Lincolnite

Power went out for an hour or two (I wasn't really paying attention) in parts of Lincoln today. We here at the Wilson homestead (48th & Highway 2 area) were among the affected. I received reports that folks both north and south of the 40th & Old Cheney area noticed their lights flicker, but their power did not actually go out. Who else was affected? Does anybody have any information on the cause?

I am such a grown-up. I was in a working mood today. I had originally planned to work in the yard, but the rain stymied most of those plans. Instead, I decided to do something that wouldn't require me to get soaked. Now, there are a hundred things I could have chosen to do. But for some reason I opted for one of the least desirable of all options: I decided to clean the garage. Garage cleaning is no fun. It's made even less fun when you don't do it often enough. There were enough leaves in my garage to re-leave half the trees in the neighborhood. Fortunately, I had a new weapon at my disposal: a brand new shop-vac. Between the very sucky (that's a good thing) shop-vac and a very capable shop broom I managed to make the garage look like, well, a clean garage. I reckon it'll stay that way for about two days. While I ate lunch I decided to read some of the packets of information sent to me by the adoption agency. The most recent packets concerned the trials and tribulations of interracial adoptions. I've not made it all the way through, but so far the materials fall into one of two groups: 1) well-written, frank descriptions of things to think about when considering an interracial adoption; and 2) racist liberal bullshit more obnoxious than anything even Al Sharpton could come up with. (Lest you think that, by calling the material "liberal bullshit," I am identifying myself as a flaming conservative, allow me to remind you that I also point out conservative bullshit with just as much scorn.) The toilet paper literature I read today reinforced my intention to track our adoption experiences here at Lincolnite. I want to shed light on the positives and the negatives of our experiences so that others can learn from us. The crap I read today wil l certainly become the subject of a blog post or full article. Heck, if I continue to find so much of the material on interracial adoptions unsatisfactory, perhaps I should gather my thoughts into a book. Certainly there are others out there who, like me, are adopting interracially, but who don't enjoy being told constantly that: white people are racists; white people have no culture; and you are morally corrupt if you fail to raise your child exactly the way somebody else says you should. Before I close this post, I should make one thing clear: I am not trying to link our adoption agency with these ideas. The materials they have given to us were authored by others. They were printed in various newsletters, journals, newspapers, and so on. The agency itself may or may not collectively agree with the stuff they send us. It is entirely possible that the materials they send our way are just what are available to them. After all, there aren't that many domestic interracial adoptions going on. It is fair to assume that there are not, in turn, very many written materials to turn to. I will find out more about the agency's own beliefs when The Missus and I go to their training session in September. Until then, I'm going to assign no particular ideology to the adoption agency. If I find out they have one, whatever it may be, I will pass it on to you.

The Missus and I hit Ribfest tonight. It was the first time I had ever been to Ribfest in the evening; typically I visit during the day since I work Downtown. Overall it was a great experience. I do have some gripes, all of them directed at Johnson's BBQ. For one thing, their service was pathetic and slow. In part that was because they used local help (high school aged girls). I'm not bashing the girls necessarily, although they didn't go out of their way to provide anything better than mediocre service. Considering they were probably being paid minimum wage and I'm certain they received only scant directions on what to do, I can't really fault them. The behind-the-scenes workers -- that is, the guys actually running the joint -- were lazy and slow. I realize they're probably tired, but 1) it's only day one of a weekend-long event, and 2) I'm paying them way too much money for them to be bums. I ordered a BBQ pork sandwich. The pork was barely (and I do mean barely) done, and the sauce was pathetic. I'm not sure what it was called, but even Kraft pulls off a better barbecue sauce. Last year I ordered their thermonuclear sauce. Now that was a sauce that was worth the money. Anyway, my suggestion: skip Johnson's this year. For an encore I decided to try some ribs from Rasta Joe's. I had overheard a guy talking about how good they were, so I figured I'd check them out myself. Not only was the sauce about 65 times better than the Johnson's miserable sluice, the ribs were very tender and the meat was impressively flavorful. Rasta Joe's saved the day. Throughout the evening Soul Dawg performed on the stage. They started off a little rough, but they really picked up steam as they went along. Their peak was probably early in their second set when everything really clicked. By the time they finished for the evening they had drawn quite a crowd around the stage. There was even s ome (playful) booing when they wrapped up and didn't play an encore. The highlight of the evening, other than Rasta Joe's ribs, was definitely overhearing two guys in line behind me discuss one's sexual escapades with his lactating wife. I'll spare you the details.

Ever since I began the blogroll a few weeks ago I've noticed the hits on this site jumping a fair bit. The new visitors haven't been commenting, but that's ok. I don't mind lurkers. Hi lurkers! For those of you who don't know what this whole Lincolnite thing is about, I suppose I should explain. Eventually Lincolnite will be a neato community resource for the city of Lincoln. But it's a work in progress. I chip away at it when I can. If you have any suggestions, or if you would just like to de-lurk, drop me a note in the comments.

James Dobson offers some helpful advice on how to keep your son from catching The Gay. An excerpt:

Meanwhile, the boy's father has to do his part. He needs to mirror and affirm his son's maleness. He can play rough-and-tumble games with his son, in ways that are decidedly different from the games he would play with a little girl. He can help his son learn to throw and catch a ball. He can teach him to pound a square wooden peg into a square hole in a pegboard. He can even take his son with him into the shower, where the boy cannot help but notice that Dad has a penis, just like his, only bigger.

If I didn't know better I would've sworn Dobson's piece was really written by somebody from Landover Baptist.

I'm headed off to Ribfest in a couple hours. I hope you are planning to attend. Even if you're not a pork fan there are plenty of other options, including beef, chicken, and a little seafood. Vegetarian? Uhh, I think you might be out of luck. You could always chew on a used napkin or something. Everybody's favorite band Soul Dawg -- featuring my high school track coach (and cross country coach, and history teacher, and citizenship issues teacher) Ted, and my favorite substitute trumpet teacher and fellow bus rider Joel -- is performing tonight at 6:30. Look for me near the stage; I'll be the one trying to throw rib bones into Ted's saxophone.

Have any of you who ride Star Tran -- all 25 of you -- ever noticed how friendly the riders are to the bus drivers? I'm not talking about "the regulars" who know the drivers and go to their kids' birthday parties. I mean the occasional riders, or the ones who ride frequently but who don't ever interact with the drivers. I'll bet a good 75% of the riders say either "Thanks" or "Have a good day" when exiting the bus, even when leaving via the back door. And they even say those things to the crappy and/or surly drivers. I first thought about this after talking with a friend who currently lives in New Jersey. She was very surprised by how different the people are, and she noted that she earns curious stares when she says things like "Thank you" to folks like store clerks. If nothing else, the fact that Lincolnites say "Thanks" to their bus drivers is yet another small reason that I enjoy living in Lincoln.

CNN's recent story on cargo security at U.S. airports highlights the ridiculousness of harassing the crap out of passengers -- the most common offense of whom is carrying a pocket knife or nail file -- while ignoring the larger danger of unscreened cargo. Why do we so assault grandma's dignity in search of razor blades when the real danger lies elsewhere? Two reasons. First, the TSA's actions within airport terminals are visible. Thus, they can claim "See, we're doing something about the terrorist threat!" Even though in reality the TSA's largest success is as a massive jobs program. Second, there are no good or cheap ways to screen all the cargo that makes its way onto America's airliners. Any attempted solutions using today's infrastructure would hardly make a difference. The United States loves to overreact to yesterday's terrorist tactics. That's why today you can't take a pocket knife onto a flight or carry an unsearched bag onto a subway car. Personally, I would rather defend against today's or tomorrow's terrorist tactics. We can't say we don't know what those tactics will be. Stumped? Ask Hollywood. Or ask anybody. Terrorists aren't likely to use any tactics that haven't already been thought of -- and warned about -- by dozens of people.

Oil prices passed $65 per barrel yesterday, and although gas prices keep climbing, Americans keep driving. Prices in Lincoln yesterday were in the $2.50 range. I've said it before, but this is the first time I've said it in print: $3.50 per gallon is the breaking point in the U.S.A. That's the point at which Americans "officially" decide to make real, substantive changes in their attitudes and behaviors related to energy consumption. You heard it here first.

Women having hot flashes should not be allowed to bother maintenance personnel with constant whining about "how hot it is in here." Especially when said maintenance personnel long ago determined there not to be a problem and since that time have very obviously just been humoring the women by pretending to attempt to find a "solution" to the non-problem. Nor should they be allowed to constantly whine to me. I overheat much quicker than the average person, and in my opinion the temperature in here is just fine. Now leave me alone, please, or at least change the subject. I'm not referring to any individuals or situations in particular, of course. I'm just saying.

If you see The Missus today, wish her a happy birthday!

I ventured back onto the soccer field this weekend for the first time since May. I reffed three games on both Saturday and Sunday. I am pleased to report that everything went remarkably well. I was dog-tired by the end, and I'm a bit sunburnt. But that's what you get when your summer exercise includes zero running and you fail to apply sunscreen. I managed to make it through the weekend having stayed on most players', coaches', and spectators' good sides. With the exception of one girl's declaration of "You suck," I heard very little direct dissent. Some of my partners didn't come through the weekend as unscathed as I did, but I'll be honest with you: more often than not they deserved the criticism. There was one scare. Only two minutes into my third game yesterday I heard cries of "Ref! Ref!" I looked behind me to see my AR1 lying motionless on the ground, with a couple people standing over him. He was a big fellow, it was a hot day, he wasn't moving... You can imagine what went through my head. I immediately stopped play and sprinted over to him. Fortunately he wasn't dead. He had just stepped into a hole and twisted his ankle. He took a moment to shake off the pain and we resumed play. As a sports official I witness, on average, about one serious injury per year. I've seen broken bones, seizures, and head injuries. At the time I thought for certain I was witnessing my first heart attack. That turned out not to be the case. But I know it's only a matter of time.

The Missus and I are going to head south to Wilber tonight to attend the annual Czech Festival. Neither of us has ever been to the festival, but we hear that it's a fun time and that the food is excellent. Kolaces are the star of the show, but I'm looking forward to the various brats and sausages. I'm also hopeful that I'll see some of the folks affected by last year's tornado, whom I worked with at my previous job. On both Saturday and Sunday morning I'll get up early to go referee soccer games at a tournament in Omaha. I haven't refereed since May, so I hope I remember what I'm supposed to do out there. On Saturday afternoon a friend from high school is getting married. Congratulations, KLS! And finally on Sunday evening the family is going to go out to eat for The Missus's birthday (which is actually on Monday). I believe she chose Fireworks for her birthday meal. That's my plan. What are you all up to?

I never would have expected it, but the New York Times published an op-ed yesterday defending Wal-Mart. Their conclusion?

First, Wal-Mart hasn't just sliced up the economic pie in a way that favors one group over another. Rather, it has made the total pie bigger. … Second, most of the value created by the company is actually pocketed by its customers in the form of lower prices.… Without the much-maligned Wal-Mart, the rural poor, in particular, would pay several percentage points more for the food and other merchandise that after housing is their largest household expense.

Important points to consider the next time the periodic "keep out Wal-Mart!" drives fire up.