Or how about hanging our heads in shame. That’s the day that citizens and politicians went bonkers and passed laws limiting the freedom of citizens in the name of security. A concept that the founders of this country were opposed to.

The fine folks at Downsize DC are pushing for the repeal of the USA PATRIOT ACT.

It doesn’t matter that it’s wildly unconstitutional. It doesn’t matter that it was passed in haste with no one actually reading the thing.

What matters is that it’s wrong. Plain and simple. Allowing a government to spy on its citizens is wrong. Incarceration without a trial is wrong. Right? Right.

I urge you to visit them.

http://www.downsizedc.org/blog/4-reasons-to-repeal-the-patriot-act

Here’s my letter to my reps:

Subject: Repeal the Patriot Act

I want the Patriot Act repealed.

I know that everyone was all fired up to “do something” after the World Trade Center was destroyed by religious people, but now we all know that the USA PATRIOT ACT was a very bad idea.

The beautiful thing about laws in a free country like ours is that they can be repealed! Right? Right!

Here’s your chance to make history and do something good.

Trash it. Throw it away and don’t look back. The rights that have been violated in the name of “security” over the last ten years beg you. (figuratively, of course… i’m not a complete nut!)

I dare you to do the right thing. C’mon. Come on!

Mr. dean eikleberry
xxxx x xxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx
burbank, CA 91505

The campaign used to send this message can be found here: https://secure.downsizedc.org/etp/repeal-the-patriot-act/

I dare you to do the right thing.

http://nomadlaw.com/2010/04/i-am-detained-by-feds-for-not-answering-questions/

I was detained last night by federal authorities at San Francisco International Airport for refusing to answer questions about why I had travelled outside the United States.

The end result is that, after waiting for about half an hour and refusing to answer further questions, I was released – because U.S. citizens who have produced proof of citizenship and a written customs declaration are not obligated to answer questions.

* * *

“Why were you in China?” asked the passport control officer, a woman with the appearance and disposition of a prison matron.

“None of your business,” I said.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“I’m not going to be interrogated as a pre-condition of re-entering my own country,” I said.

This did not go over well. She asked a series of questions, such as how long I had been in China, whether I was there on personal business or commercial business, etc. I stood silently. She said that her questions were mandated by Congress and that I should complain to Congress instead of refusing to cooperate with her.

… read the rest here!

There is also a wonderful list of replies to the folks calling him a… wait for it… DOUCHEBAG for refusing to answer some questions.

http://nomadlaw.com/2010/09/10-brief-responses-700-comments-about-refusing-answer-questions-at-passport-control/#comment-21860

I don’t care what idealized vision you have of mass transit, but it’s awful.

I began riding it to work when I was a code monkey at LegalZoom.com in Hollywood. It is mighty convenient and the places I’ve worked get some sort of tax break or something, so they reimburse me for my parking and my metro pass. That’s pretty great.

Plus, I’m an evil bastard who drives a child-killing SUV, so I’m saving hundreds of dollars a month by not driving to work while your president starts wars around the world. Parse that, hippie.

Driving in L.A., however, is worse than the subway, so since showbiz has put me out to pasture and I must work 5 days a week for the money my loop group friends make in a few hours, I’ve been fortunate enough to land jobs where I can ride the subway to work. (If you think I complain, you haven’t lived until you’ve heard a loop group person complain. “They made us do THREE TAKES of grunts!!!”)

The L.A. metro is awful. It is just awful. It’s noisy and uncomfortable. The passengers are inconsiderate and rude. Since we’re mass transit customers, we are basically sheep. An upside to that, I suppose, is that everyone obeys the rules; mainly the “no food or drink” rule. Which is nice as I’ve been on the train when there are people who don’t follow that rule and, well, if it’s not your own food, it smells like doo.

When I first began riding, it was filled with homeless people. They would just ride it all day… back and forth from Union Station to North Hollywood. A stop has been put to that. They clear the cars at the termination point, but it was soooo weird.

I get a cup of the finest coffee (7-Eleven… Seriously.. best coffee around, but those little creamers suck my nutz badly.) and hold it. It cools off nicely by the time I get to 7th/Metro. You would not believe the “discussion” I got into with a security guard. I have a hard enough time with authority figures, so the fact that I’m not in prison to this day for head-butting an idiot with a badge who couldn’t understand that “holding” is not “drinking”. The sign doesn’t say “No food or drinks” it says “No drinking or eating”, sir. Wildly different.

Besides the fact that it’s free for me and I don’t spend as much on gas as I would (two things I’m certainly not ignoring… I’m grateful for them), if I can get a seat (more on this later), I can manage to “sleep” for the 25 minutes of the trip.

It’s an odd sleep. I’ve only ever really fallen completely asleep once. Aks the bride: I often have um, “active” dreams and this one was no different. I was strangling someone in the dream. In the real world that becomes squeezing the cup and splling coffee everywhere.

Oops.

Maybe the security guard had a point. Whatever. Dick.

Back to the whining and complaining that I do so often and well:

At first, I was excited because I was actually riding the subway to work and saving money and could lord it over any hippie like a composte or hybrid car. But at a certain point, which takes about 4 years it seems, the excitement wore off and I realized “Wait a fucking minute. The L.A. Metro is just a very fast and expensive bus.”

I do what I can to block it all out. I listen to books. Angry Birds helped me through it all for about a month. I sleep. But… that’s once I’m on. That’s the least horrible part. Probably because I’m usually asleep or something.

This is what I see on the Los Angeles Metro EVERY DAY:

1) People running to STAND on the escalator.
This is a two part peeve – (great name for a band!!!)
First, there is a simple etiquette observed on escalators: Stand on the right – walk on the left. The rest of the world understands this… why can’t we in Los Angeles? B) If you’re in such a hurry, why stand on the escalator? Why not continue walking?

I know why, actually. Because people are standing on the left side of the escalator. Since this is Los Angeles and we are all narcissists and can do no wrong, suggesting to someone that they move to the side one step is met with “IF YOU WANT TO WALK, TAKE THE FUCKING STAIRS!!!” I hate confrontation. Why? Because the ones in my head end up with me throat punching someone.

2) A “Cool Kid” sitting on the steps at the NoHo Station as the rush hour train lets out. It’s already an unpleasant mom scene. We understand that you are a rebel and are mad at the world, dude, but really, how about sitting somewhere else? We notice you. You are tortured. We get it. And another thing. Pull up your fucking pants.

3) Men not offering their seats to women or the elderly. Today, March 31, on both trips I got up to offer my seat to a woman and it was promptly snaked by a man. A man younger than me, by the way.
It’s called chivalry. Look it up.

4) “Cool Kids” and others running from the train and pushing people so they can sit down on the bus.
The NoHo red line ends on Lankershim but it continues on as “the Orange Line”, which is just a space age looking bus. Bus drivers love to leave people behind, and every loser in L.A. who rides the bus knows this, so when the train arrives at the NoHo station it is a sprint from the train to the Orange Line. It’s so depressing. It’s like something out of “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?”. This crush of humanity… young kids, mothers with strollers, your cleaning lady, aformentioned “Cool Kids”, middle-aged proessional types, students. It makes me realize that if something bad were to ever happen in the subway, it would be, um, bad. I hope to be killed instantly so as not to a) be trampled to death or worse, b) watch people trample others to death.

5) That same “cool kid” blowing a “snot rocket” onto the platform from the train. Fortunately, I’ve only experienced this sort of joy a few times (today, being one. Lucky me!) But: Dis.Gus.Ting. It’s not cool. It’s really not. Dude, we know you don’t care what we think about you. We can tell because you’re dressed like all those other rebels who don’t care what anyone thinks about them. And dude, you’re not that cool. When I was your age, I had a job and a car. You’re riding the bus, loser. (yes, I know…)

6) The heartbreaking sight of a middle-aged to elderly woman, running to the elevator because no one is going to hold the door for her.
See previous comment about subway explosion.

7) Hey, “Cool Kid” again. That song that you’re singing along to *is* great. But… you’re riding the subway. You’re not on stage. I don’t think you ever will be, actually. Someone being “private” in public is so different from someone actually being private in public. Make sense? No. Didn’t think so. Oh yeah: Pull up your pants. Idiot.

The person who gets mad at me because there is permit parking and because I, personally, can’t sell them a parking pass.
You, the taxpayer, are actually paying for my parking space at the NoHo station. My work gets some sort of subsidy for reimbursing me for my train ticket and parking. I also claim it as an expense because I cheat on my taxes. Regardless, I have a parking pass. I had to make an effort to buy it. It’s not difficult, but I did make the effort. After about10am, there are NO spaces left at the NoHo station. If you don’t have a permit, you can park in the permit area at 11am. From about 11-1, it’s impossible to find a spot to park.

And… because everyone in the world is entitled to everything, that woman who overslept because she went to see Ke$ha at the Universal Ampitheater the night before can’t find a parking spot at 10:00am. So she drives around a few times and comes over to the permit side and wants to me to tell her everything there is to tell her about permit parking. Invariably, they get mad at me (REALLY!) because they can’t just buy a permit. Becasue I’m a dickhead and there are three other cars that look exactly like mine, I’ve begun telling people that “they never check that one section over there.” and “the fine is only $7.50 if they do catch you.”

I think it’s about $45. I hope so.

In addition to snot rocket man, today there were two young women with bibles. Again, they were being “private” in public. One was reading a passage (Acts, by the way) while the other one followed along. After they were finished, the first one said something like “I think it’s about blah blah blah…” and the other one disagreed; her interpretation was a little different. The first one replied, convinced she was right… she read the bit again. Her friend stopped her in the middle…. “Yeah, right there… they’re saying that…”

This is how wars begin.

On my subway. To hell.

Make no mistake, though: I’m happy to have a job and I’m thrilled I don’t have to drive.

I’d much rather be doing movies & t.v.

And I want a pony. A green one.

• The bride and boy are ill. In the bad way.
• Security Edition cards were linked on an extremely popular blog called Daring Fireball.
• Lawrence O’Donnell had Penn and the hero, John Tyner, on his show and they talked A LOT about the Security Edition cards.
• Penn went on the Wolf Blitzer show and basically did a commercial for the Bill of Rights – Security Edition cards.

Nuttiness. In the good way. Except for the bride and boy being sick. That is no damned good. I think we’ll just end up going to Marie Callendars for bird slaughter day. I’m taking the lad by the grandparents.

In other news, I did an interview with a very nice young person at the Horror Hound convention. He put it up here:
http://moviemeltdown.libsyn.com/.

There’s good stuff about the convention and, most importantly: ME!

cough.

Happy turkey slaughtering. I, along with most everyone else who has a non-retail job, have the next four days off and that is good schtuffs.

Never say never.

Next weekend, I’ll be in the other Sin City: SinSinnati, Ohio at HorrorHound Weekend. Signing autographs and saying…

• “I don’t know where Gary Riley is… I read he died in a car accident, but received email a few months ago from someone claiming to be him and that person, at least, seemed extremely alive.”
• I’m not sure Ski School II made enough money to warrant a Ski School III
• I think Rockula is underrated, as well.
• That’ll be 10 bucks, please.

Glib, unnecessary pessimism aside, I’m actually looking forward to it. “Esquela de Sommero”** turned me into a full-on horror fan and there are going to be some people there that I’m looking forward to seeing, if not meeting. Horror fans are the best kind of people because they are passionate and do-not-give-a-fuck. There is also going to be someone there who an old girlfriend cheated on me with years and years ago when I cared about those things, so that should be nifty.

I will be away from the bride and child for longer than I like (at least that’s what I’m saying in public) and that will be a huge drag. I don’t envy the bride having to deal with an infant who has decided that waking up at night every 3-4 hours and screaming is the way to go about things.

**that’s Summer School in the language I made up

Good thing that i had stuff saying ‘NIGERIAN SPAM SCAM’ on it, eh?!?

But… i had the entire back row to myself…

Until a woman who took a handful or two too many xanax and jack daniels’sses collapsed and hit her head on the armrest, knocking her doped up self out.

They had her lie down in the aisle for 2 hours. i couldn’t really go back to sleep because that’s what an asshole would do (shut up!) so i feigned interest until…

“Do you mind if this woman sits here?”

“Um… no… of course not…”

So i didn’t really sleep.

There’s snow here.

It seems that my cabbie, a recent graduate of the cliche nyc cabbie school, had been told that ice and snow improve traction and braking times but was confused as to why it didn’t seem to work like that. Instead of vomiting, I got out at 6th and waverly and walked a fair distance instead of the location i can’t mention because i’m staying at a paranoid famous person’s place!!!

Ah well.

I’m thinking that having a child later in life as I’ve done is a good thing because I can’t stop thinking about how cool it will be to see him experience new things… snow, for example. It’s going to be difficult to be the “seen-it-all” guy with a little guy so full of joy and wonder at all of those beautiful things.

There’s that, too.

Besides the last 5 or so hours, I have a delightful life. My wife is beautiful, sexy, funny, smart and makes cookies… and I have a son who only wants to laugh and be happy.

But really. Fuck the TSA. Right in the fucking neck.

I have an atom’s worth of understanding what it must be like to “drive while black”. An RCH of understanding. To be regarded as guilty before proven innocent is a horrible thing and that is how the TSA is destroying this country.

The guys at the venue are, thankfully, ON IT and have all of the required cables, stands and screens set up and ready to go. I plug the show iPod in to their video cable and it works the first time. That’s never happened. I check and make sure that I have the right set of slides (there are three versions of slides) and I do.

I head up to the light booth and set up Paul’s computer and iPod for the audio as Victor and he set up the computers and props for the show. Victor irons his shirt. The computers are all set up, I pass Paul, give him a quick primer on how to make sure levels are good for the phone calls. I change shirts stage right as they let people in.

Total pre-show set up time: 2 minutes.

8: 17pm – they let the audience in. All 11 of them. Eleven people are there to see the show. We’ve done a couple of state schools and both times the taxpayers have paid our salary and it looks like this is no different. Good thing Michigan is doing so well.

8:25pm – “Dear sir, may the blessings of allah be upon you and grant you the wisdom and sympathy…”

We perform the show. This is the beauty of having performed a show over 150 times for the past 5 years. It goes great. The 11 people love it. Laugh in all the right places. Scream at the reveals, etc. Were you there? Killed.

9:40pm – instead of going out to the lobby for the crap collection, we just jump off the front of the stage and chat with people. Ellen Sawyer, a person I worked with at iWin.com when this whole thing began has brought her boyfriend and four other people. They have no idea where to go in Jackson and neither do we. We don’t even know the name or location of our hotel. After some conversation with our superstar tech guys, we figure out where we’re staying and where to go for foodstuffs. We are verrrrrry hungry.

9:55pm – We say our goodbyes to the staff and head off to the hotel. Usually, after a show, there is a nice glow… a nice feeling. It’s such a fun show to perform and we LOVE doing it, but we realize that we don’t really remember doing the show tonight. The show was secondary, at least, to everything else that has been going on. It’s not a great feeling. We do realize that the benefit of having spent so little time there was that we didn’t have any opportunity to feel badly that there were going to be 11 people in the audience. That’s the silver lining, apparently.

10:30pm – We find the ho-tel. It’s fine. Basic business traveller chain. Great. The restaurant is next door, we eat, have a nice time with Ellen and her friends. I have a nice hot fudge ice cream treat and we’re back at the ho-tel by midnight.

Our return flight on Spirit doesn’t leave until 7:30pm the next day. We get late checkouts and agree that we can sleep in and then maybe go exploring beautiful Detroit – Rock City.

12:30am – My room. Sleep of the dead.

11:30am – It seems that the housekeeper didn’t get the memo that I had a late check-out and she wakes me up. Ah well. I get up, pack what little i unpacked, check out and walk across the street to have a nice, leisurely breakfast at the Cracker Barrel.

1pm – As I sit down, Victor calls. He decided to double check our flight and learned that if one misses their initial flight on Spirit Airlines, you forfeit your second leg, ass well. We have no return flight home. We are, once again, fuckity fuck fuck fucked.

We get a hold of Paul, and get in the car and begin driving back to Detroit before we have a plan. We know that we probably don’t have time to have breakfast at the Cracker Barrel. Victor checks the web on his iPhone (technology saved us, by the way) and there’s a 2:15 flight on American for $175 each. Knowing the speed of Budget, we’ll never make it. He checks Southwest. Nope.

We’re laughing. Every time something’s happened, we just laugh. It got horrible so quickly that we didn’t have time to get bummed, it was just funny the entire time. I mean… yeah… so.

I’m driving really fast. Really. Fucking. Fast. Maybe we’ll try for the 2:15 flight, but Victor finds ANOTHER American flight at 5:30 for the same price. He calls, books the tickets and we are golden.

That’s basically it. We stop at a truck stop for breakfast, which is good, as the coffee at the Cracker Barrel was asstastic.

Once we get to the airport (Returning the fucking car took less than a minute. No fucking lie.) and are all checked in with boarding passes in hand, I see the Spirit counter and I get the idea to go over and fuck with them. Just because I can. The reason I booked the tickets on Spirit was that they were the only ones with a non-stop flight and the tickets were about $150 cheaper than the real airlines. But, they charge for each bag each way and also they charge for picking seats in advance. So, it ended up being about the same as I would’ve paid on a real airline.

We’re out just over a grand for the tickets on Spirit, and we’ve spent about 1200 for the emergency flights. It’s all covered by our booking fee and we’ll still make *some* money, but… one must subtract the cost of the extra flights now…

I head over to Spirit and I figure, instead of harassing them, maybe I’ll just try to get my money back. Once again, I use Aye Jaye’s excellent line. “Hi there… I have a bit of a problem and if you can help me, you can have the rest of the day off…” I explain (or ‘splain, as ricky rickardo would say) what has happened and the woman takes my ID, punches up stuff on her screen. “It says here, you have three seats booked on the 7:30 flight.”

“What?”

“You’re booked on the flight at 7:30 tonight.”

To make a very lonnng story shorter, I’ve kept my cool and haven’t been an asshole traveler to her so she is able to refund five hundred bucks. It’s not the whole shebang, which I’m going to try to get (that’ll happen) but it’s five hundred bucks that we didn’t have a few minutes ago. I’m stunned. I aks her who I need to talk to so I can really try to get her the rest of the day off. She laughs and says “If I can’t go to L.A. where it’s warm, I might as well just stay here…”

The other silver lining is that we didn’t have to find a way to get from LAX to where I was parked at BUR.

Plus, at least the show killed. I think.

Curtain is 8pm Friday, Rocktober 23.

9:30pm Thursday, Rocktober 22 –
Thursday night – arrive at LAX 9:30pm for a 10:30pm flight on Spirit Airlines. Spirit was chosen for their non-stop to Detroit, which saved us from sitting in an airport in Dallas for an hour. Heh.

Spirit Airlines has cancelled a flight to Ft. Lauderdale. The counter looks like the US Embasy during the fall of Saigon. Victor, Paul (the tech guy) and I move to three separate lines. I get close. A woman in front of me begins yelling at me after I tell her that the Ft. Lauderdale flight is cancelled. She doesn’t, apparently, understand the “don’t kill the messenger” concept. Ah well. The two people who are behind the counter are mobbed. We can’t get to them. Finally one guy comes out and yells at everyone who is yelling at him about Ft. Lauderdale. I signal Victor to aks him about Detroit.

“That plane has departed. We made an announcement.” and he leaves. He vanishes.

10:30pm – We are stunned. Shocked. Pissed. We had plenty of time. Okay. We’ll deal with Spirit at another time, they are crushed by the pissed Ft. Lauderdale folks.

We look for departing flights. I call the savior, Colin Summers as we scurry through the airport looking for flights. It’s late. We’ve just missed a flight on United. I’m talking to Colin as we look at the displays. We see a flight to Cleveland. Victor calculates that it’s a three hour drive to Detroit. We could get in at 6am and then drive to Jackson… we wouldn’t get much sleep but we’d be okay.

Colin’s talking about different flights. I mention Cleveland. There’s an American flight to Detroit for 2grand. No. We can’t do that. Colin mentions a flight on some other airline that gets in at 5pm the next day. That gives us time to at least drive to the venue… it’s a bit over an hour from Detroit. The show is a breeze to set up. We’d get in at 5. Get to the venue by 6:30-7pm. We’re golden. Colin books the flight.

“Okay, you’re set on flight such and such arriving in Cleveland at 5pm.”

“CLEVELAND?!?! WHAT?!?!?!”

In the confusion, I’d confused poor colin and… yeah…

Victor finds a flight on Southwest that gets us to Detroit at 5pm the next day. Colin manages to cancel the ticket and tells me he’s going to bed. We’ll be fine. We’ve found a flight.

Victor gets on the phone with Southwest to book the tickets. He’s on hold for 17 minutes. Finally he gets an agent and begins going through the process. He puts the phone against his chest to aks me a question and hangs up the phone.

12am – We’ve gone to Northwest to see if there’s anything.

In Aye Jaye’s schmoozing book, he has the best line to use on someone like a harried ticket agent or some public servant who hates people. I’ve used it in the past and it is a terrific ice breaker that immediately puts them on your side. You have to say it the right way, or you could come off like a condescending (that means “talk down to”) prick.

I’ve used the line “Hi there… I tell you what, if you can help me out, you can take the rest of the day off, deal?” on the Northwest Ticket agent and she had gone through every airline’s schedule for us, trying to find a flight that gets us to Detroit at a reasonable hour.

She wasn’t able to find us anything that we were satisfied with so we thank her profusely, I tell her to let them know that she can go home she laughs and we split.

About 10 minutes later, I realize that I’ve left my backpack at the counter. We head back and it’s gone. One of the “security people” says that the cops came with dogs and they took it away. “You’d better hurry, they usually destroy those.” (she actually said this to Victor who, wisely, didn’t tell me this until much later)

Oddly, she’s not able to get in touch with the police. That makes sense. We go to my buddies at the TSA who, also aren’t able to contact the police but a teenager with a TSA badge sternly akses me about the bag and why I left it. He departs.

The bag is important, by the way, because it has the two iPods that control the show. Yeah.

He comes back and says that it was cleared and is now down at the Northwest lost baggage area.

I head down there. Victor and Paul continue searching for flights on Victor’s iPhone while I wait with three others in line as an old woman tells her sob story about her bag and how important it is to her. The other two have learned to just describe their bags and get on with it. As I approach the counter I see my bag, point to it and it’s returned. Whewwww. I’m an idiot.

1am - Victor’s found a 7:30am flight from Burbank to Detroit. It gets us in at 5:05pm. 5:05pm. At this point, it’s our only shot. If it’s on time and everything goes smoothly, we get to the venue in time to set up and go before curtain time. The problem is, the return flight on Spirit gets takes us back to LAX, so we’ll have to find a way to get from LAX to my car at BUR. Ah well. We just need to get to the DTW.

2am – Back at the house, Victor heads home, Paul sleeps on the couch. The good thing is I get to see Duncan and feed him and then go to sleep.

5:45 am – Victor arrives at the house we head to BUR.

7:00 am – We board the flight to Phoenix to get our 10:10am connecting flight to DTW.

8:45am – Arrive EARLY in Phoenix. Yes, of course, the flight to DTW is delayed by 1/2 hour. It gets us there at 5:30. Okay. Still we have time to get the rental car and drive quickly to Jackson. Sure. Okay…

11am – Wheels up to DTW. The plane has been delayed longer than 1/2 hour. Fine. We can still make an 8pm curtain. We just need to be on the road from Detroit by 6:30pm.

5:30pm – DTW. Victor y Paul go to baggage claim to get the show bag (we haven’t entertained the idea of the show bag getting lost. We can’t fathom it.) I catch the SHUTTLE?!?!?! to Budget Rent-A-Car.

5:45pm - Budget Rent-A-Car – There are 10 people in line in front of me. 10. I’ve now looked up the distance on my phone and it’s 65 miles. We are right by the freeway and the venue is right off the freeway, so there’s not *that much* surface street time. But. These fuckers in front of me need to hurry or die. They don’t. There are four rental agents. Well, until one goes on her break.

The night before, I’d emailed our contact at the venue about our situation and assured her that we’d be there and all would be fine.

Paul y Victor arrive with the bag and Paul gets on the phone with his tech contact and they go through the lighting set up. He sort of techs the show over the phone. Nice.

6:15pm - Apparently, the two sistas in front of me who have never rented a car before today, had reserved a Ford Expedition and weren’t getting one. Instead Budget was renting them a mid-sized SUV (like we were getting), but they had their hearts set on that Expedition. Okay.. at least the other agent is finished… wait what? That agent is now helping the guy get them their fucking Expedition. She saunters away and the sistas chat with the agent about the weather. I am muttering. I have begun muttering and am very close to being “that crazy guy who went nuts” so I begin deep breathing and trying to relax. We are now going to miss our 8pm curtain. It is obvious.

Victor calls our contact to tell her. It looks like we’ll be rolling in about 7:45 at the earliest, 8pm at the latest. We’ll only need 10 minutes to check levels and plug everything in. Victor says “So I guess we’ll need to hold the curtain.” She says “Yeah, you think so?!” in a strangely snide way.

The Expedition sistas are now aksing about EVERY option on the rental car contract and the Budget guy is doing his best to Upsell them on said options. The sistas have actual discussions about the pros and cons of getting the GPS upsell, the gas upsell, the insurance upsell. Then, they have that “argument” about who is going to pay for the Expedition.

I’m hugging myself and rocking back and forth. Really.

The sistas finally get their car. I am conscious of not being “that fucking asshole” so I wait until the agent calls me. I don’t want to rush him. He is quiet and seems skittish and I can tell that if I get at all aggressive with him, he cares so little that he will make my life much worse than it is at this moment, so I get calm and direct and smiley.

I gently convey that we are having a really hard time and if we can get this over with faster than slower, it’s fine with me. He doesn’t really seem to hear me. Okay. That’s fine. Strap in. Stay the course.

I get all the shit done, the good news is that since we didn’t pick it up at 5am like we were supposed to, we won’t be charged for the day, so I apply that money to the foolish upsell insurance because I am suddenly superstitious that something is going to happen to the car.

6:50pm - We are on the road. The dark, windy and rainy road. Victor brought his GPS and has it set. He relays the conversation with the woman and how she seemed strangely pissed. “I wonder if curtain was actually at 8pm…” He checks that web site. Curtain is at 7:30pm. Ah. Okay. That makes sense now. Of *course* we have to hold the curtain. Double doi.

My two friends, Colin y Kramer, who both drive like drunken teenagers late for their SATs would be proud of my driving from DTW to Jackson. Oddly, we didn’t get in a crash, have a blowout or get pulled over by the fuzz and we arrive at the venue at 8pm.

… to be continued…

Downsize DC is embarking on yet another grassroots campaign (it’s what they do) to roll back the wildly unconstitutional USA PATRIOT ACT. (I exaggerate to clarify)

The good news is that some parts of the PATRIOT Act could expire at the end of the year. This provides an opportunity to roll back many of these dangerous provisions. Toward this end Senator Russ Feingold introduced the JUSTICE Act (S. 1686) on September 17, Constitution Day. JUSTICE stands for the Judicious Use of Surveillance Tools In Counterterrorism Efforts.

Won’t you visit them?

http://www.usatoday.com/travel/columnist/baskas/2009-05-13-penn-teller-tsa_N.htm

Reading the comments on the page, it’s always sad to see how readily people will just give over to authority. It’s not about being made to wait in line, it’s checking to see what one would give up to feel safe. We all know that it’s for show. We know the searches at the airport are useless. They’re simply so some people feel safe and because “they” had to “do something”.

In other news, I’ve been doing web contract work at Disney Consumer Products. It’s been pretty great (and I would still say so even if it wasn’t great, so you really can’t tell, can you…) but it looks like it’s going to be ending next week.

In other noose, some big shot says they’re going to pay me to write The Nigerian Spam Scam Scam movie. Bring it. I’ll certainly have time. Well, until late July.

Man, the bride looks like she’s trying to shoplift a watermelon, unsuccessfully trying to hide it under her shirt. Lengthwise. Duncan seems to favor her right side.

He’ll be a right-winger as a kid and then grow up and be a fucking loser hippie. He hates me already.