Good to the Last Drop
I feel great today. I was handed a project yesterday that I think will be a lot of fun. The client set the price, and it was a more than generous sum. So that's good. To fill in between the winds of fortune, I've begun to donate plasma. It's not as bad as it sounds, and while I don't enjoy the process while it's happening, I like the overall experience. Before they could tap a vein I had to answer lots of questions, mostly to assure them that my blood was not tainted with AIDS or hepatitus. I got to sit in a little room with a physician, while she asked me to answer yes or no about whether I was recently incarcerated or lived in various obscure countries, or ever had sex with a guy or gal that might have had AIDS, or with a gal who had sex with a guy in jail or if I had recently had sex for money, and on and on -- a surprising number of combinations of sexual situations! I wanted to say, "Are you kidding?" to the whole thing, but I dutifully answered. All of that was OK, but she wanted me to eat food and drink lots of water before I tried it, so I spent that day drinking big glasses of tap water. The next morning I made myself some eggs and toast, and soon I was "stuck" and the fluids were flowing out of and back into me. I'm a regular now, and there's a sort of charm and good humor about the folks there which I find enjoyable. The only thing I don't like is having to pump my hand at the required intervals. It's always been very easy for me to remain absolutely motionless for stretches of time, which I would prefer to do. I can read a book with my free hand, but I can't do my crossword puzzles of course. When I have the use of two hands, I often do them, and almost invariably come across the word "eke," which is defined in various creative ways, such as "donating plasma to make ends meet" (just kidding). All in all, it's sort of like using a very slow and somewhat uncomfortable ATM Machine, but I'm happy it's there and they've told me they need the plasma and appreciate it. They're welcome to it, as far as I'm concerned.

Sports
How about those Olympic athletes? I prefer the Winter Olympics to the Summer version. There is much less visible huffing and puffing and the sweat is usually concealed 'neath layers of insulation. I find that the competitions are more graceful as they slide around at high speeds over ice and snow, rather than stomping around a track or jumping or throwing things as far as possible and so on. I get the impression that I'm in the minority opinion on this, since even the host country isn't bothering to attend much.

Not surprisingly, this is about as far as my sports-interest takes me. I can observe a basketball game or a golf match for a while, because even I sort of know what's going on. Baseball can be OK, but it's best purpose is to put me in a deep sleep. Football? Forget it... I'm clueless. This is all no doubt a result of early imprinting, having discovered my lack of even the barest competence at most athletic competitions. The exception is bowling (not very athletic but physical at least). I'm actually pretty good at knocking over pins, and have even felt a swell of competitiveness at times, a feeling that probably keeps other people energized as they play whatever they're good at.

In elementary school I enjoyed the sports they had us do. I thought I was pretty much in with the crowd; I could swing the bat and run around and catch balls with a degree of competence that was comparable to most of my fellows. Then Junior High came along and shattered all notions of sports being harmless fun. Basketball was no longer the friendly tossing of a ball toward a basketless hoop, and instead became a deadly serious contest. It was soon agreed by everyone involved, from the Coach on down (and even/especially me), that my most useful purpose was to walk around the perimeter of the field with the fat kid, sort of a miniature Laurel and Hardy pair. It suited me well enough, he being a good conversationalist. Still, being left out is what it is. High school brought a surprising variety of P.E. activities to try out; golf, scuba, handball, soccer and so on. By then I didn't care about any of it, and had found the Art Department to be my true domain anyway.

So now I have nothing but admiration for those who have inherited and developed their physical prowess and coordination and whatever it takes to be the best in the world. Let the games continue.

A date that will live in INFAMY (when was that again?)
My television dutifully broadcast the soundbite from Karl Rove, that their opponents have a "pre-911" mentality and they have a "post-911" mentality. As one belonging to the camp of the former, I would say that is correct. What I would add is that such a perspective carries with it the benefit of centuries of human history. As we were recently reminded by some brave college students, good ol' Ben Franklin once said, "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." The goal of those in charge is to create an Imperial Presidency, above any checks and balances, on the pretext of national security. It is certainly no secret that I was there in the '70s, and I witnessed the spectacular unravelling of a presidency as Nixon went down. I heard the exact same excuses for everything he wanted to do. It might also be noted that the same guys were working their way up the power ladder (Cheney, Rumsfeld, et al), and the same kinds of things were objectionable back then, spying on us and so on. Also please note that we are asked to give up our liberties because there is a war going on... let's be clear, there's ALWAYS a war going on. If there is not a military conflict to point to, they will set up a temporary war (on poverty, drugs, illiteracy, three-legged dogs, whatever) until something comes along to get a good military conflict going. Then that "post 911" mentality is right at home. I hate to say it, but someday that war cry will be as quaint as "Remember the Alamo!" but right now it serves the political purpose.

In other news, who would have thunk that some cartoons could cause such a hub bub? I think that illustrates my point to some extent. Why do we object to the government chipping away at our liberties? Because it's about the free expression of ideas. I have no doubt that there are those who might get fighting mad because I drew Bush in a cowboy hat. It shows disrespect maybe, but I still can because I don't have to walk in lock-step behind the Administration (neener neener). Of course, it's possible that I could be locked up somewhere or sent to another country to have all kinds of dreadful things done to me, and have to stay there for the rest of my life, and not be told what crime I'm accused of, and not get to talk to a lawyer to help me out, etc. It probably won't happen because I wasn't born over yonder and I don't wear a turban and so on, but still.

So let's all try to be nice to each other. Don't blow yourself up in a restaurant. Don't shoot a bunch of people at the office where you got fired. Don't load a car up with explosives. Don't kidnap people, and especially don't kidnap them and cut their heads off. Don't invade the country of your choice. Don't make a mushroom cloud anywhere. Instead, draw more cartoons -- that REALLY pisses people off!

Turn and face the strange ch-ch-changes
Last night I updated my site with another blast from the past. One would think that I'm obsessed with the 70s, perhaps. I'm not...it was as silly a time as it appears. I just happened to be stuck there. It has been 30 years since I graduated from high school, so I think I'm allowed a little indulgence. There have been a few entertainments inspired by the time -- most notably That '70s Show, which does not remind me of the decade in any way. More accurate is Dazed and Confused, which is right on the money as I recall. The difference for me was that I was unaware of much pot smoking going on. I was a pretty serious student and could not imagine being high in class (although in retrospect there were some other kids that certainly were!). I would have been in the car with the nerdy kids, in case you've seen the flick.

I entertain the fantasy from time to time of going back and talking to myself. I imagine engaging the youngster-me perhaps at the bus stop. What might I say? I would probably encourage myself to just relax and enjoy the ride...that no matter how much huffing and puffing and stress and strain you put into it, that you won't be rich and famous -- you'll just work. After the Year 2001 they won't be cruising to Jupiter with Hal (at least not by 2006), and you won't be on a cruise to Jamaica either. You will have learned how to enjoy the simple things, however. There are other specifics that are just between me and me, thank you.

As far as my site update, after unearthing these sketches after so long I was really surprised at the energy that went into some of them. I have only the vaguest recollection of doing them at all. I was especially struck by the accuracy of the faces -- it took me right back to those people. If anyone has any curiousity about what I'm going on about here, it can be found here.