The Tribune Tower

I checked out the Tribune Tower the other day. It's a neo-Gothic skyscraper that is the home of the Chicago Tribune and marks the beginning of the "Magnificent Mile." Also, the basement was the set for the batcave in The Dark Knight. The lower levels of the building feature rocks, bricks, and other artifacts that Tribune reporters have collected from around the world. Here are some pics of the tower and a few of the artifacts:

"On the Death Sentence"

I just read "On the Death Sentence"- a review by John Paul Stevens of David Garland's book, A Peculiar Institution: America's Death Penalty in an Age of Abolition. Justice Steven's provides a good overview of the book and a compelling analysis of the death penalty in America. I have always been uncomfortable with the death penalty- as I think most people are- because of the sheer finality of it and the possibility of human error; but I became firmly opposed to it after reading Gibbs Smith's book, Joe Hill, for a criminal justice class that I took in college. Joe Hill was a migrant worker originally from Sweden who came to Utah to work as a miner and was executed by firing squad in 1915 for the murder of a local butcher and his son. His conviction was based on inconclusive circumstantial evidence and questionable eyewitness testimony. For example, the prosecution emphasized the fact that Joe Hill received a gunshot wound on the same night as the murder. There were a total of five people treated for bullet wounds in the Salt Lake area that night, and the prosecution did not demonstrate why Hill's wound was more suspicious than any of the others.

Most people who study the case today believe that the state of Utah failed to prove that Joe Hill was guilty, and that he was convicted because he was a migrant worker and a member of the International Workers of the World (a very unpopular organization in Utah at the time). He was likely the victim of the public's hunger for vengeance and the state's need for a scapegoat, consistent with Garland's thesis that "the primary public benefits of the death penalty are 'political exchange and cultural consumption."

Justice Stevens says about those who are condemned on death row: "Many of them have repented and made positive contributions to society. The finality of an execution always ends that possibility." When I was working at the Salt Lake Metro Jail, I worked one-on-one with several people who had committed capital crimes, and there were times that I was shocked by how badly they wanted to redeem themselves. It may never be possible to right a wrong as great as murder, but why not let someone try? I recently read an article in the Salt Lake Tribune about a man named Robert Jones who was convicted of murder in 1983 and has been in the Utah State Prison since then. He has devoted his time to doing service projects in the name of Kim Chapman, the man he shot and killed. This year, he crocheted 540 stocking hats for needy children in the Salt Lake area, often staying up late into the night to make sure the hats could all be delivered by Christmas. If he had been sentenced to death, Kim Chapman would still be dead- nothing can change that. 540 children, though, would not have hats to keep them warm this winter.

Justice Stevens concludes his review by quoting Justice Byron White: "the death penalty represents the 'pointless and needless extinction of life with only marginal contributions to any discernible social or public purposes."

Read Justice Stevens' review here.
Read the article about Robert Jones here.

And then the sun came out...

Wintry Night in the Loop

Lake Street

Monument With Standing Beast

Modeling Christmas Cookies

Napoleon and I made Christmas cookies and we were inspired by this woman to document the occasion:

Millennuim Park

The sun finally came out, so I thought I'd get out and see the city with a fresh blanket of snow. These photos are from Millennium Park, along the lake shore, and from Grant Park along Michigan Ave.

The Jay Pritzker Pavilion- designed by Frank Gehry.

Cloud Gate- also known as "the bean"- designed by Anish Kapoor.

The bean's navel.

Reflection.

Magdalene.

Ho Ho Ho!

Chicago was teeming with drunk Santas on Saturday for the annual Santa pub crawl. Too bad I don't have a Santa costume.

Traces

The other night we saw "Traces" from the Seven Fingers- a circus company based out of Montreal. The show was stunning to say the least. It featured seven artists performing some of the craziest acrobatics I've ever seen. I was sitting next to Jackie Burns, who plays Elphaba in the national tour of Wicked, and amazes audiences nightly by how powerfully she sings "Defying Gravity." She was so blown away by "Traces" that after the show she said, "I don't even feel talented anymore." If you get a chance to see "Traces" or any other show by the Seven Fingers, do! Oh, and just for fun, I posted a video clip of Jackie singing "Defying Gravity" at the bottom of the post- decide for yourself who's more talented. The audio is terrible and you can barely see Jackie, but I think its good enough to gauge her talent.

Is that a duck?

This is the building that is directly across the street from our apartment:


A couple of days ago, Napoleon and I were noticing how the awnings look like tire tread when Napoleon said, "Is that a duck?" It took me a second to figure out what he was talking about, but then I saw it too:

I said, "Yes, that is a duck. A dead duck." I pulled out my camera to take a picture and as I was zooming in I noticed another dead duck just above that one:


In the first picture above you can see both of these ducks on the left awning and just above it. I don't know why these ducks were flying through downtown Chicago, what killed them, or how long their bodies have been lying there, but I can't help but feel a little sad for them.

Chicago!

We made it to Chicago on Monday and I'm loving it! Last night I explored the river-walk and took pictures of some of Chicago's iconic architecture.

The Wrigley Building.

The Wrigley Building with the Tribune Tower in the foreground and the Trump International in the background.

NBC Tower.

Me in a reflective ball thing.

The lower level of the Michigan Avenue bridge.

Bell on the Michigan Avenue bridge.

Vietnam War memorial.

Trump Tower. I took this picture from the rooftop of our building.

El tracks going down Wabash Avenue. This picture was also taken from our rooftop.

Locked out!

Thursday night I was headed to work. I left my apartment, making sure to lock the door behind me. As I walked down the hallway of my apartment building I realized that I had forgotten my car keys. I turned back to go get them and then thought... SHIT.... Like most people I keep all of my keys together on a key chain, which means I was locked out of my apartment. I had heard that it is sometimes possible to pop a door lock with a laminated card, so I pulled out my bus pass and began attempting to break into my apartment. This was a bit awkward for because I don't really know any of the people who live in the other 28 apartments in my building and for the first time in the six months that I've lived here I actually saw the people I live with. Well, I eventually arrived at the conclusion that I wasn't getting anywhere with my bus pass and called my land lord who came and let me in.

So.... Friday night I had absolutely nothing to do (lame, right?) so I decided to make my bi-monthly appearance at the gym. I left my apartment, making sure to lock the door behind me, and immediately thought.... SHIT! I had done it again! I really didn't want to call my landlord because I was still recovering from the previous night's embarrassment, and so I pulled out my library card (I don't know how I ended up with my library card, but not my keys) and tried once again to break in. No luck. I finally broke down and called my landlord. This time, though, he couldn't come to the rescue because he was out of town and wouldn't be back until the next afternoon. And what made things worse was that I was only wearing shorts and a sweat shirt. I couldn't go outside because it was freezing, I couldn't drive anywhere, and I couldn't get into my apartment. So I hung out in the hallway and tried to be inconspicuous. I eventually called my friend Basil, who happens to be a super hero, and he said he'd be over as soon as he could. Thirty minutes later he pulled up in his Volvo with a ladder tied on top, a trunk full of tools, and a beer for each of us. About four minutes later, I was crawling through a window into my bedroom. Thank you Basil for rescuing me.

So.... Saturday I took my keys with me every time I left the apartment. Sunday, however, was not as successful. I was hungry and wanted to eat pizza. So, I picked up my keys, set them back down (I don't know why), walked out of the apartment, making sure to lock the door behind me, and thought... SHIT. Well, this time I was determined to get back in on my own. I didn't call my landlord. I didn't call Basil. I didn't try my library card. I walked to the store, bought a screwdriver for $1.59, borrowed a chair from the back porch to stand on, and broke in through my window all on my own. I am a bit embarrassed about locking myself out of my apartment three times in four days, but I am also pretty damn proud that I was finally able to break in all on my own.

Nanny's Three Dakotas

My great grandma (we call her Nanny) just turned 92 years old. Despite her age she is still as fun as ever. She recently got a new dog- a white poodle named Dakota. A few years ago she adopted a stray cat- which she named Dakota. About the same time that she adopted the cat, her black poodle that she had had for about fifteen years passed away. Its name was Dakota. She had it cremated and it now resides in a pot on the coffee table. She lives with three Dakotas- a dog, a cat, and the remains of what once was a dog. Love you Nanny! Happy Birthday!

SPEAKING OUT: my story

I've been out of the closet, or on my way out at least, for over two years now (yeah, I'm talking about the "gay" closet). These two years have been more challenging than any other period of my life, but they have been equally invigorating and rewarding. For the most part, I have been quiet about my personal struggles and feelings during this time, only sharing them with a few very close friends. However, with the passing of Proposition 8 in California, I've decided that its time to talk. History has shown that majority populations generally do not stand up to discrimination until it becomes personal to them. The majority of Americans were indifferent to the civil rights movement until they were able to witness the brutality of the Jim Crow South first hand on television. Recently, I read a quote by Nobel Peace Prize winner and Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel. He said, "I swore to never be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented." Like Wiesel, I've made the same commitment to speak out against oppression, injustice, and human suffering. Many of you who read this may not agree with my opinions and beliefs. Understand that my point is not to offend. All I want to do is share some of my own experiences and the reasoning behind my beliefs.

I've always been gay. Even as a kid, I knew that I wasn't like the other boys, and anybody who grew up with me can attest to that. As a young teen I became aware that I was attracted to guys. In fact, I had absolutely no interest in girls other than as friends- and most of my best friends were girls. None of that really mattered too much to me at the time though. My main concern was doing well in school and preparing to go on a mission for the LDS Church. I told myself that if I served God faithfully that He would bless me with the capacity to fall in love with a nice girl and live happily ever after. So I served God. I gave it everything I had. For two years I devoted every ounce of energy I had to being the best missionary to have ever stepped foot in the state of Georgia.

It was as a missionary in Atlanta that I became personally aquainted with a gay man named Anthony Nunez. He was the first openly gay person I had ever really known. Anthony invited us into his home to discuss our message of God's love. He was one of the kindest people I got to know in Georgia. The first things I noticed about Anthony were his hollow face and eyes and his pale skin. We found out that he was dying of AIDS. His liver was failing and he didn't have much life left. His entire family had disowned him and left him to die of this terrible disease alone. I'm ashamed of how I reacted to his situation. My companion and I were kind and did what we could to relieve his lonliness, but in my mind I told myself that God had allowed me to meet Anthony so that I would know what could happen to me if I didn't suppress my own homosexuality. I now believe that if God had in fact set up our meeting, that it was to show me the face of suffering among gay people in this country. It was to show me that first and foremost, gay people are people. They have families and dreams and when they suffer, all of humanity suffers with them. Now, when I think of what the oppression of gay people has done in this country, I think of Anthony Nunez.

Well, I gave my all to the Lord, came home, and everything was still the same. I still wasn't attracted to girls, but now it actually mattered. I was expected to date, to fall in love, and start an eternal family with no delay. I eventually became frustrated and stopped trying. I didn't feel that it would be fair to any girl to pretend to be in love just so I could be married in the LDS temple. Pretending would have been the only way- seriously, how can you fall in love with someone you are not even attracted to in the first place? I think it is important here to make the point that when I speak of attraction, I don't mean only physical attraction. Any of you who have been in love should know that when you love someone, you are attracted to body and soul- the entire person. It's not just physical. When I speak of attraction, this is what I'm referring to. I would ask any of you who are straight if you can imagine yourself falling in love with someone of the same gender. I'm sure the answer would be no. Likewise, falling in love with someone of the opposite gender is something that I have never been able to imagine for myself.

I went to my bishop in August 2006 seeking help to overcome my same-sex attraction. He had no idea of how to help me, so he sent me to LDS Family Services. I worked with a very kind therapist there for a couple months, but eventually she admitted that she didn't feel like there was anything she could do to help me. She told me that she was torn between her profession and her faith on the matter of homosexuality and she suggested that I see someone else. So my bishop set me up with a friend of his who was a therapist. This man claimed to have worked with over 500 gay Mormon men like myself. He told me that his experience had taught him that you can't change a person's sexuality. He believed, like most researchers and mental health professionals, that nobody chooses to be gay. Gay people are born gay. What he wanted to do, he told me, was to help me deal with homosexuality in a heterosexual way. It made no sense to me, and to this day, I think that he was just as ignorant about homosexuality as anyone. His method was for me to make a list of all of the girls that I knew. From there, he wanted me to tell him something that I liked about each of them. At that point, I was to try to convince myself that I was attracted to those qualities. Then I was supposed to pick one of the girls and ask her on a date. I've often wondered if this method would be at all effective on straight people. Make a list of all of your same-gender friends- think about what you like about them- turn those qualities into attractions- ask them on a date. My guess is that it would never work. One day I cancelled my appointment with this therapist and never rescheduled.

About this time my bishop was becoming just as frustrated as I was. He told me that I needed to try harder- I needed more motivation. So he convened a Church disciplinary council. It was by far, the most humiliating experience of my life, and it, more than anything else, turned me away from the LDS Church. I wasn't excommunicated, but I was told that I was standing on the edge of a cliff and if I proceeded to jump off that cliff, I would be excommunicated. I was instructed to hang out with girls more often. This showed me just how out of touch my bishop was with my struggles. I had been meeting with him and discussing these issues for ten months, and now he thought that if I just made some friends with a few girls I could be fixed. He didn't get it! My problem wasn't making friends with girls! I had TONS of girlfriends! My problem was falling in love. That summer I decided to never go back to the Mormon Church.

During this time I was an emotional disaster. Suicide was on my mind almost constantly. I felt lonely and alienated. I remember one cold night, I was sick of life. I just wanted to get away. I hopped in my Jeep and started driving. I had no destination in mind- I just wanted to run. I drove west from Salt Lake on I-80. I eventually got off the freeway and drove out through the dried up lake bed to Stansbury Island in the Great Salt Lake. I climbed up to the top of the peak and sat there gazing out over the lake with the city lights in the distance. It was like I was looking at my life- trying to decide if I had the strength to go back to it. Sitting on the top of that peak, I was the only human being around for miles as far I could tell. I cried. I prayed. I screamed. I yelled. For a few minutes, I went completely crazy. But then I told myself that I could do this- I could go back and face life. I hiked back to my Jeep and drove back to Salt Lake. Throughout this time, I had one friend who I knew I could trust. I knew that I could talk to her and she wouldn't tell me I was right or wrong. She would just sit there and listen- then she would hug me and tell me that my life was worth living. I will never forget her compassion, understanding, and support.

At some point I fell in love. We were together for about ten months and it was a journey through heaven and hell that I will never forget. In the end, things didn't work out, but I will always cherish the love that I felt for him. It was because of him that I decided to come all of the way out of the closet. Things were difficult. I didn't expect my family or most of my friends to ever want to see me again. I was wrong. While things were rocky for a while with my family, we've been able to maintain the loving relationships that we have always had. For my friends, it didn't matter if I was gay or straight. I was their friend and that was all that they cared about.

Well, that's my story- the short version, at least. Now I've enlisted myself in the struggle for equality and human rights for all people. I've been inspired by the work of two great human rights activists, Bishop Desmond Tutu and Coretta Scott King. Bishop Tutu has spoken out against homophobia saying that it is a "crime against humanity." He has also stated that, concerning gay people, "we treat them as pariahs and push them outside our communities. We make them doubt that they too are children of God- and this must nearly be the ultimate blasphemy. We blame them for what they are." He has also expressed his view that homosexuality has a place in God's plan: "the totality of our love makes each of us grow to become increasingly godlike and compassionate. If this is so for the heterosexual, what earthly reason have we to say that it is not the case with the homosexual?..... A parent that teaches a child that there is only one sexual orientation and that anything else is evil denies their humanity and our own too."

Likewise, Coretta Scott King emphatically supported the gay rights movement. She said that, "gay and lesbian people have families and their families should have legal protection... a constitutional ammendment banning same-sex marriages is a form of gay bashing and it would do nothing at all to protect traditional marriages."

In the recent campaign to ban gay marriage in California, I have taken issue with the involvement of the LDS church in support of Proposition 8. I have taken this position for a number of reasons, none of which have to do with my personal feelings about the Church. I believe it is just to single out the LDS Church's role from among a coalition of churches and other organizations because the Church was the single most effective actor in raising money and supporting erroneous propoganda in support of the Proposition. It is estimated that around 22 million dollars was donated to the Yes on 8 campaign by members of the Church after being instructed by Church leaders to give of their time and means to support the Proposition. This accounts for upwards of 70% of the entire volume donated to the cause, much of which came from out of state donors. Without the Church's involvement, the so-called "coalition" would have been nearly powerless to change public opinion.

The Church has recently stated that they feel like they have been unfairly targeted for participating in the democratic process. They seem to forget that by accepting 501(c)(3) tax exemption from the IRS that they have forfeited their right to participate in the democratic process. The IRS Tax Guide for Churches and Religious Organizations says specifically that this status may be jeopordized by "attempting to influence legislation" which it states includes action "by the public in a referendum" which is exactly what Proposition 8 was. If the LDS Church wants to be involved in the democratic process, all they need to do is pay taxes like the rest of us. Their involvement in this campaign has been blatantly illegal and immoral. If you would like to read the tax code it can be found online at: http://www.irs.gov/pub/irs-pdf/p1828.pdf
Another issue that I have with the Church's involvement is the inherently hypocritical nature of it. Not only is it against church doctrine (but obviously not policy) to "mingle religious influence with civil government" (Doctrine and Covenants 134:9), but it should be against the spirit of Mormonism to participate in the oppression of minority groups. However, history has shown that this has not been the case. Despite enduring incredible persecutions for their religious beliefs and practices, the LDS Church has not hesitated during the last century to advocate oppressive practices and policies targeted at minority groups. Shortly after the Brown v. Board of Education decision, LDS apostle Mark E. Peterson, stated in a talk given at BYU, that the civil rights movement has "blinded the thinking of some of our own people." He went on to say that "the Negro... is not just seeking the opportunity to sit down in a cafe where white people sit... it appears that the Negro seeks absorption with the white race. He will not be satisfied until he achieves it by intermarriage. That is his objective and we must face it. We must not allow our feelings to carry us away, nor must we feel so sorry for the Negroes that, we will open our arms and embrace them with everything we have. Remember the little statement that they used to say about sin: first we pity, then endure, then embrace." He goes on to imply that segregation is a divine institution. He says "When the Lord chose the nations to which the spirits were to come, determining that some would be Japanese and some would be Chinese and some Negroes and some Americans, He engaged in an act of segregation."

Similar rhetoric has been at play in the current debate. The Church, and other conservative voices, have expressed fear that gay-marriage would be dangerous to the institution of marriage and family. In the fifties, these same groups were expressing the exact same fear about the civil rights movement and the end of formal segregation. They believed that if people of color (Elder Peterson goes on to include Chinese, Japanese, and Hawaiians) were to be integrated into white society that it would only be a matter of time before inter-racial marriages were common place and the traditional homo-racial family was destroyed. The same rhetoric is being used about not allowing one's "feelings" to get involved in the debate. It seems that we are encountering history all over again. The debate is the same, and in the end the outcome will be as well: justice and equality will triumph for all.

Well, when I started writing this morning I had no idea that I would write this much. I applaud any of you who have read the entire post. I apologize for its length, but I feel like I need to open my mouth and let people know how I feel. Please feel free to leave comments and to share this post with others who you think may be interested. Remember, though, when commenting, that this is a personal blog, not a public forum, and I may remove any comment that I don't like. :-)

Wendover!!

So, Dawn and I went to Wendover for the first time yesterday. I can't believe I've lived in Salt Lake for over five years now and I had never been there. To be honest though, there's really not much to do there. There's nowhere to shop, not much to see- I'm not even sure that there's a movie theatre there. I was impressed by the overwhelming amount of neon lights in the Montego Bay casino. I had a goal to win enough money to travel to the Philippines to see Ryan, but I fell quite short of that. Actually, I didn't do too bad- I only bet $3 and got $1 back.

LOST

So yesterday, instead of writing my paper that was due today, I spent most of the day watching Lost. I'm so addicted- I started watching it online and now I can't stop. I'm on season three now- I just watched the episode where Locke blows up the submarine. Pretty intense stuff.
I've decided that procrastinating makes me work more efficiently- I watched Lost all day instead of doing homework, and then I was forced to finish my eight page paper in a matter of only a few hours- and I managed to do it. Everything worked out perfectly.

Palin vs. Rasmussen

So every February in the great state of Alaska hard core snowmobilers gather for the Iron Dog- a 2000 mile race across the state. The defending champion (and four time winner) is Todd Palin, husband of Vice Presidential hopeful Sarah Palin (who I'm not very fond of). Well, this year he's going to have some tough competition from none other than my own father, and snowmobiling legend, Bret Rasmussen. GO DAD!!!

bridge jumping

I went bridge jumping for the first time this summer with Mu and Nae. Notice the sexy farmer's tan.

buddy

One of the gaurds at the jail called me "buddy" the other day. It was very strange. Buddy is a name that's appropriate for nephews or your best friend's kid brother, but not so much for grown men at work who you don't really know. Apparently, though, I don't really look much like a grown man (despite being 6 foot 3 inches tall). Today at work I mentioned that I'll be starting school on the 25th and one of my coworkers asked if I'll be in the 8th grade. Maybe I'll grow a beard- that should make me look older (and uglier I suppose).
Anyway, I kind of like it when the lady at Jonie's Deli (I think her name is Jonie) calls me "hun". I guess it's kind of endearing. But you know, I probably wouldn't care if she called me "buddy" either. However, I think I would care a LOT if the jail guard called me "hun" (this particular guard, anyway). Maybe the name isn't as important as the name giver.
By the way, Jonie (the one at Jonie's Deli) makes the best garlic cheese burgers in the entire world.

sneak away to the philippines

Ryan snuck away to the Philippines early Sunday morning. Actually, it was a pretty public event. It put any LDS missionary farewell or homecoming I've ever seen to shame. Anyway, just as Britney Spears has foretold, he can sneak away to the Philippines, but we will still want a piece of him. At least there won't be pictures of his derriere in the magazines (although, some may show up on facebook).

scrambled french toast

This morning I woke up craving French toast, but wasn't really looking forward to waiting for each piece of toast to cook, and getting my hands all eggy from dipping the bread. Then I had this really great idea- just scramble the French toast. It makes cooking eggs a hell of a lot easier so I imagined it should work with French toast as well. I tore up 5 slices of whole wheat bread, cracked 4 eggs over it, and poured in some milk. I stirred it around with a spoon (which saved me from having eggy hands) and dumped it into a frying pan coated with melted butter. I cooked it just like I would scrambled eggs and ate it with maple syrup. The whole process only took about 10 minutes and I never once had to dip my hands into a bowl of eggs. Superb. Now, I am aware that I should probably refrain from eating anything with cholesterol in it until Christmas next year, but I think that the whole wheat bread must make up for some of that somewhere.

funeral planning

My mom got a new job- she's a funeral planner. I guess it's kind of like being a wedding planner- only different.

the pinoy photo shoot

My brown friends (the pinoys) invited me to a photo shoot last week for diversity reasons. Check it out:

marriage advice

Marriage advice from Nanny Balling (my super sassy great grandma who I absolutely love to pieces): Don't marry people because you feel sorry for them!!

Winking at the mirror

If you've never winked at yourself in the mirror, you should. I did once and discovered something new about myself- I have a mole on my right eyelid. I had never seen it before because I generally have both of my eyes open when I look at myself. I suppose that girls who wear eye shadow may be more aware of what their eyelids look like, but I would suspect that the majority of non-eye shadow wearing people don't. Check it out.

Actually this isn't a picture of my right eyelid, but I'm not good at winking and I have to hold my eyelid down in order to see the mole. It's just too awkward for picture taking.

Razzleberry Satin

This is what I ate for lunch yesterday:

Molly Brown

My family got a new puppy- her name is Molly Brown (originally it was Otis, but they changed it). She's just about the cutest darn thing I've seen in my entire life, but she has really sharp puppy teeth and she likes to bite.

Stealing Cookies

The other night while I was hanging out in the break room at the jail, one of my coworkers pointed out to me that there was a loose cookie in the vending machine. She also mentioned that there had been a loose Hershey bar too, but it had somehow managed to fall and she picked it up. She recommended that, if I were to give the vending machine a big shove, I may end up just as lucky as she. Well, at first I was hesitant- I've never stolen anything from a vending machine- and the fact that I was in the jail made it seem even more daring. I decided, though, that I wasn't really stealing- obviously somebody had paid for it, or it wouldn't be dangling there waiting to fall. I gave the vending machine a big shove (actually it more like two or three- it was a really heavy vending machine) and let it fall back to the ground. Then I ate my cookie in front of a class full of inmates (I would have loved to share but that is very much against jail rules).

Proportions

Apparently, I'm perfectly proportioned. On Christmas my family had a little measuring event. It turns out that my wingspan is 72 3/4 in. and my height is 73 in. Pretty good if you ask me.

Half-asses and breast baring turkeys

So I got myself a little summer job- it's actually kind of fun. I am a wagon driver at This is the Place Heritage Park. It's kind of a crazy place, but I like my job. I get to be outside with the horses all day and give rides to goofy people and their annoying children. Oh, and I have to wear a costume. Yesterday I drove a team of mules instead of horses. I've decided to place mules into the category of animals that I don't like. They're mean, ornery, stubborn, scared of everything that moves or makes noise, and they never get tired. They ran away from me three times yesterday. The first time was before I even caught them. I put up a bar across the front door of the barn so that I didn't have to actually shut the door, but so I could herd the mules into the barn and they couldn't get out. It turns out that, unlike horses, mules can crawl under things. I herded them in through the back door of the barn and a few seconds later they had crawled out the front door. Well, a little while later we got them herded back into the barn. We harnessed them and I drove them out of the barn to hook them up to the wagon. When I got to the wagon, my helper guy had disappeared. I couldn't hook then up to the wagon by myself, so I tried to just hold them there for a few minutes and wait for him to come help me. But before he came, a couple guys on riding lawnmowers started driving towards us. The mules went crazy and started running down the road. I held them as long as I could, but I just couldn't keep up. Pretty soon they were running through the apple orchard and eventually they got tangled up in an apple tree. Well, my helper finally showed up and we got the mules hitched to the wagon and drove them for a few hours. After we got them unhitched and were driving them back into the barn to unharness them, the mules got spooked again and took off running. We finally caught them and got everything taken care of, but I'll never view mules in the same light. I hope I never have to do anything with mules ever again. Mules may only be half-asses but I now have a much better understanding of why calling someone an "ass" is such a universal insult.

I kind of felt bad for my helper guy- I was trying to be a really decent guy and watch my language and everything, but those mules brought out the worst in me. I think that after a few days of trying to make a good impression, he was a little shocked to hear some of the things that came out of my mouth. Oh well, working with mules is like nothing I've ever done before and I hope I never do it again.

The mules aren't the only interesting things at the park. There's also a fat, old turkey that wobbles around the petting corral all day. It has rubbed all of the feathers off its breasts and walks around with a puffed up chest flaunting its bare breasts at the visitors. Its quite the animal.

Maryjane down the drain

I'm really excited because the title of this post rhymes! But that's beside the point. The other night at the jail the gaurds suddenly ended class and locked all of the prisoners up in their cells. Immediately the prisoners (it was ladies' night) came up with a story to explain the lock up. A new female prisoner had smuggled some dope into the jail with her. Well, she got scared that she would get caught and tried to flush it down the toilet. Some how, the gaurd found out and had all of the plumbing in the building turned off so that somebody could fish the dope out of the pipes (I don't know who would want that job). They decided to lock everybody up for the night to prove a point that you shouldn't smuggle drugs into the jail. Well, the story was entirely made up (well, maybe not entirely). The toilet in the classroom wasn't working so I think that's what led to the part about shutting off the plumbing in the entire building. I couldn't believe how quickly they formulated a whole story to explain the lock down. It only took a few seconds.

What really happened is that an officer had died at home that day and they brought in substitute gaurds so that any of the gaurds who wanted to grieve could go home for the night. I guess they thought that it would be best to keep everybody locked up.

Speaking of jail- there is an inmate who is desperate for a female penpal- any takers?