Bob’s in Washington, NC now.
I guess I have a reason to visit the Outer Banks this fall, and as often as I can now while he’s around.
Gonna miss you around here, buddy.
Bob’s in Washington, NC now.
I guess I have a reason to visit the Outer Banks this fall, and as often as I can now while he’s around.
Gonna miss you around here, buddy.
After last night’s fun, I went to bed at 6 am and slept until 2. The rest of the day was… slow. Fortunately nothing else broke at work. I was bummed at missing Nicole’s wedding, but there was no way that mission could have been accomplished without loss of life.
I finally dragged myself out of the house after dark and bought food, etc. I ended up at Ruba, which was full of weird ghosts of ten years ago. I don’t think I’d seen Sabrina since Indian Burial Ground Night at Totally Coffee. She didn’t acknowledge my existence, for which I am grateful.
Choice “Overheard at Ruba™” quotes:
“I live the same place she does. She has a nice rack. It’s been okay.”
“Oh, that Dennys. One of my best friends got busted for selling drugs to a minor there! It was awesome.”
“You and I have a lot the same background, but you’re good-looking.”
“You know her. She’s the racist secretary.”
“I know it was illegal before, I asked you how old is she NOW?”
“No, man, I can’t afford any tools. I just do shit to shit, you know?”
Ahh, Ruba.
It was 80 degrees F here at midnight with humidity around 50%. In coastal Orange County. I do not understand.
I’m not into what you’re into. It’s not that I’m critical of your lifestyle; I just get my kicks from different things. I’m looking right now for one of those geeky weather things you put on your house and it talks to your computer and you have a weather station. That’s all. So, when you ask:
“Did you mean wireless leather station?”
The answer is no.
Best,
P.S. Out of sheer curiosity: I know about the leather lifestyle, but how is it wireless, or associated with stations? This is a new area of human sexuality to me.
It’s not supposed to be like this here.
100F in the upper Newport Bay? No. There has been a clerical error.
Ward Churchill is not a likeable man. He also says unpopular things. And he may well not be a perfectly careful scholar or a star as a teacher. Most of his public persona seems well-tuned for annoying the hell out of almost everyone, and particularly for being a huge headache at the University of Colorado for everyone.
Unfortunately all of this has badly muddled the discussion of his academic trial and dismissal. Because his deliberately provocative political style hit the national media scene, he became an embarrassment to the University. He was then purged and his dismissal recommended by a committee of his peers at the request of the Administration. An unreasonable standard was applied to his scholarship. The microscopic attention and rigid standards used to convict him would in my estimation fire about ten percent of the nation’s tenured faculty, minimum. I say this as someone who grew up the child of a professor at a good university and has heard 30 years of watercooler talk about and by professors.
This was a political lynching. To draw an analogy, they treated him the way a really angry state trooper would treat someone who insulted him after a traffic stop. Let’s find out exactly what we can do to this guy: search the car, run all the computers, write up every possible traffic violation.
A number of academics seem to agree, thank goodness, and have published an ongoing petition. This isn’t some useless petitiononline thing, I think. I hope a lot of academics sign it.
At a minimum the University of Colorado deserves to be publicly shamed and blacklisted for this. At this point I personally consider them to be unaccredited.

In the waiting room at a psychiatrists’ office. Usually the other patients are the entertainment. Today they have both a television and a radio going. The TV shows ocean nature scenes and the radio plays classical music. The results so far:
Elephant seals bask and tussle to Mahler
Slow, ominous cellos surround a zoom shot of the ocean under a cliff. Is there a body, dead, wrapped in plastic?
More Mahler: French horns heroically sound as otters clean themselves in a kelp bed.
The choice of Mahler is great. He was quite mad, and scored a part in his unfinished 10th symphony for a flute to be made of his dead wife’s thigh bone.

I knew you had a hipster problem and a hippie problem, but this whole post-ironic Partridge Family droogies thing is extreme. It sounds more like one of onda_dog‘s pranks than a news story.
Major points to the cop for dissing these guys and their tiresome attention-whoring: “There’s nothing special about these people. Their behavior is typical of thousands of people in Portland that we have to deal with every day. They’re run-of-the-mill goof balls.” Oh SNAP.