Abortion

Total abortion in the hold.  I was all glad to be back in action and out of the factory.  Nevermind the three hours sleep or the disorganized mayhem that became of the maiden fish processing for B season.  Never mind all that.  I was gonna go home and get going again.  And I was pretty happy about it.

So myself and two other guys went down there to stack product.  A bag came down.  And got stuck in the chute.  I climbed up there to get it loose and noticed it wasn't very slick.  So I went up top to tell the guys to hold off on putting bags in for a second.  One of the guys looked dead in my eye and dropped it down the chute.  I told him.  He said to tell the other guys.  I said I was trying to tell him so he wouldn't do what he did.  No biggie.  I climbed up the conveyor and un clogged it.  They poured some water down the chute to make it slick. 

The bags started coming down and out of the chute.  Here we go.  We're off, right?  Wrong.  Literally a third of the bags got hung up on the belt before it even dropped to five feet.  I had to jump, climb, poke with a pry bar and prod to get it together.  And it did not stop. It's something that can be fixed, but looks like it should never have been.  It was like a suicide mission for the bag, with practically no chance of making it across a few belts and around a corner or two.  There was a gap between two of the belts that was big enough for bags to fall through.  No lie.  One of them fell through and hit me in the face.  Nice.

Before getting into the real peach of a circumstance, I gotta mention that my two freezer pals were not having much fun.  And they kinda folded on me.  Not a toatal fold, but I can see the look of defeat on their faces before they know it's there.  It was there.  Nice guys and good workers.  But whatever anger I was feeling, they probably registered as discouragement.  I was mad that it was so aweful because of so many things that should have been addressed.  They probably felt like there was noway they were gonna get through a whole season of this.

And once I noticed the kicker, I felt the same way.  They were sending the bags down with no straps.  This might not mean anything to you, but picture if you will, taking luggage without a handle.  Because that's what it is.  It is quite literally more than twice as hard to stack bags with no strap than with.  I know this because it is harder to grab one bag with no strap than two with a strap.  If the strap on your backpack breaks, you obviously carry it around like a kitten.  But you don't choose the one with nos traps if you have a choice.  We have a strapper.  The first bag that came down had a strap on it.  I offered to work alone down there to help pick up the slack and this is the deal?  Come on.  Can't do it.  It's hard enough when you have straps unloading freezers of fish.  To make it twice as hard seems silly. 

It would be like asking someone to gut a fish with a butter knife.  Ya, it can be done, but it's not the best way.  It's not gonna make the company money to give people poor equipment.  I'm not even suggesting we stop production if the strapper goes down.  That's not what happened though.  I know this because I went up and asked.  They said they canned it.  Why?  I can't think of a reason.  And if anyone thinks offload is gonna be anything short of a disaster with people trying to pry these bags out from between other bags rather than grabbing a strap, you've got another thing coming. 

I was upset.  Like show me the red button and I'll push it upset.  I haven't talked to anyone about it in earnest because I'll probably say something dumb.  But I am not happy about what happened to my home.  At all.

Unto the breach has new meaning

I said we were going once more unto the blah blah blah the other day with optimism and positivity or whatever.  Ya, well I'm feeling like I'm literally into the breach.  Like, gunpowder on one side and a ballistic future straight ahead.  I'm sure some of it is the fact that I've worked  something like 45 housrs with 9 hours of sleep in the last three days.  And some of it is sympathetic breahiness feeling.

I look around and people are going apeshit.  Just mayhem and chaos everywhere you look.  And we haven't even started on the Haik yet.  Haik is a volume fish.  Just keep it coming like Ketih Sweat.  The oiler just told me he worked a twenty hour shift.  I know the Chief worked at least a twenty and is probably gonna work a twenty every day we are at sea.  Poor guy.  The deck guys have been at it for a while.  For the first time since being on the boat, I feel like the Daffodil. Working in the freezer, I usually scoff at everyone else like they have it easy and feel all macho and whatnot.  Naw.  I'm feeling a little like a Daffodil.

I went back into the freezer hold yesterday with a few new guys to get a couple things done.  I went in in street clothes because it was only minus 15 C or so.  They got cold a few times and looked like they weren't enjoying themselves too much.  But they never complained.  In fact, they did an excellent job.  One of the guys was from Sacramento, North Side.  His name is Cione.  I can't even profile himby race.  But he has a pretty strong 'fro.  And an effing sweet ski mask.  I was down there with a tall thin white guy with a sock, or neck/head covering with just his face poking out, looking like a Swiss Police Officer and a damn menace to society with a ski mask looking like he was gonna rob me for fiber and straps.  I probably just looked like an a hole, but the factory manager did say I was cute.  This already?

We moved fiber, which is what we call the bags that the fishies go in, for about six hours.   I'm not gonna lie.  I was a bit spent.  I got soft on night watch.  I need a training montage stat, you know, to get the strength up.  I did start singing Rocky theme songs a little bit yesterday.  It wasn't the same without Ice Wench or Zac.  We did get 'I Believe I Can Fly' in.  As a group.  Yay. 

The freezer did feel like home though.  I was glad to be back.  The new crew is strong and seemingly ready.  Hopefully able.  But I do miss some of the friends of last season.  This abusive girlfriend, Katie Ann, just has me longing for her and even her worse characteristics.  I'd seriously be happy to see Ayane and Naptime's lackluster faces.  Ya, well, it's hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

Once more unto the breach my friends

I think that was Shakespeare or something.  And here we go.  Once more.  Allegedly, we're leaving at 1800, or 6.00p.  We'll see about that.  Yesterday was the Chinese fire drill you'd expect a day before going out to sea with over half new people, so I expect the powers at least think we're leaving today.  Yesterday was particularly exciting for me.  It started at six am with the dogs and began to slow around five pm when I jumped off the pier into the water.  Salt water tastes great and is less filling.

So I got done with night watch and made my way to bed around 0530.  Right about the time I felt the welcome heaviness behind my eyelids, I heard a commotion in the hallway.  It woke me.  And here are the dogs.  They were only looking for bed bugs, but they woke me up all the same.  I thought up a new scene for the movie.

A guy on the boat sees the dogs coming and gets uneasy.  He grabs his bags and storms out into the halls and yells out, "Nobody move!"  and looks side to side.  Then he backs out of the hall to the bow through the hatch and says conversationally, "just take it easy everyone".  The whole time, people are not even remotely worried, but just a little confused about what this guy is up to.  He gets on the bow and jumps overboard.  A thud is heard because he jumped off the side the dock is on.  Everyone goes about their business like nothing happened and the dog guy consults his clipboard saying, "Ok, so we're gonna spray 402."  The guy who jumped off was worried about them being drug dogs because he had drugs with him.  But then he gets back on the boat with a stiff neck from the fall like nothing happened.  His bunk mate asks "what was that about?" all calm while looking at the newspaper or something.  The guy says he was scared the dogs would smell him.  Bunkmate says they were just dogs for the bed bugs and it flashes to drug guy dumping a couple bricks of drugs into the sound.  Bunk mate starts laughing and pulls out his own stash and says "Pfft.  No one cares if you have drugs here.  Ha."  Something like that.

So I was up again and around eleven I went back to bed, but shortly after that, June came into the room and told me we were doing crew up etc.  Well, I wasn't thrilled about that either, but I got up, again right as I was about to fall asleep, and went to the galley.  Finally a few hours later I had all my paper work filled out and Serena said, "go get some sleep Corey."  I asked, "So I'm done?"  She nodded.  I went back to my room and read until my eyes got heavy.

In the dark, having turned the reading light off, I rolled over toward the wall.  Had the blanket stuffed between my legs and everything.  I was preparing for hypersleep.  And after all of the interruptions, and heavy petting and teases I was now alone in my room.  And sleep was setting in.  Then I heard a jiggle on the door handle.  I ignored it.  I deserve this sleep.  I will fight for this sleep!  We must protect this sleep! I heard a little voice, "Watts".  Fuck!  My foreman Otto was standing there, silhouetted by the hallway light, beckoning my presence...somewhere.  I put up a bit of a fight.  He was unmoved.  Well, one thing I won't do is tell a foreman no.  So up I got.

He sounded sympathetic to my situation, but offered no solution.  Other than walk to the end of the pier and jump into the water.  Now understand, jumping into the water off the boat or pier is something that could be fun at a different time.  Under these circumstance, it was like being offered a dinner at a fancy restaurant after eating twenty dollars worth of McDonalds.  Just no way to enjoy it.  So I walked over there.

They told me to get into a life suit.  These things suck.  They may have their purpose while stuck in the water in the open sea.  Without that kind of motivator, they only sucked.  And they were hot.  And we weren't ready to jump for a good ten minutes.  I put my suit on and walked to the edge and fortunately asked if I could jump and get it over with.  No, I could not.  He asked us, once we were ready to go if we would jump off the pier or if we wanted to go down closer to the water.  We all opted for the top.  One of the guys had a heart attack out of fright.

Everyone jumped.  I was last.  As I left, I heard the guys at the top yell something.  I thought I was gonna maybe land on something.  That is really a bad time to yell.  I landed a near perfect preacher and felt the bass on my face.  Nice.  Then we got in our little star thing and were practically immobile in the suits.  The life raft may have been easier if I A; didn't have to go to the bathroom and B; had slept in the last two days.  As it was I got in with as little grace as was possible.  And nearly fell asleep.  It was kinda nice in there.  I could be stranded at sea for a few days in that thing.  And I'll maybe be glad for the drill if the time does come to abandon ship.  I was not happy about it yesterday.

So I get to go to sleep now right?  Wrong.  There was stuff to do like get all the life suits back on the boat.  I saw the safety guy and other dude who were yelling and asked, "Were you guys trying to tell me something on my way down?"  They said I was at a funny angle.  Duh.  You think I'm gonna make a leap form there without doing a splash?  Crazy talk.  The splash, if you're curious was first of all the biggest of the day.  Secondly, it was higher than the pier which was a good twenty feet over the water.  I win.

Then I got on the boat and couldn't sleep.  I mixed company with the degenerates on this thing.  We talked about silly stuff that I can't bring myself to talk about here.  I really can't.  I need to shave.  I need some more sleep.  I'll end up lugging stuff around all day.  Then I'll sleep.  I'm actually looking forward to putting the freezer suit on and getting in the hold.  Seriously.  And I can't talk about what we were talking about.

Cynicism

I never knew what it was like to go through life bitter.  Or cynical.  I always assumed, for the most part, that people felt how I did and dealt with their problems in a similar fashion.  When I saw people get worked up about stuff, I kind of assumed that they were looking for attention or made some cognitive effort at being mad.  I didn't think it could come that easily.

Well, I take everything back.  I've been coming to realize that people are just wired differently.  It seem silly that I'm just coming around to this now, but it's true.  I thought people had a default position that was like mine.  Today I got a taste of cynicism in it's purest form.

I was at Fred Myer today.  That's like a Raley's or Ralph's meets Target for you guys in California.  I was just looking for a book to read.  For some reason, the selection bothered me.  There was a Bourne book in it's fifteenth sequel (written by a different author).  And there were a couple Star Wars books, which Ive never read, but since I liked the movies I thought I'd at least give the back cover a glance.  Gay.  Totally effing gay.  I don't mean gay like homosexual, but gay like extra faggotty.  Didn't even have Han Solo or Darth Vader.  Come on.  Grabbed a Star Trek book with high hopes and it was some ultra gay spinoff thing.  Didn't have anything approaching Kirk. 

So I was just fuming in the book aisle.  I don't get mad like this ever.  But I was prepared to judge the whole store because of a few books.  It could have been that they were sold out of the good books.  It could have been that they had such good books that they sold out in a day because everyone knows how good the books at Freddy's are.  Nope.  I was going with everyone was a raging commie. 

Then I got to the checkout line.  And when I was done buying all my stuff the lady kinda looked at me.  It was like three hundred dollars worth of stuff.  And she asked if I wanted a bag.  Uhhh...Ya lady.  I'd like a bag.  She told me it was five cents for a bag.  And she tried to fit everything in one pathetic excuse for a paper bag with no handles.  Hey lady, I'll splurge for the extra bag.  Money is no object when it comes to bags.  The lady behind me was beaming with pride that Seattle finally passed a law that was so environmentally conscious.  Oh, and they were selling canvas bags there too.  I wanted to scream, "Oh come on!  this is a racket!"  No one would have cared.  So I just made a little comment about that and went about my business.

I gotta tell you though, the self satisfied smugness of everyone there almost got me upset.  I cooled off by then.  I don't want to get into a tit for tat thing with these people.  If they feel better about re using bags that's cool.  I didn't want to get into how many more people are gonna turn to plastic because they no longer get paper bags to use as garbage bags at home.  I didn't need to get into how 'corporate' and 'capitalist' it is to sell bags at the checkout where you are charged for bags.  It's cool.

I'd calmed down.  I think the point is that I felt bitterness for about a ten minute period.  It went away, but I felt it.  And I thought about what a bummer it is for people to go through life like that.  Especially people who don't like people and want to save the world and get mad when everyone doesn't do the things that they do.  That's gotta be a bummer.  Having seen it both ways, I'm not ashamed to admit that it's best to mind your own business and worry about your own problems before fixing everyone else.  Getting mad about things you can't control is for the birds.

America

That's right.  Whitney going all America on everybody.  I like my Whitney Houston patriotic.  I can't speak for her politics or feelings about this place, but when I hear her sing our anthem like that, it's hard to imagine she's anything short of a founding sister.  And wasn't she beautiful?  I miss Whitney.  While I'm not one to put celebrities on a pedestal, I'm even less inclined to be unimpressed with phenomenal female singing talent.  In fact, if I were a super hero, that would be my kryptonite.  Beautiful singing women. 

But here we are on the fourth of July, both with and without these beautiful singing women.  Though we shouldn't compartmentalize patriotism or interest in this country, there are times when it should be magnified.  Memorial day is one of those times-though we should always remember.  Christmas is one of those times for me as well, thinking about freedom to worship and the King.  The fourth of July is really the time to go all 'Merica on everyone.  To me, that means just loving life and appreciating what we have here.  And celebrating the audaciousness of over the top fireworks displays.

I don't get political here, and will not do so now.  But I will say that people need to figure out what it means to be an American and what America is all about.  Platitudes about injustice and whatnot don't wash with me.  This country is the single best hope for the world. 

It was, in its inception, a new paradigm of individual freedom.  The people who came here had a clear concept of tyranny.  And with what remains the greatest treatise on human freedom, they whipped up our founding documents.  At this point in time, they dreamed of a land with a small government and the necessary checks and balances to check a usurpation of power.  And with all the faults along the way, from then till now, this is the greatest concept of liberty the world has known.

It was upon this founding that the republic decided to end slavery, seeing clearly the hypocrisy in the practice while touting the merits of freedom.  After being freed, Frederick Douglas had thoughts about government intervention.  When asked, "What should the government do to help you now?", he replied, in effect, "The government has done enough already.  I want to succeed or fail on my own merits."

And now there is this concept of government refereeing life.  With the wealth and power of this country, a new paradigm is being clung to.  The wealthy are vilified and characterized as unfair to those who aren't as wealthy.  I don't like it.  I am not wealthy myself.  I would probably benefit in the short run by jumping on this band wagon.  That is not what America is about.  Happiness is not about wealth, either.  The pursuit of happiness, however, is totally dependent on the concept of a job well done and a sense of accomplishment for one's efforts.  This distraction of flashing shiny lures to the fish in this sea is nauseating.

No one is guaranteed wealth.  No one is guaranteed a job.  No one is guaranteed a wife.  Nothing is guaranteed.  But this thing that people cling to called hope is not only a right, but an intrinsic piece of humanity.  And these modern day sophists use the term while whittling it away.  They deceive with clever words and loosely defined end games while implementing the very things that are humanity's undoing. 

This American Dream is not to be given the scraps off of the table.  And liberty is not having life mandated by bureaucracy.  Hearing someone suggest from on high that we need coercing for our own good is disgusting to me.  America is about living in a civil society on one's own terms.  With one's own goals.  And miss me with that greed business.  Americans are the most generous people on Earth.  Every time a disaster hits-in any part of the world-Americans donate the most money.  And I'm talking about citizens with the Red Cross etc.  Many talk about how America hates Iran etc., but when that Earthquake hit, Americans donated more to the cause than even the oil rich Muslim countries.

That greed argument is just a way to get class envy and class warfare going.  I don't like it.  America isn't a jealous place.  We should be happy for others who have done well for themselves and try, if it's something we want to do, to be like them.  Not knock them down a peg.  However greedy corporations and the mega rich might be, they aren't nearly as greedy as a tax hungry government.  Walmart at least has to sell stuff that we want to get our money.  If we aren't satisfied with a company's policy we can go shop somewhere else.  When it comes to the government, we have to wait till it's time to vote.  And then we are only basing our vote on the information available.  If they can lie and swindle to the point of selling a turd pie, then that's what is voted for.

So maybe this was a bit political.  So what?  I feel strongly about this.  We need to think hard about what kind of place we want to live in and what kind of place we want to be.  For me?  I say let people live how they care to live as long as it isn't coercive to others.  I don't need the government telling people they can't drink a 20 ounce soda like they do in New York City.  I don't want them telling me what kind of car to drive.  I don't really want them doing anything other than upholding the law and protecting us from our enemies.  As far as I know, that's their job.

America, eff ya!

New economic principles

I don't even know where to start here.  There were two recent deviations from normative economic protocol.  The first was simple, so I'll start there.  I went to a Shell gas stations for a few provisions.  The dude at the counter scanned my stuff and left it on the counter.  I asked if I could have a bag with that.  He told me it was five cents for a bag.  That's it.  That's all that happened.  But are you kidding me?  Charging me for a bag dude?  I know Seattle takes the environment seriously, but wow.  Kinda thought it was optional to bring a canvas bag for your groceries.  But whatever.

The really fun thing was a little different.  One of the guys who was here (who is the same guy who would just walk up and talk at me about nothing for ever) yesterday to get his stuff out of his room.  I'd loaned the guy some money and bought a couple meals for him because his auto pay wasn't set up and he didn't have a bank account for them to auto pay it to.  No biggie.  Just wanted him to get his account set up so he could get his program together.

Anyway, a couple days after that he got some stuff in his eye and went to the doctor.  Then he complained about some extra symptoms.  To me.  Not the chief or office.  Bottom line is the guy disappeared for three weeks.  Then he texted me when he was coming back and said we would square up.  I told him that I would be sleeping and to leave it on the bunk next to mine.  So far so good, right?

Well, I woke up when he came in with that stupid ass look on his face.  He said, "Hey, uh, man, your stuff is up here and I gave you some groceries too.  And I left you something special."  So I woke up a little and asked, "What's so special?"  He said, "I brought you some real shit."  A ridiculous back and forth ensued.  He was beating around the bush miserably.  Finally I got it out of him, "Some weed man."  Like he's doing me a favor.

I asked, "Are you fucking kidding me?  What am I gonna do with that?  Besides throw it overboard?"  And he defended it, arguing with me about how good it was that he brought me drugs on a boat that the Coast Guard might search.  And for a company that tests randomly.  It's a real wonder the guy got canned.  So I told him to take his weed.  He said he'd see me in a minute.  I didn't know why.

When I got up a few minutes later and noticed a mere ten dollars I assumed he was getting more money for me.  Nope.  Guy just left.  Are you kidding me with this?  Just showing up with weed like it's currency?  Why not bring a roll of twine?  Or how about twenty dollars worth of socks?  And the groceries?  Ya it was two six packs of Top Ramen and a zip lock baggy with some q tips.  Literally the most valuable thing he left me.

The nerve right?  I would have rather he told me he didn't have the money.  Or, sometime before he got here he could have mentioned his creative solutions to the problem of owing me money.  I really resent him showing up with a random assortment of crap and acting like he just hooked me up.  That stupid look on his face, all self satisfied that he was giving me ten dollars in cash,  some welfare groceries, a sweater that was too small, and a gram of weed.  True that's a diversified portfolio, but I'm not in the market.

So that's that.  Getting charged for grocery bags and whimsical payment plans.  I'm actually getting kind of upset thinking about it.  It's not the money.  Trust me.  I waste 25 dollars without batting an eye.  But I don't like being taken advantage of.  It just makes the irritating portion of his persona that much more irritating.  I didn't mention it out of irritation though.  It's just that being in the presence of two new bartering paradigms within twenty four hours compelled me to share.  Nothing will surprise me ever again.

Harold

This guy was one of our cooks last season.  Are you kidding me?  Harold?  You had jokes and didn't even tell anyone?  I guess he told someone because I found out.  I mean I could have found him by accident because I was looking at stand up comedy last night.  For like eight hours.  But in this case the galley guy that came back told me.

Let me tell you a little bit about Harold.  Harold showed up all unassuming and polite.  I was probably one of the first people to talk to him because I'm like that.  He said his name was Harold and he was working in the galley.  I said my name was Corey and I was the Ice god.  That was that.

Then breakfast time comes rolling around and friggin Bobby Flay is in the kitchen.  Full on white lab coat or whatever it is that they call it when a chef wears it.  Hell, he mighta even had a hat, just kinda collapsed off to the side like the bakers in Bugs Bunny.  This guy made crepes, or thin little pancakes if you're Ricky Bobby.  He whipped up individual omelets.  It was a sight.  And a taste I guess too.

The food on the boat was just fantasgreat with Ricardo and his Puerto Rican turkeys and whatnot.  But breakfast was just breakfast.  Pancakes and scrambled eggs with some potatoes.  Nah.  Not with this guy.  Went to town.  Announced his presence with authority.  But he had no jokes. 

And it's funny.  I know a few standups.  They aren't usually the life of the party kinda guys.  But they are funny on stage.  Wonder why that is?  Because it's just a job?  Like you didn't often see me hitting or throwing things in the baseball days, but we weren't on the field.  It would seem that with comedy, the field is life, right?  Always working on your craft and all that?  Seeing if jokes play or don't?  I don't know.  It's probably just the hurt talking because I love some jokes and feel like if you've got 'em, better flaunt 'em. 

But that isn't the way it works.  I am not mad at Harold.  I just feel like we could have gotten weak, and when I say we I mean me.  He laughed at me plenty.  But we probably weren't laughing at the same time.  I forget which one of my girlfriends got me with that one.  But it got me.  That's it.  Our galley guy was a foul comedian and had me thinking he was some diligent pastry chef. 

Surf's up pal

Just watched 'The Last Boy Scout".  I know this wasn't the 80's-it was 91-but it's in the spirit of those 80's films.  80's movies have been on my mind lately.  Every time I watch a modern movie I find myself picking it apart for all the ways it doesn't stack up to the cocaine induced 80's brilliance.  And some of this applies to the 90's as well.  It's not like as soon as 1990 hit Nancy Reagan's 'Just Say No' campaign started working.  It kinda just slowly became too PC to make awesomeness somewhere along the way.

I know I sound like an old man, reflecting on when a loaf of bread was only 99 cents.  And in another twenty years I'll probably be longing for the days of Vin Diesel because movies will have sunk to such a level as to make him seem like the good ol' days.  Just like my dad, loving Laurel and Hardy and Cary Grant.  But he also liked Mel Gibson and Lethal Weapon.  And we loooooved Looney Tunes.  If you don't like Bugs Bunny, I can't help you.

But ya, we see it in Pop culture everywhere.  Back in the 90's, I thought 'Man, this music huh?  Wish they made em like they used to...'  And now I listen to music from the 90's with fondness.  In twenty years we'll be like, "remember Gaga?  She was something special."  And "What happened to Justin Beiber?  He was such a handsome young man" etc.  I understand that looking backward things seem to gain some appeal.

But the movie thing is an objective fact.  Notice all the remakes they're trying to do?  Colin Farrell as Quaid in 'Total Recall'?  Come on now.  And there are others, but I don't want to get into it.  The bottom line is people were more creative in the 80's.  And 90's.  And 70's.  And 60's.  You could keep going back to Shakespeare and the original Beowolf and even the Odyssey.  It's like the well has run dry or something.

Two things need to happen.  One is cop partner movies.  You really can't go wrong with the police commissioner screaming "I got the Mayor climbing up my ass!".  Once that happens, everyone is happy.  And the second is kids doing cool stuff.  What happened to that?  You know, kids running away from home looking for dead bodies, or killing vampires, or repelling Russian attacks.  That's a good start for Hollywood there.  Cop buddies and kids, Hollywood.  You're welcome.

It's a good thing I'm making a movie to get these guys in line.  I hadn't thought about doing an 80s tribute or throwback.  But maybe I will.  Just like 'Slapstick' at sea.  I don't know.

Facebook dominance

I was perusing facebook a little earlier.  I'm not a big facebook guy.  The novelty wore off.  I don't network.  I'm basically not hip.  But, if you've been paying attention, then you know I am obsessed with 80's culture.  Obsessed might be overstating it a bit, but I am at the very least fondly disposed toward it.  It was my youth.  It was a simpler time when everyone did coke and cheese was finely grated. 

And this 80's cheese is the topic.  While looking through facebook, one of the posts was an old friend from high school asking what every one's favorite 80's movies were.  176 comments later we had it mostly worked out.  That's right.  176 comments.  All of which were on topic.  We weren't talking about the HealthCare law or calling each other names.  Just some good old fashioned 80's movie naming with the occasional quote thrown in.

We didn't stop because we ran out of movies.  Pfft.  Come on now.  We mercifully ceased operations because there were people getting updates on their mobile devices at an alarming clip.  The guy who originated the post sent out two apologies to anyone who may have been inconvenienced.  We blew facebook up with a non-stop barrage of 80's awesomeness.

The funny thing about it, apart from everything, was a comment from Skye Dickenson.  Another one of my friends from high school who was a few years ahead of me.  So we're going in basically a three way race with an occasional fourth.  It was myself, Marty, Pete, and Wong.  We were at about the 130 clip or so on the comments.  Maybe more than that.  And out of nowhere, Skye comments.  With the simplicity of a spoon he wrote, "Killer Klowns From Outer Space".  Just stopped the world for like three to four minutes. 

There's no coming back from that right?  We were dredging up some serious 80's cheese too.  But 'Killer Klowns' just took it.  And we heard not another word from him after that.  He was like Reggie Hammond in 48 Hours rousting the redneck bar.  Just went in, ruffled some feathers, made his point and left.  "There's a new sheriff in town.  His name is Reggie Hammond". 

Sure.  You had to be there to appreciate it.  Ya, I'm exposing myself as someone who's clinging to his youth with the tenacity of a snapping turtle.  But in the final analysis, the 80's rocked and Killer Klowns won the night.  Well done Skye.  Well done.

Spanglish

This picture has nothing to do with anything

Is there anything more excruciating than listening to a good ol' boy get cultural?  I know the worse is when the white guy tries to get all hood with black guys.  That's the worse.  But a close second is the broken, bastardized, and mildly offensive mix of English and Spanish.  And I don't mean offensive like culturally insensitive.  Just mildly offensive to the ears.  It's also pretty bad when people use broken Spanish to talk to people who don't even speak Spanish.  Like asking a Russian something like "comprende?" 

But here we have the galley guy.  The head galley guy.  Who is very nice and a cool guy.  I'm not saying it's a character flaw or anything.  It's just a questionable habit.  So he's talking to the two-I guess they're Mexican-galley helpers the last couple days.  You know, sometime after the chief told me "there are mute buttons all over the boat.  They're called fire axes".  Still laughing at that.  So since then they've been cleaning up the galley and doing some good work.  Every one is just hunky dory or whatever positive characterization you could put on it.  And the whole time my piano and stuff is in the galley, btw. 

So the chief of the galley or whatever they call it is a good ol' boy from Tennessee.  Billy Joe.  Ya, that's right.  He's got one of those deep voices only a southerner can have.  And whenever he talks to Jaime or Marta it's in this busted ass impression of a Mexican accent with the occasional Spanish phrase thrown in.  Oh!  It makes me cringe.  He asked Jaime the other day if he had 'sopa' to clean with.  I've failed Spanish at least ten times.  I'm no linguist when it comes to Espanol.  But I couldn't help chiming in, "that's soup".  Marta laughed.  Billy Joe didn't hear.

But really.  This is like when you couldn't count to ten when you were ten years old and went "uno, dos, tres, quatro, cinco, sixo, seven o, eight o, nine o ten o."  Right?  Just putting 'o' or 'a' at the end of a word and pretending it's Spanish?  I mean, I kinda respect the effort and boldness of it.  He's trying to be 'amigos' with them.  I'd say we should be friends and if Jaime can't understand say it a little slower and with more force.  And if he still can't understand maybe give him an impatient look or something?  I just don't think you can meet someone in the middle when it comes to language.  It's hard enough when you're each using words that exist in your respective tongue.  When you're each making up words in different languages and some of them are a made up language?  No chance.

Again, I like everyone involved.  I'm not saying I don't.  I'm just saying that while we all are somewhat guilty of this, my buddy Billy Joe has taken it to the next level.  And maybe beyond.  I'm thinking about blogging the outline of the movie, just so I can keep track of ideas.  No one's gonna steal it if I do, right?