Why.

So a downstate elected official introduced a bill to ban the use of salt in restaurant kitchens in an effort to get the populous healthier. Do I find this intrusive? Of course I do. While moderating salt intake is a good idea, it is the responsibility of each individual to be sensible, not the government’s.

Now this same official has introduced a bill to require the use of helmets on ski slopes. He has admitted he’s never been skiing. Again, this is another attempt of an elected official to try to legislate personal responsibility. Helmets on skiiers and snowboarders? Yes, if they’re young children or if you want to but it shouldn’t be a law.

I believe this official, who’s name escapes me at the moment and I’m typing this in the car so I can’t look it up, should be relieved of his overzealous approach to governing the people at the earliest opportunity. However, I want this to go a step further.

If the folks in Albany truly cared about it’s citizens, they would introduce legislation that would split the state into two parts for bills of this nature. Elected officials that have never been north of Yonkers have no right to introduce laws that will affect people that live 400 miles away in an area that some in NYC describe as a “snowy Alabama”. This would be like a Buffalo legislator introducing a bill requiring the use of snowmobiles on all city streets in the state when there is more than two inches of snow on the ground. Upstate (north and west of Kingston) is an entirely different world than downstate and I firmly believe that both sides of that cultural divide would be better off if they split into two legislative districts. I don’t know how this would be accomplished but I wish someone would figure it out.

The holiday season is in full swing and naturally folks are out buying a bunch of stuff at Crazy Eddie’s unbelievably low prices in an effort to make their loved ones happy and buy their way back to good graces after being mean as hell the rest of the year.

How’s THAT for gaiety!

I made a public declaration that I want little for Christmas this year, yet I want to shower others with gifts. I surpassed my allotted budget days ago and it’s only the 3rd. I just started shopping on the 1st. Perhaps I’m trying to make up for being mean as hell or something.

One of the things that makes me insane about this time of year is being forced to listen to Christmas music. I want to enjoy the soothing sounds of the holiday on my own terms. My mother used to crank up an album she had picked up at Grants or Two Guys; I think it was called “The White Family Christmas”. I have to admit I used to enjoy that album when I was a kid, even through the tiny speakers on the GE Wildcat record player. I liked the fact that we would listen when we were in the mood to listen.

The Big.Thing. in this area is for radio stations to go to all Christmas music in an effort to boost ratings increase ad revenue bring joy and merriment to the masses. (Don’t ever believe that commercial radio stations are there to entertain the public, it’s just another industry that has been perverted into a sole money maker and nothing more). Anyways, if I don’t plug in my iPhone when I get in the car, I can either listen to: NPR, all country Christmas music, all Christmas music that is lite and easy or all Christmas music that is fast and peppy. Well, there’s always death metal or a wide array of “you’re going to die and go to hell” Christian stations to choose from, so I guess I’m blessed to have choices. I usually settle on NPR.

At work someone wise decided that we needed the radio station of their choice pumped through the no-fidelity intercom speakers. The station of choice is the lite and easy station, which plays “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” every day on the 30th minute of a given hour, which will be followed up with “Hold On” by Wilson Philips 45 minutes later, which will be followed by Cher and “Believe” exactly 37 minutes later. All of this is interspersed with Huey Lewis and the News and heaping helpings of Sheena Easton. She takes the morning train. To maintain my sanity, I bought a raffle ticket for a Remington 30-06 with scope so that I can shoot out the speaker.

On December 1, Sheena, Huey and friends were retired for continuous Christmas and holiday music. It is now December 3 and I’m now hoping that I win the gun instead of using my luck to win the lottery. I don’t think that this season of peace should involve the hopes of winning a gun in a raffle but I’m desperate.

I really just want some peace.

So last weekend I made my way into Canada during our travels. The border crossing of choice was at the 1000 Islands. This is not uncommon for me.

The 1000 Islands border crossing is not overly busy outside of tourist season and that’s actually one of the reasons I like crossing there. Crossing the border is a game of chance no matter where you’re doing it. Sometimes the customs officer is reasonably nice, other times they’re quite cranky and rarely do you drive away thinking they were actually friendly. The cranky level goes up depending on which direction you’re traveling in. You’re usually welcomed into “The Land of the Free” by very surly people. Heading the other direction makes you feel like the whole experience had a touch of maple syrup sugary sweetness.

As we crossed the bridge from Wellesley Island to Hill Island, I noticed that something was amiss. Everyone was stopping before the Canadian customs station. Trucks with flashing lights were being used to herd all the vehicles into one lane all the way to the left. As we got closer I realised that we were being herded into one of the U.S. Customs lanes and passing through it backwards (since it’s designed for traffic moving in the other direction). There was a whole bunch of U.S. Customs officers inspecting vehicles leaving the U.S.

Um, why?

Now I understand that the customs folks are there to keep the U.S. safe at all points of entry. They look for a whole variety of illegal activities going on. Now that everyone has to have some sort of passport to get back into the states it’s become very, very militaristic. I laugh when I look at some of my old maps from the 60s and 70s which tell how to cross the border easily and efficiently and tout the U.S.-Canadian border as “the easiest border to cross in the world”, because that is hardly the case in this day and age.

I’m sorry, I believe that it’s Canada’s job to inspect people headed into their country. I do not believe that the U.S. should be inspecting my credentials, vehicle, etc. as we are *leaving* the country.

As I pulled up to this impromptu U.S. inspection station our passports were taken and numerous questions were fired off.

“Where are you going?”
“What’s your citizenship?”
“Where do you live?”
“What do you do for a living?”
“How do you know each other?”

Now that last question can be interesting for us. It was our friend dave that was crossing with me this time, and we met dave through online connections. Explaining this is difficult to U.S. border agents because they apparently haven’t heard of the internet yet and they don’t fathom the idea that we have met friends online. The relatively homely woman looked at me askance when I told her that we had met online and had been friends for a few years.

After a few more questions I was told to put the car into park (of course I said, “it’s a stick so I’ll go with neutral”) and several people rifled through the things in the back of my car. I heard murmurs of discussion and bags being rifled through. I smirked. I don’t really care anymore when they go through my bags. I think I’m going to start packing some really shocking underwear or magazines or something to give them something to talk about at their coffee break. I noticed that I didn’t hear the bags zip close before they slammed down the hatch.

A few more questions from the homely woman and off we were a few hundred feet to the Canadian border station, where the pleasant (and pleasantly bearded) official asked where were going, for how long, if we had anything in the car like tobacco, alcohol or firearms and then we were told to have a nice day. Off we were to the 401.

As a tax paying American citizens I have a Really Big Problem with the United States government inspecting me as I LEAVE the United States. I really don’t think it’s any of their business as to when I’m leaving the states. I think they should only care when I coming back into the states, and then I think that they’re inspection process is overly intrusive, laughable and ridiculous. One is assumed to be nearly a criminal these days and I don’t appreciate it at all. I thought things would ease up a little bit when Obama took office in January but no, it’s the same old, same old as when GWB was there.

I don’t know if the 1000 Islands border control is overly zealous or what but that’s the third time that I have had such an intrusive crossing experience. I was thinking that I have a note on a file somewhere but the outgoing U.S. border officers didn’t scan my passport, they just searched and grilled me.

I don’t feel any safer, I don’t feel any comfort and I am certainly not happy being treated like this by my own country, which is supposedly “The Land of the Free”. I felt a great deal of comfort when we were finally in Canada.

To me that’s a little sad.

It’s 4 a.m. and I am wide awake. Not only am I wide awake, but I’m feeling very rested. I feel like I could take on the day today without a care in the world and have a really good day. I am hyped up, amped up and ready to go. But in the back of my mind I’m wondering if I would fade before noon.

I have an ear bug replaying over and over. This time it’s Reba McEntire’s “I’m A Survivor”, the version used for her television show “Reba”. Lucky me, I even have visuals to go along with it.

I’m up and around writing in my blog during this little episode of insomnia hoping that it will somehow make me sleepy and I’ll be able to finish my night’s sleep. I’m sure this little ditty of a blog entry has made someone, somewhere fall asleep.

So Earl and I just got back from doing our civic duty and voting in the local elections. There were two referendums on the ballot: one was for New York State to turn some land over to one of the power companies so they could put a 48kV powerline along Route 56 somewhere in the North Country, the other was to allow prison inmates to work for not-for-profit organizations.

There were many choices on the ballot for the smattering of offices we were voting for. Many choices were the same vertically – the same person was running on Democrat, Republican, Independent and Conservative ticket. Some choices didn’t have a Democrat running at all. I did make choices in all elections though.

When we walked into the Town Hall we instantly knew something was decidedly different from previous voting experiences. There was no sound of levers being ticked, no crunching of the big red handle opening the curtain and locking in your vote. No. All the ceremony is gone. You now sign in, are handed a score card, instructed to fill in the square completely in a black, felt-tipped pen and sent to a bank of cubicles that really don’t afford any privacy. Gone are the days where no one else was allowed in the voting booth with you. Gone are the days when you cast your vote in confidence and felt like you were making a difference with the pull of a lever. Gone are the days when your vote was confirmed with the swing of the big red lever and a woosh of the curtains.

You now fill in squares with a black pen and take your scorecard to a big electronic machine and feed it into a document scanner. The LCD screen tells you that your vote is registered. There isn’t even a beep nor is there a Happy Mac icon congratulating you on being a good American.

I asked every election official that I had contact with if they liked the new voting machines and if it made their work any easier or more efficient.

It was a “NO” on all accounts. This is a waste of the taxpayer’s money. In the 1980s the local Super Duper (grocery store) didn’t replace their large, hulking mechanical cash registers until they broke down and were no longer functional. And when it was time to replace them, they did it one at a time. New York State should replace these machines one by one as they start to malfunction, giving the voters a choice between the old and new machines until the old machines are no longer viable.

I’m a geek. I am a certified geek. I have many documents saying how geeky I am. I’m even considering a geek tattoo.

I HATE HATE HATE HATE electronic voting. I don’t trust the voting machines. I don’t trust the companies that make them, I don’t trust the programmers that program them and I certainly don’t trust that they’re going to scan my black dot correctly and accurately. They do NOT make the process simpler for the voting citizen and they are not a step in the right direction.

I feel like voting has gone from a participatory to a spectator sport. I am not comfortable with this at all.

Bad move.

I have grown tired of trying to keep up with the news. Usually I like trying to have a handle on what is going on in the world but I’m finding myself either distrusting or just plain angry when I watch or listen to the news. If I want something ‘fair and balanced’, I opt to read or listen to the BBC. There are no ads and they’re not being lobbied against (that I’m aware of) so I figure they’re the most neutral thing out there. That’s a good thing.

At work we are being told that pay cuts are still in place, with some hopes of a partial reinstatements possibly at the end of the year, while others on the news and various politicians are spewing talking points about how the recession is over, the economy is recovering, the stimulus package is working and we are just a melodic introduction away from a heart-warming rendition of “Kumbaya”.  I want to believe that, I really do, but the only signs of the stimulus package I have seen in our area is a six-month old photo of an older man in a suit with a shovel full of dirt somewhere on Long Island as he builds a bike path in his Armani getup.

By the way, economy graded gas was $2.65 9/10 per gallon at 7 a.m.  At 11 a.m. it was $2.79 9/10 per gallon.  That’s a 6% jump in four hours.  It was $2.29 9/10 per gallon in Lynchburg, Va. last week.  The lowest I have seen here in months is $2.65 9/10.

I refuse to ignore that “9/10” of a cent from this moment forward.  “How much is that candy bar?”  We’d pitch a fit if the cashier responded “$1.29 9/10”.

My head is still in a great place after this past weekend and the vacation beforehand. I have goals that I am working towards. Like previous vacations, the path that lay before me became blissfully crystal clear as I explored and lost myself in the drive.

But I just can’t take the news anymore.

One of the enjoyable things about having a forced day off from work is that you can sleep a little later than usual and then wake yourself up at your own pace. I choose to do this by spinning around the television dial to see what shows are on. I don’t plant myself in front of the television all day watching game shows such as “Sale of the Century” or “Wheel of Fortune” but I do catch a sitcom or two as I do a few of the mundane chores.

This morning I clicked the remote and ended up on “Golden Girls” on Hallmark Channel. Hallmark Channel bought the syndication rights last year sometime when Lifetime dropped (or forgot to renew) their rights to broadcast the show and in the process the made a really big deal about it. Hallmark Channel tends to broadcast very safe, family friendly programming, so I was a little surprised when they decided to show “Golden Girls” because back in it’s day the show was a little edgy.

I wouldn’t be a gay man of the 80s and 90s if I didn’t know my “Golden Girls” episodes so I know that Hallmark has done a lot of slicing and dicing of the episodes to make room for more ad revenue. Lifetime did the same thing during their run, but Hallmark is showing completely re-edited shows. The only good thing about this run is that they are showing the proper credits for the season the particular episode is from.

Now I have mentioned before that I have spotted some dialogue editing in some episodes. The editing mentioned in the linked blog entry irritated me but I let it slide. Well today I spotted another one that pissed me off to the point that I have decreed that Hallmark Channel will not be watched in this house again.

The episode in question is #52, “Old Friends”. Originally broadcast on September 19, 1987, the story features a young girl named Daisy. In trying to make friends with the young girl, Blanche mistakenly gives her Rose’s treasured teddy bear to her. This crushes innocent Rose and realising a gold mine, Daisy holds the bear for ransom. As Blanche tries to explain the problem, the normally always pleasant Rose becomes irritated and tells Blanche, “cut the crap and get back my friggin’ bear.”

Hallmark silenced out ‘crap’ and ‘friggin’’. The covered the whole line with a very out of place and very loud laugh track. The line is funny but it’s not roll-down-the-studio-aisle funny by any stretch of the imagination.

What irritates me is that the line made it past NBC network censors in 1987. It’s not like Rose exploded with a “what the fuck? Cut the shit and get my bear back, bitch!!”

Here’s the thing. I understand that Hallmark Channel owns the rebroadcasting rights to “Golden Girls” and I guess can do whatever they want with it. I have no issue with that. That’s how the U.S. works. However, I do NOT believe that the artistic integrity of a program that has already been broadcasted continuously for the past 20+ years should be edited to make the show conform to the moral standards of the channel. If you don’t like the content of the show, then don’t purchase the rights, don’t broadcast it. If I were to put out a record with some questionable lyrics and expected airplay, I wouldn’t want some radio station changing my lyrics just to suit their needs if the song had already been deemed broadcast safe.

I understand Hallmark Channel is trying to broadcast programming they consider “family safe”. I get that. If they were true to their word and beliefs, then they shouldn’t broadcast “Golden Girls” at all if they find some of the content to be objectionable. But apparently, based on the frequency in which they broadcast the program, they are making a LOT of money on the show.

I guess they’re money whores.

I was on the elevator heading up the 16 floors to my office. I was alone in the elevator watching the indicators flash my progress: 12, 14, 15… The doors parted at my destination and I suddenly feel very dizzy, to the point that I have to steady myself against the door frame before continuing on the short walk to my office. Though it is very hokey and cliche to say, it was like a disturbance in the force.

I walked up the last flight of stairs to my office just as the clock on the wall advanced to the next minute: it was 8:48. I was 12 minutes early for work.

I started my daily routine when my cell phone rings, it’s Earl. “A plane just hit the World Trade Center! Turn on the television.” Wow, a small plane had hit one of the buildings at the World Trade Center. I figured it was probably like a Cessna 172 or something.

I started walking to the production side of the office when I noticed that the ABC radio feed on one of the radio stations I worked at was playing the “special report” theme music. I walked into the video studio where my co-worker Allen was tuning in the local television station. He found “Good Morning America” and we watched the building coverage of what was happening in New York.

It was a very short time later when all of us in our small office and radio stations were gathered around the television watching the coverage of what was happening in New York. A few moments later, we watched the second plane hit the other tower.

I felt ill. It was then that I knew that life had changed forever. I remember thinking this must be how people felt after the news of Pearl Harbor or the JFK assassination. We were glued to the television for the rest of the day, doing as little work as possible trying to keep the radio stations running. To distract myself, I made a list of all the commercials we weren’t playing (and wouldn’t play for the next couple of days).

Like many people I know, I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing that day. I also remember how I felt about my country and how proud I was when I saw all the flags pop up on every car that passed by in the following weeks. I remember how determined I was to walk down to a local shop, purchase the biggest flag I could find and then climb up on the roof of that 16 story building so I could hang that flag on the sign below the giant letters that proclaimed “ADIRONDACK BANK”. My love for the United States was never greater, and though I have been very vocal in the past, and will probably continue to be just that, I am still very much a proud American.

In 2002 Earl and I went to Shanksville, Pa. where Flight 93 went down. A chain-link fence held countless memories and tributes and a few little monuments. It was then and there that I cried for those that had lost their lives and I cheered for the bravery that each one of those people in New York, Washington and over Shanksville exhibited. Today it is with just as much emotion that I join in with the rest of our country in remembering them again.

Tears streamed down my face as I wrote my closing comments on a card at the site of the World Trade Center just last weekend: God Bless America.

Taken near Shanksville, Pa. in 2002.

I have been pruning my Facebook and Twitter friends lists and my blogroll lately. The reason for this is simple: I can’t take the friggin’ negativity any more. My god there seems to be a lot of down people on these interweb tubes. Is this limited to the social circles in which I travel or is there a prevailing wave of depression making it’s way through the U.S. these days?

“I need the purple pill (the one that makes you happy)” Just get the hell out of bed.
“I’m fat.” (Yeah? So am I. Stop eating.)
“No one looks at me.” (Stop being ugly on the inside!)

Listen, I know that a lot of people in this world have a lot of problems. And the gods know that I have bitched and bitched and bitched (like right now!) on this blog on more than a few thousand occasions but when Every. Single. Blog. Entry. or every twit, tweet or twat is about how horrible the world is because your clothes are too tight or the oil ran out of your car or your hairdresser bleached your hair too blond or you’re shocked I tell you, shocked because you just found out that a hamburger with cheese and bacon wrapped in roast beef is bad for you and you’re blue flunking it all becomes very, very tedious.

It’s dragging me down, baby.

You want something to bitch about? How about the fact that there is no cure for AIDS yet or that our government is spending money like a sailor in a whore house by throwing money in every direction hoping that something somewhere gets fixed or we are eating food that is undoubtedly going to fill us with cancer 30 years from now or that today’s kids will have no imagination because everything is being electronically fed to them. You want to complain? How about the dead Americans and Iraqis in a war that doesn’t seem to have an ending or what about all the men and women still sitting in their living room full of despair everyday because they lost a loved one. What about the way we shove our elderly into nursing homes or burn oil in these outrageous behemoths in the interest of having the biggest car (and smallest dick, apparently) on the block? I could go on and on and on about issues that have a national or even global effect.

I like writing fluff pieces here in this blog. (Hey Paula!) I also like writing the heavy stuff once in a while. And yes I do complain a lot. But goddamn it, life is not that bad and when it is, it’s probably going to be something that you’ll laugh and/or be embarrassed about 10 minutes from now anyways so for the love all that’s holy mix it up a little bit!

I am going to try to do something this weekend that I’m not sure I’m capable of doing. I am going to power down the iPhone and leave it in the drawer of my nightstand both Saturday and Sunday. My contact with the outside world will be with real human interaction. I’m not going to twit, tweet, FB or interact with anyone that isn’t either talking to me on the landline at the house or better yet engaging in a conversation face to face. I’m going to hike or go to the beach, chase storms, take pictures and spend time with my family and recall what life was about before I became so embroiled in this digital revolution that I forgot what the sun looked like and what a sunny disposition felt like. You want to talk, call me on the home phone and c’mon get happy about it. Better yet? Visit me!

Enough is enough. I’d break into song here but I can’t remember if I prefer the Barbra or Donna part.