Today, the Supreme Court overturned laws prohibiting gay sex.
I forget who the dissenting judge was, but he said "The court will tell you that this should not be interpreted as support of gay marriage; don't believe them." That was funny.
Anyway, I thought that was pretty funny. Also funny was every conservative who isn't an ultra-conservative. It kills them not to say that the court was wrong, because then they'll be tagged anti-gay, which is bad for even a conservative. That left them decrying the judgment on all sorts of crazy grounds.
For instance, Rush Limbaugh gave me the news of the decision. He said that the court was out of line in writing this opinion, not because gays shouldn't have rights, but because the court shouldn't be allowed to overturn state laws. Something tells me that this is the first time he ever got upset about that. Later, other people were upset because the Supreme Court is dabbling in America's "culture war."
How about this? If gay guys want to have sex, let them do whatever creepy-weird stuff they want. It's in their house and I can't see it. I don't give a damn. Why do you? Perhaps it contributes to the decay of our society's moral fiber.
I was busy at work today, so it feels like it was a good day, but looking back, it wasn't quite so good at all.
The editor met with the Lorain PD chief, a captain and a lieutenant. They talked about me and the records I want. Later, the editor called me and the other cops reporter and the managing editor into his office. He basically told me that I'm not allowed to talk to the law director or the safety-service director anymore.
That's shitty, I think. But as a consolation, he wants me to keep track of every denied public-records request that I make. Then, in a month or two or three, we're going to look at what we're getting and what we're not. After that, we might sue someone.
After that, I got assigned two fluff stories. One of them ended with me being fed a nice dinner, so that was good. The other gave me a chance to chat up the mayor and look at hot 17-year-olds. Saucy.
After I turned in my stories, we heard that the Associated Press is reporting the death of Strom Thurmond--you heard it here first.
Anyway, Amy walked back to her office, ordering, "Get rid of gay sex to make room for Strom!"
That's not ironic, but you get the idea. Strom would be proud.
A month into the public-records debates with Lorain PD, I've made no discernable headway. I gave them a deadline of this upcoming Friday, but I of course have nothing to threaten them with.
But today, I needed an incident report, and they told me they were absolutely not allowed to release it because it was under investigation. Bullshit. So I went down there and the total bitch records lady was working. She always says "whatever." I hate her. Officer Trifolletti, you blow. Anyway, she wasn't giving me what I needed, so I asked for the officer in charge. This is after about 5 calls to the station for him without any reply.
Eventually, he comes out and is all like, "Hey, I'm an assbag." He didn't actually say that, but I could tell he was thinking it.
But anyway, he tells me that the report I want is "probably in the chief's office." So I asked him to check the computer to find out if it is or not, and he tells me he's not going to do that.
Ugh. Narrative blows; dialogue is cool.
Starting the story over:
Me: (waits at the records-room window for a long time)
Officer Trifolletti: (finally comes out, is fat) Yeah?
Me: I need to see Sgt. Wargo.
Trifolletti: About what?
Me: A report.
Trifolletti: If this is about a call they went on earlier, you'll have to wait until tomorrow and talk to the chief's office.
Me: I need to see Sgt. Wargo.
Trifolletti: I'll see if he's here.
Me: (waits half an hour)
Sgt. Wargo: (thinks, "Hey, I'm an assbag.") Can I help you?
Me: I need a copy of a report.
Wargo: I can't give you that.
Me: Why not?
Wargo: If you need a report and she can't give it to you, it's probably in the chief's office.
Me: Well, I need it.
Wargo: You'll have to come back to get it tomorrow.
Me: Why?
Wargo: Because I think it's in the chief's office.
Me: Well, can you check to see where it actually is?
Wargo: I already told you it's in the chief's office.
Me: But you don't know that. Could you pull it up on the computer and find out where it really is?
Wargo: We're not going to do that.
Me: Why not?
Wargo: Because it's in the chief's office.
Me: But you're guessing that. Why don't you just check on the computer to find out where it is for real instead of just guessing?
Wargo: Because I said so.
Me: (laughs) But that's not a reason.
Wargo: (shrugs, turns around, walks away) muttermuttermutter
Me: (to Trifolletti) Can you check the computer to see where that report is?
Trifolletti: Sir, you already talked to my OIC, that's all I can do.
Me: Right, but you can still look in the computer to see where that report is.
Trifolletti: Is it in that pile over there?
Me: No, but...
Trifolletti: Then it's under investigation, so we can't release it.
Me: Half of those reports are under investigation.
Trifolletti: Well, if it's not in that pile, then I don't have it.
Me: It not being in that pile doesn't mean it isn't in those filing cabinets.
Trifolletti: Sir, I can't tell you anything else.
Me: OK, but you can still explain to me what the problem here is so that next time it happens, I don't have to come in here and harrass you to figure out what's going on and we won't go through this all again.
Trifolletti: Sir, you're going to have to come back tomorrow and talk to the chief.
Me: You can't just...
Officer Palmer: Sir, you've already confessed to harassing this lady, I'd leave now if I were you.
Me: I'm just trying to find out...
Palmer: Sir, you've confessed to harassing her, you'd better leave now.
Me: (is stymied, walks away)
As I walked away, I kicked myself for not having said, "Or what?" Piss.
How cool would it have been to get arrested on the job? I would be instantly hardcore. Getting arrested journalizing is way cooler than getting a Pulitzer.
Damn me. I'll have to try again.
Remember Brian Wolk? I'm engaging in e-mail correspondence with him presently.
TOP SECRET MEMO TO U.S. ATTORNEY GENERAL JOHN ASHCROFT
My dad is making disparaging remarks about Bruce Springsteen's Born In The U.S.A.
As much as I love him, these statements have called into question his patriotism, and therefore, I believe a possible national-security threat.
Under the Uniting And Strengthening America By Providing Appropriate Tools Required To Intercept And Obstruct Terrorism Act of 2001, I believe that you have the authority to haul him in without a warrant for unrestricted interrogation (wink, wink), hold him without giving him access to a lawyer and then revoke his citizenship. Or at least just freeze his bank account.
I just didn't want to be accused of supporting terrorism or anything.
Also, you're a total asshole and I hope you're assassinated.
Rot in hell.
Brian Bardwell
Quinn has still not given up this ludicrous notion that you can pronounce a by saying "ahh." She contends that it would be appropriate when you're using a to mean one, as opposed to three or nine or four.
I completely agree. So now, I'm going to say "tyyyyyyyyyyyohhhhhh" when I mean that there is a pair of things, as opposed to one or three. And I'll say "thraaaaay" when I mean three, and not just tyoh. I'm also going to say "lee-ooooooohn" when I mean a lion, as opposed to a tiger or bear.
Aside from simply subscribing to the preposterous notion that words should be mispronounced as long as you're using them correctly, Quinn has also now decided to find precedent where none exists.
She thinks that because we say both "thuh" and "theee" for the, you can make a new pronunciation for a. She says that thee means the best or premiere of something, and that's when you draw out the E. What she misses is that in the, you're drawing out a vowel that's actually there. So, when you're trying to emphasize that you're only talking about one of something, you say ayyyyy rather than uhh.
We already have a vowel-skew, we don't need another.
Now shut up.
I was at the bookstore, and I saw the Compact Oxford on the shelf and thought, "I've got a job now. I wonder if I could afford the whole thing." So I went to the desk and asked the guy if he could check how much it would cost to buy the whole set.
He knew right off the bat how much it was and showed me a little display thing that they have and started talking about it. He was very chatty and clearly excited to be discussing it. They had a sample edition on the shelf so he took me over there and showed it to me. Then he started asking if I had the money to buy it now, so I explained that I wouldn't be doing that, and then he asked if I would be buying it with cash, and I started to look at him funny, and then he got all defensive and asked, "Why do you want the OED?" (That's a misquote, by the way.)
So I explained, "I guess I'm just a word nerd," and he was all friendly again. He started telling me that if I paid with cash, I could have him order it for himself and he'd give me an ultraphat discount off the $895 price tag. Then he showed me this other book he just bought, and we talked about that. All of a sudden, he asks if I work for the company. "You're not from corporate, trying to trip me up, are you?" That, I suppose, explains the defensiveness from earlier. Michael walked over then, and I said that he was, and the guy just laughed at him. "No, I can tell someone from corporate. And he's not." Must have been the shoes.
So anyway, he gave me his home number to call him if I was going to order the book.
I was concerned that this was about to start getting creepy, but he ended the conversation on his own right there, so I'm confident that this wasn't any kind of alternate-lifestyle invitation. Whew.
I realized afterward that word nerds kind of have that pregnant-woman instant bond. We don't really like talking to most people, but another word nerd can be infinitely interesting.
Anyway, Quinn is jealous.
Quinn linked to the website poem generator.
It is totally awesome.So Brian Bardwell 2:
19 AM [+] :: :: Tuesday,
June 13, 2003 :: This month
I Wrote too. IMPORTANT
lesson. Have
a high
mark to listen to
that trixie
hobbit. Here So Brian Said: Like you BLOGGER!
F YOU, Brian DOB: 03/
21/81
Known Aliases: Bubba, B, BB, BBBardwell, Remy, Carl
Monday, Crazy Brian Guest Book Who knocked
upon review of
darkness.At
the ugly
Andrew Bartinos Ben Deirdre
Doug Jaime
Jay Jill
Katie A reporter. Here's another.So Brian Bardwell 10:24 AM [+] :: :: Wednesday, June
2003 drivel! :: Brian Bardwell 5:
repeats ago that already.That
I dismissed it, closed it has moved her
blog, that trixie
hobbit. Here the a
fairly interesting developments on the Banana Split Festival, Quinn
linked to anything better to Wilmington for especially for especially
for My horses, I
can
get me
So long to capital
punishment. God bless Willie Nelson God bless
Texas,
God
bless Texas, God bless
America.I made fun of the 2002
June 14, 2003 :: This guy who broke
the song when
people get run
over which ones to
do... :: And anotherSo it was telling her sword to take it
for especially for My very rown
phone.All the way with it. out,
my horses, Anyway. There
I will no one
that meant and everyone
knew what I decided that I
signed one, else
Make this
song. when I
feel about some Amnesty International
peacenik. One more couldn't hurt, right?So far, into town, and
mulling over by trucks
at UAkron. Currently at some
time got the
obvious
exceptions of
my lede. The
Banana Split Festival, Quinn Whitkofski
ACES Beacon Journal Buchtelite Obscenity made fun of my
Horses. baby. Beer For My
vaccination story, I
actually a while
at Your
copy editors at some
Amnesty International peacenik. Somebody stop me.So she somehow, at least twice in the Benjamins
Cheap Eats:
Student papers
out UA appeal thrown out saying that
fact out of my vaccination story, I
might rewrite it. :: has moved her
door.The
mistake of every man who broke
the ugly Andrew Bartinos Ben Bill Brittany
Dan Kadar Deirdre Doug Jaime Jay
Jill Katie A fair maiden
who are you? think they are, good
stories, I bothered to
it, closed it
saved me but
when the left. :: left} p.pullquote {: Centaur,
Georgia, Goudy, Baskervile,
Times, worse, and upon review of
asking. That's all. But there are more.
You filthy little beast....
Sometimes, I go through to read my blogs, but don't have the patience. I end up just wanting to read ShoutBoxes instead.
In case that happens to you.
Katie A has moved her blog, that trixie hobbit. Here's the new link. Ha.
F YOU, BLOGGER!
F you for losing my rockin' post about today's Tavis Smiley Show.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I might rewrite it.
A story I heard recently:Once upon a time, there was a fair maiden who lived in a cottage of stone, far into the woods of darkness.
At birth, she was presented with a beautiful sword to protect herself in her days of youth.
Unfortunately, not a countryman alive taught her how to use her sword wisely, so she plunged it into the belly of every man who knocked upon her door.
The end. That's almost as good as when people get run over by trucks at the end of movies.
I think this month will be interesting. There are many roads opening up before me and I'm mulling over which ones to walk down.
For now, I'm listening to "Beer For My Horses" on repeat, much to my surprise and much more to Michael's chagrin.
It sounds like it would be a song about some kids who got tired of cow tipping, but I just realized about 5 repeats ago that it's actually a stirring anthem for capital punishment. God bless Willie Nelson, God bless Texas, God bless America.
I made fun of the song when I saw it on Rob's Palm while we were gambling last month. I don't think I bothered to listen to it, but I dismissed it, knowing that it was country and that I didn't listen to that anymore. I hope that one day, I will no longer categorically dismiss anything. A high mark to shoot for, especially for me, but I think it's doable with a bit of effort.
Just the same, on the way down to Wilmington for the Banana Split Festival, I decided that being from Columbia Station and therefore being the only one in the car to have any cred down there, I had to help out my companions. We tuned into the (a) local country station just as we were getting into town, and I caught the last 20 seconds or so of "Beer For My Horses." I pretended to be totally into the song just to irritate everyone in the car, but when I heard it again on the way back, I blasted it and totally dug it.
Three rounds later, I'm hooked on this song. Willie Nelson and the rest of the Texans have my support all the way, with the obvious exceptions of anyone involved in the passage of the Patriot Act. (I do not capitalize such acronymic monstrosities).
While at the festival, Quinn stopped at the hippie booth and talked to some Amnesty International peacenik. She tried to get me to sign three petitions. I signed one, because it only called for an inquiry. I did not sign the one that said we should let some guy not get the death penalty. She somehow, at some time got the impression that I was opposed to capital punishment. I laughed and said that I'm opposed to it being used so infrequently and taking so long to get finished.
Hippie McTreehugger then handed me some anti-death-penalty brochure. I opened it, closed it and gave it back. Beer for my horses, baby. Beer for my horses.
Anyway. There have been many interesting developments on many different fronts.
Saddle up, boys.
EDIT: Please don't read into this post and think that it has anything to do with you.
Marty's in. Are you?
(I just have to make sure I can get off work.)
I was advised by a former editor that I should watch what I say in here. She suggested that I remove a previous post or two, but you all know how I feel about that already.
That said, please, please ask me what I learned at work today and how it saved me from the ultimate in journalistic humiliation.
I've got busines
cards. Soon I'll have a pernanent desk with my very rown phone.
All I need are good stories, and I'll be a for-real reporter.
Also, Beth's mom told me that I'm fat. How cute.
It's gone from bad to so much worse.
First it was a front-page feature on a cop with a dead wife. It was a fairly interesting story, I thought, at least when the cop told it.
Then it was a story about a kid who did a lot of sit-ups at once.
Now...
Now...
Now...
It's a WEATHER story.
That's right. I just turned in 12 inches about all this rain we're having. One day, I will write real news about real things that matter.
I hope.
This is where you'll find links to anything of mine that the Morning Journal puts up on the Web. There's a permanent link down on the left.
I've just learned an important lesson. Have a story idea before you even get into the newsroom.
Otherwise, you end up writing about the guy who broke the "world age record" for consecutive sit-ups.
EDIT: Did I mention he did it for charity?
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