It's safe to say that Britney Spears or Boyz'n the Hood (sp?), or their promoters, will not be doing time because somebody popped Ecstasy at one of their concerts. Maybe this is another front in the entertainment industry's campaign to make nice with the bluenoses after Frank Zappa spoke truth to Tipper Gore.
Send a file-swapping raver to jail, protect the industry's big acts, get an anti-drug feather in the industry's cap. Win-win-win!
In spite of the nom de blog I've chosen, other things interest me apart from the ozony tang of burnt smokeless propellant.
For instance, Blogger pointed me to dissatisfaction, which led to bitterness, and anger, associated with the dating scene. Let me submit that dating, courting, finding someone to share your time and happiness with, is an acquired skill set. Some people seem to be born with it, others must teach themselves assiduously, others never quite get the knack. Of these last, some manage to find happiness with a significant other anyway, but statistically the prospects are not good, unless there is some milieu, such as work, church, or some shared intense experience to draw people together who otherwise could not give each other the time of day.
Some (male and female) develop the courting skills to such a fine edge that they put their objects at a disadvantage, and toy with them for amusement in itself, rather than employ dating/courting/NotDatingTM as the means to a wholesome and logical end---finding companionship.
There are wonderful observations about the human condition in these blogs, along with some truly disturbing cries of pain and confusion, some of which I've expressed myself years ago, some very alien, and some self-inflicted.
Something I've thought for years: we need charm schools for men (this is not an invitation for women to suggest curricula, by the way). Unfortunately, such schools would represent the sharing of carefully- (and expensively-)developed competitive trade secrets. There is no incentive for a roué to disclose his technique except in return for another, as if in a guild. This is the main reason dispirited young men who lack these skills conclude that good guys finish last.
I once took a long business trip in Latin America, touring customers with the LA business manager. After taking a bus over Los Caracoles, we had a long stop in Mendoza, Argentina, where the friend of our representative there invited us to dine with the entire family. To honor their guests, the father brought out a bottle of wine that was earmarked for such occasions, bought on the year that his first child, a daughter, was born. She was in her teens at this event.
As a redneck Gringo with one year of high-school Spanish, I had difficulty staying with the conversations. But the idea of setting aside a few bottles of wine, to commemorate milestones in a child's upbringing, stuck with me. The story of el patalana stuck with me too.
Our first child enters first grade. Our second is a kindergartner. The boy won't be in school for another year.
For some reason, all blogs where a blogchalk is posted show a placeholder for the graphic instead of the graphic itself. The graphic is 800-odd pixels long, which buggers up the tables upon which blogs depend. Spleenville (thanks for the blogroll, Andrea) is now about two miles wide and I have to use the horizontal scroll bar to read it.
From Boulder's The Daily Camera:
" . . . an investigation has been launched into allegations that [Air Force Academy] cadets used sexually offensive language while performing a skit at a pregraduation party."
The skit was lifted from Monty Python's movie, The Meaning of Life, wherein a public-school don describes the sex act to a class of inattentive boys. The party was a "dining in", closed to the public, where strong drink is present, formalities are observed, and humor is a tradition.
I submit that an Air Force officer will be faced with far more offensive things than sexually offensive language during the typical career. At the risk of romanticizing or hyperbole, I tell you they will be making decisions that send people to their deaths. One goal of all military training, including the service academies, is to toughen the skin for such harsh realities, so they can lead men and women wisely.
Apparently in this case the goal was not achieved for some of our cadets.