Of wreaths and Oscar Mayer wieners

Perhaps you've already heard the story of the Great Peace Sign Wreath Fight of 2006. It's just an OK story now, because the homeowner's association of a deed-restricted community caved under the weight of The Associated Press, and decided to let homeowner Lisa Jensen avoid a $25-a-day fine and keep her light-decorated wreath up. They did so even though some clearly batshit-crazy neighbors were offended because they thought the wreath might have something to do with Iraq and soldiers and Satan.

I grew up in a deed-restricted community. It had a guard house and a gate and a golf course in my backyard. It was pristine and pretty and perfect, except that it had no sidewalks. Now the planned, deed-restricted houses being built all over my hometown aren't only pristine and perfect, they are available in maybe 10, and only 10, pastel shades. They do have sidewalks. So it would be tolerable if they hadn't replaced orange groves and horse pastures with concrete to build those subdivisions. The vast swaths of concrete reflect the sun and change the way rain falls and evaporates, and will, scientists predict, alter the town's weather patterns. They also make people sick.

That makes them, of course, outrages.

Talking about pastel, deed-restricted, planned communities makes me want to go all "Fight Club" and Tyler Durden: "I say never be complete. I say stop being perfect. I say let's evolve. Let the chips fall where they may."

They also make me think of one of the best worst movies ever — "Demolition Man" — and Denis Leary in one of the best worst movies ever:

"You see ... I'm the enemy 'cause I like to think, I like to read. I'm into freedom of speech and freedom of choice. I'm the kind of guy who likes to sit in a greasy spoon and wonder, "Gee, should I have the T-bone steak or the jumbo rack of barbecued ribs with the side order of gravy fries?" I want high cholesterol. I wanna eat bacon and butter and buckets of cheese, OK?

I want to smoke a Cuban cigar the size of Cincinnati in the non-smoking section. I want to run through the streets naked with green Jello all over my body reading Playboy Magazine. Why? Because I suddenly might feel the need to, OK, pal?

I've seen the future. Do you know what it is? It's a 47-year-old virgin sitting around in his beige pajamas drinking a banana-broccoli shake singing, 'I'm an Oscar Mayer wiener.'"

This is really why they call it Black Friday

So reports The New York Times:

"Even those who arrived early Friday and waited in line for the doors to open at 5 a.m. were not guaranteed success. Brian Clark, 27, of Bristol left empty-handed after the televisions and computers he'd eyed as Christmas gifts were snatched by earlier shoppers.

Alarmed by a recent shooting of a customer waiting outside a Connecticut Wal-Mart store for Sony's PlayStation 3, which are almost impossible to find, Clark had tucked his Glock pistol in a holster under his jacket and put extra ammunition in his pocket before heading out early Friday.

''Not that I'll probably need it, but just in case. You never know these days,'' he said, quickly adding that he has a state permit for a concealed weapon."

Yep, just in case. I am all for the Second Amendment, but that's an outrage.

Damn.

I guess we have to give credit where credit is due when four-hour-long sex tapes of pop stars and their back-up dancers turn out not to exist because the human race is made up of a bunch of stinking liars and tabloids that will do anything to sell papers. That's the real outrage.

Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes: The worst thing to happen to Scientology since L. Ron Hubbard

It must be true. I read it in The New York Times, on TimesSelect even:

"... The bridegroom might hear the Scientology minister proffer this advice, part of what the church refers to as the traditional ceremony: ''Now, Tom, girls need clothes and food and tender happiness and frills, a pan, a comb, perhaps a cat. All caprice if you will, but still they need them.''

And Ms. Holmes could be told: ''Hear well, sweet Katie, for promise binds. Young men are free and may forget. Remind him then that you may have necessities and follies, too.''

A cat? A cat! But, what if I don't want a cat? What if I like puppies? I do like puppies. But, clothes are something I can compromise on. And pans, because I like to cook.

Also, note that Tom and Katie should have no problems making it onto the Times' nuptials page. Check out the eyebrows. It continues to be an outrage. I wonder if they'll do a Vows video for the Times. But there's probably nothing about that in Hubbard's ceremony. The Internet was sort of after his time, no?

Division I college sports are an outrage.

Even if some fans don't, I understand that they love football for the same reason others love chess — it's a metaphor for life. There is strategy, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose and sometimes it isn't fair. And, once in a while, there is a magical moment when anything is possible.

The Ivy League walked away from Division I football in 1981, and nothing has happened to diminish its members' standings as superior academic institutions, and every year more and more students vie for the few spots there, even though their football games are rarely seen on television. Yet, Ivy Leaguers have been bemoaning the loss of their football stature despite all the serious advantages their education gives them, says The New York Times this week:

“It’s depressing when you can walk up to one of those great old Ivy League places 15 minutes before game time and buy a ticket without even waiting in line,” said Joe Restic, who coached at Harvard for 23 seasons beginning in 1971. “It all started with the I-AA classification. Right away the recruits said to us, ‘I don’t want to play with the second-class
citizens.’"

Read: I got an Ivy League education, but no one wanted to see my football games. Boo-hoo.

At most Division I universities, football coaches are paid more than the university's president even though many sports programs operate in the red. As far as I'm concerned, that's all you need to know about the NCAA, why it should become an arm of the professional sports leagues, and why it should admit that there is no such thing as a "student-athlete." Students who choose to play sports with the NCAA should be paid well. But, of course, most students wouldn't be able to do that because the idea that a Division I football or basketball player can both study and play at a high level is a mockery wrapped inside a sham.

That's why reforming college sports programs after years of scandals seems to be an exercise in futility because few people are willing to stand up and just admit that big-time college sports and higher education are contradictions in terms.

Murray Sperber, an Indiana University professor regarded as an expert on college athletics, has argued that the proliferation of Division I NCAA sports not only harms "student-athletes," but allows universities to water down their undergraduate programs. In his most famous writing on the subject, he shows that schools outside the Ivy League, such as Emory University — which shunned Division I status — have excelled academically.

Brig Walker, a senior linebacker at Princeton, was a promising player who turned down a scholarship from Oregon State even though Princeton wouldn't give him one to play there.

“It was an anguishing time because every kid dreams of playing before 100,000 people in a big bowl game,” Walker said in the moments after Princeton upset Yale last weekend. ... “That would have been pretty fun. But I’m happy now with my decision. I guess you can’t have it both ways.”

Division I schools and the NCAA want to have it both ways. But sometimes life isn't fair. And even without Division I as we know it, magic is still possible.

Nothing beautiful here

In stark contrast to the prettiness below, this is truly an outrage.

And the tapes just keep on coming

I wanted to show you a pretty picture I cropped to soften the blow of what you're about to read.

There is a sex tape. It is four hours long. And K-Fed might use it to extort money from his soon-to-be thin ex-wife. And he'll take the kids with the sex tape, because he's a very good father.

It's too much of an outrage to contemplate, and yet too good to be true for millions of humans of the male heterosexual persuasion. Screenwriters sitting around a table full of donuts could have come up with this script in, oh, about five minutes give or take the time spent guzzling Starbucks.

Please, just make the outrage stop.

Just another sexist study

Oh, so now we can't have a steak? It's an outrage.

Prank calling is dead

What happened to the fun and mystery of anonymity? It's gone the way of the 8-track on the back of caller ID and the IP address.

The cell phones meant to connect us have given us more of a reason to disconnect. No longer can you call your crush just to say hi. Now, every ring has meaning and you have to be prepared to say something even if they don't pick up. They'll know you called so you have to leave a message. And there's no more just hanging up if you lose your nerve.

I shouldn't complain, really, because I've recently become obsessed with my SiteMeter, which will tell me when, from where and for how long you read this. It even tells me that you found my blog because you searched for "penis pictures" on Blogger, or "240sx retractable lights." I'm fourth on Google for that one. Plus, there have been many people searching for "suki kim modern love." Call me paranoid, but I think they might be out to get me.

I'm not for stalking, but when you can no longer call a million boys during slumber parties or send 20 pizzas to your enemies, it's an outrage.

Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh. No.

[Reid] spent most of the momentous day in his Senate office, waiting. Just after 2 p.m., he finally heard some actual news: Britney Spears was filing for divorce.

“Britney Spears,” Mr. Reid said, shaking his head. “She loses a little weight, and now she’s getting all cocky about things.” He added, “Britney has gotten her mojo back.”

Alrighty then. A couple years ago, I was sitting among Peace Corps friends in a far away land and we were pouring over the stacks of various trash magazines that had been sent to us. The news of Spears' recent nuptials were all over the covers, and we started taking casual bets on how long the lovebirds would last. I bet two years. Oh, yes.

The problem now is that none of us can remember what we bet, if anything. I guess we should have written it down.

But, if true, Spears has easily leaped the expanse from classless spectacle to classless outrage with this report. I Wnt to Dvrce U? I think future generations will point to Dec. 3, 1992 as the day civilization began its downfall. It's an outrage.

Vote. Today.

If you can and don't, you are an outrage.

Rock Kay Bailey Hutchison

Tomorrow, the 560,000 or so residents of the District of Columbia will get the chance to vote for their leaders. Most of them won't because the vast majority of their races were decided in September's primary.

The reason for that is the same reason all Republican congresses refuse to allow the District's citizens to select a voting member of the House of Representatives and two senators — 75 percent of the District's residents are registered Democrats. Only one of the 13 D.C. Council members is a Republican.

So it makes sense, especially at this moment, that voting to install three more Democratic Congressmen is not pragmatic for Republicans. Of course, because I am product of my country, I think principles should trump all that. But I am no spring chicken, so I get it.

What I can't stand is Texas Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison. Ms. Hutchison, who by the way tried to repeal the District's hand-gun ban last year, has said the District doesn't need votes in Congress because every District resident is represented by all 535 Congresspersons under the Constitution's District clause. Though Congress allows the District a lot of autonomy, it technically still has the last word on District laws. So, hmmm.

Now, I don't know what they teach in Texas about representative democracies. But where the rest of us come from, voting is kind of the thing that makes the whole representative part of the democracy idea work. My vote is the hostage I can hold if you don't do what I want. It is also the gift I will give you if I like what you've done. But D.C. residents can't vote for or against Kay Bailey Hutchison. If she decides to sponsor a bill allowing District citizens to carry concealed machine guns, all they can do is whine.

So, Ms. Hutchison, say you don't want more Democrats in Congress. Say you think District residents are stupid and don't deserve to vote. Say, "Hey, at least you get to vote for the president."

Just don't say you represent me. It's an outrage.

It's an outrage at America vs. The World

Today's outrage is here. Yay.