Archive for November, 2008

Sharing Change, Savoring la Cambia

Posted in hit bull win steak on November 6, 2008 by samsondoggie

It was raining.  The one streetlight, posted 50 feet in the air, struggled against the dark. I struggled to read names on a typewritten sheet  It was part of a street canvassing packet in a manila envelope, with a map, prepared for us by the Durham County Democratic Party.

We were in East Durham.  We were on Fernando Street, where mailboxes are set on the right hand side of the road, in pairs.

“408 Fernando,” I said, “is the home of Venia Jones.”

The mailbox said 40_ Fernando.  On top of a scored aluminum box, molded letters spelled out the name — Alphonso Atwater.  The last digit was bent off.  I wondered, was it 408?  Or had it been that Atwater bought the box, but now Jones lived here?  We stared at the box for a few moments.

“Let’s go ahead and see,” said Susie.

She walked into the dark and wet yard.  Was that a shed or a doghouse in the back? Some pluck, I thought.  What about those dogs?  What about guns in the warm house?  This is a difference between myself and my wife.  I am more cautious.  I think Susie has an expectation of fair play.  Maybe that is what living in a small town confers on its children.

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Not just for Leaders of the Free World

Posted in hit bull win steak on November 2, 2008 by samsondoggie

I think that a number of political truths have emerged from this election.

The first is that getting a neck tattoo, or having a spouse with a neck tattoo, is probably a gambit for which there is no political recovery.  Yep, there is a mangroomer for back hair, but nothing can de done for that tat above your button-down collar.

Number two is that Barack Obama really knows how to dress well.

That inspired me this week.  You see, I bought a sport coat on ebay this week.

For years, I have been dubious about the sportcoat.  It has actually been a bit of a contentious point.

“I cannot believe that you do not own a sport coat,” said my mom, last winter, when she indicated that it would be the appropriate and absolutely required article of clothing for men at a family party.

“No, mom, I don’t,” I said.

At the time, I thought to myself, my mother doesn’t understand me.  My mother!  Doesn’t understand ME.  How could she lump me in with all of those smooth-talking venture capitalist types, hopping in and out of jets on their way to Indianapolis or Dayton, bearing powerpoints?

Lloyd Dobler said it best:

I don’t want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don’t want to sell anything bought or processed , or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed , or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don’t want to do that.

I can update that calling:  I do not want to spearhead the delivery of branded solutions across multiple platforms, in any user-centric web-based environments.  I do not want to consult with document editing Continue reading

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