Horrible Cat

God help me, I'm warming up to my mother's horrible cat.
   A few years after we had to bid our family dog a graceful exit my sister found my mother a new pet. A cute little gray furball kitty, who was born with a gimpy right front foot. Like Nemo but in cat form. His mother had her litter under a boxwood hedge, and they found the kittens once the braver ones started venturing out into the world. My sister had the best of intentions and imagined that the little kitty would be a good addition to a grandparents' household.
   She was right and she was wrong.
   My parents named the cat Smokey, because he was dark gray like smoke from a forest fire. And he was a little bastard. Halfway feral because he'd spent the first six weeks of his life under a bush, and kind of pissed off because he only had 3 1/2 feet, he was anything but cute and loving. He knew he was a cat, and more to the point, he knew you were not.
   My father let the little SOB bite him on the feet. He thought it was cute. It was not. All it did was give Smokey permission to be ornery and awful. You wouldn't think he could do too much damage seeing as how he lacked a right foot, but the little bastard drew blood all the time.
   Make no mistake, I hated that cat, and my sister did too. Her daughters learned that this particular pet animal was a 'no-touch kitty' and he learned that the very last thing you wanted to do was get between my sister and her children. Instant cat-skin cap, if you catch my meaning. For years he's been just one good scratch and bite away from finding a new home 100 miles away on some rancher's property.
   The past few days, though, I've been in my mother's house with this little SOB, and I don't hate him, not any longer. He's getting up there in cat years, and he's had the crap kicked out of him by other neighborhood cats more times than anyone can count, so he's kind of earned my grudging respect, if for nothing else then for lasting as long as he has. He's slower, obviously arthritic, more tentative when jumping up and going down, and less inclined to savage someone who's just trying to pet him.
   He has tried to get my attention with his version of a meow, which is so pathetic and weak and obviously non-practiced that it is cute, in a sorry, scarred, one-bad-foot sort of way. Every day I've been here I've taken leave of my senses and let him out when he squeaks and given him cat treats when he come in. And despite his moods and bites and irrationally vicious nature, my mother does seem to love him. You gotta respect that.
   So here's to you, Smokey, for lasting as long as you have when you've been at such a disadvantage in relation to other wildlife, and for ingratiating yourself to my parents even though you are - seriously - the worst pet animal I've ever known. Unlike the past... oh, entirety of your tenure on this planet... I wish you well, good luck and long life. L'chaim, skoal, here's to you kid, and every other applicable toast. You beat the odds.

It's All Changing

As time goes on I'm beginning to realize that this economic downturn is going to change things all over. And I don't mean just for me, being 'between assignments.' Things are changing on a fundamental level, especially with regards to finance, which should always be a means to an end - a way to enable a real economy based on goods and services - and not the money-making end in itself. The 'bon temps' that used to 'roulez' for banks, brokerage houses, insurance companies, mortgage lenders and the like are soon to be 'fin,' even if the institutions themselves don't know it yet. Or the government for that matter. There's an ill wind a-blowin'.
   The crazy-ass Teaparty kooks are definitely the lunatic fringe, but that fringe just tends to be more radical and vocal about things that bother society as a whole. Rampant fiscal and fiduciary irresponsibility is going to lead to a new rise in populism, just like what happened over 100 years ago with political corruption, multiple depressions, robber barons and the like. The result of the business excesses of the 1890s was the election of that trust-busting Bull Moose, Teddy Roosevelt.
   And you thought you didn't have to pay attention in History class, didn't you? Well, you blew it off, and see what's happened? History has repeated itself. Again. Same trip down the same road, only it's 100 years later and we all have cell phones. There were pretty serious changes to business back then because of the idiocy of the corporate giants, and the same thing's bound to happen now. Mark my words.


COMMUTE: there - 47 minutes, I left late      back - 41 minutes
CONTRACT COUNTDOWN: 58 days

The Reason I Don't Own A House

In my life I've done more than my share of home maintenance and I don't even own a home. It's how I made a living into my college years and a few beyond. I've always considered buildings to be permanent. Cars wear out, refrigerators go on the fritz, jackets get holes at the elbows. But buildings were special. My elementary school might not have been St. Peter's, but it was always around, right where it had always been.
   But as I've been walking around the Miracle Mile district I've seen that buildings are as impermanent as everything else, it's just that their depreciation schedule is a little longer.
   I see a Shakey's that's been shuttered, a vacant building that clearly used to be an upscale department store, art deco office buildings and theaters sitting empty, their gold trim now faded. What was once clearly a walkable neighborhood is now a district for day residents, commuters like me who get the hell out as fast as they can at the end of the day. Everything used to be something else. And everything is slowly fading away.
   I remember when Windsor Park Mall was under construction. My friends and I would ride our bikes to look at the huge hole in the ground. Its grand opening was a huge event, klieg lights, balloons, media coverage, the whole magilla. It was the hang out when I was in high school. Ten years later it was in decline, and twenty years later it was closed. Shuttered and left for the rats and cockroaches. In my lifetime I've seen a huge structure born, descend into middle age, and die.
   This is a long way around to saying that I don't own a home because I'd rather not fight the inevitable decay. At least not right now. Houses need a lot of maintenance, and all the effort needed to fight the breakdown is really just trying to sweep the tide back with a broom. I'd rather live in my apartment, with no working elevator, with termites, with central heating that isn't hot and cooling that isn't cool because it's somebody else's responsibility to get it fixed.
   Plus, now that I'm working, I'm not home most of the day anyway.

COMMUTE: there - 38 minutes back - 46 minutes to my fencing lesson
CONTRACT COUNTDOWN: 75 days

What's The iPad Gonna Do?

In my quest never to have to work for the Man again, I have been thinking through social trends. Back when Apple introduced the iPod - back in 2001, if you can believe it - people knew intellectually that it would change the way people bought music. No one could have predicted that it would destroy an entire industry, and give rise to grass-roots music efforts that finally allowed little-known performers to make a living with their art. If I had known in 2001 what the landscape of American music would look like in 2010, I would have done a few things differently.
   I want to be ahead of the curve this time. So I'm trying to figure out what the iPad is going to change. Because you know it's gonna change something, even if you don't want it to. I gave it some thought, read a few things, and I figure the iPad is going to change:

      games - the screen on an iPad is just big enough to get your game on, and the touch interface is perfect for gaming. Who needs a controller or a keyboard?
      books - the iPad is the Kindle-killer. There, I said it. People might say print is dead (which they've been saying for 20 years), but print is going to have a resurgence with the iPad. Being a writer this is especially near and dear to my heart.
      shopping - there are already iPhone apps that read barcodes and tell you places close by that have that thing for less, the iPad is probably going to do the same thing but better. And because the screen is bigger people will use that function more.
       work - another subject near and dear to my heart. The iPad isn't a clunky laptop, and it's not a minuscule smart phone. It's right in between, and perfect for not being in the office. Which is my aspiration.
      theft - the iPad is just the right size for stealing too. So I'm pretty sure when the broadband-enabled iPad comes out there's going to be a surge in thefts, and then subsequent resales to pawn shops and what have you.


COMMUTE: there - 35 minutes back - 60 minutes, it's raining there were accidents
CONTRACT COUNTDOWN: 81 days

Entropy Gnomes

I guess the little guy thought I was asleep. I was on the couch, after all, and it was after midnight, and the TV was still on. And my eyes were closed.
   I heard something rattling around behind the coffee table, too big for a spider, too small for a burglar. I wondered how a stray cat had gotten into my apartment, but I kept my eyes closed and waited for it to get closer. It was doing something with the papers on the coffee table, which is also where I keep bills I need to pay. I heard it come around the corner and that's when I pounced.
   I expected to get a handful of fur, but instead I got a foot-and-a-half tall wriggling little man, with a white beard, red cone-shaped cap, and a fat little tummy. He kicked his little feet and battered me with his little fists, uttering a string of what I can only assume must have been colorful curses in his native language. I just held on tighter.
   "Okay... jeez... you got me," the little man squeaked in English. "Ease up, you're gonna squeeze my dinner out of me."
   "What are you?" I asked, as the Sham-Wow infomercial played on the TV.
   "Carl," he said, offering me his tiny hand.
   "Not who," I replied. "What. What are you?
   He seemed disappointed. "I'm an entropy gnome."
   I raised an eyebrow at him and held just a bit tighter.
   "What? You think the Second Law of Thermodynamics just happens on its own?" Carl said. "The Universe needs help bringing disorder to order. That's where we Entropy Gnomes come in."
   "You sure you're not just a tiny burglar?" I replied.
   Carl struggled, punching me futilely with his little bitty fists. Finally he gave up and sagged in my grasp.
   "You ever get a notice that you didn't pay a bill, but you know for sure you did?" I nodded. "Well, that was us. You ever wonder why you only have seven forks when they come in sets of eight? Why you need to change your oil? Why a hinge starts squeaking for no reason? Where all the dust behind the TV comes from? All us."
   "Oh, I get it," I said, as realization dawned on me. "Like when I'm missing a sock out of the dryer."
   Carl shook his head, frowning. "No, those are Sock Gnomes. Creepy little fetishists. Look, I'm on a pretty tight schedule here, so if you don't mind..."
   "But I have so many questions," I said. "Like, what if you guys just, I don't know, passed me by for a while?"
   "Well, the food in your fridge wouldn't go bad," Carl said, raising a hand to his chin as he thought. "That's an entropic process. Your coffee wouldn't get cold, your soda wouldn't get warm. Your jeans wouldn't fade. Your shoelaces would always stay tied. You'd never grow old."
   I sat back against the couch, still clutching Carl tightly.
   "I probably shouldn't have said that last one, huh?" Carl continued, with a nervous laugh. "Look, we're a union shop, so even if you... get rid of me, there's gonna be another Entropy Gnome here tomorrow with the same checklist. Maybe even my supervisor, and he's a real sticker for regulations, if you know what I mean."
   "What about Entropy Gnomes themselves?" I asked.
   Carl shifted uneasily. "What do you mean?"
   "Well, if everything in the Universe is trending towards disorder," I said. "Doesn't that mean Entropy Gnomes are subject to the same thing? Shouldn't you guys eventually just fade aw..."
   Carl glared up at me, furious, as his tiny body turned ephemeral and insubstantial. "You son of a bitch."
   In a moment Carl was gone, and I had nothing to prove that he had ever been there in the first place. I went to bed, resolved never to fall asleep on the couch again.