The Poll

I’ve been working on Planet SOMA for over two years now, believe it or not, even though the “official” grand opening date was 2 March 1996. One of these days, I guess it will be ready…

Actually, at the two year point, I’ve decided that things have gotten a bit cumbersome and that a bit of spring cleaning might be in order. The site now has well over 400 pages, some of which are glanced at no more than three or four times a week. I’m thinking it may be time to prune them back just a bit, since I’ve been a pretty major packrat over the past two years and have kept damn near everything available in some form.

The first 100 surveys are in. Why did it take two months for this to happen? Your guess is as good as mine, but here are the results:

Site Rating:

  • You rule: 64%
  • Pretty good: 35%
  • Average: 1%
  • You suck: 0%

Speed of Access:

  • Blistering: 39%
  • Pretty Fast: 46%
  • Adequate: 15%
  • Slow: 0%

I’d like to see more of:

  • 1. Rants (58%)
  • 2. San Francisco Information (44%)
  • 3. Yer Humble Host and Friends (43%)
  • 3. Dirty Pictures (43%)
  • 5. History-related (36%)
  • 6. Travel-related and Route SOMA (34%)

These results were pretty encouraging, although I realize that survey respondents tend to answer favorably in general, and on this site specifically they also tend to be those who spent a lot of time and looked around the site more than the average reader. The positive reaction to the rants and the relatively lukewarm reaction to the pictures were especially promising.

Thanks to all who have participated so far.

Nicotine Fits, Part 2

So I finally ventured into one of the nifty new California smoke-free bars Friday night. I’d been putting it off since returning from the holiday trip because I wasn’t sure I’d know how to behave and also because I was a little worried about just how a smoke-free bar might SMELL.

As it happened, I ended up coping in much the same way everyone else seemed to be doing so. I just went ahead and smoked. It was very simple. Of course there were no ashtrays or cigarette machines. One bar even featured a prominent “no smoking” sign. No one — patron or staffer — seemed to care.

At first I was a little timid, cupping the offending cigarette in my closed hand like a joint or something. I guess I was afraid the principal would walk by and catch me. It all felt so very junior high; I feared a month’s detention.

By the end of the night, with several beers in my belly and a cute little clubkid on his knees in front of me, however, I felt much more secure. I was pushing his head down on me with one hand while puffing away with the other. Somehow the opinion of the State of California mattered very little to me at this point.

So I guess I’m a desperate outlaw now, darn it…

I hear rumors that the Castro bars are actually observing the smoking ban and enforcing it. I’m not surprised; they’re just so much more sensitive over there. I’m surprised though that no one seems worried about whether or not the noisy smoking drunks on the sidewalk will affect property values.

Of course, there is the issue of workers being exposed to second-hand smoke. Once again, I would state that no one, to my knowledge, has ever been forced to work in a bar. When you take a job, you understand that there are some occupational risks. In bars, these risks include loud music, smoke, and having to cope with obnoxious drunks. Obviously, many people have decided that the rewards outweigh the risks.

Consider this: dealing with rude assholes is detrimental to my psychological health. That’s why I don’t work in retail customer service anymore. I never requested a law stating that it be illegal to act like an asshole in a retail establishment. I knew the risks when I took the job. I was prepared to take them. When I no longer wanted to take these risks, I quit.

But as long as we’re “protecting” people, may I suggest the following:

  • I guess we’ll have to get rid of conversation first. Too many hurt feelings and broken promises. Civil liberties can’t be considered an issue if someone might be offended.
  • Let’s ban on techno and house music in bars because they kills brain cells and make me homicidal, thus putting other patrons at considerable risk.
  • A ban on being horny in bars is probably in order because horniness might lead to unsafe sex.
  • We should eliminate attractive people in cruise bars. Seeing these people could make some less attractive people become victims of reduced self-esteem levels, causing them to drink too much or (gasp) crave cigarettes. Come to think of it, we’d better ban anyone who’s ever been attracted to an attractive person too…
  • No more TV. Radiation, y’know?

Who was it who said that people who are willing to give up civil liberties to obtain a sense of “security” are deserving of neither? I’m off to have a cigarette and see if I can remember…

Home

I’m home again. I’m tired. I hate flying. I hate airplane food. I hate that I didn’t bring home any Cheerwine or barbecue. I hate that I have to go back to work tomorrow. I love that I got so much great mail while I was gone. I hate that it most likely won’t be answered for several days.

And I really love this article in MacWorld, only partially because it mentions me. But I’ll cease with the self-promotion and go to sleep now.

All in all. seeing Mom and Dad and the few friends I managed to hook up with was great. But (surprise) I still can’t recommend Greensboro as the happening vacation destination of the year…

Still plugging along working part time as an Administrative Assistant. It pays the rent while the freelance stuff begins to trickle in and while I continue trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up.

At the Airport

Charlotte/Douglas International Airport. After several false starts, I’d estimate that I now have about a 75% chance of getting on the next plane headed for San Francisco. And I am definitely ready to get home. I hate that I had to leave my mom feeling so bad. She was in worse shape this morning than yesterday. I also hate that I never caught up with my friends Duncan or Daniel in the strange and surreal crush.