG
The chicken didn’t cross the road at that point to meet me, he simply had such a wide stance that his feet rubbed mine, then he tugged on my pinky after I made three clucks which I did not know indicated that he wanted to hold hands.

The Opener

I had to think then not think about what to post for the inauguration. It just kinda hit me.

I said a few years ago I should start writing down the funny things my kids say. Well I never started that so here goes the catch up.

We were watching Back to the Future on VHS, another topic in itself, the scene where Biff says, "You wrecked my car you son-of-a-bitch....."

After a short, private meditation my son, 9 at the time, turns to me and says "Son of bitches is one of the worst bitches isn't it?"