On Thursday August 27th, 2009, I (and three Met Sacramento Students/alums - Rebeka Knox, Christina Ramirez, and Amanda Villagomez) were exiting dinner near the movie theatre near River Park in Fresno. In one hand, I held a plastic to go container with a muffin in it. We noticed someone being interviewed by a roving TV reporter. We asked what was going on and the reporter explained that they were doing a story about how the lottery had reached more than $300 million and they wanted to hear from people who would buy something "crazy" if they won. . . I said, "ok. film me." . . . but the reporter was too smart for that, oh yeah - what is "crazy". . . I said, "I'll buy 300 million lottery tickets. . . "ok" . . . After being asked to spell my name, I then was asked what I would buy if I won the lottery, and I replied. . .
If I won the lottery, I think that I would by millions of these muffins, because they are so tasty and delicious. . . but on the other hand, I think that I would just by 300 million lottery tickets, because then I would definitely win again. . . but on the other other hand, these muffins are so delicious, that I think I might have to buy them . . .
Later than evening, at approximately 11:14 I was on the news - Fresno's CBS affiliate - channel 47. . .
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Andrew gets pushed by a State of CA Employee
On Saturday August 29th Leigh and I attended the "Great California Garage Sale." We arrived at about 10:30 and there there was a stream of folks headed in and out through the large door into the airplane-hanger-like warehouse which was filled with all sorts of cast-offs from the State of California's supply rooms. There was an auto auction going on at the rear of the building and the masses of humanity milled about and waited in various lines to by shopping carts of "stuff."
After about 15-20 minutes, we decided to leave (empty-handed); the whole scene was pretty off-putting. . . However, as we headed for the door, we discovered that a cone had been placed in the middle of the doorway and that there was now a woman standing "guard" to make sure that people knew which side of the cone to exit. She was rather pear shaped and in her late 50s - she may have been wearing a Gem sweater - although that may have been my imagination.
The event ended at 12 noon, and by this time there was basically no one entering. . . just a steady flow of folks towards the exit. . . However, the entire side now reserved for "entry" was empty. As we approached, Leigh dutifully stayed right and headed for the correct side of the cone. . . I however began to drift further and further left. . . "sir". . . "Sir". . . "Sir! - Please stay to the right of the cone!" . . . I continued to drift left. . . Now she cast a wary eye at the rest of the stream of folks exiting as though she knew that if she left her post, all sorts of pandemonium might break loose, however, if she didn't I would certainly sneak behind her (exiting the wrong way and thereby subverting her authority and promoting bedlam). . . "SIR!" I drifted further left and headed to the left-most edge of the entry way beyond the reach of her now reaching with her arms arms and gesturing frantically (she reminded me in that moment of a large emperor penguin chick who with outstretched wings attempts to encourage its parent to regurgitate a tasty fish)
"SIR! STAY TO THE RIGHT OF THE CONE!" . . . As I approached within a few feet of the door, as though suddenly making a difficult decision, she stepped laterally, with arms still spread wide and blocked my path completely. "SIR! - STAY TO THE RIGHT OF THE CONE! YOU NEED TO EXIT THE CORRECT SIDE" She looked over her shoulder towards a few of the CHP (California Highway Patrol Officers) standing outside and then began to physically shove me backwards and to my right. . . I did my best to continue to walk forwards, but it would have required me to bowl her over in order to proceed so, with a look of incredulity on my face, I moved to the right and exited.
In terms of Monday morning quarterbacking here are three options of what I should have done:
1) Pretended to be a Football running back and tried a spin move
2) exited the correct way, walked right back in the correct way (repeat 3 or 4 times until she was dizzy from watching me walk around her in circles) then walk whichever way I wanted. . .
3) when she reached out with her arms, I should have embraced her in a hug and thanked her for bringing some sense of order to such a place of insane chaos.
After about 15-20 minutes, we decided to leave (empty-handed); the whole scene was pretty off-putting. . . However, as we headed for the door, we discovered that a cone had been placed in the middle of the doorway and that there was now a woman standing "guard" to make sure that people knew which side of the cone to exit. She was rather pear shaped and in her late 50s - she may have been wearing a Gem sweater - although that may have been my imagination.
The event ended at 12 noon, and by this time there was basically no one entering. . . just a steady flow of folks towards the exit. . . However, the entire side now reserved for "entry" was empty. As we approached, Leigh dutifully stayed right and headed for the correct side of the cone. . . I however began to drift further and further left. . . "sir". . . "Sir". . . "Sir! - Please stay to the right of the cone!" . . . I continued to drift left. . . Now she cast a wary eye at the rest of the stream of folks exiting as though she knew that if she left her post, all sorts of pandemonium might break loose, however, if she didn't I would certainly sneak behind her (exiting the wrong way and thereby subverting her authority and promoting bedlam). . . "SIR!" I drifted further left and headed to the left-most edge of the entry way beyond the reach of her now reaching with her arms arms and gesturing frantically (she reminded me in that moment of a large emperor penguin chick who with outstretched wings attempts to encourage its parent to regurgitate a tasty fish)
"SIR! STAY TO THE RIGHT OF THE CONE!" . . . As I approached within a few feet of the door, as though suddenly making a difficult decision, she stepped laterally, with arms still spread wide and blocked my path completely. "SIR! - STAY TO THE RIGHT OF THE CONE! YOU NEED TO EXIT THE CORRECT SIDE" She looked over her shoulder towards a few of the CHP (California Highway Patrol Officers) standing outside and then began to physically shove me backwards and to my right. . . I did my best to continue to walk forwards, but it would have required me to bowl her over in order to proceed so, with a look of incredulity on my face, I moved to the right and exited.
In terms of Monday morning quarterbacking here are three options of what I should have done:
1) Pretended to be a Football running back and tried a spin move
2) exited the correct way, walked right back in the correct way (repeat 3 or 4 times until she was dizzy from watching me walk around her in circles) then walk whichever way I wanted. . .
3) when she reached out with her arms, I should have embraced her in a hug and thanked her for bringing some sense of order to such a place of insane chaos.
Monday, August 24, 2009
What a little' rap writin' can do. . .
On August 16th we celebrated Dylan Needleman's B-DAY in Glen Rock New Jersey. . . The morning of, I worked with Dylan and Jessica to collaboratively write some personalized hip hop lyrics. . . Dylan then recited each of them while being held upside down - I hope to be able to locate the video (which was diligently recorded by his mother, Sue) but in the mean time, the lyrics are attached. . .
Later on, I was talking with Jessica and Dylan about the relative lack of importance of handwriting and cursive. . . Jessica was then writing me a note to demonstrate, and I encouraged her to write me some "random words". . . she didn't . . . instead she wrote me some "randon words". . . Alas, for "accurate" spelling - but hurrah for conceptual art!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Sacramento, CA - Told where I can put my do-gooderness
On Thursday August 20th, 2009 at 1:11 pm I was crossing a street in Sacramento, CA when I noticed that the gentleman walking in front of me in the cross walk (who was carrying a bundle of paperwork) dropped a couple of business cards and a sticky note. I called after him a couple of times, but he was wearing earbuds/phones and couldn't hear me. . . Instead, as the light changed from green to yellow, I stooped over to pick them up and then jogged after him and tapped him on the shoulder and returned them. He mumbled an appreciative comment that I didn't quite catch, and then was off. . . I then turned and began to walk the other direction towards where I was headed, when I realized that two young women had witnessed the entire interaction. . . As I passed them, one of them, with a sneer on her face, and a haughty glance nasally whined, "Well, aren't you a good samaritan.". . . I replied that now I didn't have to be nice to anyone else today. . . and walked off.
The UC Davis ARC - attempting to gain entry I am informed of the degree of my subversion
On Tuesday, August 18th, 2009 I was once again trying to gain entry to the UC Davis ARC. . . Once again I was forced to jump through any number of ridiculous administrative hoops, incuding visiting no less than three desks before being allowed to enter, however, by far the greatest indignity was being forced to complete a highly detailed "profile" page with information including, Name, address, phone, email, etc. . . despite the fact that I (and all of my information) am already in the computer system and no one was ever going to look at my form again. . . As a result, I simply scribbled something quickly and illegibly in each "field" of the form and immediately handed it back to the person behind the desk. Initally off-put, they demanded that I redo the form so that they would be able to read it. . . Once I pointed out that they would not in fact require any of that information the person behind the desk simply shrugged in a sort of disgusted manner and looked at me in pity and said, "You are making a mockery of our system."
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Davis, CA - Rite Aid Check out Counter - worker thinks I advocate killing the infirm
I had just completed waiting for a prescription to be prepared and was in the process of paying. The young woman working behind the counter asked how I would like to pay. "Credit," I replied. Suddenly on the small machine in front of me a series of blindingly bright LEDs lit up. They were tiny arrows directing me to slide my card into the only obvious slot. For years machines like this have existed without the need for such airplane-runway-like guidance systems.
Andrew: Woah! It's a good thing those lights are there, because otherwise, I wouldnt' have known where to slide my card!
Young Woman: Well, some people get confused - they try to slide the card up here (gesticulating towards a spot where the cord meshed with the machine and it was easily observable that there was no slot for a credit card)
Andrew: (looking her dead in the eye and trying to speak so slowly and dangerously that it could only be taken sarcastically) - Those people. . . should be shot.
Young Woman: Yeah . . . well, a lot of those people are older and they can get confused.
Andrew: (quickly and with the deepest sincerity and glee) Especially in that case!
Young Woman: (looking shocked, and yet blushing as though with a guilty pleasure) That is such a terrible thing to say! That's awful.
One more example of people west of New Jersey being completely unable to understand sarcasm.
Andrew: Woah! It's a good thing those lights are there, because otherwise, I wouldnt' have known where to slide my card!
Young Woman: Well, some people get confused - they try to slide the card up here (gesticulating towards a spot where the cord meshed with the machine and it was easily observable that there was no slot for a credit card)
Andrew: (looking her dead in the eye and trying to speak so slowly and dangerously that it could only be taken sarcastically) - Those people. . . should be shot.
Young Woman: Yeah . . . well, a lot of those people are older and they can get confused.
Andrew: (quickly and with the deepest sincerity and glee) Especially in that case!
Young Woman: (looking shocked, and yet blushing as though with a guilty pleasure) That is such a terrible thing to say! That's awful.
One more example of people west of New Jersey being completely unable to understand sarcasm.
Houston, TX - Airport gate - Mom asks son to "fight the government"
While waiting in line to see if I could change an airline seat assignment, I overheard a mother talking with her son. The woman was probably about 25 but looked nearly 40. She was white, about 5'7" and her skin was blotchy, eyes seemed a bit watery. She spoke with a drawl/lisp that seemed like it might have been alcohol-induced. She looked restlessly about the space and also fiddled with a variety of what looked to be over-the-counter as well as prescription pill containers in her purse. As it became clear that I would be waiting for longer than I had originally anticipated, my awareness of their conversation gradually became more acute. . . As I sought to catch up with where they were the combination of dim memory and inference combined to give me the context.
"Mom" had been complaining about how there was no where for her to go in order to smoke a cigarette. . . "son" asked her "why?" . . .
Mom: (snidely and sneeringly) The goverment [sic].
Son: What?
Mom: Well it used to be that people could smoke anywhere that they wanted to. . . then the government stopped that. They don't want us to have freedom.
Son: (mostly unintelligible - but something along the lines of) oh?/why is that?
Mom: Then they changed it so that the people who didn't like it could go to a "special" place away from the smoke - I think that's the way that it should still be - stupid government!
Son: How does it work now?
Mom: Well I can't even smoke anywhere in this stupid airport because of the government! That's why you have to fight them when you get older - will you do that?
Son: Yes.
Mom: They changed it for a while so that people could smoke in certain places - even that wasn't too bad - but the goverment is always trying to get more control and keep preventing people from doing the freedom things that they want to.
Son: (mostly unintelligible - but something along the lines of) oh?/why is that?
Mom: When you grow up, you have to promise me that you'll fight the government - will you do that for mommy?
Son: Yes, mommy, I'll fight the government. . .
I was at first dumbstruck in shock and awe of the interaction, but was just beginning to regain my awareness of just how wrong this interaction was, I was tempted to enter into the conversation, but just at that moment, the gate agent interceded and asked me how they could be of assistance. . . At the conclusion of that interaction, I had to make a mad dash down to a different customer service counter in order to finagle a change of seats, and so was unable to intercede. . . however, having now had plenty of time to comtemplate and rehearse, what I would have liked to say to that little boy (while completely ignoring his mother) was something along the lines of . . .
Son, I am a cancer survivor. That means, I am at increased risk for getting cancer again. When people smoke in public places they put everyone (including me) at increased risk for cancer. What your mother is asking to do is to have the right to increase my chance of dying of cancer. Now, while she may be so self-centered, selfish, self-destructive, that she doesn't care about shortening her own (and your) life. While the government is not perfect, and is in fact at times capable of perpetrating great evil, in this case I am extremely grateful that there is a government that represents me, you and the interest of the public at large and is willing to intercede and prevent your mother from doing this. Perhaps not now, but somewhere down the road, make sure to consider that the "government" your mother wants you to fight against also deserves some credit for at least trying to do the right thing some of the time. Right now, every cell in my body is very glad that your mother is not allowed to smoke a cigarette in this confined and enclosed space.
"Mom" had been complaining about how there was no where for her to go in order to smoke a cigarette. . . "son" asked her "why?" . . .
Mom: (snidely and sneeringly) The goverment [sic].
Son: What?
Mom: Well it used to be that people could smoke anywhere that they wanted to. . . then the government stopped that. They don't want us to have freedom.
Son: (mostly unintelligible - but something along the lines of) oh?/why is that?
Mom: Then they changed it so that the people who didn't like it could go to a "special" place away from the smoke - I think that's the way that it should still be - stupid government!
Son: How does it work now?
Mom: Well I can't even smoke anywhere in this stupid airport because of the government! That's why you have to fight them when you get older - will you do that?
Son: Yes.
Mom: They changed it for a while so that people could smoke in certain places - even that wasn't too bad - but the goverment is always trying to get more control and keep preventing people from doing the freedom things that they want to.
Son: (mostly unintelligible - but something along the lines of) oh?/why is that?
Mom: When you grow up, you have to promise me that you'll fight the government - will you do that for mommy?
Son: Yes, mommy, I'll fight the government. . .
I was at first dumbstruck in shock and awe of the interaction, but was just beginning to regain my awareness of just how wrong this interaction was, I was tempted to enter into the conversation, but just at that moment, the gate agent interceded and asked me how they could be of assistance. . . At the conclusion of that interaction, I had to make a mad dash down to a different customer service counter in order to finagle a change of seats, and so was unable to intercede. . . however, having now had plenty of time to comtemplate and rehearse, what I would have liked to say to that little boy (while completely ignoring his mother) was something along the lines of . . .
Son, I am a cancer survivor. That means, I am at increased risk for getting cancer again. When people smoke in public places they put everyone (including me) at increased risk for cancer. What your mother is asking to do is to have the right to increase my chance of dying of cancer. Now, while she may be so self-centered, selfish, self-destructive, that she doesn't care about shortening her own (and your) life. While the government is not perfect, and is in fact at times capable of perpetrating great evil, in this case I am extremely grateful that there is a government that represents me, you and the interest of the public at large and is willing to intercede and prevent your mother from doing this. Perhaps not now, but somewhere down the road, make sure to consider that the "government" your mother wants you to fight against also deserves some credit for at least trying to do the right thing some of the time. Right now, every cell in my body is very glad that your mother is not allowed to smoke a cigarette in this confined and enclosed space.
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