Rusty’s Blog

I mentioned earlier that last year’s NCAA Picks sucked, and that this was due to using Yahoo’s crappy system instead of just having everyone enter their picks in the comments section as in past years. It subsequently lacked the trash talking that made prior contests fun.

So here’s the deal: we’re going back to the old way of entering picks in the comments threads, and me manually compiling the results.

Sign up by leaving a comment in this thread.

I’ll post formal rules soon. The first game is August 28, so I’ll post a week 1 schedule the Monday before that.

Amber is an avid bird lover who has owned several Zebra Finches over the years. When I first met her, she owned seven of them. This has rubbed off on me. We currently own two Zebra Finches named Puff and Stuff:

They are an endless source of entertainment and intrigue. Every time I think I’ve seen all their behavioral quirks, they do something else that’s strange or funny that I’ve never seen before. Like falling asleep in awkward positions on top of a swing. Or pulling paper towels up from below their cage lining to make a nest with it. Or doing cannon balls into their bath and soaking the table cloth.

One of those nauseating couple things we do is almost anytime we see an inexpensive bird trinket in a store there’s at least a 50 percent chance that we’ll buy it. So far, we have:

• a kitchen chicken
• a kitchen owl
• three living room chicks
• a bedroom hummingbird (Jen gave us this one)

We also have several paintings on the wall with birds on them. I’m probably forgetting a few things, but you get the point.

It was only a matter of time before we installed a bird feeder on our balcony. So we did a week or two ago. I mounted it on a light fixture built into the wall outside, dangling it from one of those things that hippies use when they go rock climbing. It sat there full of seed for a while seemingly without consequence. We figured that it would take the birds some time to find it, since we’re in the part of the building that faces away from most of the greenery.

One day I looked outside and all the sudden maybe one-eighth of the seed was gone. Those birds sure were hungry, right? Right?

Not long after, I looked outside again and saw a squirrel sitting on our window sill like he owned the joint. And the seed was all over our balcony while his friend nosed around eating it. I banged on the window, which convinced the little buggers to piss off for the moment, but I knew they’d be back.

The feeder we bought was advertised as squirrel proof. It has a mechanism where if something heavy enough pulls on it, the holes used for feeding are covered up. Birds are too light to trigger this mechanism, but supposedly squirrels aren’t.

After some trial and error, we figured out that it didn’t matter what weight sensitivity setting we had the feeder on. The squirrels managed to get around the mechanism by propping themselves up on the wall and shaking the seed out onto the ground. Clever squirrels, very clever indeed.

While we tried to figure out our next step, we left the seed out on the balcony and brought the feeder inside. Several birds started coming by as well as the squirrels, and sometimes the asshole squirrels would chase them away.

Last night, I mounted the feeder so it hangs off the rail. My theory was that the risk of certain death from a fall of a couple of stories combined with an inability to spill seed onto the balcony where it’d be easy to collect would serve as a deterrent. Like so:

And I was kind of right for a little while. This morning Amber said she saw them trying to figure out how to crack into it for several minutes, but they eventually went away empty-handed. I went to work hoping we’d seen the last of them, but not quite believing it. I was right to be apprehensive:

As you can see, the squirrels managed to chew through the plastic on the bottom of the feed holes, making the openings just large enough to poke their stupid little muzzles through as they hung upside down on the feeder, risking a two story fall in the process. Amber actually saw one of them do it.

So what now?

I would be perfectly happy to sit on the balcony with a BB gun and pick them off, but Amber (for now at least) doesn’t approve of that idea.

And at least they didn’t get as much seed as they were getting by tipping the feeder over. This has slowed them down quite a bit. And the birds haven’t been scared away yet:

We are looking for other ways to deter the squirrels. To be continued…

He will maintain his Mr. College Football blog through the end of the 2008 season.

A number of you have written very kind notes about the upcoming change in my working relationship with the AJC. That change will still take place in late September. But I want you to know that we’ve come to an agreement to continue the Mr. College Football blog through the 2008 season. That’s a tribute to you. Together we have built this blog into something that is really fun and (hopefully) very readable. I’m excited about this new development and appreciative for the opportunity to continue Mr. CFB for one more season. Thanks again for all your support.

This is good news for the AJC, because it means there’s something I will read in its sports section this fall.

Jeff Schultz is a fine writer, but his columns are mostly about the Braves and Falcons. I haven’t been able to muster up a whole lot of enthusiasm for either the past few years. Though I did have fun going to a Braves game the other night. Maybe if he sticks around another year or two I’ll start reading his columns again.

Furman Bisher was rumored to be included in the most recent round of buyouts, though I’m not sure that actually happened. Doesn’t really matter to me anyway because I don’t read his column very often and it’s not like he’ll be around that much longer whether he took the buyout or not.

That leaves Mark Bradley and Terence Moore. They are two of my least favorite columnists not just in the sports section, but in the entire paper. I hold them both in the same esteem as Jim Wooten, which is not very good company.

I came very close on my last blog to doing a “My Morning Bradley” series sort of like Griftdrift’s My Morning Wooten series where I fisked his columns relentlessly. I don’t have a nicer way to say this: his columns are idiotic link-baiting drivel.

Terence Moore has a magical way of making a conflict that isn’t racially-motivated about race. He reminds me of all the people who say Toby Keith was singing about lynching black people in Beer for My Horses. He hears what he wants to hear, no matter how far-fetched a scenario it may be.

Shorter version: the remaining line-up of AJC sports columnists will be pretty sad, save for Jeff Schultz, once Barnhart leaves.

If you smoked enough pot in college, as I did, you probably watched Easy Rider at some point. Taken on its own merit without the benefit of generational context, it’s pretty unwatchable after the first ten minutes or so. But that’s not really the point. It was part of that wave of late sixties films with anti-heroes who died at the end, and is important for its square-jolting qualities. A lot of upstanding people found out what the dirty hippies were up to by watching this movie, and it terrified many of them. That’s pretty cool.

The anti-hero in Easy Rider was Captain America, played by Peter Fonda. His sidekick was Dennis “I don’t even remember filming Apocolypse Now” Hopper. They rode big fucking Harleys through the countryside with Steppenwolf roaring in the background, smoked a lot of pot, dropped acid, sold cocaine, slept in communes, camped out, and generally were out to show the squares there was, like, totally a better way man. And to find America along the way. Or something.

As I mentioned earlier, I think Easy Rider gets kind of unwatchable to me after the first ten minutes or so, at least when I’m sober. But the intro sequence was pretty fucking cool:

They pound you in the face with metaphors. Watch as Captain America pushes drug money through a plastic tube into a gas tank painted like an American flag. I bet you could write a pretty decent thesis paper on just that one shot. Even if it wasn’t a good thesis, at least you’d have an excuse to smoke a bowl.

Agree with me? Not? Doesn’t matter, because regardless of my or your opinion, Easy Rider and Captain America have become cultural fixtures which have spawned much discussion, imitation and parody. They represent ideals which have long since died, but which are remembered fondly by a lot of people.

Which is what makes this advertisement I ripped off my Tivo so fucking sad:

Amber had a doctor’s appointment this morning, so I took MARTA to work. I got off the train and made my way toward the office, white earbuds contrasting with my gray shirt and olive green cargo shorts, listening to This American Life on my iPhone. The picture of white hipster douchery could only have been more complete if a friend drove up in a Prius with an Obama sticker on it, stopped and suggested we should totally bail on work to go rock climbing. Or snow boarding.

As I’m about to cross the street, I see a former co-worker of mine from a past job. He’s spastic, but nice enough I guess. He has long hair, speaks with what sounds like a sort of British or maybe Irish accent and spells his name with a Z where an S should be. I ran into him at the same intersection a little over a year ago.

He stops me in the center of the crosswalk as I notice the signal turning from Walk to Don’t Walk.

“What are you doing around six o’ clock tonight?” he asks.

I remove my earbuds and lie.

“We’ll be out.”

“You will?” he asked.

He didn’t sound convinced.

“Yeah, we’re leaving right after work,” I said, not really convincing myself either.

“I’m going to call you this afternoon.”

And so the conversation ended as we both noticed our allotted time to cross the street had long since expired, and with a few more seconds we might start a riot. I was already self-conscience enough about my douchery, and didn’t need to be the guy standing in the center of the crosswalk blocking traffic. People who do that are assholes.

He called just now, but I didn’t answer the phone. He didn’t leave a voicemail. I’m vaguely curious what could be so important that he would stop traffic to tell me about it and ask me to show up after I hadn’t seen him in a year or so. But not that curious.

You already saw No Twitter for Hitler, right? It’s funny. Like every good YouTube video, it already has many imitations, offshoots and parodies. Typically these are lame, and get lamer as they go along until the joke is run all the way into ground.

This one, about lofty expectations for the Georgia Bulldogs football team this year, made me laugh:

You’re welcome Garrett and Tony. Glad I can be your number one resource for Georgia Bulldogs information.

Below is the letter I will send to CBS 46 with tomorrow’s mail regarding the rumored cancellation of Swingtown:

August 12, 2008

To: Beverly Pigg, Program/Community Relations Manager
CBS 46
425 14th Street NW
Atlanta, GA 30318

From: Rusty Tanton
xxx xxx xxx
xxx xxx
Decatur, GA xxxxx

Re: Rumored cancellation of Swingtown

Dear Ms. Pigg,

I am writing regarding the rumored cancellation of Swingtown, a program I have come to enjoy very much in the brief period of time it has been airing on CBS 46.

There are few shows on television which broach the subject of non-traditional sexuality in an honest and thoughtful way that isn’t shallow or patronizing. Swingtown not only manages to do this, but also manages to be highly entertaining. It would sadden my partner Amber and I if it were taken off the air, as it is one of only a handful of television shows we make a habit of watching.

I know that ratings have not lived up to the expectations set forth for it, but thoughtful programs like Swingtown sometimes take longer to connect with an audience than the latest disposable reality shows. It does not happen every time, but when it does the rewards for a network can be great, both in terms of mindshare and bottom line profits.

I believe Swingtown is one of the programs that will connect with an audience if it is given time to grow. I hope you will communicate to stakeholders that there is a loyal following out there for Swingtown, even if it has not reached the size everyone had hoped for right away. Please do everything you can to help keep it on the air.

Sincerely,
Rusty Tanton

Watch Mark Richt, coach of the 2009 hypothetical national champion Georgia Bulldogs, and wife Katharyn mumble their collective way through a Carpets of Dalton commercial. This came on CSS last night during a replay of the 2006 Tennessee-LSU game.

How do all of these things start off when a friend has done something despicable?

“So-and-so committed a heinous act, but I know that deep down he/she is a good person. I’ve seen him/her pet puppies, feed the homeless, and referee at the Special Olympics.”

Or…

“He’s not a racist, he hires colored folks to cut his hedges! That word wouldn’t come out of the mouth of the man of impeccable character and impermeable moral fiber I know.”

It never takes long for these discussions to erroneously shift from the person’s act into the ingrained psychology that motivates their character. I’ve been guilty of going this route in the past, as I’m sure have most of you at some point or another, with enemies, friends and everyone in-between.

Armchair psychology is a bullshit way to cause a distraction that benefits your favored result. If you’re dealing with an enemy, you want to pile on by pointing out an irrelevant flaw. If you’re dealing with a friend, you want to soften the blow by listing their irrelevant good deeds.

Here’s how I might have started off such a post about this situation:

Grayson is a good friend of mine. When our air conditioner was broken in 100+ degree heat last summer, she helped us find a place to stay for several days while it was being fixed. She has been a tireless advocate for causes we hold dear in the face of immeasurable abuse, and is a hell of a lot of fun to drink a beer with.

I think there are problems with Peach Pundit, and that Grayson has taken abuse there that is disproportionate to any wrongs she is alleged to have committed prior to today. If she was frequently posting off topic (she was), it is ultimately up to the editor to reign that in. All the abuse that was traded back-and-forth between the commenters and Grayson is ultimately the editor’s failure to deal with the problem before it boiled today.

That’s all pretty much true. But I can’t write that honestly and leave it. For all the wrongs done to her prior to today, and there were plenty, nothing justifies turning an editorial dispute into an irrelevant personal attack against someone’s parenting ability.

Grayson has a child herself and should know better.

It’s always unfortunate when a disagreement boils over into an personal dispute. The truth is it happens. A lot. We’ve all been there fellas.

But when someone starts dragging people’s families in unwillingly when it’s irrelevant to a dispute?

That’s fucked up, and I think Grayson owes Erick an apology.

Several of our friends are getting married in Vegas soon. Congratulations all around. Amber and I are thinking of getting married sometime in the first half of next year and have been throwing around a few ideas for where and how to go about it.

Neither of us have any interest in doing a big traditional wedding. She had one for her first marriage, and my brother’s wasn’t a whole lot of fun for me or my parents. So it won’t hurt my parents’ feelings if we don’t go that route. Plus, the expense seems stupid to us. My brother’s wedding was small and still cost in the neighborhood of $10-15K before it was over. That kind of money would be much better applied toward a down payment on a house or at least toward a kick-ass vacation.

One idea we have pretty well solidified is we’re not going to invite many, and possibly not even any, people to the wedding itself. We’re very seriously considering streaming it on Ustream or an equivalent free live video service. Instead, we’ll just elope somewhere, and the throw a big reception party a month or two later somewhere in town. I had the most fun of any wedding I’d been to at my friend Jamie’s wedding. His vows lasted 15 minutes, tops, and then we moved on immediately to a reception with several kegs and boxed wine which lasted well into the night. Our reception may be BYOB, but the underlying principle is the same: cut the bullshit, get to the fun part.

As far as locations, we’ve had three ideas so far, and would love to hear more from you. Here they are with some pros and cons:

• Las Vegas

  Pros: Inexpensive, few hassles, fun. Chapel operators possess the gift of self-awareness, leading to farcical drive-through chapels and other hilarity. I’ve never been to Vegas and would like to cross that off my list.

  Cons: Not a very original idea.

• Gatlinburg

  Pros: As cheesy as Vegas in its own way, only closer and probably even less expensive.

  Cons: Chapel operators appear to not be aware of how cheesy their operations are, which is kind of sad.

• Hedonism II or Hedonism III

  Pros: There are worse ways to spend a few days than watching kinky people doing kinky things in Jamaica. And they do weddings.

  Cons: The distinct possibility that those kinky people are as lame as some of the kinky people around here.

So those are our ideas so far. We’d love to hear your thoughts, as we haven’t settled on any of these ideas yet.