Word on the street is that the Lawrence Eagle-Tribune will release a poll showing Dean beating Kerry in Massachusetts tomorrow. By one big point. That's big. Believe me.

I just don't get this. First Iraq was the "central front" and now Turkey is "a front" on the war on terrorism. Wouldn't Turkey be a "flank" rather than a front? And what about Afghanistan? Or the United States? I seem to remember that more people died in the WTC from a terrorist attack than in Turkey and Iraq combined. Yet we're shortchanging security measures here for the purposes of fighting over there. Bad priorities, folks.

A must-read article about the Veep. Really, read the whole thing. Kudos to TNR...now if they'd just stop bashing Dean in the TNR Primary I might consider plunking down some cash to get their magazine instead of hacking it.

I don't get it. No, really, it makes no sense at all, even from an offensive perspective.

It's baffling. I really don't get it. And evidently even the people (like me) who don't think it's offensive have no explanation for where the humor is supposed to come from. At least the conspiracy theory makes sense...twisted, after all.

I am, of course, referring to Ruben Bolling's latest...

Nice.

Didn't I mention this idea just a bit ago? Regardless, the technology looks cool and is super-safe. It doesn't solve the fuel disposal problem, but again, the American public would demand strict protection.

Once I'm rich and powerful and have my own satellite network, I'm going to start a all-hards-news station, like C-SPAN, except covering the entire world. If there's a flood in India, a plague in Africa, a fire in San Diego, it'll be covered. But if Michael Jackson, or anyone of limited political significance, is charged with a crime, it won't get coverage. Between Stewart, Bryant, O'Donnell and Jackson, I'm sick of watching people walk into court. It adds nothing. It means nothing. Announce the charges. Annouces the decision. But drop all the rest of the fluff.

For god's sake, over 26 people died in a terrorist attack in Turkey and we're watching Michael Jackson land in a plane? It sickens me. My network would only show hard news. Any willing sponsors can e-mail me.

As Kevin points out here and as I heard in breathtaking boring detail this morning, the commission on the Blackout determined that First Energy's lack of tree-trimming was mainly to blame.

Please.

I mean, we're spending billions of dollars on anti-terrorism today, but the glaring vulnerability is trees! Trees! What the hell is wrong with this picture? Bury the lines, okay? Problem solved. And while we're at it, how about creating a robust enough grid that can handle a few trees down, whether through natural causes or sabotage? How hard could that be?

This whole affair is idiotic.

So Monday evening I went to a political event, followed by a Dean fundraiser, followed by dinner in the Morg. My adventures in sleeplessness were probably exacerbated by the late evening I had Monday night, although it was certainly worth it.

So my thought, before I move on to my other writing (e-mail and another website), is this: what happens if you get a second chance? Not a regular chance, but something better? You know what I mean. Every day each one of us runs into lots of ordinary people. Out of that huge number, we interact with but a few. Occasionally I've met people that have a tiny spark of something more interesting, something to make them stand out from the mud covered crowd. Most of the time, that extra light eventually fades into the background, initial thoughts are wrong, and hopelessly idealistic. You give up, move on, forgive, forget. After all, if there's one constant in life it's that there are always cooler people to hang out with, more interesting conversations taking place and far superior places to be than where one is at any given moment. Handwringing is for those who think they cannot do any better.

But what if that original light, that spark, if you will, were duplicated? Yeah, I'm in a unique position to mention this, but who cares? When you walk onto the Metro, and you see that friend you hadn't spoken to in years and your mouth opens only to close again as you blink, dissolving your friend into a total stranger who has a similar jacket, hair or eyes. What if you actually spoke to that person, through an accident, and discovered that they were, in fact, much like your original friend, except tweaked. A little faster, smarter, more savvy. Maybe a melange of other friends, all wrapped up into a psychotic little package.

That feeling when you leave college and everyone, suddenly, everywhere, looks familiar. It's that odd ringing in the back of your mind telling you that something is amiss even though things seem fine. At some point the other day I felt like I was hearing something I'd heard before, going down a road I already had traversed, except this time things were slightly smoother and those obstacles there the last time were no longer around. There's a catch somewhere. I'm sure I can find it.

Or maybe it's the sleep deprivation talking.

brad, what profile are you talking about? and always go greedy.

I hit a Dem "Meetup" this evening. It was awful. There were about ten of us, but no one was a host. It took fifteen minutes to ascertain that we had no agenda or purpose. This after I'd blown a couple hours waiting for it in addition to consuming a horrible overpriced calzone, when I could've been recovering my rest with a tastier meal. Grr. So I came home afterwards to waste more time, my body demanding I stop ingesting stimulants, my brain saying no anyway. The rain is sucking my energy away, draining the well of pure fun I had built up from Sunday and Monday night's activities. I'll get it back. Tomorrow.

I rolled into work around 2:30 pm and I'm still hurting from lack of sleep. So what happens? One of my co-workers comes by (I had e-mailed everyone around 8:30 in the morning to say that since I'd been at work since midnight, I would be taking the first few hours off to catch some sleep) and says "Hey, you know, you shouldn't really get any sympathy for staying awake until midnight."

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't tell if he was trying to be funny, or if he just misread my e-mail or if I (in my sleep-deprived state) had actually told people that I'd only stayed until midnight rather than from midnight.

So I said, "um, I was here until 8:30 this morning" and it became clear that the guy had just misread my e-mail. Kind of offensive, really. Now I'm hungry and tired...

Yesterday was cool, as was the day before. Unfortunately, I've been in the office since around midnight, working on some server issues. No fun at all. It's finally finishing up in a few minutes, so hopefully I can go home. I'm too tired to even see straight, and I don't want any of my co-workers to show up before I depart, because I look pretty scruffy looking.

I didn't have time to post about Sunday night. So I'm doing it now. Then I'm moving it back in time. This is a test...mostly to see if I can code while severely sleep-deprived and at work. We'll see how it goes.

Nice. It works. I'll add in some info in a bit...

So I show up at my house and a minute later Fincher calls and wants to know if I'd be up for some dinner. A negotiation or two later (curse those lawyers-to-be and their skills!) and we end up at the local sushi establishment. Compared to the previous time I was there, this occurrence is much better. But before I can make it there, I hop on board the "Link"...the 25 cent bus that makes the Ben's-to-Chipotle run between U Street and Woodley Park. Overall, a great bargain, especially when the alternative is a lengthy metro ride for more money or an uber-expensive cab. The walk is fine if you've got time, but if you need to make it there in 15 minutes or less, the Link is your best option.

I hop on board and move towards the back, and the bus driver grunts something at me. I think he's talking to the guy who just got off, and I'm listening to the radio in one of my ears, so I ignore it. Then he says it again, only louder. "35 CENTS~!" I walk up and say "hey, this is the link, right?" and he just repeats for the third time, even louder than before, "THIRTY-FIVE CENTS!!!@!#" I mutter under my breath, cough up a dollar bill, because I'm sans change, and sit down.

At the next stop, a woman gets on and pays some money and sits down. Sure enough, the bus driver turns around and glares before yelling "35 CENTS!" She flashes me an annoyed look before walking up to add in a dime. So I figure I'm not crazy. At the next stop, the driver just keeps going, despite the fact that there are people waiting. He just drives up to the stoplight instead of pausing at the bus shelter. Several people run up to the bus and the first lady who gets on says "Oh, I guess you didn't see us" to which he replies, "If I hadn't seen you, I wouldn't have stopped AT ALL!!"

This ticks off the lady (probably because it was obvious the guy had missed them and if the light had been green, probably would've kept driving away. So she makes a snide remark and the bus driver snaps back at her and a minute or two later everyone shuts up to avoid further bloodshed. My eventual arrival at the locale put an end to the madness. Still a fast trip, but a lot of annoyances this time.

Helena would probably be amused to learn that Fincher learned a slight bit about the edwardian "cranky-pants" tendency over the first course of fish and rice. But by the end of the evening, everything seemed perfect. I had forgotten about the bad link ride and was actually looking forward to the rest of the week. (Little did I know!) I part ways with Fincher, roll down to the Link, and miss it by a minute. While waiting, I wonder how much it'll cost. When it finally does arrive, and I ask, surprise, surprise, it's all of 25 cents. So either the first driver was scamming a whole bunch of people or...well, or something else. Frankly, I'm too tired to think of an alternative.

I'm a lazy guy, and this Sunday was just what I needed. After a few hours of almost no physical effort save the "recall" button on the remote, I rolled out to the nearest bank branch at Howard to make a deposit before I hit the Dean politics meeting up north.

For someone who likes to talk as much as I do, there are few occasions when I feel silence is warranted. In general, meetings and the like normally take that spot: I can't stand people who speak at meetings for no good reason, thus slowing the entire process down. That is, if you're going to say something in a meeting, you need to be to the point, quick and dirty, with no ranting. The Dean meeting was productive, although the game of "let's shift the goalposts" has become ridiculous to some extent. For a "longshot" campaign we've now moved into an area where the national campaign seriously wants to raise $200 million from 2 million people each giving $100. On the local level, we're trying to reach a 61% participation rate for the primary. That's right, the primary. Not the actual binding caucus in March, or the actual vote next November, but the first-in-the-nation primary that half the candidates just slapped a few days ago. (I didn't rant on that because I was too angry to think clearly.)

Of course, some lady spoke a great deal at the meeting about how all the Pnetagon workers are rapid GOP people. I wanted to correct her, but I thought it would delay things further, so I bit my tongue and said one pointed comment about enfranchisement. For some reason I was reminded of college, when I did the same thing vis-a-vis lecture classes, which also demanded a high ratio of intelligent thought-to-commentary given time constraints. Luckily, in this case, today, I hit the nail right on the head and even scored some props from a couple people.

After the meeting one of the heads (no nick yet) unloaded a whole bunch of promotional items on me, which was a sweet deal, and topped it off by driving me home, which was especially nice given that it had begun to rain and I was sans jacket, umbrealla or warm clothing. I arrived high and dry with my evening plans still not firm.

Two minutes later, I get a phone call. Things couldn't have worked out more perfectly...tbc at My Very Important Job(tm) tomorrow.

I'm actually tired right now, but in a very pleasant full of spicy sushi sort of way. A little sneaker pimps cranking from the blue light lit stereo and things seem pretty damn good.

So Saturday I do some canvassing for Dean in the morning, knocking off a few more streets in the old neighborhood. Then Leto and I (she ditched me the previous evening, due to some computer woes) hit The Movie With The Longest Title Ever: A Nautical Film Starring Russell Crowe. It was quite good. Next I rolled over to Deborah's place, where she delayed while I fixed her housemate's computer. Riiiight.

After a brief but enjoyable chowfest at Helena's old haunt (the one with the 2 P's in the title!) we moved over to a friend's shindig in Columbia, MD. I really hadn't anticipated that I would have to head so far out of town for the party, which threw a somewhat sizeable monkey wrench into my plans to hit Kevin's party at his new pad later that evening. At the time, though, I thought we were still all good.

The first party was...interesting. The kid in question has some eclectic friends, many of whom I'd met on previous occasions. They're an interesting bunch, with my friend at the top of the list for wacky hijinks. And, this party, he provided a special treat: some special gummyberry juice I'd had only twice before. This stuff will make you bounce around and off the walls like a bad Disney character. Trust me. Fortunately Deborah was responsible and tipped her cup into mine after a brief tasting. Yum.

The evening wore on, Harvey style, and suddenly it's super late and we haven't even begun the trek back to Kevin's pad. So I grab Deborah and the two of us put the accelerator down. A few phone calls and I'm convinced that we have time to make it back to the city, yet upon our arrival to the area, I receive the dreaded "we're leaving" series of updates.

So now I feel bad for Kevin (but mostly myself, because I still haven't had a chance to have a break at his place since I helped him move in) but we did manage to have a good couple of hours in the Morg. Dirty, but good. Anytime you can find a parking spot within ten minutes is a good sign. The fifteen minutes spent parking were a little annoying, but you know what they say about gift designated drivers, right? Regardless, things ended well for all parties, so that was nice.

werkz advice: go see it today.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World is a very good film. If you're not into salty-sea sailing, or Napoleonic era battles, or even some good old fashioned Anglo-Franco animosity, don't come. For everyone else, this film provides action, laughs and plenty of suspense. One word of wisdom: don't tune out the ending...there may be a surprise!

If you happen to pick up the Sunday copy of the Post, don't read this article about blogs. Why? Well, in a nutshell, because the author describes blogs as being full of "self-congratulation and mutual admiration" and too many "ad hominem attacks". Her examples?

Take my daily blog circuit. It's heavy on sites with a literary slant, but the same tendencies crop up on blogs that focus on politics or almost any other subject. My personal hit parade includes Bookslut (www.bookslut.com/blog/), whose proprietor is based in Chicago; Maud Newton (maudnewton.com/blog/), put together by a thirtyish fiction writer in Brooklyn; Old Hag (oldhag.blogspot.com/), run by a writer in Baltimore; Moorish Girl (moorishgirl.com), which comes out of L.A.; and bloggers' darling The Minor Fall, The Major Lift, or TMFTML (www.popfactor.com/tmftml/) as it's known in the blogosphere. (Bloggers are even more acronym-happy than Washington think tankers.)

Okay, raise your hand if you've ever heard of any of these blogs. No? Well, let's check out the official ecosystem rankings to see where in the top 100 these guys are. Wait a minute! They're not there? What gives?

Oh, wait, that's right. The author may have been a little too self-congratulatory of her own opinions. Back to your regular programming.

After hearing a story about a guy who attempted to smoke catnip (and ended up with some serious hives on his arms for his decision) I'm reticent to tell my story of tonight...er...yesterday without some context. And by context, I mean sleep. So I'll rest up and report tomorrow. Um, today, rather.