MORE OF MY SECONDHAND IDEOLOGY, NOT THAT YOU ASKED: My pal Brian (or "Hops" as some of you know him) forwards a great article that, in many ways, is consistent with what I learned as a night setup guy at a hotel, as a messenger and bar cleaner, as a carpet-cleaning trainee and so forth. Dunno why the whole "the deck is stacked against the common man" meme is so alluring to young people, especially college students. Actually, maybe I do: In college, you're still afraid you may not make it, and so you're (I was) looking for something to blame in case you don't. And by "make it," I'm simply referring to being able to feed and clothe yourself, and to gradually eke out some meaningful and not-too-painful existence. I remember (like it was yesterday) when all of that was in doubt...

BTW, this City Journal site (from whence came the aformentioned article) is very intriguing. I'm sure somebody's gonna tell me it's a front for Christian fundamentalists or Freemasons or something, but until then I'm a'gonna check it out.

THIS IS YOUR BLOG ON MOLASSES: Just in case you're wondering if you're the only one who's having major lag-time loading this blog...the answer is NO. Dunno why it's so dang slow of late. BTW, if it's loading FAST for you, I'd love to hear that feedback, too. Leave me a comment below, if you wouldn't mind...

GRATITUDE: I'm remembering from last time that this baby thing opens all kinds of feelings of gratitude, of connection with the universe and its people. There's the gratitude I feel toward my parents, for obvious reasons...but heck, why not list some of them:

• For setting an example of how to parent
• For sacrificing for me and my brothers
• For my brothers
• For taking care of helpless little me
• Etc.

I could go on for days on this one, and if I felt that my parents didn't already know that I've grown up enough to feel these things, this broad sense of gratitude, I'd go on longer. But this post, albeit tossed off as most of mine are, is meant to be broader than this.

There's the gratitude I feel towards Dave and Trisha, for their nice comments, links, etc. Two people who I feel I know pretty well, and yet who are distant from me on an everyday basis. My old, old pal John who just sent me a note about the baby and about the blog. I had no idea he was even reading. My brothers and their spouses -- for taking care of my son, offering steady counsel, etc. C.J. has no idea what a gift his new brother can be for him! My neighbors, who've supported us thus far and whose calls and encouragement are both small and inobtrusive and therefore giant and terribly generous. It seems like the baby inspires people to reach for you, to acknowledge their presence in your life (and yours in theirs), and it's very, very humbling. It makes me jump to this: Have I done enough to deserve this love and support? I'm old enough to just take this feeling and turn it into the positive, the "I can do more for others" feeling rather than the "maybe I suck" feeling.

I think of the awards speeches, where people have endless lists of people to thank, and I understand. Something like this new baby -- and it's not like we even did anything that grand to earn him -- well, it just inspires me to see way far beyond myself, which in and of itself is a good thing. There's this feeling...maybe magnanimous is the right word...where just for a moment, I can see the world through what is a kind of unfocused love, a very comfortable blurriness that I'm in no hurry to clear up.

Warning: I wrote a lot of stuff like this with the first baby. It makes me a little weird, this procreation stuff.

THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL: We all know poverty breeds terrorism. Or does it?

PEAK EXPERIENCE: So with this baby coming as our country is at war, as soldiers -- other people's sons -- put themselves in harm's way...I was reminded of something I wrote right after C.J. (my first son) was born, something about how to look at joy and tragedy together. I grabbed it from an online conference where I first scribbled it:

Some of the challenges I've faced in my adult life have taught me to live closer to the midpoint, to dwell within a more measured universe where the highs aren't sheer cliff faces and the lows aren't cesspools underground. I take things in stride, is one way of saying it. Or like that Epstein book, the one about Buddhist psychotherapy, I have a way of GOING ON BEING which works for me, which doesn't inject these artificial seams in between experiences. It's life as one long peak experience, maybe, and this baby against the context of other babies dying, parents in decline, and also other joys, too, equivalent joys, so that this isn't everything, but it IS
exquisite.

May God bless everyone's babies. (And if there is a God he sure doesn't need me to remind him to do so.)

MICHAEL LEE HESS: Born yesterday at 2:56PM. He's a whole pound lighter than his older brother, weighing in at a delicate 9lbs., 10ozs, and spanning 20 inches. All are resting comfortably.

ADVANCE EXCUSE FOR SPORADIC BLOGGING: The wife and I are headed to the hospital in another hour or so to have our second child. (A planned C-section.) As far as I recall, it may be a bit chaotic around here for the next few days (months, years, etc.). I'll check in as chaos permits. who knows, maybe I'll be homebound a bit and able to blog. We'll see.

Hope all are having a tremendous Indian Summer weekend.

WATCH ALERT: Try not to miss Andrew Sullivan on this week's REAL TIME WITH BILL MAHER. I don't want to give anything away, but this blogger found Sullivan to be the only reasonable voice on the show (alongside Maher, Pat "Yes, I'm Still Alive" Schroeder, and D.L. "I'm Known for Being Funny, Not Smart" Hughley, so I guess that's no great feat).

Note that Maher is his usual self, which is to say an insufferable, self-righteous prick. (That said, his "New Rules" segment made me laugh, and made Sullivan almost pee his pants.)

GET THEE TO SALON: I used to be a Salon.com subscriber, and I still find it an interesting read from time to time. Check out their "What Do We Do Now," wherein a bunch of liberal intellectuals (plus Moby and Jay McInerney) weigh in on the road ahead. (Caveat: You have to watch a commercial to gain "preminum access," unless you're a subscriber.) There's a journalism prof (if memory serves) named Willis on there who makes a lot of sense. And there's quite a lot of posturing and high falutin' lingo. Entertaining for both sides to read.

BTW: F---- Eminem's stupid song "Mosh" that sounds the same as all his other songs, and f--- the stupid video for the stupid song while you're at it. Bye bye, Marshall. Time to fade, my friend.

(I'm almost startled -- and wholly heartened -- that 51% of the electorate ignored Em, Michael Moore, Sheryl Crow, Harvey Weinstein, et. al. Hot damn. I promised not to gloat, but maybe this one little post is okay. There are a lot of websites that look a little silly today, from Soros's to the aforementioned Plump Propagandist's.) Even Andrew Sullivan (who I credit for waking me up and who I still admire bigtime) is eating a little non-Sheryl crow today.

POINTERS: Was reading a Michael Totten post on Glenn Reynold's infamous Instapundit site (Glenn has had several guest bloggers on of late) and felt he almost took these words right out of my mouth:

I didn’t vote for George W. Bush in 2000. I’ve never voted for any Republican president. This time was my first. And I did so because of the Terror War.

I know quite a few people who didn’t support Bush last time but did support him this time. And every single one of them did so for the same reasons I did. Because of the Terror War. Because Kerry could not be trusted.

I don’t know of anyone, anywhere, who swung from Al Gore to George W. Bush because of gay marriage, tax cuts, or for any other reason. I’m not saying they don’t exist. But if they do exist, I haven’t heard of ’em. They’re an invisible, miniscule minority.

There aren’t enough of us liberal hawks, disgruntled Democrats, neo-neoconservatives - or whatever else you might want to call us - to trigger a political realignment. But it does appear we can swing an election. At least we can help. And though I don’t think of myself as conservative (I did just vote for a Democratic Congress), my alienation from the liberal party is total. A political party that thinks crying Halliburton! is a grown-up response to anti-totalitarian war just isn’t serious.
I may vote for the Democratic candidate next time around. Then again, I might not. I’ll be watching what happens over the next four years, trying to decide if I’m part of the new wave of neoconservatives or if I’m just Independent.

When I naturally jumped over to Totten's own blog I liked what I saw, especially his cite of this passage from Michelle Catalano:

If you don't mind, I'd like to address the throngs of Chicken Littles who seem to be out in full force on the net today. I just want to clear up a few things, as you all seem to be pretty misguided in more than one area today.

I voted for George Bush.

I am not a redneck.

I do not spend my days watching cars race around a track, drinking cheap beer and slapping my woman on the ass.

I am not a bible thumper. In fact, I am an atheist.

I am not a homophobe.

I am educated beyond the fifth grade. In fact, I am college educated.

I am not stupid. Not by any stretch of facts.

I do not bomb abortion clinics.

Okay, so maybe I am a recent NASCAR convert and am in favor of cheap beer (Schlitz!) and butt-slappin'...oh, and I'm not smart enough to call myself an atheistic, just happily agnostic...but I'm good with the rest of it.

BART WILL NOT TEAR DOWN: My pal Bart (his real first name is Craig, actually -- Bart's jut a nickname) likes to think and write. And he seems to do both pretty well. As regular readers know, Craig/Bart supported Kerry in the election.

Turns out his younger brother also supported Kerry and, after learning of the Bush victory, sent Bart a downtrodden note. Bart forwarded his response to me, and I reprint it here with his permission. See what you think:

Take a day to mourn if you need it but the message was pretty clear last night -the Democratic party needs work.. Now we can sit and bitch that the electorate is a bunch of jingoistic morons, that the Bush/Cheney campaign willfully distorted the Kerry/Edwards position, we can say whatever we want, but the fact of the matter is this: everything broke our way. Record turnout, a continuing disaster in Iraq, jobs numbers that would embarrass anyone, and we still lost. Why is that?

Because the Democratic organization ran a crappy race.

Period.

Poll after poll demonstrates that the majority of Americans agree with center-left policies yet we consistently lose and this year not just national elections but we gave up gains in the house and senate too. What does this say? How did a country that believes so overwhelmingly in things that are important to us repudiate those same ideas when put to the vote? Because we have not organized a consistent, powerful message. We defined ourselves by what we weren't as opposed to what we were. What was the cry heard again and again? "All Kerry does is criticize Iraq - what would he do differently?" It's a stupid question and the Left answered it that way "Why the hell should he have to come up with a plan to fix this disaster when the situation is changing so rapidly - he didn't break it, damnit, so let's not give the job to the guy who did!" It's a perfectly reasonable answer and it's also completely wrong. Whether we want to admit it or not, a presidential campaign (actually any campaign) is a sales job. And what's the number one rule in sales? Give the customer what they want. The customer might be an idiot but they have what we need - in this case a vote. So it's time to start building a platform that talks about who we are and what we care about, not why we should boot out the other guy.

I'm not just writing this to blow off steam. I'm making a commitment today to dedicate my time,effort, and money to building a Democratic party that focuses on these issues. Trading e-mails with like minded folk and fervently hoping that the rest of the country comes around to my point of view isn't enough. From this date forward I'm working to make a change so that we won't have to live through this nightmare again.

Today I accept that George W Bush is my President. I will support the war in Iraq because while I think that it was a misguided decision from the start, it is a war that must now be won and won convincingly. I will work my ass off to prevent further such follies from occurring. I will, of course, support all efforts to root out and destroy Jihadist terror and I will hope with every part of me that Bush recognizes that questioning his methods is not akin to questioning the necessity of this war. I will work to bring some type of fiscal sanity to this administration and do all that I can to prevent a further erosion of individual liberty under an administration that seems to believe that they know what's best for me and my family.

My country made a decision yesterday, one with which I do not agree, but now is not the time for bitterness and hatred. George Bush has done what he can to divide this country but in the end this is a country too strong to be torn apart. I will work to promote those ideals that I believe in and most importantly remember that this country has withstood divisions far greater than those we face today and has emerged triumphant. Today I will not tear down but instead begin to build so that four years from now we will be celebrating as citizens across the country stand and endorse those beliefs which truly define America.

INSTAPUNDIT SAYS: Here's Glenn Reynolds' interesting take on the election.

STICKS IN MY CRAW: It's sad that Alan Keyes didn't get a fair shake in Illinois. And you know why? Let's call it what it is: Racism. The Illinois electorate couldn't see past the color of his skin. And that's sad. (Note to the humor-challenged: I'm kidding.)

TYPING FAST: Quick thoughts on the morning after...

Looks like Bush wins. I can't see how it comes out any other way, and I think the Kerry camp's intention to drag this out is unhealthy. Were Bush in Kerry's shoes, I'd want him to concede. I hope Kerry and Sajak will do so soon enough.

Am surprised how resoundingly the states came down against same-sex unions/marriage. Alas, this will be the hot civil rights issue of the next decade, as it should be. It strikes me that most Americans are content to have a sort of gay minstrel show these days, with WILL & GRACE and QUEER EYE FOR THE STRAIGHT GUY, and perhaps to have "don't ask, don't tell" neighbors and colleagues, but not to truly see the entirely worthy human beings alongside them as deserving of all the rights and freedoms available under our Constitution. Very sad.

A colleague just suggested our country needs some kind of reconciliation, some overt act that will allow us to move past the divisiveness of the past year's campaign. My suggestion is reconciliation must start at home. Kerry supporters can start by looking at their friends and family members and colleagues who voted for Bush and respecting their views. And Bush supporters can refuse to gloat, can chase after their guy where he's wrong (stem cell, gay marriage, anti-choice), and can open their hearts and ears to what comes next, devoid of partisan filtering.

ONWARD: So my vote is cast. The election rolls along. Oddly I almost don't care who wins the booby prize of the current presidency. I just want a clear winner.

Had a crappy day of revealing my vote to curious colleagues and then registering their almost universal revulsion. Have even had long-time friends reacting to me with scorn and/or disbelief. Guy at lunch. Paul in the COMMENTS feature. My new colleague Peter. ("You're kidding me!")

Thing is, I'm the same person I was six days ago, six months ago, six years ago, etc. I still care about the same things. But somehow my vote, for many, seems to be shorthand for my big transformation into a jerk or a doofus. So I'm feeling mildly sad tonight, but only mildly. I voted my conscience.

Again, my greatest rooting interest is in a clear-cut victory for somebody. Go winner!

CHECK OUT THE DANDY: A really interesting read -- novelist Tom Wolfe's take on politics and morality and whatnot.

IT COMES DOWN TO GUT: Because I have a full-time (plus) job, and because my boss is living in my shorts, and because my son was up coughing half the night...I just can't pull together a long endorsement right now. I'm pressed for time, and I'm tired.

Still, given how I've blathered on over the past year or so, I feel like I owe it to my loyal readership (intimate crowd that you may be) to reveal my vote, despite my earlier protestations to the contrary.

So, it will come as no surprise to most of you that I'm voting for Bush tomorrow. The good news, for those of you that think I'm making a grave mistake, is that I live in Illinois, and we're already firmly called for Kerry.

Again, apologies that I have little time, but here's my quick rationale:

For me, the terror war (I know, I know, it's not a war, you think we're in more danger under Bush, etc.) is the number one issue of this election. I fell on my knees and cried the morning of September 11. In the days and weeks that followed, President Bush dazzled me with his leadership. I remember thinking, "Thank God it's Bush and Cheney and Rumfield and Powell in there, rather than Gore and Lieberman and the heirs to Madeleine Albright and that anoymous defense guy (Cohen)."

I bought the Iraq war. I still do.

I look at Kerry, and I don't freak out too much. Okay, could be a solid commander-in-chief. I have some reservations, but I can live with them. But then I look at Edwards. At proposed secretary of state Joe Biden. At buddy Ted Kennedy. No fucking way am I gonna contribute to these yahoos getting ahold of the ship of state in uncertain times. In any times. Cheney may lack charisma, but I don't think he's evil at all. I think he's a cold-hearted realist with icewater (and a fair amount of placque) in his veins. He's experienced. So tomorrow I'll vote for the Bush team over the Kerry team. I'll vote for a massive fuck-you to Osama, to the insurgency, and to Michael Moore and his ilk.

Okay, this is more than I wanted to write. Just don't have the time right now. So...I will continue to support AIDS charities. I will continue to push for fiscal discipline at the state and federal level. I will support more aggressive stem-cell research. I will not support school vouchers. I will give money to HRC and to Habitat for Humanity. I will read the PETA e-mails and website, toss off the odd contribution. I will be a big mess of red and blue issues, a mass of purple contradictions.

And I will vote for George W. Bush tomorrow. Because I just can't stomach doing otherwise.

HEARTWARMING HOUND: I love this story.

FOOD FOR MY INNER HAWK: This is like something off a bad horror movie. An evil, cloaked villain making poetic pronouncements of impending doom. Well, here's hoping they can locate the man called "Azzam the American" and run a cruise missile straight up his rectum and out his mouth.

LILEKS 1, SULLIVAN 0: Good God, Lileks eviscerates Sullivan. Hat tip to Dave from just procrastinating for the pointer.

BETTER THAN TOSSING A COIN: Wise man Dave at just procrastinating points out a cool site that allows you to take a "where you stand in the issues" test and then determines who, by dint of your views, you ought to be voting for on November 2. Here are my results:

1. Your ideal theoretical candidate. (100%)
2. Bush, President George W. - Republican (69%)
3. Kerry, Senator John, MA - Democrat (63%)
4. Badnarik, Michael - Libertarian (40%)
5. Peroutka, Michael - Constitution Party (26%)
6. Cobb, David - Green Party (16%)
7. Nader, Ralph - Independent (16%)
8. Brown, Walt - Socialist Party (13%)

As you can see, according to this test I should be a bit confused. Kerry and Bush are not far apart for me. Interesting to see it like this.

You know, one of the amorphous and juvenile things driving me toward W. is the recklessness of many liberals in my life. Today two of my colleagues, both smart and kind people, were really enjoying the story about how some idiot tried to run down Katherine Harris. I was like, That's terrible. And they were like, Not from where we sit. And they didn't seem to be kidding at all.

Then there's all the hateful rhetoric and bumper stickers about Bush, painting him as somehow akin to Saddam or Adolf. There's the really mean idiots who start yelling at me when they hear I'm considering voting for Bush, as if I've somehow become less human before their eyes. There's the idiots like Whoopee Goldberg and Michael Moore and so many other grandstanding celebs who I just want to be quiet. There are so many Lefties I want to vote against I can barely see straight sometimes. I want to vote for kindness, for thoughtfulness, and for tough realism in the face of the real threat of global terror. Although I believe Bush is wrong when he wants to amend the Constitution to prevent same-sex unions, I believe Kerry is lying when he pretends to be some pious Catholic who wants to preserve marriage, kill terrorists, etc. I think Bush is wrong sometimes -- often, even -- but honest. I fear he's incompetent, which scares me. On the other hand I believe Kerry is also wrong sometimes, and dishonest. And I'm not so sure he's competent either. How anyone can see this as such a black/white choice is beyond me.

COLOR ME SPINELESS: So now that two of my intellectual touchstones have come out for Kerry...

Oy vey.

Andrew Sullivan halfheartedly endorses him here.

Crazy Chris Hitchens halfheartedly endorses him here.

Which leaves me with this emerging plan: Maybe I'm just gonna make up my mind, go into the voting booth, and not share my choice with anyone. My secret lever-pull. That way nobody's mad at me or thinks I'm an idiot. It's not the strong thing to do, but it could work...

YET ANOTHER OLDIE ANTES UP: Chicago's other rock scribe Jim Derogatis (who Jeremy and I also saw near the bathroom) adds his two cents re: R.E.M. Actually, it' s more like twenty cents. Pretty good writer, this Jim Dero, even though he can't help but punch his politics into everything he writes.

ANOTHER OLD GUY'S OPINION: Local music hack Greg Kot (who me and Jeremy happened to see on the way to the can) weighs in on last night's show. Mostly I agree with his idea that R.E.M. had no business being as good as they were last night.

BIG NIGHT OUT FOR OLD GUYS: Thanks to my great neighbor-pal Jeremy I had absolutely stellar seats for the R.E.M. show last night here in Chicago. Second row center, with no bouncer or barricade between us and the stage. It was a big night for a couple old guys like me and Jeremy, which culminated with him being pulled onstage by Stipe on accounta his "November 2" shirt. After that abysmal and boring Wilco show of a few weeks ago, it was nice to see a band that actually put on a show. Stipe sounded great, and he was tons of fun to watch. Here are some cameraphone snaps, below. (The beaming guy onstage that's not Stipe? That's Jeremy.)

THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS: Andrew Sullivan is my favorite political writer of our day. Here's why I'm having such a hard time making up my mind.

THE BRECK GIRL: John Edwards digs his hair. Unreal.

HOW-DO: Blippin' off to NY this morning and for the rest of the week. Quick run into LaGoo, then over to Midtown through Thursday. Lots of presentations and busy-ness, but am hoping to hit the health club nonetheless, write the odd blog entry, etc.

SMART PAL: My pal Kev at Two Pings made a really smart post in my COMMENTS, so I decided to rip it out of there and re-post it up here. Kev writes:

Pre-debate CW certainly sucked outloud, huh?

Pre-debate CW:

P1 - Clear Advantage Bush: wartime incumbent on foreign policy

P2 - Advantage Bush: more personable style

P3 - Advantage Kerry: positions poll better on domestic policy

Reality:

P1 - Kerry attacks and appears presidential; Bush appears tired and confused by his hard work

P2 - Kerry continues to attack, continues to appear presidential, but also affable; Bush appears to take it seriously, and stays on message

P3 - Kerry fades, still presidential, Bush has his game on.

All of which is interesting, but doesn't tell us jack about Nov 2, which will be all about turnout, who wins the ground game, and the final two week push. What attacks will Rove and Co launch? Will there be another October Surprise?

Well framed, buddy. As you note, it's fun to watch. If only it wasn't so important.

BUSH IN A LAUGHER: Wow. I'm startled. After sleepwalking through the first two debates George W. Bush woke up tonight, surgically removed FrankenKerry's ass from his body, and then served it to him in a stew. A massive Bush win. Again, I'm not saying anyone should base their votes on these debates, and remember I gave the first two to Kerry in grand fashion, but no way you'll convince me that Bush wasn't more believable, more persuasive, and more likeable on this night.

LOOKIT: My pal Dave at just procrastinating cites an interesting Slate article that sorta explains how come big-bucks guys like Soros are backing Kerry. In a phrase: Because they can.

READING ASSIGNMENT: My pal Isaac (or "Ike" as I alone call him) points out in COMMENTS that I oughta read the whole darn Kerry/NYTmag article wherein Kerry makes his "terrorists as nuisance" statement. Good point. No reason I shouldn't get the context, plus Ike thinks I'll get even more than that. So let's all read it and discuss it here, eh?

WAKING UP TO THIS AND THAT: Call me slow, but moments after I type my minor tribute to Christopher Reeve I find myself downstairs on the treadmill thinking, "Holy Cow, this could be a big factor in the election."

Sure enough they do a heartwarming/heart-rending TODAY segment on him, and I start to get mad. "Damnit, we need to do more and better stem cell research. Not just for Christopher Reeve, but for our friends with diabetes, with MS, with Alzheimer's."

Moments later they do a segment with Hamid Karzai where he thanks the U.S. for their free elections, for our steadfastness. "No way Kerry would have had the cojones to blast into Afghanistan with ground troops, to stay there and facilitate elections, to demonstrate to the rest of the world the power of democracy."

I jump in the car for a Starbuck's run and hear the Stern show kicking off with an audio montage of Bushisms, all manner of verbal blunders and evidence that the cat done took that guy's tongue years ago. What a big dunderhead!

Then I get an e-mail from a military buddy that says "don't believe what you read, this military is totally behind Bush."

Jesu, bambino! If Bush could just come to his senses on the stem-cell stuff, leave gay marriage alone, and grow a brain...

Ain't gonna happen.

So what I need is just a little more sense that Kerry is as hawkish on the war on terror, that HE GETS IT, than I have, especially after his funky little statement in the New York Times over the weekend. Yeah, I know his words are being ripped out of context, but still, he should know better. Somewhere in his heart he is not seeing the same grave threat I'm seeing. Maybe I'm wrong. But I'm definitely gonna be voting my heart...the one that has Christoper Reeve in it, our soldiers, the one that has its own war going on inside...

TEACHER: A moment of silence and respect for Christopher Reeve.

MID-DEBATE BLOGGING: Four years ago I remember saying something to my mom like, "I don't much care for Gore, but I think Bush is just too stupid to be president." Tonight I'm remembering that feeling. Another drubbing thus far, possibly worse than the first one. I'm now leaning farther Kerryward than ever before. I can buy a lot of what the Bush Machine puts out there, the patriotism and the fiscal conservatism. But what I'm really having trouble buying is Bush himself. I respect his post-9/11 leadership, his sacrifice, etc. I don't hate him as many people do. But I'm starting to feel sorry for him.

I'd like to vote against Whoopee Goldberg and Michael Moore and Ted Rall. But I don't know if I want to vote for George W. Bush anymore. I really don't know.

INSTEAD OF AN ELECTION: Maybe Kerry and Bush ought to compete in a kind of modified Decathlon for Democracy, consisting of the following:

Karaoke
Bush looks like the winner after a rousing version of the Oak Ridge Boys' "Elvira," complete with a surprise bass vocal appearance by Colin Powell on the "giddy-up-ah-oom-bop-ah-oom-bop-ah-mow-mow" section. Not to be outdone Kerry comes out in Celine Dion-drag and belts out that horrible song from TITANIC. Draw.

Texas Hold 'Em
Kerry panics when Bush goes all-in on a pair of deuces. He folds, then later tries to claim he didn't when discovers he had the better hand. Winner: Bush.

Greco-Roman Wrestling
See previous posting about how Bush grabs Kerrystein by his coiffure and then blasts his dentures. Winner: Bush.

Marathon
Despite a neon-blue lycra bodysuit and a hood to cover the 'do, Kerry can't reel in the seven-minute-mile president. He tries to draft behind Edward's mole, but his broad teeth continue to catch the wind. Cheney sticks his foot out as Kerry passes the halfway mark, sending the equine harrier toppling. Cheney then literally adds insult to injury by leaning over the prone Kerry and somberly intoning, "Fuck you, horsehead." Winner: Bush.

50-yd. Dash
Bush wins easily after Kerry stumbles on his own hair-do coming out of the blocks. Winner: Bush.

Scrabble
Bush loses when Kerry challenges "nucular." Bush later calls game elitist and scores points with NASCAR dads. Winner: Kerry.

Spelling Bee
See "Scrabble," above. Kerry in a one-round knockout. Winner: Kerry.

Quarters
Teetotaler Bush comes out of retirement to drink the Massachusetts senator under the table, despite the strong coaching he receives from his buddy Ted "The Quartermaster" Kennedy. Kerry proposes a "Name that Bordeaux" rematch, but Bush belches and demurs. Winner: Bush.

Street Racing
Kerry's solar-powered recumbent bike proves no match for Bush's nitrous-oxide injected drag-racer, a hot rod the president affectionately refers to as "Saddam's Suppository." Winner: Bush.

Golden Tee Golf
After Bush pulls Cheney aside to ask him "how'd they get all them little golfers in the box," the vice-president suffers a non-fatal fifth heart attack and the competition is suspended.

INDECISION 2004: Let's boil the presidential election down into a series of questions:

Did Bush earn a second term, or did he screw up enough that we ought to fire him?

Pros: Led us during a tough time, showed that he's a man of fierce resolve. Economy seems to be improving on a macro level. So far no blow jobs from interns, that we know of. Cons: Can't find the OFF switch on his fierce resolve. Not so big on gay people or science. Maybe not the world's best debater or public speaker.

Who's more capable of leading the United States right now, given the challenges we're facing?
Hmmm. How to answer that question? Maybe with more questions...

Who does the military trust more, A) the service-shirker or B) the flip-flopping, proud, anti-war veteran?

C. None of the above.

Who do our allies trust more?

Definitely Kerry.

Who do our enemies trust more?

Definitely Kerry. (Uh oh.)

Who do our enemies fear the most?

Gotta be the Crazy Cowboy.

Who's smarter?

Kerry.

Who's surrounded by smarter people?

Bush. (Or at least they look real smart next to him.)

Whose vice-presidential candidate most resembles a game-show host?

Kerry's.

Whose vice-presidential candidate most resembles Dr. Evil?

Bush's.

Whose daughters are hotter?

Bush's. (Although not nearly as hot as the Gore daughters.)

Whose wife seems like a bigger pain in the ass?

Kerry's.

Which candidate most resembles a horse?

Kerry.

Frankenstein?

Kerry.

Herman Munster?

Kerry?

Howdy Doody?

Bush.

Who would win in a fight?

Now that I'd like to see. In fact, I'd be willing to vote for whoever kicks the other guy's ass. I'm sure Kerry can windsurf faster than Bushie, but I think I might pick the Texan in a good old-fashioned ass-whooping contest. All he'd have to do is grab Kerrystein by the hair and sock him one in the dentures. Game over.

DEMOCRATS 2, REPUBLICANS O? So Andrew Sullivan says Edwards dominated Cheney big-time. Wow. Wish I would've seen it. Will be watching and reading more.

HILTON HOTEL FOXTROT: Missed the veep debate tonight, on accounta a pal had a ticket for me to see Wilco at Radio City, which happens to be two blocks away from my hotel. Turns out the debate was probably more entertaining.

What an overrated band. At one point, when the spotlights were shining in our eyes, my friend turned to me and said, "Not only are they unlistenable, they're unwatchable. All they need to do now is set off stinkbombs, and we'll all be forced to leave."

From the little snippets I've seen on CNN thus far, looks to me (and remember I conceded that Bush got his butt handed to him) like Cheney kicked Sajak's ass. But I'd love to hear what y'all thought...

'PIPHANY: I'm an early arrival in the O'Hare Red Carpet Club, gearing up for a morning flight to Newark. Hooray! Up at 4:30 AM. Oy vey!

I was thinking last night, if I spent all the time I should doing stuff -- an hour or so meditating, an hour or two exercising, an hour writing, time invested in slow and thoughtful meals, quality time for my spouse and son...oh, and work...

Well, I was thinking this sage thought: Ain't enough hours in the day. And somehow it felt mildly liberating to even think that thought, to realize it.

LOOK IN THE MIRROR: Steve Stone is arguably the best analyst in baseball. This year's Chicago Cubs are, inarguably, a bunch of whining chokers who should be mad at themselves instead of at him.

(Don't get me wrong, I still love my Cubs. I'm just mad at 'em.)

KERRY IN A ROUT: No doubt Kerry absolutely kicked his butt. What that means for my vote remains to be seen. I think I'm gonna stay undecided until election day. Why not?

MID-DEBATE SCORING: Bush won the first five minutes decisively. Since then Kerry has been mopping the floor with him.

I AM AN IDIOTIC SEMI-UNDECIDED VOTER: I'm one of those waffling voters who Bill Maher thinks is an idiot. Can't recall the exact quote, but if memory serves Bilious Bill has spewed something like, "Who are these idiots that are still undecided at this point?" Howard "I loved Bush until he threatened MY empire" Stern said something similar the other day, too. And it's not like I'm waffling all that much, since I've made no secret how far Bushward my latest lean is. Still I'll head into tonight's debate with an open mind. I really look forward to watching, to listening, to gaining new insight into the men and their ideas, strategies, poses, and so forth. It's goddamn amazing theater, right? I mean, if my high school reunions were the best bucks I've spent in a long time, this'll for darn sure be some of the most entertaining non-HBO TV I've seen in a fur stretch. Or whatever the saying is. Are. Err...

Not that you wanna hear grumpin', 'specially if you're one of those folks who thinks I'm a hateful idiot for favoring Bush over Kerry, but I'll tell you this: It's not that fun being a Bush supporter. On accounta I've always fancied myself at least partly intellectual, at least somewhat Bohemian, more Bucktown (Chicago) than Buckhead (Atlanta), if you know what I mean. And so that means that not so many of my friends are on my team, you know, and those that are (no offense) are the ones who I've always thought were a little too uptight, right? Not the smokers, not the ones who went to indie-rock shows and rep cinema with me, but the ones in the golf shirts with their cell phones on their hips. Okay, no fair, too broad, etc., but still...even some of my Right-leaning pals wouldn't object too strenuously to that characterization.

My good buddy Mike, the Kerryward dude who I ref'd in the post above, just wrote me back a brilliant little letter. And this guy is so smart and big-hearted that I wonder how I can end up on the opposite side of the aisle from him. From Isaac. From Craig. From Kevin.

My mom agrees with me, which should be more reassuring than it is. (Sorry, Mom!) If I do end up voting for Bush this'll make the first election where we've ever cast the same vote, I think.

My buddy John is going Bush bigtime. He's a former Dade County prosecutor, a self-described "self-righteous Catholic" who couldn't be much more generous, worthy of respect, kind, etc. And tough as nails. This is a guy who doesn't talk too much, just walks the walk. Works harder than anybody you've ever seen, lends a helping hand to anyone who needs it, etc.

Oh, and there's Brian, who's a gentle soul and a Bush guy. He's a kind of thoughtful libertarian, the type who thinks Bush is too tough on social stuff and too lax on fiscal stuff. He'd like Bush to quit worrying about same-sex marriage so much and start figuring out how to choke off gov't spending.

Mike, above, after making several smart, well-reasoned points, summarizes that he's just had a bad feeling about Bush, almost from the get-go, and although he doesn't love Kerry he just can't get past the bad voodoo of Bush. To some extent, I have these same feelings about Kerry. I had a brief flirtation with Dean, way back when I figured I'd surely vote for whoever the Dems put up there. But then Kerry took hold, and prolly largely owing to my post-Clinton distrust of prevaricators and feel-good overthinkers, I really started considering Bush.

Whatever, and too much blah-blah. That's what you get when I get a rare few hours off work and Daddyhood to postulate wireless-style from a Starbucks. So I'll be watching tonight, with some small part of me rooting for one of the guys to melt down so completely that we can all just vote for the obviously more capable bro'. I wanna live in a Purple State in my mind, I guess.

ON LEADERSHIP AND FLATULENCE: Traveling again, Sacramento to be exact. Jotted off a quick note to a Kerry-voting pal this morning, and in lieu of the real and custom post y'all readers deserve, I'll excerpt that note here, for your edification and enjoyment:

Sure, Bush's ad is manipulative to the point of being dishonest. And I think he's stupid on same-sex marriage, stem cell, choice, etc.

But I think Kerry is always qualifying everything, with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, which makes me think he's just an overthinking BIG PUSSY. Now, I, too, am an overthinking big pussy, as I'm sure you are, too. But that's why we'd make bad presidents. Bush, like Reagan and Roosevelt who you wisely cited, is just the brand of clued-in and yet clueless cowboy that I think makes a good prez. It's my opinion that the prez is mostly about security and bully pulpit morality and, as such, I like how Bush represents more morality (via less abortion, JudeoChristian values, importance of marriage and family) and more badass defense than prevaricating Kerry. He's, admittedly, too extreme on both fronts, but I think that's a leader's curse and requirement. Pull like a motherfucker and then let the populace be the drag on you. And I suspect and hope that, when it comes to social issues, the illusory (but I believe real) will of the people will overwhelm Bush's moralizing in practice, moving us closer to same-sex marriages, keeping abortion legal (albeit scarce and under fire), and protecting our civil liberties.

I may be wrong.

And I'm definitely disoriented at 39K feet, somewhere over Denver, en route to Sacramento. But that's largely because there's a mad farter unleashing his/her inner ass juices on his/her unsuspecting neighbors. Good God. For the love of all that is non-stinky, he/she must be stopped. Stoppered. Butt plugged! We need handheld fart-detection units up here...so that this cowardly ass-terrorist has to face the music, has to be held (at arm's length) accountable, etc.

BELIEVING BUSH: I thought Bush's recent speech at the UN beat hell out of Kerry's parallel address at NYU. I have a sense that Bush and team grasp the unique nature of the war against fundamentalist terror, while Kerry continues to think that his winning personality will somehow reverse time and win the waffling French and Germans back to our side. Look, many of you who are posting COMMENTS to this site -- Isaac, Bart, Kevin -- are among the smartest and kindest folks I know. I have tremendous respect for you. I also respect John Kerry, his service to our country, and the tremendous sacrifice he's making as he runs for President. But I guess deep down I prefer a leader who's something of a cowboy, who knows his own heart and convictions and isn't afraid to follow them. I don't love Bush. I don't hate Kerry. But I much prefer the guy who's walking arm in arm with Allawi, a man who risks his life with every breath he draws, to the guy who's calling him a liar in the middle of a conflagration. What kind of relationship will Kerry have with Allawi if he wins? I can't help but feel like Kerry is clutching at straws instead of advancing an agenda born of deep conviction.

My vote likely will be to stay the course, to be resolute, to celebrate our soldiers and our leaders as right-minded heroes, and to hope that the good that's happening in Afghanistan (reported in the NYT, no less!) will eventually be replicated in Iraq.

And Kevin, for what it's worth, I read all kinds of sites and magazines. For goshshakes, I was a longtime Mother Jones and Utne Reader and Harper's subscriber, an NPR donor, a Dukakis voter, a Howard Zinn book buyer, a Noam Chomsky audio-book reader. I seen plenty of Left in my day, and I still subscribe to the PETA newsletter and give money to HRC. I ain't no Swaggart. But much of what's Right makes more sense to me than it used to, and you probably have Andrew Sullivan to thank or blame for that. (He's my role model for flamboyantly liberal conservatism. Or is that libertarianism? Who cares.)

That said, even he's not voting for Bush this time around. Oy vey. I have no answers, only questions. But when it comes time to vote I'll take my guess just as you'll take yours. I don't believe there's a right answer. So long as that vote is cast out of love and hopefulness, then it's fine with me.

BUSH BITES BUT WHO'S BETTER? Jonah Goldberg describes some of my troubles here. I know Bush has been f'ing up left and right, but I'm not convinced Kerry would be any better. If Kerry can somehow convince the electorate that he has a better plan for Iraq and beyond (as it relates to homeland security and foreign policy), he'll win. Stem cells and same-sex marriage and National Guard responsibilties are likely on the back burner for most of us this time around.

MR. BIGTIME: I hear through the familial grapevine that, while my parents were watching our Ryder Cup team take it on the chin, my middle brother Eric was firing off a hole in one, winning the longest-drive competition, and captaining his team to victory in his own Michigan golf event. And I bet he was wearing a better looking shirt than our Ryder Cuppers, too. Congrats, Eric!

VIETNEXT? My pal Kevin suggested (in the Comments section of this blog) I check out Sidney Blumenthal's disquieting piece in the Guardian, titled "Far Graver than Vietnam." Oy vey. Yuck. Horrifying and sad. Then I read blogger Belmont Club, suggesting that the casualty trends are not as bad as they seem at first blush, that insurgents are not gathering steam but simply making last stands in a few isolated areas. (And check out the amazing Comments posters on that site!)

Meanwhile I still don't know what to think. Apparently smart, honest people disagree. And feel horrible about the war, no matter which side they're sitting on.

WHO LIKES KERRY? According to former Clinton pal Dick Morris, the answer is nobody.
Like Clinton, Morris may be one morally messed up dude. But also like his former pal Clinton, he sure comes off smart and insightful. I swear if Kerry would just read AndrewSullivan.com and anything Morris writes he'd be better off than he is.

GO OSO! Back in the Red Carpet Club this morning, in advance of a quick flight into LaGuardia (and then back out of Newark tonight). A great weekend with tons of time with my very pregnant wife and son. Took C.J. to the Wrigley Field bleachers for the first time. His favorite player is Sammy "Oso." Pretty funny.

A TONIC FOR MY MALAISE: When I'm feeling hawkish, this Marine speaks for me. God bless him.

BAWDY BLOGGER: If you haven't heard of Jessica Cutler yet, read this story. Some have called her the Newinsky. Bottom line is I think she embodies what always bothered me about SEX IN THE CITY.

BEAUTY: Shot by my brother from an airline seat, coming into Chicago...

DISGUST: I find myself generally disgusted with politics at this point. I don't like Bush. I don't like Kerry. I don't like pro-war or anti-war. I don't like Dems or Repubs.

Sadly I've arrived at the usual "lesser of two evils" place, familiar to me from past elections. Gotta vote for somebody.

My only emotion around the war is despair. Okay, maybe a little frustration, too. Worry. Sorrow.

Alright, a lot of emotions. Is this ever gonna be alright?

Terrorists. You can't live with 'em, you can't kill 'em. Now what?

Just read an e-mail posted on AndrewSullivan.com, wherein the writer suggests that it's getting harder and harder to deny the comparisons between Vietnam and Iraq. I hope that's a pessimist writing that. Two weeks after a jingo convention in New York, I'm still wondering what our endgame is in Iraq and whether or not we're truly safer.

Smart people on both sides of the fence have totally different answers to the above questions, of course.

Maybe my next political option is to turn into a Buchananesque isolationist. But then I'm a sucker for anyone who talks with an air of certitude.

DADDYING: My 2-year-old son C.J. is really into baseball. Any time he sees a sporting event on TV he gleefully shouts, "Chicago Cubs!"

A few nights ago he was pitching to me in our living room, and I smacked his off-speed junk directly into a hanging light fixture, breaking the halogen lightbulb in a dramatic shower of sparks. Since then he's begging for me to reprise the performance, as if I can somehow knock a light out with every swing of the bat. "Daddy, break a light! Break a light!"

He was so proud of me, I almost couldn't stand it. That I could be as reckless as him, as blatantly out of control, made his day. "Daddy in trouble," was another thing he said several times.

We spent the holiday weekend up in Michigan with my parents. Although the weekend was littered with highlights, one was memorably captured in pixels. Below is a shot of an overjoyed C.J., moments after his Grandpa Tom presented him with his "special drink," a fruit smoothie the two collaborated on.

NAME CHANGED TO PROTECT THE, UH, YOU KNOW: Just got this in my e-mail. It's for real. I know the guy. Too damn funny (as long as he's alright):

You may want to give [name deleted] a call today to see if he's still alive. Apparently he decided to take out the trash at 1 am on Sunday night & the door slammed closed behind him, locking him out of the house. Thinking a rear door may be open, he scaled a 7 foot fence to his backyard. Sitting atop the fence, he suddenly remembered he had locked those doors recently. So he goes to dismount the fence, catches a heel & slams into the ground, with his arm breaking his fall. Unfortunately, the arm crushed 3-5 ribs upon impact. Unable to move for 25 minutes, he rested on the ground in agony until he mustered enough strength to crawl across the road to a neighbors house for help. He went to the hospital - and they released him, telling him to just rest. Later, the hospital calls back saying they had misdiagnosed the x-rays & to get back there immediately. Apparently one of the ribs punctured the sack around the lung, meaning the lung would slowly collapse. He'll be in the hospital until Friday with a tube draining & inflating the lung. Visited him last night & he seemed to be okay, or perhaps just very high on morphine. He can be reached in his room at [deleted] City Hospital at xxx-37x-xxx4. Give him some grief to cheer him up a bit.

KUDOS TO THE SPEECHWRITER: After a frenzied listing of all the defense programs John Kerry has voted against, Zell Miller unleashed what must be one of the best lines ever uttered at a political convention:

"This is the man who wants to be the commander in chief of our U.S. Armed Forces?" Miller asked. "U.S. forces armed with what? Spitballs?"

VENTRE ON KOBE: Ace freelancer Michael Ventre pins the blame on Hurlbert. (Hurlbert? Sounds like a drunk Scott Adams character.)

PAGING DELTA FORCE: This is who we're fighting, the people who would take hundreds of children hostage. I don't know how to fight this war, or if it's even winnable. But I do know you don't negotiate with people like this, and you don't wage a more "sensitive" battle against them. Here's my question, my overarching question: When it's time to face down these maggots, do I trust Bush/Cheney/Powell/Rumsfeld...or Kerry/Edwards/?/?. I do know I'm glad it's no longer Clinton/Gore/Albright/Cohen, for goshsakes. (It *was* Cohen, right? Lord.)

MR. MUGWUMP: Just so y'all are clear I'm not turning into a partisan Republican, let me formally announce (as if anyone cares) my endorsement for Barack Obama (in the Illinois Senate race) over the engaging nutbird that is Alan Keyes. (I find Keyes somewhat mesmerizing, until I actually listen to what he's saying, and then I often feel disgusted.)

ONLY IN AMERICA: Apparently I'm supporting the Party of Don King.

BYLINE ALERT: Michael Ventre has to be one of the best freelance writers in the business. Here's his take on the Kobe Bryant trial, enlightening and entertaining as always.

THE POLITICS OF FASHION: Walking around Chicago over the weekend I couldn't help but notice all the Kerry/Edwards paraphernalia. T-shirts. Signs. Bumper stickers. Lapel pins.

Everywhere I looked I saw someone proudly displaying their support for the Dem ticket. Meanwhile, I saw only one Bush sign.

I wrestled with what conclusions I should draw:

a) Kerry is going to win in a landslide?

b) Chicago is a very Democratic town?

c) Bush backers couldn't care less for displaying their affinity for their candidate?

I'm sure the answer is d), all of the above, but I really think there's something to c).

I know a lot of folks in each camp. My Kerry pals are almost apoplectic with disgust for our president and, as a result, are much more likely to wear political t-shirts and display signs than are my Bush buddies. My Bush buddies, on the other hand, are a portrait of quiet resolve, perhaps not altogether wowed by 43, but certain they'll choose him over Kerry.

Meanwhile, I continue to straddle my fence, as I expect to do until election day. Maybe that sounds idiotic to some, but I think I'd like to keep listening, keep thinking, and eventually make the best choice I can with the best information available on the last day possible.

If I had to vote today, I'm back on the Bush side. My most significant disagreements with him -- on same-sex marriage (and specifically on amending the Constitution to prohibit same), abortion (I can't imagine making it illegal, but I think we should continue as a society to make them highly undesirable and yes, even stigmatized), and stem-cell research (let's not create a factory-farm scenario for embryos, but fortheloveofGod can't we please make the most of our homeless stem cells?) -- don't outweigh my utter distrust in Kerry's ability to deal with foreign policy, homeland security, and the problem of maniacal Islamic terrorists and totalitarian regimes the world over who would like to exterminate us.

So I don't expect to be wearing any t-shirts anytime soon.

NOTHING TO CRY ABOUT: An absolutely beautiful piece in the Chicago Tribune about mortality.

DO THE STRAND: I happened across a book last night, a poetry collection by Mark Strand, the Warren Beatty of American verse. I had forgotten how compelling and honest I found so many so many of his poems way back in college. If you're bored or intrigued, this site has a nice little bio of Mark, plus links to some of his best poems. "Courtship" is especially hilarious, and "Keeping Things Whole" is something of a Zen koan.

WRITING IN THIN AIR: I've been writing plane poems of late. I published one on a friend's blog the other day, as I mentioned earlier.

Here's another recent plane poem:


ON THE PLANE

At coming-down time,
right before you
see the ground
there is a moment of

“is this it?”

a leaning back falling
feeling like a child
sliding down
the stairs
on your behind
for no real reason
save for fun
and because you can.

TOTALLY WICKED: Check out this cool Ali G Translator.

FILE UNDER REASONS TO VOTE FOR BUSH: Apparently Omarosa is a Kerry supporter.

POEMS ARE REALLY BIG WITH THE KIDS THESE DAYS: The lovely and talented Herberta has published one of my poems. Check it out!

JEREMY PIVEN, I TAKE IT ALL BACK: Have been Tivo-ing ENTOURAGE, the new HBO show that tells the tale of a 'round-the-hood NYer who makes it big in Hollywood and takes his posse of pals with him. Still not sure how I feel about the Markie Mark Wahlberg-produced series -- can't tell if Wahlberg is laughing at himself or celebrating himself, and only the former is funny over the long haul -- but one thing I do know: Jeremy Piven, who I've often loathed in person (screaming and fist-pumping like a loon at a Pearl Jam show, drunk at a Cubs game, etc.) and on screen is friggin' AWESOME as the star's vapid, hard-charging agent. His direction to the star's sidekick a couple episodes that they "hug it out" after having an argument was genius, and not just the writing, but the way Piven plays it. He shifts gears between ingratiating and grating, razor-sharp and retarded with consummate skill, creating one of the best comic performances I've seen in a long while, maybe since Rip Torn's "Artie" on LARRY SANDERS. Fantastic.

BACK FROM BLOGBLIVION: What happens to this blogger is that after a certain point, when so much has happened since last I wrote, I get stuck. What to write, where to start, so what, etc. That's where I am right now. And usually the only thing that gets me unstuck is to just start somewhere in the middle.

One thing I've been thinking is how much better it might be if I could just write everything that happens, unvarnished. Use real names. Cite real problems. Wrestle with demons incarnate. Y'know? My boss this. My wife this. My mom that. My son etc. Blah blah blah. But then even when I'd be trying to get somewhere good, to wrestle down angels in demon's clothing so as to better celebrate the bestness of my life...you know...to sling mud with good intentions, to alchemize mud into chocolate fudge, to turn bitterness into tanginess, to make sour into something to be savored...well, people's feelings can get hurt, even when that's the last thing you wanna do.

Can't a writer wrangle his way off the hook by disclaiming at the outset: "I know nothing. I'm just sayin'..."

Nope. It don't work that way.

So I'm back from a week away, went to another high school reunion. See I split time between two high schools. One was a kind of redneck public school in a post-industrial Ohio town, the town where I spent some of the best years of my life in what, years later, doesn't look like a very great place to grow up. Lots of latent Type 2 diabetes, I'd wager. Not a lot of ethnic food or racial mixing. No Starbucks. Etc.

The other was a preppy public school in a post-industrial suburb of Detroit, another city on the decline, and yet this second school was still afloat in a major and stable way, as old money worked wonders plugging holes and propping it up.

The Detroitish reunion was first, a tony, cocktail-centric affair not out of line with the kind of social stuff me and the wife do here in Chicago. Bunch of college-educated folks comparing notes about babies and corporate travel and then repairing to each others' nearby sailboats for a nightcap. A pleasant, occasionally ecstatic event.

Then came Ohio, a wedding band-bolstered beerfest where various social strata mixed somewhat uneasily, with talk of stepkids and teenage offspring, of city jobs and smalltown scandals ("yep, he's back in crack rehab") even as a surplus of goodwill held everything together. It was like, hey, we went to friggin' SECOND GRADE together, we are friends 'til the end. Sincere. Seriously. Loved it.

Thing is both were great, the best entertainment values a 38-year-old soul searcher is ever gonna find. People were open and kind at both events, genuinely thrilled to have a few hours together. There were these aforementioned social differences, some nuances of content and context (in Michigan we wondered who might have Mob ties; in Ohio we wondered if a fistfight would break out), but all in all a big smile and a wide-eyed sense of wonder were the common wardrobe at both events, and a kind of "holy shit, look at us" attitude permeated the music and memories and kept most of us up past our bedtimes.

So that's one middle I can give you, readers. There's also the stuff about drinking, about friendship, about not being able to go back home but doing it anyway, about realizing that all you have is your time and it's not yours anyway, so you have nothing, and then circling back through all the damn Zen books you've been reading and wondering if you're still trying too damn hard at something that requires no effort.

The question I keep coming back to is: Do I focus on the much ado, or on the nothing?

And the answer I keep coming up with is the infernallly true: Yes.

If that makes as much sense to you as it does to me, Hello!

DUH: Wow! The monkey can talk! Holy cow, maybe them animals do have feelings!

IF IT QUACKS LIKE A WINNER, IT MAY BE A WINNER: Alex at the Cub Reporter does a great job of summarizing my shock and awe at the Cubs' front office, especially their recent, brilliant acquisition of the best available non-pitcher in the game at the trading deadline.

WE NEED MORE BALLOONS! DNC dude Don Mischer's "more balloons" tirade (apparently caught live last night on CNN) ruled.

It almost sounds as if my pal Dick Costolo scripted it:

'Go balloons, go balloons! Go balloons! I don't see anything happening. Go balloons! Go balloons! Go balloons! Standby confetti. Keep coming, balloons. More balloons. Bring it- balloons, balloons, balloons! We want balloons, tons of them. Bring them down. Let them all come. No confetti. No confetti yet. 'No confetti. All right, go balloons, go balloons. We need more balloons. All balloons! All balloons! Keep going! Come on, guys, lets move it. Jesus! We need more balloons. I want all balloons to go, goddammit. Go confetti. Go confetti. More confetti. I want more balloons. What's happening to the balloons? We need more balloons.'We need all of them coming down. Go balloons- balloons? What's happening balloons? There's not enough coming down! All balloons, what the hell! There's nothing falling! What the fuck are you guys doing up there? We want more balloons coming down, more balloons. More balloons. More balloons'... "

What a nut!

CAFFEINATED KERRY: This guy agrees. Kerry blew it.

RAW DEAL: Just back from an empty nearby sushi joint where I popped for a high-priced lunch. I go there every now and again and am known to many of the folk there. Which made my recent troubles all the more odd...

I order a Coke, as I often do, and receive a very flat, light brown Diet Coke instead. "Ummm, can I get a regular Coke, please," I ask my nice waitress.

She comes back with a really flat, light brown Coke. "Ummm, this is flat, or maybe the syrup is low, or probably both," I tell her.

"I get you new one," she says.

She comes back with the same thing.

"Still bad," I say.

She goes away and comes back again.

"You in luck," she says. "Found a bottle. This last one from bottle."

It's flat. It's light brown. It ain't from no bottle.

"Ummmm, maybe can I just get a ginger ale?"

She goes away and the skinny manager-lady starts gesticulating at me from behind the bar, pointing the soda-gun at me and shaking it. "This good!" she says angrily. "Nothing wrong! Good Coke!" She's not smiling, and her body is rigid. Her lips are drawn taut across her teeth in a sneer.

"Not good Coke," I say. "But I don't want to argue. I just want a ginger ale."

"This good Coke! Nothing wrong!" she insists, loudly, from across the restaurant.

"The Coke is fucked up," mumbles one of the sushi chefs behind the sushi bar.

My food comes and my order is wrong. I tell my waitress I wrote down a spicy tuna handroll and a tuna/avocado maki roll, and that she's delivered a spicy tuna handroll and a spicy tuna/avocado maki roll. I see the manager-lady shaking her head from across the bar. The waitress just looks at me with a little smile, as if to say, "I'll stand here all day, but that's all you're getting, mister."

I eat my wrong roll. I sip on my flat ginger ale, which has been placed alongside two bad attempts at Coke, left there perhaps to remind me that I'm a picky asshole.

I sign the $35 bill and figure out why this place is always empty.

ME NO LIKE HILLARY EITHER: I'm half-pleased with something I wrote in Just Procrastinating's comment feature:

Hillary is flat-out tone deaf to her own vocal presence. She's awful, frowny, and awkward, as if she were being maneuvered by an arthritic puppeteer and voiced by a non-native speaker who's mastered pronunciation but not inflection...

Sometimes I get very attached to my own perceived/imaginary cleverness.

LET'S NOT PRETEND KERRY IS A GOOD SPEAKER: I only saw clips from the Kerry speech last night. (I was flying back from Dallas and only arrived home near the end.) I rewound our Tivo and caught some of it until my wife made me switch to the local news. Then they played five or so clips. Then I caught some more this morning.

I'm not going to base my vote on a speech. But boy was that a dud. Kerry was sweaty, rushed, and unconvincing. A stellar orator he is not. Of course Bush is no Martin Luther King Jr. himself. Still, I was shocked to hear people saying he gave "the speech of his life." I mean, c'mon. I may vote for him, but he was abysmal. Gore had more charisma.

All I kept thinking was, Boy is this whole thing hokey. Can the chorus of "help is on the way," take off your funny hats, and just distribute a one-sided, bullet-pointed sheet of where you are on the issues, who's endorsing you, etc. If generals endorse you, great. If fat ladies in silly hats cheer you, no big whoop.

So I guess I'm burned out on the Dem convention. And the only reason I'm looking forward to the Republicans' event -- well, wait, there are two reasons:

1. Wanna see McCain speak. He's always great.
2. Wanna see W. speak. He's always entertaining, if only 'cause his style is not unlike a drunk on a tightrope in his boxer shorts, not aware he's drunk, not aware he's on a tightrope, and not aware we can see his balls from where we're sitting.

CALL ME A SUCKER FOR CONVENTION RHETORIC: This time from a Dallas airport lounge...

Okay, so now I'm listing Kerryward. An e-mail to Andrew Sullivan summarizes my feelings nicely. An excerpt:

"I'm a social libertarian, fiscally conservative, hawk -- an eagle, in your lexicon. In the past, I've been willing to give Democrats a chance. I voted for Clinton in 1992, although I soon regretted it. Since 9/11, I've morphed into a one-issue voter -- the war on terrorism, at home and abroad. And until recently, my efforts to be open to John Kerry ran aground whenever I considered who the terrorists would rather see elected. And my anxiety only intensified after recent reports on pre-election terrorism attacks. Surely the terrorists' rationale for such attacks would be to help elect Kerry, a la Spain. I'm not sure American voters would react the way Spaniards did, but the terrorists may not appreciate the resolve of the American heartland.But if the terrorists were listening to Edwards last night, and Obama the night before, they may be second-guessing their plans. If the Kerry camp's war rhetoric is in earnest (and there are good reasons to doubt it), then the terrorists may not get the easier ride they were strategizing for."

Go read the whole thing. Well worth it. Bottom line is if I believed Kerry was every bit as hawkish on terror as Bush (just smarter), and if I believed Kerry favored personal responsibility and accountabilty over government subsidy/assistance, then he's my guy. He's obviously smarter, more courageous, and more qualified than our current president.

One thing that still pisses me off are the literal nobs who keep acting as if Bush is some sort of evil genius (even as they call him an idiot), some kind of grand-plan conspiracy master who's managed to create a profitable new chaos for himself and his best pals the Bin Ladens.

So even though I may -- MAY -- vote Kerry, I'll still think Michael Moore is just as big, fat and idiotic as Rush Limbaugh, and that the Hollyweird liberal set (for which Timothy Robbins and Sean Penn have become poster boys) are pompous poopheads.

Oh, and liked that spiked Ann Coulter column, even though I'm generally no fan of hers. Go figure.

WHERE I BE? I was at my 20th high school reunion over the long weekend. So much to process and maybe even post about. But just thought I should let my few faithful readers know why I've been quiet for the past few days. More from the road on the 'morrow, as my week launches off to the Big Apple and the Big D. See you back here soon...

NEVER BE IDLE: Oh, great. So in-flight cell phones are just over the horizon. Before long it'll be normal to e-mail, call, and just generally be productive on the flight. Joy.

What's next? Stair-steppers attached to the barber chair? Laptops embedded under massage tables? Constant productivity is way overrated.

RECALLING THE WHITE FLAG: Okay, so I don't give up on the Cubs. I take it back. But man-oh-man were they embarassing yesterday. I was so thrilled to see them put eight runs on Matt Morris early...and then I sat there in disbelief as they found various ways the rest of the game to play bad and look worse, resulting in a backbreaking loss.

Still, there was that little glimmer in the ninth where I sensed they just might come back. And so I started feeling bad about my post, my early white flag. Thing is this team is still dead-center in the wildcard race, still a formidable club that can beat anyone on any given day.

So now I'm looking for Hendry to make a deal. We need a shortstop and some bullpen help, for sure. We could probably use another super-sub, given that Hollandsworth may be out for a while and Aramis is a gimp. C'mon, Hendry. Nose back to grindstone. Phone to shoulder. I promise not to give up if you don't.

Meanwhile, it's time to see some character from this team. No more temper tantrums. No more excuses. Let's see how big a dent we can put into St. Looey's 10-game lead. Let's see how quickly we can lock up the wildcard. And let's see a chance for vengeance against those Cardinals in the playoffs. Heck, screw vengeance. Let's redeem ourselves, earn back some of the respect that was handed away in the past 48 hours.

I AM A BIG SUCKER: The Cubs have totally self-destructed in the past 24 hours. Miserable. Is it hockey season yet?
 
Thank God NASCAR revs it up again this weekend. I need a diversion.

SEMANTICS: I agree with Schwarzenegger, although I don't think he should have used the term "girly men." "Great big pussies" might have been more apt.

CYBER-SISTERS AND ME: I guess I disagree pretty evenly with BOTH of my sisters-in-law from time to time. Still, they're both great people, both interesting and smart. All the Hess boys have been lucky in love.
 
One of the sisters-in-law, Paula, writes phaneromania, among other things. The other, Laurel, is a frequent Blind Camel reader and commenter, and now she's started to do the same on Paula's blog. Right now, we're all weighing in on a discussion of fraternity/sorority life, pro and con, etc. A pretty amazing thing that we can have this conversation in this way...

BLOGGER BETTER: Looks like Blogger has really improved the "Edit Posting" interface, with all manner of easy, training-wheels tags for losers like me. Check it out:

"This is a blockquote."
- Scott Hess

 
You can also do colors...
 

BLAH BLAH BLAH: I got to hang out in the pits and the garages at the Chicagoland Speedway, in advance of last Saturday's Tropicana 400 (NASCAR) race. I met and shook hands with my favorite driver, Jimmy Johnson, and I stood about a foot away from most of the cars that would later hurtle around the track at around 200 MPH. Then I watched the race itself from a corporate box above the start/finish line, and I won $250 in a pick-the-winner pool. (I blindly drew race winner and controversy-hound Tony Stewart.)

I spent Monday and Tuesday in the Pacific Northwest, nestled in amidst mountains and tall trees. Oh, and there's water flowing here, there, and everywhere. Very pretty.

Yesterday I flew first class back from Seattle and sat next to a young, smart United pilot. He answered a bunch of my dumb questions about flying, and he told me turbulence to a pilot is just like waves to a guy driving a boat: no big deal, just something you have to maneuver through. He made several analogies between air and water, and said driving a plane is also alot like driving a submarine. Anyway, for this nervous flyer, it was a big help to hear from a guy who lives half his life aloft.

What else? I'm glad Bush's gay-marriage amendment got smashed. I'm glad Tony Blair is off the hook in the UK, just as Bush is (or should be) here. (I'm referring to the two recent intelligence inquiries that found that the pre-war intelligence was faulty, not the leaders' judgement.) Neither one of these guys acted recklessly in sending troops to oust Hussein. That's my view and I'm sticking with it. I think the two inquiries support that view.

I listened to the Smiths "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now" in the car today, and I laughed out loud. "I was looking for a job and then I found a job/And heaven knows I'm miserable now." Indeed!

LIVE FROM SOFTWARE CENTRAL: Little to say today, save for the fact that, ironically, I'm on via dialup from Bellevue, WA, just a short jaunt away from the software capitol of the world: Redmond.

Some of my stress fell away yesterday, and some of it lingers. I've had the good sense to go running each of the last two mornings, and it's true there's no substitute for exercise when you need to clear a cloudy mind. Still, what's plaguing me is more central, the question of how to spend my fleeting life and time. I have the best job I've ever had, in many respects, and still I'm not very happy. The good news is I can see the solution...now it's just a matter of enacting it.

Sucks to have to have this blog be so veiled, eh? I've never been as good with the reckless public disclosure stuff as some of my blogging brethren. For better and for worse, I'm sure.

LIVE FROM LUMBER COUNTRY: Online from Portland (Oregon) today. Have been re-learning lessons about stress and how it can manifest itself in a million different ways. More on that when I have a free moment. In the meantime, let me simply note that it's awfully pretty out here this time of year. My view is framed by mountains and washed in green, gold, and a sleepy brown.

VOICE OF REASON? Am listening to a CNN press conference about the Senate Intelligence Committee report on WMD in Iraq and am struck by how impressive and reasonable the committee chair, Kansas senator Pat Roberts, comes across. He's old and not especially telegenic...but he seems "presidential" as hell. I'm gonna keep my eye on the guy. Maybe he actually favors stem-cell research and same-sex marriage.

A BETTER MAC ATTACK: Here's a better evaluation of what's wrong with the Mac show.

STINKERMAN: Hit the 12:01AM showing of Will Ferrell's new ANCHORMAN tonight (this morning) across the street from the hotel. Sadly, it was just as I suspected. More dumb than funny. Sure, there are some moments. I'm too tired to recount them. Before I retire, though, it's my duty to tell you this: Wait for HBO, or at the very least, BLOCKBUSTER. This is lighter fare than even ELF or OLD SCHOOL. This ninety-minute movie had less big belly laughs than a single SNL skit. A few good sight gags and cameos, a couple funny facial expressions and ad-libbed lines, but in general a sprawling mess of a costume comedy stretched three times too long.

MAC IS BACK AND STILL SUCKS: The second night of MCENROE was nearly as awful as the first. Mac seems to be scolding more than hosting the show. Somehow he turned telling Ralph Nader that he'd voted for him in the last election into a harangue, and he made it seem like Nader was only there to hawk his book. (Mac would grudgingly wave it around at odd intervals.)

Next came the ridiculous Lars and James from Metallica. Lars is about 5'2" and extra dorky, hardly the brooding, intense rock drummer of legend. And James is a gangly lerch, sort of like a stretched-out Jeff Bagwell with an extra helping of self-consciousness. They were shilling for their documentary, which came across as unwittingly comical (a sort of real-life SPINAL TAP), when they seemed to be aiming for poignant.

Finally Mac grumped at Karch Kiraly, the aging beach volleyballer. It was a mess. A mess, I tell you.

ONE SHINING MOMENT: Okay, there was one highlight on the miserable MCENROE debut last night. Asked to explain how he's managed to stay in such good shape all these years, Sting thought about it and replied: "Vanity."

Of course that didn't make up for the "it can't get any worse -- oh no, it's getting worse" nature of the rest of the show. The finale -- Johnny Mac playing audibly poor guitar (for gosh sakes, if he sucks just turn him down! worked for Bob Weir) backing his wife -- was creepy, awkward, and hard to watch. As the credits rolled to the strains of "Goodbye to You" (with Sting attempted to lend ear-cupped backing vocals) one could hardly muster anything but sympathy for the tennis brat and his television brethren.

THIS SHOW CANNOT BE SERIOUS: Am about twenty minutes into watching the trainwreck that is the MCENROE show on CNBC. Although I've been a McEnroe fan over the years, there's no denying he's more wooden than Trump, more awkward than Chevy, and more impatient than...well, I mean, his timing is horrendous. He's almost annoyed at the audience as they clap and laugh at Will Ferrell. Johnny Mac is so unfunny and uncomfortable he's almost destroying Ferrell's dead-center comedic genius. Unreal.

FROM A GARDEN STATE STARBUCKS: More randomness from the road, maybe this time on men and male friends and such. Because when it's time for a husband to fall apart a little bit, to be uncertain or stressed, to seem less than powerful, to spend a moment outside the bounds of traditional masculinity -- and let's say the husband is just tired, has spent too much time on the road, has spent too little time sleeping, and is finding his brain so fully occupied by work so as to squeeze out the other more important stuff -- who is he to turn to? I'd argue he shouldn't turn to his pregnant wife. I'd argue she has enough on her mind, that she looks to her husband for power and certitude and will be uncomfortable seeing him a mess.

And thus the need for strong male friendships, for having guy friends who will listen to and allow your gripes and doubts, and who will reveal their own.

But who has time for friends?

Something's not entirely right with this equation. Love the job, hate the lifestyle. Something's gotta give, and rather than writing about it here I need to be talking about it in a concrete building in Northbrook, Illinois.

Read this post now and fast, 'cause it's probably coming down sometime soon.

WHAT YOU TALKIN' BOUT, CAMEL? No, Morgan, I didn't spend the weekend in the Denver airport lounge.

Instead it was a whirlwind weekend, with family in from the Detroit-ish area and all manner of outbound events (the Lincoln Park Zoo, the Chicago Botanic Garden, a mom-mandated trip to Chipotle, etc.) on our schedule (pronounced "shed-yule").

Don't know where to start so I'll just start...

Woke up sweaty at 4AM...actually, wait...went to bed at an unchacteristically early 9:30PM last night and, given my current work schedule and recent habit of late nights and early flights (wow, that would be a great yuppie album title: LATE NIGHTS AND EARLY FLIGHTS), woke up sweaty and ready to work at 1:15AM. (Another great yuppie record title: SWEATY AND READY TO WORK; could also work as a porno title.)

So at 1AMish my dog Vladi was conducting his nightly toe-nail-noisy shuffle from the bathroom tiles onto the hardwood and then plopping onto his understuffed bed with a leaky sigh. I knew how he felt. My lower back was sore from doing basically nothing but living, I was sweaty from humidity and a 12-hour decongestant, and I was running through my upcoming itineraries and deadlines in my brain. Somehow I drifted off again into a sweaty dreamscape for another three hours or so, but at 4AM I knew there were no more slumbers coming for this blogger. I adjourned to my study, checked the weather and sunrise time on my computer (this despite the fact I'm an avowed non weather-checker), then set off for an hour walk-jog around my little corner of Chicago.

I thought of a David Eggers piece I read yesterday in SPIN, a sort of celebration of the band Big Country, especially their album THE CROSSING. And I remembered thinking, as I read it, that Eggers is not a better writer than me (okay, okay, feel free to pot-shot me here and now, readers), but that he's just more fearless and honest. Celebrating Big Country, a band most take for one-hit wonders! What stones, I thought as I came across the article. This Eggers will write about anything.

And then I read it and I know he's right, he's right, and I start mentally digging for my Big Country discs, all part of the Great Unwashed Music Pile (GUMP) that litters my study and the basement and my car's trunk, so much so that I've considered hiring someone to sort through and re-case and re-file all my wayward music. I come across the song "In a Big Country" on my wife's 80's disc as I drove home last night, and it is almost too poignant to be true: "I'm not expecting to grow flowers in a desert, but I can live and breathe and see the sun in wintertime." Amen, Stuart.

So many other things came to me, visited me on my walk, to the extent that I remembered thinking on some earlier walk that I should never be walkless again, because walks are when my brain has a chance to defragment, to clean up lost clusters and/or find new hard disk space for future memories.

Bought two new discs last night (and I thought this morning about the phrase "chasing the dragon," meant to describe how drug addicts [especially crackheads] are constantly re-seeking that high, the feeling, trying to "get normal" by catching the dragon's tail [you know, the firebreather, the crack pipe] just one more time, and I thought how that's sort of like how I buy records and books, hoping that maybe just one of them will hit just the right note, get me off the consumption treadmill, answer The Question), the new one from The Cure and then a new one from some group called PepLab. And the first sounds like it should and will hopefully grow on me, but the second is just a full-on dance party right out of the box, what the label sticker describes as Rick James meets Crystal Method. It fulfills the "soundtrack for a big black car" requirement, music that complements the leather seats and the lightly tinted windows and my chin-down driving style. In the words of Freddie "Boom Boom" Washington, it's music that has a certain "Hi there" quality.

My two-year-old son answers the following questions expertly:

Q: What does Ed McMahon say?
A: Hi-O!

Q: What does Hank Kingsley say?
A: Hey now!

Q: What does Fonzie say?
A: Aaaaaaayyyyyyyyy!

Q: What does Mork from Ork say?
A: Shazbat.

Q: What does Gary Coleman say?
A: What you talking 'bout Willis?

LINGERING IN THE LOUNGE: Chillin' in the Denver airport Red Carpet Club, eating mini-bagels schmeared with mixed fruit spread. I'm just about the only guy in here, and I can't help but think this might be a good place for a vacation. Although there's not much to eat, there are current newspapers, a bar, TVs everywhere, wireless Internet, etc. They should sell memberships to stressed parents. You get a babysitter, stash some take-out in some luggage, and head over to the Red Carpet Club during off-hours. It's like a little oasis of calm...and the fact that it's plopped into the middle of a bustling airport makes that calm all the more exquisite.