Post One Hundred Fifty: The previously referenced "last night"

The other night I went out with a friend I used to work with (a female attorney friend . . . no, not like that; get your mind out of the gutter). We were at a bar for happy hour, playing the electronic trivia (which I kicked her ass at), then went out to see a Ratt cover band. A friend of hers was subbing in for one of the guitarists, so she just had to go see them play.

Never mind that they didn't hit the stage until 11:00 p.m. Jesus.

Theirs is a very strange interaction. I don't use the term "relationship" to avoid the implications of same, but perhaps my use of the term "friend" was a little off the mark. I do not know exactly how to describe it but it is an odd one. To start off with, my friend is over 40 years old. The guitarist is 18.

While there is purportedly nothing sexual about the relationship (and I take her at her word, and it would shock the hell out of me if there were), the appeal for her lies in the fact that he is a young guitar player playing in various hair bands. She is a huge 80s metal band fan, particularly of Motley Crue, and as luck would have it he also plays in a Motley Crue tribute band.

Sidebar: is there anything more sad than musicians who play in tribute bands? It's like a constant existence of dress-up and playing pretend.

Anyway, she constantly raves about his playing ability . . . meh, I don't know. I've seen him a couple of times, and while he plays pretty well technically I get no semblance of feeling from him. He strikes me as a wanker on guitar, more "style" than substance. At least as much style one can have nowadays by dressing up like a Nikki Sixx wannabe.

Regardless, the dude is also a fucking bum from what I can tell. He has no job other than these gigs which according to my friend net the band about $45 a night (what a shit gig, huh?). He suffers from a severe case of lead singer disease and apparently uses anyone clinging on to him (i.e., the girls) against each other so they will buy him shit: CDs, clothes, guitars (!), jewelry, financing studio time, and the like. It is so fucking sad that these hangers-on buy into this shit.

She tells me that she does not hand out money to support this guy. But the problem is she hangs out with such a shit crowd: him, his dad (an 80s relic), and the losers who frequent dive bars to see 80s metal cover bands play. Don't get me wrong: I've been to some of these shows but her crowd lives for this shit. She's smarter than this crowd but it's dragging her down. What is it about girls that gets them sucked into these situations?

Post One Hundred Forty Nine: Ideas for Posts

I'm not quite feeling up to posting tonight--late night last night (but not much beer, interestingly) and I haven't been able to make up any of the missed sleep--but I did want to record a few of my thoughts about some upcoming posts. One of the first will be about last night, more specifically about the friend I was out with.

I'm also planning a series of ten posts on my Top 10 bands. The idea is to provide a review of their body of work and explaining the "why they deserve a place on the list" issue. The posts will start with #10 and work their way through #1 (gee, I wonder who that's going to be?).

First, though, I have to come up with the list. I'll get right on that.

Back to college football.

Post One Hundred Forty Eight: Worth Remembering

There is a disturbing phenomenon creeping into the public debate about all things 9/11. Increasingly, Sept. 11 is compared to hurricanes, bridge collapses and other mechanical disasters or criminal acts that result in loss of life, with "body count" being the primary factor that keeps it in the top spot of "worst in the nation's history."

Misremembering is as dangerous as forgetting. If we must know one thing, it is that the Sept. 11 attacks were neither a natural disaster, nor the unfortunate result of human error. 9/11 wasn't the catastrophic equivalent of a 3,000-car pileup.

The attacks were not a random act of violence or insanity. They were a deliberate and brutal act of war committed by religious fanatics engaged in Islamic jihad against the United States, all non-Muslim people and any Muslim who wishes to live in a secular society. Worse, the people who perpetrated the attacks have explicitly told us that they are not done.

Sept. 11 is a date that comes and goes once a year, but "9/11" is with us every day. The body count keeps rising - Bali, Riyadh, Istanbul, Madrid, Beslan, London, Amman.

We now clearly know that the 1993 World Trade Center bombing was part of the holy war against America. When we previously dismissed this as a random attack by crazy men and declared ourselves lucky that "only six lives were lost," we effectively disarmed ourselves. Eight years later, six became 3,000. While the comparison to other "tragedies" may help us cope with what has befallen us, we must resist being glib and intellectually careless.

Our fellow human beings were not "lost" in 1993 or on 9/11. They were torn to pieces. We must not give the enemy any quarter. We must confront the reality of their acts.

Post One Hundred Forty Seven: Football 2008

So glad to see it back.

Post One Hundred Forty Six: Surviving

Tomorrow my wife returns from China/London/Paris. I have survived another one of her two-week plus work excursions. I am currently sitting in my room, drinking a couple of beers, and getting set to watch this week's episode of Hard Knocks on HBO. Time to veg and reflect.

Today we had an insurance company settle a case out from under us. Paid over $300K on a case that was inherently winnable, and didn't even tell us they were doing it. The truly unfortunate thing is that if there were any locks in law, this would be one of them. Due to a chicken-shit insurance agent, however, the firm (including me) is deprived of another case in the "win" column.

Jesus.

Well, at least it alleviates my work burden to an extent. My late-September was absolutely booked with depositions in this case, all of which have gone away. Now I'm probably going to have to be a little bit creative with my billing. Dammit. I do have a couple of trips to Mississippi lined up, so there is that.

Oh, well. Trials in October, November and January to look forward to. More later. I've got beer to drink and Cowboys-related TV to watch.

Post One Hundred Forty Five: Labor Day

The wife is currently in London/Paris, and will be returning home Saturday after being out of the country for 15 days. This leaves me with the kids on a holiday, i.e., no school to take the kids off my hands for the day. That's okay because of the two of us I'm the one who can actually handle being left alone with the kids for more than an overnight trip.

The kids woke me up this morning so I could fix them bacon and eggs. That went over okay, but I think all they really wanted was the left-over donut holes from yesterday. Got them showered and dressed, and now the plan is to go see Kung Fu Panda* at the dollar theater this afternoon, at which point they'll likely have popcorn and a drink. Then we'll run by the mall so I can get a new battery put in a watch, then return home so I can cook hamburgers on the grill (it is Labor Day after all). Gotta remember the tater tots, too. I have a fantasy football draft at 7:15 tonight, so the kids will be watching something at that time. Then, after I get the kids to bed, I'll likely try to do some work but I may just decide to hit bed early. That's my Labor Day in a nutshell.

You know, the wife could not handle it if I went away for two weeks solid. Shit, if I go away for three days (such as when I was in Tallahassee) she constantly bitches about the kids and everything she's got going on at work. Give me a fucking break. It's just a matter of not getting too worked up over minor stuff. Also, it helps if you force the kids to find things to do ("go outside and play" is a great phrase) as opposed to just turning on the TV and letting them veg out in front of it. That leads to big-time boredom.

But I will say breaks are important. Yesterday I brought the babysitter over to take care of the kids for a couple hours so I could go to the gym. I also went out and found a small table for our printer in the study, which had been taking up a bunch of space on the desk. That 3-hour break helped. Of course, all I can do now is think about how much I have to do for work, but that'll take care of itself (figuratively, I mean: I just have a knack for getting things done when they need to get done).

Regardless, I'm looking forward to the wife getting back. I need a happy hour out.

*We actually watched this at home a couple of weeks ago, but the copy was not very good. To the reader of the blog that this is relevant to, please try and be a little more careful about what you make available, will you?**

**Joking, I'm joking! Please don't terminate my password!