MLK Day

Let me start by saying, I have made fun of a lot of people for many different reasons. Gender, race, sex, weight, height, home town, current residence, mental disability, physically disability, religion, sandwich preference, drug addiction, sexual orientation, favorite sports teams, looking at me funny, political persuasion, noobs, intelligence, education; the list could go on but I thought I’d cover the basics. I tell you this because it is important to understand no one is perfect and everyone is capable of hurting someone. I won’t defend myself for any of these things, nor will I promise never to make comments on these groups again. I try to be fair and only make fun of people when they are obviously not speaking for the sum of their constituency. Every group has that one idiot that makes all the stereotypes true.

Is there a point here? I don’t confess to be any kind of activist or political person. I’m not really out there pushing for the rights of any one people. But more than forty years after his death (Martin Luther King), people still walk into my office and start making jokes about him. They take issue with our office being closed on Monday, the official celebration of the holiday. I think as a whole our society has moved closer to ending this kind of rhetoric, yet there are still pockets of the population stuck in time. I can’t say anything, mainly because I’m not paid to interject; I’m paid to smile and nod, but also because I don’t have the nerve to correct these people. I think that’s part of the problem too. If I had the nerves to say something to these people, would it matter? Would my words make a difference?

Sorry to be such a downer, but the purpose of these days: Martin Luther King Day, Memorial Day etc. is to remind us of something, to implore us to pause and think about these issues. I really believe that and try to take time on these holidays to contemplate their meaning. I hope I've made a good case for you to do the same.

Dirty Job

Anyone ever seen Dirty Jobs? Take away the cameras, witty commentary and money, and I hosted an episode this past weekend. Mom called me mid-week to let me know she had sewage leaking into her basement. I knew where the conversation was going. "Can you help me clear it out." I could have said no, but then the inevitable guilt trip would ensue, ending with "Twenty eight hours I was in labor with you!" How do you argue with that?

I should probably mention that I have used the word basement very liberally. We call it the cellar but torture chamber, dungeon and hole in the ground would probably work. As a child I'd play down there sometimes when I wanted to get information out of one of my toys. Let's just say, it's already an unpleasant place, so filling it with poop only amplifies the sense of terror and desperation that passes over you when you enter.

It was around 19 degrees outside. The cellar door opens into the yard so we had a nice cool breeze to keep us from overheating. We had to use a pump to get the liquid part of the sewage out into the yard. First though, we had to get all the ice out of the hose we were using on the pump. After an unsuccessful battle and the hose wasn't unblocked. I suggested maybe it was blocked by a more solid perpetrator. This was in fact the brown, poopy case. So after running hot water through the hose and finding this assailant, we connected it to the pump and began the smelly endeavor of removing the waste. This pumping without touching didn't last and soon I found myself shoveling and bucketing. Apparently the perfuse brown goo that formed when the water level began to go down clogged the pump.

All this effort, filling a bucket, walking it up the stairs and dumping it down the outside sewer access was very tiring. At one point I faced my own death. A particularly heavy load almost got the better of me as I lost balance and nearly fell on it. As I caught myself, my face came all to close to the surface of the liquid solid mix and saw my life pass quickly by. It was boring. This activity soon became futile. As we shuttled loads to and fro, more poo juice started bubbling out of the drain, so we gave up and began to sanitize. We'll just call the plumber. My wife wouldn't let me go anywhere else in the house when I got home but straight to the shower. It was utterly disgusting. I feel like I should go to the doctor to get shots. I'll just have them give me everything they have. I want all the shots.

Dump

I tried for a long time come up with a good reason why I changed the name of this blog. I have nothing. Hopefully the name change comes with a new commitment to the blog. I have some good ideas, so that's a place to start. I'm always taking suggestions on good things to write on, so please contact me in one of the many ways now possible thanks to the wonders of the internetz.

Now for something completely different...

Today a customer came through and asked me where she could find the Little Dipper... So yeah, after a long pause I asked if she meant the constellation. Yes. WTFBBQ? Apparently we've opened up a drive through observatory. And yeah, we are under a winter weather advisory, so I don't think she's going to be seeing to many stars tonight. Before she drove away she stated that she would find it for sure! I'm not sure whether I want to know what's going through their heads or not...

New Year

Goodbye 2010, you son of a bitch...

Have some music....

If you are not aware that was originally Nothing Else Matters by Metallica.

Update

This is a test of the emergency blogcast system. This is only a test. In case of a real emergency, this message would be followed with instructions to place your head between your knees and kiss your taint goodbye. This blog is under going some changes. Deal with it.