Who Will I Vote For?

[As slightly modified from the original post]

I'm back, at least temporarily, and trying my best to be rational.

Next Tuesday is the Texas Primary, and I've been waffling about who I'll vote for. One day I'm certain it will be Obama, the next I switch to Clinton. I have enormous issues with both of them, and the issues are not positive.

Obama's experience is somewhat thin and I've seen several examples of gullibility and misunderstanding about foreign policy. Those issues give me cause for concern about him; while I think it's reasonable to hope, I think it's more reasonable to base that hope on clear, well-crafted policies and processes. I'm concerned that hoping to change things is not enough; in order to make it happen, there has to be meat on the bones of policy. But I do like his fervor and I appreciate his almost missionary zeal about change. On the other hand, his missionary zeal and his charisma, while moving in a very real sense, are of questionable value to the performance of a commander in chief. I like the idea of a Black person finally getting into the office of President of the United States; it's time Black people have the opportunity to realistically believe that they can really become President. That having been said, I think it would be sheer idiocy to simply elect a person because he or she is Black.

Clinton has more experience than Obama and she understands conventional foreign policy. The problem with that is that our conventional foreign policy is based on an imperialist mindset that belongs in the 15th century. She is recognized and acknowledged around the world as having leadership characteristics, though she's also seen as strident and bitchy. I view her as somewhat cold and aloof but, again, what does one's lack of charisma have to do with one's ability to be commander in chief? I particularly like the idea of a woman becoming President. It's about time men get over the idea that they have the divine right to power. Clinton had the advantage of being in the thick of things while her husband was President, so she undoubtably understands much of the political superstructure that surrounds that office.

If either one of them become President, I will be absolutely delirious with joy. But I have to pull the lever or mark the ballot or do whatever else I have to do on Tuesday, March 4, so who is it going to be?

If I were the king of the universe or had absolute control over who would become President, it would be neither of them. Someone who is more principled than either of them would be in office. Someone who actually gives a damn about people and who could be counted on to work for the PEOPLE, not the special interests, would be in line to get my vote. But we're stuck with the only options remaining available to us: Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton. Of course, I could say that John McCain is an option, but that would be kin to saying my options for my headache are aspirin or ibuprophen...or, then, there's the gun.

My uncomfortable choice is: Hillary Clinton. She'll get my vote on Tuesday.

Break

I'm taking a break from blogging. My 2 or 3 regular visitors will not be terribly upset, I'm sure. Blogging just won't be high on my list while I'm wrestling with these things. Give me a week or two or three or a month. Maybe it will be just days. I don't know.

Charle Horse: You Write the Next Paragraph

Take a while to let me share this story with you. I'll never regret the time you spent "listening" to my story through your eyes as you read what I wrote. And, I'll be pleased to see what you wrote in response.

Several times during the past few days, my wife and I both have awakened with "charlie horses" in our legs. Mine have been minor, but hers have been more severe, bad enough for her to wake me up to ask me to help knead them out of her legs.

This afternoon, after we returned home from dinner following a long day at work, she mentioned that her legs still ached from her charlie horse incidents.

I responded to her comment: "Let that be a lesson to you! Don't allow horses in the house."

She snorted at me, then said, "But they're nice horses...."

"Nonsense," I replied, "they're dangerous beasts, with razor-sharp steel teeth and kicks that can cripple an elephant! And if they're not kept under control, they chew on the four-poster bed, ripping the beautiful wood into useless splinters!"

She smiled at me. "Oh,they eat wood. Then they must be saw-horses."

"Yes, they're saw-horses! They're constantly sawing away, taking down wood in any form. I told you, they're dangerous!"

"So," she said, "that's why you so rarely see trees in pastures where you see horses!"

It was then that I had the vision: A strange children's book (i.e., a book for strange children).

The book would be about a sad horse named Charlie.

Charlie the horse was routinely banned from farms where people had taken him in because his habit of chewing on every piece of wood in sight left a massive pile of splinters in his wake.

One day, after Charlie was banned from yet another farm, while he was plodding down a little country road, head down and tears streaming from his eyes, he saw way off in the distance a large peach orchard with hundreds and hundreds of trees. The trees were stout and robust, their green leaves fairly dancing in the breeze and their fruit almost bursting with ripe, sweet flavors and aromas.

The sight of all those lovely trees, with their big, full trunks and lots of bark to bite, made Charlie smile for a moment, forgetting that his latest farm family had unceremoniously ejected him from the barn and chased him off the farm. When a horse smiles, it looks for all the world like the chemical symbol for stupidity. But Charlie's smile, as I said, was brief. For just as the smile caused his nose to begin to crinkle slightly, Charlie noticed another horse standing in the orchard.

The horse Charlie saw standing in the orchard had a very wide stance, its legs spread far, far apart and its backbone forming the peak of its sharp, featureless body. Its tail seemed to be invisible, but its head was round and shiny, a very odd shape and shimmer for a horse.

OK, this is where it stops, at least for awhile. I’m looking for someone else to write the next paragraph. Are you game?

Roofer Rats

Roof rats. Again. This time, we hired a specialist. The guy came to the house this morning. Just as I suspected, the place I identified as a possible entry point was confirmed, but he found two more. And, he found that the roofers who replaced my roof a few years ago had done a crappy job. They were largely responsible for the problems. But the are long gone.

The guy put hardwire cloth and some sort of concrete up to cover the holes, then screwed down the drip edge molding all the way around, then put hardware cloth atop the vents all around. He spent most of the day here, I think. The cost was astronomical, but if we can get the damn rats to stay out, it will be worth it. He put 7 snap traps in the attic...screwed them down to make them more effective, he said, and to prevent injured rats from dragging them into the walls.

I'm going to dig through my papers, find the roofer's name, then seek him out. I may beat him to death with a crow bar, but only if I find him in the right place at the right time, or can lure him there.

Homeownership shouldn't be so annoying and stressful. I want a drink. Hmmm, I already have a drink. Well, I want another.

Bad Programming as Punishment

My wife and I both spent a very long and, for me, disappointingly unproductive, day at the office today. I worked on creating a new database system for one of our clients and got only about half as much done as I expected I would. That's partly because I'm not a very good Access programmer and because I am more confident in my abilities than I should be.

After importing a massive set of files into Access, I went about the task of identifying--or tring to identify--each field. I had not documentation, so it was a bitch. Whoever built the database from which I was trying to convert the data decided, for reasons beyond my compehension, to separate area codes and telephone numbers from one another. And, of course, they were physically separated in the file structure, as well. I managed to figure out which was which and then managed to append the contents of the area code fields onto the front-sides of the phone numbers. What I managed to do then, though, was to erase almost the entire contents of all the telephone number fields, thanks to some "fancy" footwork designed to enhance the records. I didn't test my routines, of course. So, I'm being punished by bad programming for being such an idiot.

At any rate, I have to spend tomorrow doing the undone elements from today. I need an IT person; I am not one, but have fallen in to the role out of necessity. I'm a much better cook. This evening, we had chicken flautas, courtesy of my urge to make them a couple of nights ago. It was a good thing I'd made them before, considering how late we worked today.

I really, truly don't want to work tomorrow. But, I really, truly must.

Tightly Wound, Tense

There must be something that's really putting stress on me lately, but I can't pin it down. For at least a week, I've been incredibly moody, triggering my rage and wrath at the slightest provocation. Every time, there's something to which I can trace it, but it's never even remotely important enough to justify a meltdown. In man cases, it's simply my reaction to a situation where's there's no legitimate blame to be laid, but I've found it easy to lay blame.

After 54 years, I should know how to deal with my own disappointments but I'm afraid it appears not to be the case of late. The people around me, the people I love, shouldn't have to put up with it. It's inexcusable. But it goes on.

I wonder if it's the incessant pain in my neck and shoulder that's pushing me over the edge, but I think it's probably not that. The pain has actually subsided a good bit over the last week. I wonder if it's the fact that several clients seem to be folding up around me. That could be it, I suppose. Bt you'd think I would work to keep them, instead of pushing the envelope, and almost daring them to walk.

My all-to-frequent tirades about my business and my clients may be getting to me. I may really need a vacation, time to think it out. But, of course, I can't possibly step away now, not even briefly. There's just too much to do and too much that only I can do. That's not right; others should know how to deal with issues that are now my sole province. That' my fault, no one else's.

Some days I feel like I'm so close to snapping I can hear the fibers in my brain begin to fray and pop. I can only imagine what people who have to deal with me must feel; it must be far worse for them. Maybe by simply putting this down in black and white and allowing myself to think it will help alleviate the strain, put the tightly wound coil back in my brain. I do hope so.

Happy VD

Today was a typical Valentine's Day. My wife and I went to a fantastic sushi buffet for lunch (rather pricey, but, hey, it's Valentine's Day), so we were not particularly hungry for dinner. I had planned on making chicken flautas, but wasn't hungry enough to eat them. That didn't stop me from making them. So, we have about 20 chicken flautas ready to fry and eat, anytime.

That's the extent of my excitement...except that my brother and his wife will be coming in from Mexico around March 11, which will be a nice treat.

Soon, I'll have more to write about...or, at least, I'll write more about the same amount of experiences.

Repeat

Today could have been any one of hundreds just like it that I've experienced over the past few years. I won't bore you with details. Even the late-evening television crap is a repeat of a repeat.

Niece and then some

My niece and her husband are on their way home...they've probably arrived by now. We had a great time with them yesterday and today...nothing special going on, just odds & ends & errands but it was great fun. They're interesting and intelligent people.

While they were here, they taught us a bit about how to select, prepare, and use mandioca, otherwise known as Manihot utilissima, yuca, or Manioc. Watching the root being peeled and prepared made me realize how little I know about the real world. I have lived a protected life.

Besides the lesson in purchasing and preparing mandioca, we learned more about his father's experience last summer...awakening to the sound of something dreadfully wrong next door, getting up, and then finding himself on the wrong end of a gun. He was shot in the tip of the nose and the bullet zipped down and broke his jawbone and cheekbone. This occured in a small village in Paraguay, where my niece's husband is from and and where his parents still live. We saw photos of their home and of the poor man laying in a hospital. The bullet remains lodged in his head...where it will remain unless an urgent needs develops to remove it.

Looking at photos of the family...father, mother, twin brother, sisters, in-laws, et al, made me want to go to Paraguay and become acquainted. I do not speak Guarani, nor do I speak Spanish...their languages...nor do they speak English. What a problem with communication!

Ignacio, my niece's husband, is slowly learning more and more English and will, one day, become fluent. In the interim, I'll learn more and more Spanish, his second language, and be able to communicate better with him. I enjoy them. A couple of intelligent people who can see through me when I'm full of it...and I like that! And, of course, my wife loves having them around! What fun!

I wish I could retire and help them create a great new life for themselves, allowing them to do what the want, and still have plenty of time for familial socializing. I guess I better look after myself and my wife, first.

About this Planet of Ours...Interesting and Strange News Today

Here are some things you may find interesting...I do:

• Secret "Eco-towns" and "social housing" creating row in Britain
  
• London's Campden Market Goes Up In Flames
  
• Bomb Warning Prompts Evacuation of North Sea Oil Rig
  
• The Bitter Taste of Starbucks
  
• Canada's Economy Puts US to Shame
  
• The Number of Children Born in Russia Last Year Highest Since 1991
  
• The Real Results of Chavez' Approach to Economic Management--You have to read between the lines here
  
• Let Him Roast His Pig, for Christsakes!
  
  

Pecans

I just came across a couple of photos that were hidden away it the same folder as the photos from my hot air balloon ride with my wife. I have no clue why they were there. This one is worth posting...just because I like pecans.

Hey, Neighbor...

I've written an open letter to my neighbors. I think I'll submit it for publication in the next homeowners' association newsletter.

Hey, Neighbor...

I know you must be busy. You probably have a family, job responsibilities, and you likely have kids that demand that you take them to soccer practice, band practice, the German club, the Spanish club, Sylvan Learning, the psychologist, and college prep classes. But are you also a self-absorbed, utterly selfish bastad? I think you are, and here's why.

We've asked several times for your help with our volunteer homeowners' association, hoping you might at least acknowledge that the organization exists and that it provides services to you. You know, things like irrigation at the entrances to the subdivision, lawncare for those entrances, the little refrigerator magnets that remind you of the crime alert phone number, the telephone service for the crime alert, a newsletter, a website, opportunities to mix and mingle, and dozens of other "little" things. But you haven't responded, not even with an excuse that you're busy. You've just been just discourteous enough to utterly ignore us!

I realize you may be one of those 50%+ of our neighbors who don't pay the $50 annual homeowners' dues because you think they're too high, and so you don't think you're a part of the community. But could you at least acknowledge our existence when we ask for your help in finding a neighbor's cat? By the way, since you don't want to pay dues, would you mind if we simply didn't report any break-ins we see occurring at your home? Well, we won't ignore you, because that wouldn't be neighborly. Right.

Maybe you are one of those who does pay dues, though. You just think that absolves you of all other responsibilies. "Let someone else take care of the details." OK, bud, but your dues are going to increase. Send us a check for $2500 and we'll call it even, OK?

By the way, whether you paid your dues or not, if your car that's parked illegally ona curve on my street blocks the firetrucks coming to respond to a fire, even if it's a false alarm, the fire the fightfighters put out will be an automobile that began burning after being doused with an accelerant.

I'm Just Saturdaying...

My favorite niece and her husband are coming to visit today. We expect them to arrive by about 1:00 pm. We have no plans, in particular, other than to visit, do our normal weekend errands, and just hang out. I do plan to avoid going to the office, at least until after they head back home tomorrow afternoon or evening.

This morning, I spent about three and a half hours updating my neighborhood association's website, though I don't quite know why. The site gets very little traffic and the neighbors don't seem to give a shit. They don't even acknowledge that it's there. The information I have been uploading does not seem to be appealing to them...contact information for local merchants, schedules for city trash and recycling pickup, information on the local media, city services phone numbers, etc. But, what the hell, I find the information useful, myself, so if they don't want to use it, that's their call. However, I'm tempted to just move the information to a personal website where I can get access to the information. That really wouldn's serve any purpose, though, since they never visit the website, anyway. Creeps.

Last night, our neighborhood Ethnic Night Out group was down to four...my wife and I, along with another couple. We had Italian food. As we talked, I realized how little I know about my neighbors...who they are, what they do, etc. And they seem to like it that way.

The Democrats' Worst Mistake

Today's email message from the Democratic National Committee made me cringe. And then I wrote a very unflattering email back to them, expressing my outrage at what they are doing and informing them that, if they follow through with what they suggest, I will sit out this year's presidential election. What made me so angry?

First, the message suggested the John McCain is absolutely, certainly going to the be Republican nominee. Hey, folks, despite how things look today, they can change! But that's not what got me so riled up. What really, truly upset me was the request that I contribute financially to their plan, which is to tell-all about John McCain's flaws, bad decisions, anti-democratic votes in the Senate, and god knows what else. That is, their plan is to behave like Republicans behave: like angry, ill-informed, stupid, attack-dogs. Rather than focus on the Democrats' message, these imbeciles want to focus on the Republicans' flaws. In a nutshell, they want to "Swift-Boat" John McCain. I am not a John McCain fan; I find his politics repulsive, especially his unnatural adoration of war. I oppose him on virtually every front.

If the party that is trying to make me one of its own behaves just like the bastards it opposes, I'm done. I will not cast a vote for a Republican, of course, but I won't support the candidate of a party that behaves like Republicans, either. I expect Democrats to at least try to present a facade of honor, integrity, and genuine caring for the American people and the American systerm of government. If that party descends into the nasty tactics of the right-wing nutcases that populate Republicanism, that party loses me, and so does its candidate.

In case it's not obvious, I am utterly and completely fed up with the way the Democratic National Committee presented itself to me today. Needless to say, their request for my donation was refused, in no uncertain terms.

People Who Deserve the Best

When things go sour for people, even people you don't know, you tend to be upset. You tend to be more emotional and more likely to be surly, I think, than in situations in which everything is alright. Things are not sour for me. But I've heard too much about personal traumas and tragedies today to feel good about life. Today's a day of wishing for the best for people who deserve it.

The Icy Weather Clutching China

I've been reading about the horrific winter storms that are pounding China. The Chinese have mobilized 306,000 soldiers, according to China Daily. It's mind-boggling to read about and watch video of tens of thousands of people surge toward train stations, trying desperately to get home for the Lunar New Year to be with their families.

Crowds get so congested and so big that people with small children lift them above their heads to protect them from the crush of people around them. Children are separated from the parents in this way, but that is better than being crushed in a surging crowd. Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao told the country, from on board a train in disaster-hit Hunan, ""We have the faith, courage and ability to overcome the severe natural disaster."

I've not seen any serious coverage of the situation in China by American media, though at least the problems are being acknowledged. Engish-language media in China, though, are reporting that people are being advised to abandon their travel plans to be home during the holiday. The snow and ice are the worst in more than fifty years, they say, An article online in Al Jazeera reports that "About 260,000 people wanting head home for the Lunar New Year holiday have besieged Guangzhou station waiting for days to travel."


There was a story from January 25 of a man who saved 44 passengers from a long-distance bus that had become stuck on a snow-bound and ice-bound highway. He went to the bus, which was on a section of highway that was built to keep pedestrians off, broke through the guardrail and fencing, and led the passengers to his home. There, he arranged for food and wate for them and gave them a place to sleep. From the video, it looked very, very cramped (44 people in my home would be very, very cramped), but the passengers were ecstatic that he saved them.

Huge cities are either partially of completely without power, thanks in part to the fact that trains and trucks laden with coal cannot get to the electricty generating plants (coal is used to power many such plants in China).

I Need Your Advice

I need your unbiased advice. Really.

My car, heretofore known at The Bastard, is a 1997 Toyota Avalon with 164,000+ miles on it. A year or so ago, maybe 2 years, I spent about $6,000 getting some major issues addressed: new shocks, struts, engine mounts, air conditioning compressor, lots of internal "stuff," etc.

I did not do anything about the leather interior. Now, the front seats are in truly horrible condition. Cracked leather that goes beyond cracking and into slits all the way through. Ugly, painful when I'm wearing shorts, etc.

With the massive infusion of cash, I was told the car should last "a long time." It's comfortable, but not truly plush. It needs rear shocks, as evidenced by loud screeching noises when I go over bumps, especially in cold weather.

If I spent about $1,500 now, I could get the seats replaced with leather kits that, I've been led to believe, look very good. I could also get other cosmetic stuff done within the same $1,500. Essentially, it would look like a relatively nice, new car, with a few scrapes and scratches. The interior would still look worn, even with new seats, but it would not look terrible.

The question: should I invest the $1,500 in the hopes that I can make The Bastard last another couple of years? The transmission, though showing no signs of failure, could go at any time; I've done nothing to it. The brakes could fail, as I've never replaced the major components of the brake system. Various other components of the car could crater at any time. But I have no reason to believe any of them will not last.

If you were in my shoes, what would you do? Sell the monster and buy a new (or used) car, or keep it until it becomes utterly unreliable? I'm fighting new car fever, but I'm not sure it's an appropriate fight. I need someone else to think about this for me.

No Curmudgeon

The day is starting out better than the previous few have begun. It's 44 degrees and there appears to be no rain falling outside. Soon, I'll shower, shave, and set out for another day with clients. This day, I'll do my very best to be cheerful, nonjudgemental, and generally positive. Today, I'll not be the curmudgeon.

Contempt of Client

My dinner with clients tonight was in the sort of place I like to avoid: a chain restaurant with a "theme" that ostensibly appeals to families and the socially and gastronomically uninitiated. Tonight's meal took place at SaltGrass Steak House, a Texas chain restaurant that serves up more evidence of upsell-trained staff than good food. It's not awful, just moderately unpleasant.

The waitstaff is jolly, jolly, jolly and the young guys and gals seem genuinely interested in making one's night a spectacular event, assisted by a personal slave and servant...until you see their faces after they turn away from the tables. Then, you can read their thoughts: "What the fuck am I doing working in this goober-joint, chit-chatting with these slovenly, middle-aged dimwits who deserve neither my service nor my acknowledgement, much less my humble and way-too-vocal appreciation?" Or something along those lines. Some of the waitstaff may not be bright enough to have such thoughts, but you can read them in the faces of most of them.

My guests were perfect examples of the people for whom the waitstaff have such contempt. They were giddy with laughter, slow to understand the menu, full of questions that would not have been asked had they read the menu, and far too impressed with the advertised food for my liking ("Geez, looky here, they've got prime rib! This must be a pretty upscale place! I've never seen prime rib on an actual menu! I've only seen it advertised on TV."). I took it all in stride, though, even the little power-show during which the president mentioned getting wine, to which the treasurer responded that it had always been their policy not to buy alcohol. In end, a group of four of them bought booze and the president picked up the tab. I stayed out of it.

Fortunately for me, the dinner was very early, so I was out of there by 8:30 pm. I'll be back again tomorrow morning, bright and early, to share breakfast with them, followed by a meeting during which many concepts beyond their meager intellectual capacities will be discussed and placed on hold for further study. I mentioned contempt a few moments ago...I wonder if my attitude about the client would be considered contemptuous? Yeah, probably.