Lincolnite

Did you hear about the 11-year old Boy Scout who went missing for four days in Utah? It turns out he became lost in an area my dad and I spent some time in a few years ago. We couldn't believe that the kid stayed lost so long. It's a large wilderness area, sure, but there are plenty of easily-visible waypoints and trails all over the place. How could he have managed not to get himself found? Now we know: he hid from rescuers. He feared being kidnapped more than he feared being lost in the woods for four days. To be honest, I wouldn't mind being lost for a few days in that area. It's very pretty, heavily forested but spotted with lush meadows and wetlands, and there are tons of small lakes scattered about. My dad and I have spoken about going back this summer. I don't know if we'll make it or not, but this event may be enough to kick-start our plans.

In a fit of stupidity business as usual, the House today voted 286-130 to celebrate freedom by pissing on freedom. How nauseatingly ironic. It makes me angry enough that I am almost prepared to promise to burn a flag in protest should the Senate happen to pass the resolution. Almost. Addendum: Foretenberry, Osborne, and Terry all voted in favor of the measure. Not that anybody is surprised.

"To burn a flag is to disrespect America." And therefore we need to piss on the Constitution to put out those freedom-hating flames.

It happens every year around this time: the drama dweebs are in town. They're an odd bunch, those drama dweebs. They descend upon the UNL campus and noodle around Downtown each summer when they come to attend some sort of camp that caters to their kind. They're easy to spot: in addition to conspicuous nametags dangling from their necks, their dress is ostentatious and their actions even moreso. Even when you cannot see them, you can certainly hear them. They're a loud bunch. In fact, the drama dweebs are such a strange lot that I have to wonder if they are brought here, not to attend a camp, but to be the unwitting subjects of some psychological or sociological study. I think the camp is just a ruse. In any event, keep a lookout for the attack of the drama dweebs. And for Pete's sake be careful, lest you become an accidental participant in one of their bizarre dramatic efforts.

Chucky is at it again, picking on poor old George, trying to stir up anti-Iraq angst among partisan Republicans and moderates alike. Unfortunately, Chuck doesn't actually provide any evidence for his statements. Not that that matters when you're running for president on a "my party sucks, but vote for me anyway" platform.

''Things aren't getting better; they're getting worse," said Hagel, a member of the Foreign Relations Committee. ''The White House is completely disconnected from reality. It's like they're just making it up as they go along. The reality is that we're losing in Iraq."

That's all well and good, Chucky, but would you care to offer some supporting evidence? What would it take for you to consider the U.S. to be winning (or even maintaining the status quo) in Iraq? I put about as much faith in Chucky's interpretation of the situation in Iraq as I do Dick Cheney's. Cheney, incidentally, insists that the insurgency is in its "last throes" -- also without any supporting evidence, and contrary to recent events. But the real Idiot of the Week award goes to John McCain. McCain insists that "what the American people should have been told and should be told [is that] it's long, it's hard, it's tough." Uhh, Johnny? Open your freaking ears. The Bush administration miscommunicates (or doesn't communicate at all) about a lot of things, but one thing Bush has done reasonably well is point out that the War on Terrorism™ ain't gonna be easy.

The City Council voted to allow the Garden Valley development to proceed in North Lincoln. This despite the development's "small" lot sizes of 3.6 units per acre. "Small" is, of course, relative. In this case, the term was thrown about by neighboring acreage owners who, in a fit of nimbyism, insisted that the po' folk who might actually be able to afford a house on the smaller lot not be allowed to build in their area. The "small" charge was ridiculous on its face for many reasons, but one of the most important is found in the Comprehensive Plan. The Plan says that Lincoln's new developments should be built at densities of 4 to 5 lots per acre.

It took a long time to get to this point, but as of 8:26pm tonight I can finally say it: the patio is finished. Almost. I need to sweep finishing sand into the gaps between the bricks over the next several days, but that's a pretty minor final touch. The patio looks really good right now. I'm really glad we decided to go with brick pavers rather than a plain cement patio (or even a wooden deck). I'm going to sleep very, very well tonight.

I had an interesting experience last night. I discovered a bird sitting in the rafters in my garage. No big deal, right? The garage door was open, so surely the bird could just leave on its own. Or not. The damn bird could not figure out how to get out of the garage. It flew around the garage, banged into the walls and rafters, and at one point got itself stuck in an exhaust fan in the ceiling. I tried to help (by threatening it with a broom) but to no avail. I didn't see it this morning, so either it found a way out last night before I shut the garage door, or it is laying dead in a corner somewhere. Stupid bird.

A webdesigner asks, "Is clicking really necessary?" He thinks not. Do you agree?

I can't believe I didn't notice this before, but there was some delicious irony going on back on June 12 with sequential posts highlighting the rise and fall of Mr. Wilson's backyard exploits. Hat tip to Mr. T for pointing out to me my own foolishness.

I managed to umpire a baseball game last night, despite my lingering back pain. I shouldn't have even been on the field, but we were really short on umps yesterday. Ya gotta do whatcha gotta do, right? I was just the base umpire, not the plate umpire, and the kids were only 12, so it's not like I had to move very quickly. Based on how the game went, I think I should be reasonably recovered in time to do some light work in the back yard this weekend, and I should be ready for a full load of baseball games by the end of the weekend. That's probably not what a doctor would say if I were to actually go see one (hi Chris!), but it's what I'm going to go with.

Perhaps I am being naive, but I'm really surprised by the news that reactions to the Michael Jackson verdict are divided by race. Whites believe the wrong verdict was reached by a margin of 2-1; for blocks, the opposite is true. I must hang out with the wrong people because nearly everybody I have spoken with has said something along the lines of "He's nuts, but he ain't guilty." All but one of those persons is white. Am I surrounded by statistically anomalous friends, family, and co-workers? Or am I just not correctly picking up on peoples' real feelings about the case?

Would somebody care to explain to me why I came to work today? Oh yeah, it's because I'm stubborn. My back feels a tiny bit better this morning, but I probably should still be laying around at home rather than sitting here at work. I didn't bother taking any drugs this morning; last night's doses of Ibuprofen and Tylenol PM didn't appear to do any good. Ibuprofen never works for me, and despite Tylenol PM's usual success at knocking me out (but not relieving my pain), this time it didn't seem to do a whole lot. I'm not sure why I haven't taken any Aleve yet since Aleve is about the only pain relief drug that consistently has any effect on me. I'm going to be nice to my back today, but for the most part I'm going to go about my daily routine. I'll see if the movement helps loosen things up. If not, well, I can always take off work tomorrow.

Part of me already knew it to be true, but it became official today: I am getting old. I was out back doing some light work on the patio today -- nothing major, because of the expected rain, just light preparation work -- when all of a sudden I couldn't walk. Or move. Something had snapped in my lower back. It has been three hours since that happened, and despite drugs, ice, and rest, I still can hardly walk or stand, and I can't move quickly at all. Being injured doesn't bother me all that much. I have a high tolerance for pain. But this is my first major back injury, and everybody knows that injuring one's back while working in the yard is a sure sign of old age looming on the horizon. Crap.

I have torn out all the concrete, some 7-10 tons worth by my estimation. I have purchased and unloaded all the supplies, roughly 4 tons worth. I have leveled and compressed the base. In other words: I'm finally ready to start building my new patio. Depending on the timing of the rain we receive this week, I could have the patio finished by the end of next weekend. Whoop!