Before

Author: Bill Cash

City life

Shooting up

As if we didn’t have it bad enough, what with permanent war, the soured economy, secret trials being conducted on American soil, and John Ashcroft swearing he didn’t go through my library books, now we have a new threat. I mean I’m already terrified to take the elevator at work every day, I’m opening my mail with salad tongs*, and now I have to worry about my family and me being shot at as we go about our daily lives.

Yes, the 270 shooter is on the loose. And I thought making my cute 670 T-shirt would be the highway news of the year. I think it will turn out to be some local yahoo, nobody important, some skinny white boy. If he has any flair for the dramatic, he’ll move down to I-275 for a day or two and try his luck there. Nothing like a roving, statewide shooting spree. To get better press, this shooter wouldn’t even have to kill anyone (else).

On Saturday, the story had already made Washington, D.C., local news, and is now a national event. I don’t tell you the news here, so I’m not going to talk about the details. I want to make a couple of points.

First of all, I couldn’t have asked for a better situation than this one to highlight the impact of the Statehouse Republicans’ push for Ohio residents to get the right to carry concealed weapons. If you didn’t know, certain House members have been pushing a bill for months to allow most anyone who can get a permit to be able to carry a gun in a pocket or a purse, and countless patriotic Americans have openly paraded their weapons around the Statehouse and the governor’s mansion to show the folly of the current law. And I fully agree with them. By passing this new bill and putting more guns on the street, we will definitely reduce gun crimes. After all, if criminals don’t know who has a gun, then they don’t know whom they can safely attack. And if the drivers of those 11 motor vehicles had been driving around with loaded guns, they would have been able to roll down their windows, steer and aim at 70mph, shoot back at that sniper, and kill him dead. And poor Gail Knisley would be alive today.

Secondly, a co-worker of mine told me today that Wal-Mart has stopped selling a violent video game in response to this string of shootings. I looked it up and it’s true — out of respect for the dead, the good old Wal-Mart on US 23 (25 miles away) has pulled Grand Theft Auto: Vice City from its shelves. I guess this is the least they could do since the game features simulated shootings and carjackings. Still for sale at Wal-Marts nationwide: guns.

* I stole this line from a Tina Fey interview in the New Yorker.  :)

Updated in 2016: There was a 2013 news article updating this story. Moreover, Wal-Mart is back to selling Grand Theft Auto.

Culture

Religious musings

I recently discovered a religious paradox while having a discussion with a Muslim friend at work. He is fasting while observing Ramadan, an Islamic holy month.

His definition of the fast is that no food or drink can be consumed between sunrise and sunset. Consequently, he has to get up around 5am to eat a big meal before work, then goes all day without food. There are other restrictions as part of the fast, such as no smoking, I think no swearing, and so on.

However, there is apparently an important exception to the fast. It is OK to break the fast if you are traveling. We both figure the exemption comes because traveling out of town can be exhausting, so you have to eat something.

We think this may have come because when all this fasting business began centuries ago, people pretty much walked wherever they were going. It is certainly unreasonable to expect somebody to walk miles each day with no nutrition, particularly if you don’t know where the food is going to be on the way.

The problem arises with the definition of “traveling.” My friend says there is a specific distance, set by Islamic law, that you must go to be considered a traveler. He didn’t know it exactly, but said it’s about ten miles. We joked that he can get McDonald’s in Reynoldsburg any time he wants and he would be cool with God.

Now, conservative Muslims are more likely to fast — some liberal followers don’t observe it at all. But conservatives are also more likely to stick to a strict interpretation of “traveling” and use the ancient measure of ten miles. I think liberal followers would be more willing to look at the traveling exemption and take into account several obvious differences in 21st-century travel — it’s much faster these days, food is readily available everywhere, and you can travel thousands of miles in a day with no serious physical exertion. Certainly, liberal Muslims should interpret the rules differently based on today’s realities. And ironically, conservatives have given themselves a free pass on fasting as long as they manage to skip a few miles out of town. As I understand it, theoretically, you could do this every day and be considered to have fasted in accordance with Islamic law.

I’m not making a commentary on Islam per se, and I certainly don’t claim to understand the full story here or on all of its precepts generally. But I find it interesting to highlight a situation where it seems clear to me that following the rules strictly (eating ten miles away) produces an outcome that is generally opposite to the actual intent of those rules (fasting as a sign of strength and commitment in one’s religious beliefs). Conservative adherents to all faiths should take a look at their regulations and consider whether the practice actually encourages the desired outcome.

Funny stories

Correction

You have to wonder how this correction, about the Concorde’s last flight, was actually delivered to the Times.

An audio slide show that accompanied this article incorrectly referred to Joan Collins as being retired. Ms. Collins continues to make regular appearances on television and in film.

– New York Times, 25 October 2003

Recipes

Amy Spicer’s secret artichoke dip recipe

I received this recipe by using my SonyEricsson T68i's infrared feature.

I received this recipe by using my SonyEricsson T68i’s infrared feature.

This is the SECRET, famous recipe from La Spice herself. It’s better than anything you might find in a Mexican retsarint resturaent place to eat.

Note

The original units of measurement were a lot less precise than what I’m giving you, honey. Don’t complain.

Additional note

Because she is a classy dame, everything up in this piece should be generic or out of a can. For example, I used Kroger brand whenever possible, and bought canned artichoke hearts even though fresh artichokes are, presumably, available. Also the garlic should come out of a little jar instead of doing it yourself. You could screw it up! Don’t take that kind of a chance. “Processed means best dressed.”

Ingredients

Amy Spicer

Amy Spicer

“I don’t really know how to describe it. It’s not an exact science.”

  • Half bag of shredded mozzarella cheese
  • Entire can artichoke hearts, drained and cut up into “bite-sized” pieces
  • Goodly amount of parmesan (probably damn near 1/3 cup)
  • 4 oz mayonnaise (also about 1/3 cup)
  • Teaspoon of minced garlic
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon garlic salt or more
  • 1/4 cup parsley for color (extremely important — nobody want to eat that stank yellow shizzle without something green in it)
  • Optional: green chili peppers (canned?)
  • Optional: 15 lbs. lobster meat, arranged

How to make it

Basically, dump all this crap into a bowl. I like to use a nice metal bowl that can go right into the oven. Cover the bowl with Reynolds brand aluminum foil and bake in an oven at 400F for 20 minutes. Then remove the foil and cook it “some more, like until it turns brown or whatever.” In my experience, at least 10 minutes’ additional cooking time is required. I like to have a nice brown, half-burnt skin on the sides, which I scrape off with a spoon and mix into the dip.

Serve with a bunch of chips. And don’t be fooled by the Tostitos “scoops.” They taste weird. Get the kind that says, “Perfect for nachos,” because the kind that says “Perfect for dipping” is really just “Perfect for eating right out of the bag.”

And, gentle reader, do let me know how you liked it.

City life / Culture

Labor Day weekend

First off, it really looks like the economy is picking up, despite the apparent firings of two of my friends. (Who knew.) How do I know? The newspapers are getting thicker again. Last year, I could carry around three, four days worth of papers in my little purse. I’d buy this skinny-ass little Times and think, “That’s all?” Back in 1999, 2000, man, the Times was so thick you couldn’t always fold it up! Well, these days, it’s getting to be heavier and harder to cram into the bag. I even ran across a copy of Wired (again, who knew?) and it had some decent heft to it also. So, I perceive this as a good sign for the economy (but bad for my back and shoulders).

I went to the OSU-Washington game last night. And oh my God, for the first time ever, I actually understand how the game works! My lovely friend Marc explained all about the downs and the ten-yard deal and even a couple of crazy topics like “safeties.” I felt so empowered. Why couldn’t anyone ever get this across before? I think my incomprehension of football was the last thing standing between me and becoming a man. Is there some kind of sports bar mitzvah I can hold for myself to commemorate the occasion? Everybody over to my place for buffalo wings.

Finally, if you happen to be reading this in the next couple of days, go over to COSI (T9: BORG) for the Supernova3 installation. It’s by Hiro Yamagata, of course, and it’s amazing. It was half like some crystal meth nightmare and half just really dangerous-seeming. (Rotating sharp pieces of glass, mirrors, hanging from the ceiling everywhere, while the lighting rapidly shifts and disorients you.) Yeah, don’t miss it.

Culture

Uh-Oh Oreos

I attended a really great party last night, with a lot of witty and engaging people.  If you’re reading, you guys were fun!

But definitely, the highlight of the party had to be “Uh-Oh Oreos.” The bag helpfully explains (and I am paraphrasing here), “Oops! We put the chocolate flavor into the creme instead of the cookie!” Longstanding complaints about “creme” notwithstanding, this leaves a few questions.

  • First of all, so they messed up about ten million Oreos, and instead of chucking them into the River Scioto, they decided to make up a cute little bag about them and sell them for money?
  • Secondly, if the chocolate was left out of the cookie, what flavor is the cookie? The cookie looked to be vanilla, but if the bag were honest about it, the cookie should have been, like, tasteless… or clear… or pocked with holes where the missing chocolate flavor molecules should have been. The absence of flavor is not vanilla; vanilla is its own flavor, dammit.
  • Finally, what does this inverse cookie do for race relations?

Culture / Funny stories

More small thoughts

I guess all I have these days are small thoughts.  But hey, it’s summertime, the reality shows dominate, and you just gotta have some reality web log entries.  If you really want substance, America, go read my famous Michael Moore entry (still one of the most popular pages on my site).  I’ll be back with serious commentary in September.

That out of the way, here are more small thoughts!

  • Virginia’s new license plates advertise the state’s 400th anniversary — “1607-2007.” Couple of points for you, Virginia. 1) 2007 is four years away. There’s no guarantee you’ll even exist. Some guy from West Virginia might organize a recall election, and your whole state could be replaced by Arianna Huffington. 2) 400 years, huh? And it took you, what, 260 years to free all the slaves? 370 years to legalize interracial marriage? 400+ to spit that chaw out? My state is only 200 years old, and we’re way more sophisticated. Maybe you should catch up to the inland provinces before bragging about your proud history.
  • E-mail I got recently: “Bill F Cash, It’s a world of wine and United [Airlines] can take you there!” God, if only it were that simple.
  • News story about today’s California ballot lottery: “The letters H, B and S, were drawn as eighth, ninth and tenth, meaning that some high-profile candidates, commentator Arianna Huffington, Lt. Gov. Cruz Bustamante and actor Arnold Schwarzenegger will be relatively near each other on most ballots.” This is what passes for news? The order — not even the content — of the California ballot? Well, their state is only 150 years old. :) Still, pretty tragic.
  • Finally, I’ve come up with a couple of new shows for Bravo to air:
    Boy Meets Girl. Here’s the setup: a pretty gay boy shows up and has a shot at meeting fifteen potential fag hags. They line up the women, and they each claim to know so much about things near and dear to the gay boy’s heart, like eyebrows or dance music, while complimenting him on his “zaniness” and “totally sensitive side.” But what the gay boy doesn’t know is that some of the potential gal pals are actually scary dykes who’ve been recently shaven. The big finale of the show has the girl revealing the particular horrific personal insecurity — weight, height, breast size, awful middle name — that will come to dominate their fledgling best-friendship. Grand prize? Trip to a gay bar, of course, where the boy will ignore the girl and the girl will silently lust after hundreds of cute unavailables.
    Queer Eye for the Straight Teenager. A lecherous group of hairy fortysomethings drive around in an Impala cruising for hotboys in backward ballcaps. When they find them (typically at auto battery stores or maybe NASCAR), they offer smart fashion and dating tips such as: wearing less fashion and dating older men.

City life / Culture

Small thoughts

So, ah, let’s talk about this liquid yogurt business. Apparently Dannon has some kind of “Light ‘n’ Fit smoothie” they’re selling. There also appears to be a Yoplait entry (but since their website is Flash, I refuse to view it). But I saw some commercial for some other kind of liquid yogurt drink — it involved hundreds of beautiful women all waking up and drinking this crap on the way to work. They all back out of their driveways in their SUV’s at the same time, but because they are all drinking a delicious yogurt smoothie and they’re so nice, they all wave each other on and (apparently) nobody can leave her driveway. Yes, suburbia is populated with hundreds of identical SUV-driving women. But liquid yogurt? Come on. The only word coming to mind is “gloppy.” Do I really need a “whole new way” to be revolted?

I would also like to apologize to all those who commented on my outfit as I biked past the Coffee Table. Some guy called out, “Ooh, you got the complete look, baby!” That’s when I looked down and realized I was accidentally wearing an orange Adidas T-shirt, black Adidas soccer shorts, and my classic Adidas Sambas. Swear to God, it was accidental — I’m not a label freak.

City life

Eat it

I’ve had it with grocery store discount cards.  They know.

I used to go to Kroger and sign up for a fresh “Kroger Plus Card” every time I bought something. This was great fun for me because it held up the line (which I feel, ultimately, punishes the store, somehow), and because I always fill in a fake name, like Jodie Zaragosa or Marko Nuckles. There was always a twinge of excitement and guilt when I’d realize (again) that I’d given a fake name while paying with a credit card that has my real name on it. They never called me on it, though, which was a little disappointing.

Kroger caught on to me this year and started making you have to go to the customer service desk to sign up for a new card. This really cut down on my card-signing-up activities, since I usually forget to sign up for the card until I have ice cream, and then it’s this boring race against time to get home.

My big beef is, since when did it become reasonable to jack up the average bill 18%, then make people use a card to get the prices back where they belong? I don’t want to give out my personal information, but I don’t want to pay $11 a pound for fish either. Is it really worth six bucks to them every time I go in there for them to find out what I’m buying? It’s the biggest hassle. And I refuse to carry the card or hang it on my keyring, because if there is one thing I am not it is some kind of corporate tool. Obviously.

The biggest excitement came tonight, when I sadly indicated I didn’t have my card — sometimes the cashiers will take pity on you and give you the discount anyway. Not this hardass. But she did say you could go to customer service and ask for the discount on your next visit. Isn’t that great? Kroger owes me hundreds.  Where are my receipts?

Funny stories

Three quotes

“The trouble then and now is that Democrats have about as much clout at the Statehouse as the University of Michigan boosters club.” – Dispatch

“‘I always thought that mayor of Hilliard would be the most honorable job in the world,’ said Kay, 40, who has lived in the town his whole life.” – Dispatch

“The Japanese Steak House will be closed, May 26, so that we may celebrate Memorial Day. Sorry for any convenience.” – sign

Solely personal

Latest news

Why do they advertise diapers during Will and Grace?

I went to Kroger today and found a stockwoman. She was reading Jello. “Incredible Hulk pudding? Turns green when you add milk? Yeah. Yeah, that’ll be the day! Ha ha… nuts.” Then she walked away. “Ahhh, Miss!” I blurted out, as I thought she could be helpful, not having talked to her. I was looking for the little can of pre-crumbled Oreos (for ice cream), since this product makes eating so much more fun. She glared at me and said, “You know. You could just buy Oreos and crumble ’em yourself.” …I know that.

I no longer believe in humanity.

I sort of met a guy at work whose name I had to strain to read off his ID. I thought it was Austin. But, later, I realized it could be Dustin. Or, Justin. Or, Custin, or Lustin or Qustin. How will we ever meet again?

I realize many of you have been complaining there have been no log entries in a good while. Actually it’s only been like six weeks — come on, adoring public, give me a break! My goal is to post at least one every calendar month.  This is something I’m proud to say I’ve managed to achieve. If you’ll remember back in entry one or two, I said something like, I didn’t want to post the serious events of my life in public for everyone to read. Unfortunately, I’ve run out of impersonal drivel. Anyone who wants me to go all reality-TV and start posting every minor detail of my life, please write me back.

Finally, in other news, since I last wrote, I moved into a new place, signed up to purchase another new place, got a new job and a new window seat, and became single again. But if you’re reading this, you probably knew that.

Random

A novel idea for the transport of fishes

I have had a great idea for a long time, and it’s about fish. Living here in Ohio, you don’t hear too much about fish. Why is that? Well, it’s because we live 450 miles from the shore. And that’s the basis of the great inland seafood problem. Across the Midwest, it’s the same: we don’t have the home base of a commercial fishing fleet right in town. So if we want seafood for dinner, we have two options: frozen, tasteless fish shipped in by truck, or else have it expensively flown in from the coast. The cost of having the fish flown in fresh means the prices at the Columbus Fish Market are high. (Mysteriously, the prices at seafood restaurants on the coasts are just as high.)

The problem of fish transport, therein, seems to be a great hindrance to Midwestern seafood enjoyment. Interestingly, we still consume tons of seafood in this country. Consider, if you will, that in 2001, 8.2 billion pounds of fish was taken out of the ocean, and another 1.1 billion pounds of shellfish were landed. This had a value of $3.2 billion. (There were also 27 million pounds of sea urchins, 82 million pounds of unclassified seaweed, 71 thousand pounds of kelp with herring eggs, and 1.4 million pounds of worms. Oddly, the worms were worth nine million bucks, which means pound for pound, sea worms are more valuable than some cuts of steak.) Even if you assume half of it went to our coastal brethen, it’s still a hell of a lot of fish. But the problem of transporting fresh fish remains.

Enter my grand invention. Conceive, if you can, a great pipeline, connecting Chicago with the fishery ports of Boston, New Orleans, and Seattle. I call it… “the Fishline.” Its purpose? To speed inland the great snappers, lobster, salmon, clams, and halibut that this nation’s rich waters yield up every year, so that these glorious fishes may find themselves right-side-up on dinner tables across the heartland the same day they’re caught! Each major city along the route would have a pumping station where fish could be retrieved from the Fishline. Each day, the people of Helena, of Denver, of Chattanooga, and yes, of Columbus, would open the valve where a great gusher of cod and sardines would release what could truly be described the catch of the day.

Skeptics may say, how would the fish possibly stay fresh inside a giant, tasty pipeline? Well, to ensure that the fish reached Chicago in the same day, the fish would have to be moving at a safe but steady speed of approximately 95 mph. Some may say this would be impossible to accomplish in a giant brine-filled tube. I say, fish are already designed to flow easily through water. So I don’t expect there’d be any problems with moving at this kind of speed through the Fishline.

Some may say that the pipeline could suffer problems, either from old-fashioned accidents, or else some sort of aquatic terrorism. I agree that this could be a serious blow to the successful economic operation of the Fishline, so I suggest that a band of mermen, known as the Fish Guards and belonging to the Department of Homeland Security, patrol the length of the line, ensuring its safety. Fortunately, the environmental damage wrought by a Fishline rupture would be minimal, easily biodegradable, and delicious.

Finally, the question would remain, what would intermediate stops on the route do when they tapped the Fishline and found they’d received a load of anchovies or, heaven forfend, sea worms? Clearly, this would be an unpleasant and unwelcome outcome. The problem of separating the various species of fish in transit has yet to be worked out. Perhaps the fish could be coded with radio transponders, scannable computer chips, or radioactive dyes. Or perhaps the Postal Service could lend some of its substantial sorting expertise to the effort. Or perhaps Red Lobsters throughout Wisconsin will begin offering a Grab Bag Platter. These challenges, I leave to the seafood diners of the future.  I’m a visionary.

City life

Driving woes

Today was the first day back to work and school for anyone affected by the big snowstorm. I just got back from San Francisco, where they don’t have snowstorms, they have whiny “peace rallies.” (It’s a different kind of disaster.)

OK, I am trivializing war here, but can’t help it. The Left Coast has never been my favorite locale for its radical positions on… everything.

Speaking of positions, I hope in-town readers manage to pick up a copy of The Other Paper this week and catch my letter to the editor on the new 315 ramps. The paper has done two major stories on the spat caused by city engineers who say the state has done an unsafe design for new ramps that provide better accessibility to OSU Hospitals.  Somebody else wrote in to say there shouldn’t be new ramps, there should be better transit. I say (in a rather amusing manner, I might add), that in an emergency I’d rather take an ambulance than a bus.

My other comment for today is on the “level three snow emergencies” that have been declared around the state.  I realize driving in some areas is to be avoided right now.  But can the state, by the level three emergency, legitimately make driving illegal? Under the policy (and I don’t know if it’s in a statute), counties can declare level 3, making driving on public highways entirely illegal (except in some cases of emergencies). I have several problems with this law. 

1) The law obliges a driver to get the information about the emergency in some way, but doesn’t specify how. Usually you hear about it on the radio or TV. So can the law require someone to own and operate a radio? The law can’t even require a man to read and write. 

2) What if you are out driving when it’s still level 2, and then level 3 is declared? There is no exemption for heading home. You’re breaking the law through no fault (or perhaps knowledge) of your own. 

3) Under this policy, you can be ticketed for driving. Isn’t it pretty dangerous to pull someone over, demand to know if it’s a driving emergency, and then issue a ticket? In this kind of weather, pulling over can easily put you in the ditch.

4) Some police, knowing all of the above, may be reluctant to actually enforce the law. This could lead to uneven enforcement. And if that happens, the whole rule of law is weakened.

Finally, to round out this driving-related posting (and because I have been quiet for so long), I would like to have a rare link on my site, to a BBC news article on London’s congestion charging scheme. The government there has implemented a new requirement that any vehicle driving in central London between 7am and 6.30pm has to pay five pounds. Taxis are exempt and local residents can pay only 50p. To enforce the measure, there’s a big network of fixed and mobile cameras that read license plates at the entry points and at key intersections within the city. If you don’t pay, the fines are much higher. They say the point is to cause drivers to pay the actual cost of causing congestion; the fees go toward transportation improvements. I’ve been following this plan for a while, and if you’re curious, there is a great deal of British news and government information.  It’ll be interesting to see what happens.

City life

The Dispatch takes a dive

I just opened my Monday paper and found this weird card tucked inside. Like the entire rest of the paper (thank you very much, carrier), the card was all curled up beyond smoothing. It was blank, but it included a strange, grainy note, printed in a mysterious font. The note reads, “I would like … to welcome you to my world.”

Shaken, and checking for white powder, I continued reading. Looks like my building is blessed with its third carrier in three months. Oh, God, I thought. I’ve become used to finding my paper right outside my door in the hallway… or on a table… or under a bench… or right on High Street. Once it was in High Street. Now, you would think, having been a subscriber to the Dispatch for seven years, and having longstanding family ties besides, that they would take note and put a good carrier on my route. But I guess they’re too busy shrinking the pages. I’m distressed to learn I’ll have to train a new one all over again.

“Please look for your Sunday aids to now come Saturday night.” Yeah, that’s when I was expecting to get aids.

This was discouraging: “Please keep in mind that there will be mornings that I’m running late. To inquire about your paper on those days, please call me 1st. Calls to the Dispatch will count against me, as well ass my manager.” When I read this, I was sneakily pleased to see that maybe all those calls to the Dispatch got the last carrier fired, which is why we have this new one. Then I was peeved: already, my carrier is planning to be late? And then it went on to say, “By doing so, you should even receive your paper more promptly.” Is that a threat? Don’t tell on me or you’ll never get your paper? For this I pay $41.60 a quarter?!

What are things coming to? Time was, the local paper boy or girl was an enterprising youngster with an undiagnosed sleeping disorder. This person lives nine miles away, as the pre-addressed tip envelope indicates. How will we ever build the bond that ensures I get the paper and that might persuade me to grudgingly part with a decent tip? I’ll keep my readers informed. But keep in mind there will be mornings when this column is late.

Culture

Books to explore

Well, I’m reading this book called Empire Express, which is about the building of the transcontinental railway.  This is turning out to be a quick read for me — the historian uses easy words and the subject matter is not difficult to comprehend.  Also, you know that in the end, the boy wins the girl, I mean, the railway does get built.  This stands in contrast to Six Days of War, a new book I read recently (critically acclaimed!), which took ages to finish; it was about the infidel Arab aggression committed against fair Israel in 1967 (not that I have an opinion on it).  In that case, I spent all this time looking places up and trying to play Jumble with all of the acronyms, and I didn’t know about the great suspense item of the book: whether Israel or Egypt would start the war.  (Spoiler: it was both.)  Still a great read, however — I recommend it, and if any of my readers know a good book on the 1973 war, I’d like to hear about that.

Anyway, Empire Express, long story short: good book so far, check it out if you care about the building of the American West.  I thought I would shut up now and share a small gem of a quote from the book with you.  The original source is identified as J. H. Beadle in a work called The Undeveloped West, or, Five Years in the Territories (1873), and he is describing Nebraska’s Platte River, which the railwaymen are building alongside.

…a dirty and uninviting lagoon, only differing from a slough in having a current from half a mile to two miles wide, and with barely water enough to fill an average canal; six inches of fluid water running over another stream of six feet or more of treacherous sand; too thin to walk on, too thick to drink, too shallow for navigation, too deep for safe fording, too yellow to wash in, too pale to paint with — the most disappointing and least useful stream in America.