Wow, that’s a relief. I got pissed off and cranky last night. For awhile there I thought I was the Stepford Husband.

Is it possible to be too happy? I know, if that’s the least of my problems…shut up! You might be wondering if I can’t really write without something to bitch about and talk about a stretch, bitching about being happy.

It’s the meds of course. Since the shrinks put me on the newest stuff nothing seems to bother me. Well I do get a little irritated that since the software rollout at work, I’m clueless about solving problems that people used to rely on me to solve. But it’s a minor irritant. And it’s not like anyone else can figure the problems out. Oh and I suppose that part of it is that I really like my new boss. It’s a lot easier to go to work every day.

Well I guess I’ll just shut up and continue walking around in this slightly manic state with a shit eating grin plastered on my face. Soon people will start thinking of me as the village idiot.

My depiction of the corporate chain of command. I’m not the littlest dog, but I’m the littlest dog that’s not in a union. Shit rolls downhill and has a helluva lot of momentum built up by the time it hits me. I was recently in a meeting with the guy three rungs up the latter from me, so a big wheel, and he was trying to do the frank and honest discussion thing about how the biz can be improved. I brought up one of my many pet peeves, something that we do wrong in the most basic no-brainer way. He heard a couple of buzz words and came back with an answer that was so vaguely related to what I was talking about, I might as well have been speaking Urdu. I tried to explain myself but I’m sure I sounded like a crazed techno babbler to him. Over the years there have been so many times that they’ve rolled shit out and I’ve predicted that it wouldn’t work and that it was a vast waste of money, if I’d just gotten on the phone with the CEO I could have saved the company millions. Or I would have gotten fired for not being a positive team player! My motto is. “keep your head down and be quick on your feet to dodge the turd slides.”

Something from the sketchbook. I started drawing again. This image is from my imagination without reference material. Obviously I couldn’t remember what a parrot looks like.

Music. Latin, Irish, Classical, Cajun, Reggae and Red Neck. The accordian is a rock and roll instrument. Soft spot for swamp boogie music that rides the Mystery Train through Chuck and Elvis and Bo and Mississippi Fred and John Lee. Memphis in the Meantime Baby. With a Telecaster turned up to ten. John Hammond sitting at his daddy’s knee getting Southern Fried. Beat me Daddy Eight to the Bar. And Twelve Bars on Bourbon Street. Working Man’s Dead. Sobering up, crashing into John Hiatt singing Stood Up about sobering up drying out with John for almost twenty years and thinking Bring the Family was the pinnacle and then last year Beneath This Gruff Exterior with songs about the creative process and taking a crap or dog love or mortality. And Sonny Landreth making an electric guitar sound like a caliope. Sonny Landreth doing things that seem to defy the laws of guitar playing. John Hiatt has probably written over seven hundred songs and he is going strong. Listen.

Excerpt from a West Wing episode
President Bartlet is confronting a Dr. Laura like talk show host in the White House.

President Bartlet: Forgive me Dr. Jacobs, are you an M.D.?

Jacobs: A Ph.D.

Bartlet: A Ph.D.?

Jacobs: Yes, sir.

Bartlet: Psychology?

Jacobs: No sir.

Bartlet: Theology?

Jacobs: No.

Bartlet: Social work?

Jacobs: No. I have a Ph.D. in English literature.

Bartlet: I’m asking ’cause on your show, people call in for advice, and you go by the name of “Dr.” Jacobs on your show, and I didn’t know if maybe your listeners were confused by that and assumed you had advanced training in psychology, theology or health care.

Jacobs: I don’t believe they are confused, no, sir.

Bartlet: Good. I like your show. I like how you call homosexuality an abomination.

Jacobs: I don’t say homosexuality is an abomination, Mr. President, the Bible does.

Bartlet: Yes, it does, Leviticus.

Jacobs: 18.22

Bartlet: Chapter and verse. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions while I had you here. I’m interested in selling my youngest daughter into slavery as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. She’s a Georgetown sophomore, speaks fluent Italian, always cleared the table when it was her turn. What would a good price for her be?

While thinking about that, can I ask another? My chief of staff, Leo McGarry, insists on working on the sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly says he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or is it OK to call the police?

Here’s one that’s really important ’cause we’ve got a lot of sports fans in this town. Touching the skin of a dead pig makes one unclean. Leviticus 11:7. If they promise to wear gloves, can the Washington Redskins still play football? Can Notre Dame? Can West Point?

Does the whole town have to be together to stone my brother John for planting different crops side-by-side? Can I burn my mother in a small family gathering for wearing garments made from two different threads? Think about those questions, would you?

One last thing, while you may mistaking this for your monthly meeting of the Ignorant Tight-ass Club. In this building, when the President stands, nobody sits.

The StarTribune: CLIMAX, MINN. — It may be the town’s slogan, but it doesn’t meet the approval of the superintendent, who has placed a school ban on the T-shirts that read: “Climax — More than just a feeling.” Read more
It turns out that Climax, which is in the middle of nowhere north of my hometown in Northwestern Minnesota, is near another town named Fertile. Headline in local paper: “Fertile Woman Dies in Climax” That might be a rural urban legend but up in the Red River Valley they swear it’s true.
That brings to mind one of my favorite typographical jokes. Maybe the only one. I use this story when trying to convey the importance of good spacing in typography. Apparently a headline was written for a newspaper article about a governor exercising his veto power. It read, “Governor’s Pen is a Sword.” But they got some of the word spacing a little to tight.
You know you are a Minnesotan if you can pronounce Wayzata (and you’re from my nieghborhood if you think the people who live there are all rich bastards), Minnetonka, Minnewaska, Pokegama, and Winnebigoshish. Or you pronounce Mille Lacs “Mill Lacks” and Nicollet “Nicklet.” I used to tend bar on the corner of 26th and Nicollet and people would call me up and say “Are you on Nickolay Avenue?” “You’re not from around here are you?”
If I remember my geographic name jokes correctly I think my readers from Pennsylvania might have a contribution here. And of course Canadian place names are funny all by themselves. I mean, Moose Jaw?

I wasn’t old enough to pick up on my sister’s romantic life as a teenager, she was in college by the time I was 5. So now that I live in a housefull of women, including two teenagers, I’m getting a new perspective on the boy-girl thing. I know that the archtypical role of the father of young girls is to hate teenage boys, but lately I’m feeling sorry for them. I see them becoming infatuated and then watch my daughters drive them crazy. Someone told me that when young girls have a good relationship with their fathers, they don’t throw themselves into serious relationships with the first boy that comes along. I’ve always felt like I was kind of stoopid about the way I deal with my children, but maybe not. Anyway I’m very proud that these girls seem to be able to handle themselves well in the war between the sexes. I could elaborate with some hilarious examples but that would make for an icy atmosphere here on the edge of the graveyard if they found out I’m publicizing the details of their love lives.
Have a week!

OK sorry about the long post, I know no one reads them, but I had to do it anyway. Thanks to those who took the time.
Now I’m going to rant.
The youngest daughter is a sophmore in High School. She’s taking AP (advanced placement) Biology, well known as one of the toughest classes you can take at her school. She’s gotten through one semester without totally gutting her GPA and has come to terms with me not letting her drop it. But here’s the problem. They are currently studying evolution. There is a kid in her class that’s an Evangelical literal interpreter of the Bible. He’s on a mission to disprove Darwin. In class. I feel for the teacher. This little ass munch is continually interupting with info from some book he’s read that gives the fundamentalist rebuttal to Darwin’s theory. One of the things he’s brought up is “the odds against evolution occurring.” OK, I play a little poker and I think I understand probabilities a little. How in the name of Des Cartes does one figure those odds??? This little shit is spewing his ignorance in a class that’s supposed to be teaching science. If he doesn’t care to hear the scientific point of view, then he should go take comparitive religion if he wants to discuss and debate. I try to have an open mind about the religious beliefs of others. Everyone gets to make up there own story about the stuff that’s beyond human understanding. I’d just ask mister world created in seven days to shut up and listen and let those who might be interested in the accepted view of science on the origin of species learn something. My kid is in class trying to learn. You can spew your religious beliefs elsewhere, thank you very much!
I personally think that evolution and Christianity aren’t mutually exclusive beliefs. You just have to understand that some things are beyond human understanding. Evolution explains the whole thing in terms of scientific evidence that is comprehendable by us mere mortals. If the odds, however they figure them, are so high against that carbon atom hooking up with that hydrogen atom and getting things going, then doesn’t that speak to the hand of higher power being involved. I just wish the teacher was able in this scary world to tell the misguided little Bible pounder to shut up and let her teach. I mean, shit, it’s just a theory, right?

Thanks Lindsay!

I’m depressed. I knew this would happen. She played so hard, with such reckless abandon. Constantly crashing to the floor. And Thursday night it happened. Lindsay Whalen broke her hand as she got upended while crashing the boards for a rebound. She’ll be out for 4-6 weeks, the rest of the season unless she can get back by the time the NCAA tournament starts. Knowing her she’ll do it. I’ve been meaning to do a tribute to her and this seems like the time. This is the story of the woman who brought University of Minnesota Women’s Basketball out of obscurity and into the top 10. And set the stage for an ongoing basketball powerhouse.
Minnesota is a hotbed for girls hoops. In 1999 the NCAA was loaded with Minnesota women. Notre Dame, Stanford, Colorado State, Iowa State all had Minnesoans starring for them. Not to mention the fabulous Miller twins at Georgia. But the U’s program was in the toilet. In 1999-2000 they were 10-18, 3-13 in the conference. The blue chip players weren’t staying home. I think every kid growing up playing hoops in Minnesota wants to play at Williams Arena. But at that time, with the team drawing crowds of less about 1000 fans, they weren’t even playing in the Barn. The coach, Cheryl Littlejohn, was a disaster. A screamer who apparently did little else. The Women’s Athletic Department was getting terrible press and the team just kept losing. And Hana Pjelto and April Calhoun and Katie Alsdorf went to Harvard and Iowa and Marquette.
So in 2000 Lindsay Whalen decided to stay home and play for the Gophers. This part of the story I’m not too sure about. She was honorable mention All State and scored over 20 a game at Hutchinson High School, but wasn’t Ms. Basketball and I know I’d never heard of her. I don’t know if she was highly recruited, although I’m sure she got some notice around the country. But she wanted to stay home and play in front of her family. So she became a gopher.
The first season was rough. Lindsay averaged 17 a game, but the Gophers where 1 and 15 in the conference and were getting beaten by 20, they were laughing stocks and no one cared. Littlejohn was fired and replaced by Brenda Oldfield. Brenda did two things in her first year that turned the team around. She saw that Littlejohn had been platooning Whalen, not giving her much playing time. It was obvious to her that this girl needed to be on the floor as much as possible. The other thing was she made freshman recruit Janelle McCarville drop 50 pounds and get in shape. Janelle had been co-player of the year in Wisconsin, but hadn’t been heavily recruited because she was, well, fat. Janelle developed into a female equivalent of her nickname, Shaq. Corrin Von Wald, a star at UW Green Bay, decided to transfer to the U to study architecture, they talked her into playing ball. They won nine of their first ten games and on January 17, 2002 they moved from the Sports Pavillion to Williams Arena to play Indiana in front of 11,000 fans. The young girls playing in Minnesota took notice.
This had to be one of the greatest turnarounds in Sports history. They went from 8-20 to 22-8. Oldfield was named NCAA Women’s Coach of the Year. Lindsay was an All-American and the Big 10 player of the year, aveaging 22.2 points and 5.3 assists per game. People were suddenly excited about women’s basketball. Then it happened. Oldfield, disgusted with the Athletic Department politics, took the job at Maryland. The team was devastated. Lindsay gathered them together and reminded them that it was them and not the coach that had played the games, she took on a huge leadership role and helped hold the team together. The stage was set. The new coach, Pam Borton, came in and emphasized defense. Oldfield had recruited Ms. Basketball, Shannon Boldon and Shannon Schoenrock. The team ended up 25-6 with an upset of Stanford at Stanford in the NCAA’s and their first ever Sweet 16 appearance. The team was getting exposure, girls were seeing the atmosphere of Williams Arena and a winning team that played hard and aggressively. They recruited the three top Minnesota players that year. April Calhoun, Ms. Basketball in 2000 and the starting point guard at Iowa, transferred back as did Katie Alsdurf, a star at Marquette. They’ve had national recruiting success, getting big name players from Illinois and California coming in next year. When Lindsay was a freshman the program sold 42 season tickets, this year they sold almost 4,000. Her first game as a gopher had a little over 1000 fans, what may prove to be her last home game, last Sunday against Penn St. had over 14,000 fans. No one is more responsible for this turnabound than Lindsay Whalen. And she has remained quiet, soft-spoken and humble.
Let me describe this young woman. She’s 5’9″ and solid as a rock, she’s built like a running back and has running back speed. I’ve seen her miss a lay up and then block the other teams outlet pass on the far end of the court, don’t ask me how, she was just there. She has qualities that you rarely see in women players and not that many men either. She’s the best woman I’ve ever seen in the open court, she has the best body control in the air that I’ve ever seen in a woman, she has, without a doubt, the best touch off the glass of anyone, man or woman, that I’ve ever seen. She is a great passer. I keep asking myself, “How does a girl growing up in Huchinson, Minnesota learn to play like she spent her days on a playground in Brooklyn?” Typical Lindsay play, loose ball in the key on the oppenents offensive end, Lindsay gets there first and contrary to the standard basketball wisdom, she doesn’t grab the ball with both hands but takes a couple of hard low dribbles to get it under control and then takes off for the other end. She meets a defender at the free throw line and simply blows by her, already at top speed, another defender might try to slow her down but she crosses over and leaves her in the dust. Her teammates know what to do, they are filling lanes, it’s show time. The defenders know the mantra of fast break defense, stop the ball. They can’t. It typically ends one of two ways. Lindsay takes the ball to the hoop creates body contact and kisses the ball off the glass and goes to the line for a foul shot. Or she makes a no-look, wrap around, behind the back pass to someone filling the lane and left alone because three defenders are trying to stop Number 13.
I have hundreds of highlight film memories of her, but I’m going to describe the one that I think is the most amazing. The game had turned into an up and down track meet, something you want to avoid if you’re playing the gophers. Somehow Janelle McCarville got the ball around the opponents free throw line. Lindsay probably was picking herself off the floor again under our basket and was all alone. McCarville, one of the best outlet passers I’ve seen, sent a rocket to the other end. But it was a bad pass. It was too high and going out of bounds on the right side of the hoop. Lindsay was running to save it, toward the basket at the baseline. She leaped and snagged the ball with her right hand, momentum carrying her our of bounds and her body turned facing into the court and already behind the backboard. She switched the ball to her left hand and scooped it up off the glass and in as she went out of bounds. I kid you not.
So in conclusion, if you ever wonder how the University of Minnesota Women’s basketball team went from doormat to powerhouse just think of one humble, quiet young woman who scored over 2000 points and dished out over 500 assists in her career. A great player and a class act all the way. Thank you Lindsay!