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Minuteman Morons

Jim Gilchrist, co-founder of the Minuteman Project, is a a bigger moron than I’d thought if he really believes that a furniture store owner’s decision not to allow Glichrist’s merry band of vigilantes to stage a rally on the store’s private property is somehow a violation of anyone’s “First Amendment rights”.

What a crock. Has anyone else noticed how the assorted right wing nut jobs and fundamentalists in America have begun to employ the very same whiny “oppressed minority” conspiracy theory bullshit they’ve derided for so many years among leftists?

Apparently, the Minutemen believe that their desire for a rallying place to keep anyone they don’t like off American soil trumps an individual property owner’s right to keep people he disagrees with from trespassing on his own private property. A clue: freedom to use other people’s resources however you see fit is not included in the concept of free speech.

Anyone with that many American flags plastered all over his website should know that. Then again, most people with that many American flags plastered all over their websites seem to know precious little about much of anything, liberty or the Constitution included.

Why I No Longer Live in California

Wow. For only $14,000 more than we’re paying for our house in Winston-Salem, we could own this lovely two-bedroom single-wide trailer on a rented lot in a trailer park in Cambria CA. An extra hundred grand on top of that would get us a double-wide with a covered porch. Unless, of course, there were to be a bidding war.

And to think we’d convinced ourselves there was no affordable housing on the west coast.

Looks Like We’re Moving

Danged if there ain’t a lot of stuff you have to do when you buy a house…

And, as luck would have it, I got another call yesterday inviting me to interview for yet another job I applied for three months ago. Why couldn’t any of these people have called me when I was still living in the city where the jobs in question were located?

Oh well. Only one more round of inspection-related negotiations and we’ll be the owners of a very well-constructed home Winston-Salem NC that’s only a year older than I am. And just for the record, the cigarette brands were named after the city where they’re made rather than vice versa.

Stress

I can’t tell if (a) I’m a great big ball of stress because we’re finally closing on the house tomorrow morning, or (b) I’m just out of sorts because my allergies are bugging me something fierce and I didn’t sleep well last night. Whatever the reason, my head hurts, I’m irritable as hell, and I can’t seem to concentrate at all.

Either way, though, I’ll be a homeowner the next time you hear from me. Anyone want to help us move?

Sniff

I’m not sure whether or not it makes me feel better that I’m not alone in the Great Allergy Agony of 2006. I’ve had this same stuffiness, headcahe, and general miserableness (it just sounds worse than “misery”) for the better part of two months now.

I think the big problem this year is that it simply will not fucking rain. We’re at about 50% of normal rainfall for the year right now, which means that we’re about eight inches short (no jokes, please) and also means that the air is damned near unbreathable.

Just imagine how lousy I’d feel if I ever went outside.

One Year Removed from SF

It was a year ago today that we escaped San Francisco. I’ve never once questioned my decision to leave, and I’ve never pondered moving back, not even for a second. I love my boy, I love our new home, and I’m pretty happy with life in general, despite some pretty major bumps in the past few months.

I’d started a longer essay the subject of this one-year anniversary, but it was showing signs of deteriorating into yet another tirade against San Francisco, and I really don’t need to do another one of those. Yes, I was miserable and despised the place my last few years there, and yes, I felt that no matter how hard we worked, our situation was never really going to improve as long as we remained. Ultimately, though, I did have a number of enjoyable years in San Francisco. It’s just that my needs changed over the years, and San Francisco no longer met them. So I left. I’m quite happy where I am now.

In fact, all you really need to do is compare the photo above, from 2005, with the one below, from tonight. Even our boxes are neater and tidier and more organized now that we’ve left San Francisco.

It’s hard to believe a whole year has passed since the escape, though. It seems like we just moved into this place, and now I’m packing everything again. A decade or two down the road, I think this past year will seem vaguely surreal in retrospect, like an extended stay at some strange motel in the twilight zone. When I was driving through Winston-Salem last night after dinner, though, it just felt like I’d finally landed in the right place after many, many years.

Randonly Tuesday

Interestingly enough — and despite all the time I’ve spent packing and moving lately — I’ve written several new rants in the past few days. I just haven’t posted any of them yet. Two of the pieces don’t feel quite “ready”, while the third may be just a bit more personal than I really want it to be. They’re pretty good, though. I’ll keep you posted.

The move is coming along very nicely, and by next Sunday, we’ll no longer be spending much time here in rapidly-ghettoizing east Charlotte. For those who care, we actually live in southeast Charlotte, but since the whole city is set at a 45° angle to reality, we have to pretend we live due east in order for the street names to work correctly. This is very frustrating to Geography majors, by the way.

Other frustrations and irritations du jour:

  • Summer, with its attendant increases in temperature and number of children who must be kicked out of the way in all public places.
  • The most useless new comic strip of the year, which (like another recent winner loser) seems to have suddenly appeared in every newspaper in America all at once for no good reason.
  • People who go to great lengths to pass me on the freeway, and then don’t do so, but instead cruise along in my blind spot for the next ten miles moving at exactly the same rate of speed as me.
  • Sundays, when all of those people seem to hanging out on I-85 around Salisbury.
  • Knowing that I have a great house 70 miles away, yet having to continue living in a rapidly ghettoizing and increasingly noisy apartment complex for another week.

Sorry. It was a pretty lackluster list. I’ll try to do better next time.