WriteLarge.com

So, yeah. It's been raining up here. Pretty much all weekend. I'm not complaining, though. I mean, a day up here in the rain is worth 6 days at work in the sunshine, right?

We're all sitting on our screens, watchin' TV. By the fire. Very nice.

We didn't get out of Milwaukee until almost 10:30 last night. Which means that by the time we got to Manitowish Waters, the sun was coming up.

So, today's mostly been about resting and recovery. Since it's been raining all day, that's all good by me.

Dadscriminated!
I have no right to play the discrimination card. I am a white, 34-year-old, dude. I have been given all the breaks. The world is mine for the taking, so long as I put on my suit and tie and go to Rotary Club once a week. I have a golden pass card to the secret society of movers and shakers. It’s not fair, really, how much good stuff I can get access to just by using the secret handshake that was issued to me alongside my lily white wang.

However, I was subject to not one, but two discriminary events today. And I’m going to blog about them. Beware my anglo-entitled sense of rage!

Dadscrimination the First.
The scene: the Sharon Lynn Wilson Center. Whoever was working the lobby today was systematically stopping dads and asking demanding to see their tickets. She let nearly every mom and daughter walk right through, never even raising an eyebrow to them, but no single father walked bye without getting her hairy eyeball.
Please consider this a vote against any kind of fiduciary support you might be considering throwing at the Sharon Lynn. Seriously, that place better served the people when it was a dog park. It was classier when it was a dog park.

Dadscrimination the Second: I was not allowed to help Gaia prep for her recital today. Dads are not allowed in the pre-school dressing room. There was no sign, no prior warning. Just a flock of exquisitely coiffed uptight rich-women swarming in on me and explaining that the existence of my aforementioned lily white wang makes some of the other moms uncomfortable.
“Dads aren’t allowed in here,” they said. “We don’t want you making the girls or their moms uncomfortable.”
That phrase fails the discrimination test. Substitute any other noun in place of the word Dad, and you’ll see how unreasonable it is. Try a few of these out in place of Dad in the previous paragraph. Jews. Indians. Lefties. Leotards. Discrimination is discrimination. And discrimination is wrong.

Just because I don’t have standing to cry discrimination, doesn’t mean discrimination isn’t happening. And just because I’m not usually the victim of discrimination, doesn’t mean it’s not just as unfair, hurtful and demeaning when it happens to me.

Did you guys see that the Web414 show is still goin' strong? Even though I was too scattered on June 11th to really do a good job with as the host, I have put together a clip on the monologue on the Web414 Blip.tv channel.
I love the new Web414, even if I bomb now and then. Bombing is good for the soul, sometimes. Call it a Hubratic Cleansing. Is Hubratic a word? Probably not.

Anyway, I've got more media from Web414 to put up, and I'm also clipping together a handful of short pieces from the Raster roast/birthday party for the PeteIsOld.info.

The best way to know when I've got new stuff up on those sites is to subscribe! What? I have to teach you bout RSS now?

One of my favorite things in the whole world is the annual arrival of the fireworks catalog.

Tin Mans, Moon Rockets, Black Cats. They all have a special place in my heart. When I was younger (for I was never little), I I would pour over the photos, savoring the assortments and marveling at the price tags.

We made an order once. They sent it via UPS with a phony fire-permit. Jumping Jacks and Bottle Rockets.

Anyway, my Phantom Fireworks Catalog came. I'm not ordering anything, or anything-- my neurotic dog and a general sense of amazement that I never blew my fool head off has stayed my desire to play with fireworks -- but I'm always glad to see the catalog arrive. It's a nostalgic moment for me to cruise the packs of aerial repeaters and multi-pack assortments.