Rejecting the yoke of Village People tyranny

Last night, my phone rang at 2:20, just after the thunderstorms passed through. It was a wrong number, and I stumbled back to bed. I remained sleepless, though, and heard the radios of passing cars on our mildly-busy street. One car was blasting the Village People. At 3 a.m.
In the midst of my state, somewhere between sleeping and waking, I realized something profound: This may be the year that two of the worst songs in history have been defeated by the Forces of Good.
We have shot 11 weddings this summer, with a 12th on Saturday. Not ONCE has the DJ played the "YMCA" or the "Macarena." These weddings have included a cross-section of humanity; people of different educational, socio-economic, and racial backgrounds. Weddings that cost at least $70,000, and weddings that probably didn't cost $2,000.
It's as if the whole world came to its sense to break these chains of oppression! I never saw anyone between the ages of 10 and 60 who actually enjoyed the "YMCA." Most people groaned when it came on. Most couples hated it. And yet every doggone DJ in NW Ohio and SE Michigan considered themselves an abject failure if they neglected to play the song. It was like they were giving some religiously-mandated alms - they didn't really want to, but knew that they had to.
The fact that this change has happened is interesting to me, but not nearly as much as why it has happened.
Here's my theory (and it's a theory hatched on about 4 hrs sleep, so bear with me):
Wedding trends tend to spread virally. Think about it: Ten years ago, everyone threw rice outside the church. Today, no one does - but everyone has bubbles. How did it happen? One person has the idea at a wedding with 300 guests. Let's say that about a quarter of those guests are young, and half of those are unmarried. So you're looking at about 15-20 unmarried young women at any given wedding. Each of them sees the new idea, and decides that the new idea is something they must do. Let's create a five year window during which 10 of those 15-20 get married. They will spread the idea to another 150-200 marriagable women, who within another 5 years, will spread the idea to 15,000-20,000 of the matrimonially-inclined. Within 15 years, you've had 1.5-2 million women exposed to the idea, and it's no longer novel, it's the norm.
My guess is that in about 1999, a select group of hipsters decided they would break tradition and expressly forbid the DJ from playing the "YMCA." They bragged to their friends about their good taste, and the idea spread like the bubbles. The movement is probably in its early stages of spread right now. And if I'm right, by 2014, you will never hear the "YMCA" again.
Just a theory. Not that it makes wedding music much better. We still get bombarded with the "Electric Slide," and more recently, "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" shows up at every union of souls.

Count to 60

I want you to count to 60. Count out one minute.
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Done yet?
In the time you counted, BP pocketed $55,000. No, that wasn't their income for one minute. It was their profit; the money you have after you pay all the bills, and then make up some other bills that you will never pay just to shield you from tax liability.
In case you haven't noticed, gas prices are at a record high this week because of "Mideast instability." But that instability apparently has not been quite as unstable for the corporate parents of your local oil companies. The rest of the oil co.s are expected to release second quarter earnings this week. Analysts suggest BP will be the poor man of the group, with Exxon-Mobil expected to announce profits that would be around $70,000 each minute.
That means that in about 24 seconds, BP creates my yearly gross salary in profit.
What has your government done about this? Go find out.

Party people

It should come as no surprise that, living in a college town, you’re bound to have some neighbors that embody the party spirit. For these purposes, we’ll call my neighbors Fred and Ginger.
Many people would consider Fred & Ginger the perfect neighbors simply because they are seldom home. There’s always a party, always a place to be – always SOMETHING social that must be done.
They go on road trips to Maine because it’s there. They went to Europe just because. There’s a steady stream of people in and out. They buy cars. They sell cars. They maintain cars. Fred washes his cars at least twice a week, so they’ll look gooooooooood.
Sometimes, they watch sports on a giant TV. Sometimes, they have the neighbors over for beers and BBQ. From time to time, Fred makes a colossally funny dirty joke.
What makes them over-the-top great, and my personal idols, is that they are twice my age. Fred’s a retired gym teacher. Ginger’s a retired nurse. While they may have us trumped chronologically, they are the youngest, coolest people I know.
I can’t wait to be retired. Just 30.9 years to go in STRS!

But what will the Emperor do about the bureaucracy?

There are sometimes unfortunate stumbling blocks on the road to dictatorship. And let's face it, today's story in the Times barely counts as even a stumbling block - just a feeble cry in the night that the President's actions are, shall we say, not in keeping with the law.
Can the Executive of the United States choose not to execute a lawful order from the Legislative? Other presidents have done it, on a very irregular basis. This administration has declared intent to ignore 505 laws that his OWN PARTY PASSED. So the ABA reviewed the issue, and a bipartisan panel agreed that the executive's actions are a "threat to the Constitution" in this matter.
Of course, we know that no one in government will actually do anything about this threat to the Constitution. They'd rather take on really big threats to the Constitution, like gay people gettin' hitched and the five people who burned flags last year.
I don't want to sink into too much hyperbole or negativism, but I don't think it's a big stretch to say that we're heading down the road to authoritarianism in the U.S. Between the rampant, and now unlimited, redistricting that guarantees about 400 of 435 House seats to the parties currently occupying them; and the political manipulation of an increasingly-dumber electorate, there is absolutely no reason to believe that a Democrat will win the White House in '08. I don't buy one second of the shit I read in the Times and Post about how Republicans are hunkering down, etc., and the Dems are cautiously optimistic about regaining control of the House. They haven't been out here. They don't know people like my dad, and uncles, who not only remain fans of George Bush, but think he's the second coming of Christ. Those people WAY outnumber other people here in NW Ohio.
More and more, I think the GOP's governing style is patterned after the Star Wars prequels: Get a humble guy in office. Manufacture a crisis or 10. Claim the need for emergency powers to deal with the crisis. And never give them up.
Makes you wonder where Lucas got the idea.
Oh wait. We know where he got the idea.

But where will they sleep?

Last Spring, our household grew in a big way. Our youngest, Accident Prone, was born at home at the end of April. And within a few days, we had an additional resident here at The Quarterdeck.

Her name was Peep-Peep. She dawned on the scene within days of AP’s birth, and could only be seen by Whiny the Elder. At first, we didn’t have a lot of details about Peep-Peep. We knew she was a she. We knew she was three. And that was about it.

But soon, Peep-Peep became infinitely more complex. All of a sudden, not so coincidentally, Peep-Peep had a baby brother – Wa-Wa (pronounced: Yeah-Yeah!). Wa-Wa stayed up all night, and made Peep-Peep angry sometimes.

All of this made perfect sense to Most Tolerant Wife and I. Our little girl had developed a coping mechanism! We encouraged it, laughed about it, and frequently conversed with her about it.

At some point last winter, though, things started to go around the bend. One day, Whiny slapped AP across the head.

”What was that for?!” I squawked.

”Peep-Peep told me to do it,” she sweetly replied.

It got worse. In the middle of a temper tantrum with Mama, she let loose with a “Aw, fuck it!”

”Where did you learn to say that?” O Tolerant One asked.

”Peep-Peep says it ALL THE TIME!” Whiny defiantly yelled

Thinking quickly, my wife told Whiny that if that’s the way Peep-Peep was going to act, she would no longer be welcome in our house. And that put an end to that.

But it didn’t put an end to the ever-expanding stable of imaginary (There, I said it!) friends at the house. Just after Christmas, Whiny began talking about “Chadda,” another little boy who was in the house now, because Wa-Wa was all grown up.

It got to the point where she’d get mouthy with me at dinner.

”You can’t sit there!!!! Peep-Peep’s already sitting there!!!!”

I thought summer might bring us a respite from the imaginary legion. Instead, it just brought a new face to the fold: Ben.

Ben is a girl. A baby girl. Chadda’s little sister.

We have a new swingset and play area in the backyard. I enjoy going out there most of the time. But this morning, I was pushing an infant swing full of my son, a regular swing full of daughter, and was constantly exhorted to push one empty swing that contained Peep-Peep, an imaginary swing that Wa-Wa was in, and to keep an eye on Chadda and Ben, who were playing underneath the superstructure of the slide and tent.

I once asked her where they all stayed.

”Right here,” she said. “They like you.”

Tag: imaginary friend, children

Bad ideas

I am a connoiseur of ideas that start out bad, and then everything conceivable is done to make them even worse, without no thought of retreat entertained.
Sometimes, these ideas are my own. Like when Aaron and I realized that french fries are bad because of cholesterol, and garlic is good because it reduces cholesterol, so we tried to find giant pieces of garlic to deep fry. It took a week to get the stink of garlic fries out of our apartment.
More often, these ideas are foisted upon us by the outside world. Think Neil Diamond's "Done Too Soon." Was John Wilkes Booth really done too soon? What, did he forget about Pol Pot and Idi Amin in his list. Bad idea that kept getting worse. Think The Wiggles "Havenu Shalom Alechem." Four Australians singing a Yiddish song with Irish step dancers.
But there's one source I can always rely on for bad ideas that just get worse and worse: Cleveland sports franchises.
For those keeping score at home, it is now 2006. This is the year Indians GM Mark Shapiro said we'd have a contender built. And after last year, it appeared for a moment he may be right. The Tribe had the best record after the break of any team, and came within a Ronnie Belliard pop-up of making the postseason.
But then ... then the old tricks resurfaced. We lost our best pitcher to free agency. We lost our fifth starter to free agency. Coco Crisp got shuffled off to Boston for a 3B who can't get grounders. We lost key arms in the bullpen. Jody Gerut had been shown the door. And all the while, we were told not to worry - after all, how many games did Millwood win last year? No big loss! Arthur Rhodes wasn't exactly Cy Young. Don't worry! We'll just get Paul Byrd and Jason Johnson! They might work out!
So the season began, and we were respectable, but behind the resurgent Tigers. And the message from the front office? Don't worry! We'll pour it on at the end! And at Memorial Day, when things looked grim, there was a clubhouse meeting and a "new resolve." By the time the All-Star Break came along, we'd unloaded Johnson and Eddie Perez.
Yesterday, Shapiro finally admitted what had been obvious to most of us since May - that this team will not contend for jacks*** this year. He admitted it with a trade that I understand, but don't like.
So another season ends with "Wait 'til next year," when we really mean "Wait 'til '08."
Anyone up for some garlic fries?

Tags: Cleveland Indians