If you haven’t noticed, I’d like to point out that I redesigned JBdN. Again. For like, the eighth time. I like it now, though. ‘Course, this will probably change again in a month or so. I’m just — what’s the word? — fickle.

I’ve been sick for the last few days, and it’s still lingering. It’s awesome because I’ve also been mostly off the last few days, so I don’t even get the pleasure of calling off work. Instead, I just sit here in front of the computer and the TV, getting fat. Hence why I’ve been doing a good bit of writing, and why I redesigned again.

I need to go watch the next-to-the next-to-the-last episode of ‘Enterprise’ now. And maybe eat a donut.

JAB

I wish I’d showed this much initiative when I was ten:

GARY, Ind. — A cafeteria worker thought it was odd that a fourth-grader would pay for his lunch with a $20 bill.

The cashier at Marquette Elementary School was right. The cashier, who also noticed that the texture of the paper wasn’t right, alerted the school’s police officer, Patrolman Greg Tatum, who asked the 10-year-old about the money.

“He reached into his front pocket and pulled out more,” Tatum said.

The discovery Tuesday led to the arrest of three fourth-graders at the Gary school, where police and school officials confiscated $179 in counterfeit money.

All three face juvenile charges of forgery and theft, Cpl. Nelson Otano after the students were brought to the police station.

Police found the bills in a trash can next to a computer when they went to the first boy’s home Tuesday, Gary Police Cpl. Nelson Otano said.

“It looked like they were trying to perfect them,” he said.

Police arrested two 10-year-old boys and a 12-year-old girl. In all, police identified seven fake 20s, three 10s, one five and four ones, Otano said.

Hell, I wish I had that much initiative now.

JAB

According to the Sun, Michael J. Fox wants to do another Back to the Future installment:

The actor, who suffers from Parkinson’s disease, admits he’s keen to make a final film in the series – but only if they make his character as old as he is in real life.

The former Spin City star wants to take over from Christopher Lloyd’s eccentric scientist character, Doc Brown, in the sequel.

He tells movie website Moviehole.net: “The only way it would work would be if I played Doc.

“I’m 44-years-old now and I’m not interested in running around on skateboards!

“I think after 1, 2 and 3 we all kind of felt we had done it.

“And I think if they did it again now they would do it with a younger cast and just do a different realization of it, which would be fun.”

Man, a new Back to the Future movie. That could be cool, but I’d have a few reservations about it. Even though I’d go see it in a heartbeat, it makes me wonder: is another one really necessary? I mean, the first three films perfectly captured the heart of the story. It had a beginning, middle and end, with everything resolving happily in BotF III. (I don’t count the Back to the Future ride at Universal Studios.) Adding another movie to the series might just, I dunno, be weird and throw off the dynamic of the original trilogy. I would hate, hate, for BotF IV to ruin the original trilogy for me the way the new Star Wars trilogy single-handedly annihilated my love for Star Wars and its original trilogy.

Also, having Michael J. Fox take over the Doc Brown character? I just can’t really see Marty “What the hell is a jigawatt?” McFly as any type of scientist. He wanted to be a rockstar for God’s sake! He wouldn’t go to college, let alone spend the time in school to get a doctorate. Marty as a political adviser to the President, or as a hip L.A. doctor, now that I could visualize. Besides, I liked Christopher Lloyd too much as Doc Brown. He was awesome. And can you imagine them trying to find another DeLorean? Inconceivable!

To illustrate my point, I’ll give you a snippet of what a Back to the Future IV might be like, sans Doc Brown:

(more…)

I was gonna write about this last night, but I got caught up in a story and forgot to. Suddenly it was 2 am and I was so very tired. So now I shall write about jury duty….

First thing’s first: I didn’t get selected. I am a reserve juror, however, meaning that if any of the regular jurors or their alternates for whatever reason can’t make it in, the court can call me in to work. In this scenario, I could be there for a few days or for as long as a month. I’m not really concerned, though. I’ll probably never be called, but if I am, I at least get a week to two weeks notice.

It was a bitch getting to the courthouse. I’ve been to the federal building before to re-apply for a social security card, and it’s just down the street from where I was supposed to be. But once again, I didn’t trust my instincts and so I started to drive in the wrong direction. Part of the problem was I couldn’t reconcile the map provided with my knowledge of downtown Dayton. It’s stupid, yes, but in my mind the two contradicted each other. In fact, I’m still not sure the map is correct.

It’s funny: everyone outside the courtroom was damned unfriendly. From the parking attendants to the building security, they were all gigantic douchebags, and I’m considering sending in a complaint. But the Jury Selections guy, Don, and Judge A.J. Wagner were great. The courtroom was stifling hot, and Wagner kept cracking jokes about it. He cracked a lot of jokes actually, and made a Star Trek reference too. You could tell who the geeks in the room were, too, as we were the only ones laughing. Me and about six other old guys.

The experience was surprisingly not unpleasant. I was a little anxious about being selected, but the proceedings were conducted expeditiously and in a relaxed atmosphere. My fellow Potentials seemed pretty much normal, no crackheads, except for one guy that everybody was pretty much openly laughing at by the end of the day. He was an old, whiny, and monstrous blob of a creature, whom I shall hereafter refer to as Cthulhu.

Cthulhu first attracted notice after I’d been there about forty minutes. Judge Dredd Wagner had just asked, “Is there anyone who cannot serve because they are caring for another individual?” (He asked a number of these questions throughout the session.) A few people had answered, and then it was Cthulhu’s turn.

He was quiet for a moment, and then he said hoarsely, “My…my stepmother is living in my living room on my couch.” And then he started sobbing. The other Potentials and I sort of looked at the entity with disbelief and annoyance, and that’s when the murmurs began.

“Jeez, this guy is gonna be high-maintenance.”

“And the best actor award goes to some jackass.”

Finally, Judge Wagner asked Cthulhu, “Uh, okay sir, so you’re caring for your stepmother then?”

“Yes sir,” Cthulhu said, still sobbing.

“So who’s caring for her right now?”

“My wife, sir.” He started coughing, and reached inside his coat for a conveniently placed tissue. “She’s not working right now, and I need to retire before Friday or I lose my pension.” He blew his nose, and then started shaking, he was crying so hard.

“Okay sir,” Judge Wagner said, “that’s been noted. Who’s next?”

I know it seems like I’m probably exaggerating Cthulhu’s…quirks, but I’m not. I am damn near quoting that motherfucker verbatim. More time passed, and then Judge Wagner was asking us about our thoughts on the death penalty.

With the exception of one woman, whose father-in-law had been murdered years before, everyone who spoke out was against the death penalty. The one woman thought the victim’s family should be able to do the same thing to the murderer as was done to the victim, sort of an eye-for-an-eye deal. It’s a viewpoint I am not entirely unopposed to. But those who said they wouldn’t be able to levy the death penalty — even though Judge Wagner reminded us we would be a grand jury, not a petit jury, and we wouldn’t be sentencing anyone, only charging them — said it was because of their “Christian beliefs.” It was all I could do to not openly snort in derision. I’m not entirely sure how to snort derisively, but boy did I want to. Anyway, this is when Cthulhu again made a scene.

I was sitting near Judge Wagner, and I swear I could see him faintly sigh when Cthulhu raised his mighty, tentacled extremity. “Go ahead, sir,” Wagner said.

“Well, your honor,” Cthulhu began, and then incredibly the sobbing began again. “I don’t think…anyone has the right to take another person’s life.” He rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, clearing out the tears of unbearable despair, and then added, “For whatever reason, God takes some of us and leaves some of us behind. He and Jesus…they just work in mystical ways.”

“Thank you, sir.” Judge Wagner looked over at the assistant prosecutor who had been standing next to the…uh, judge-podium-thing. The AP shook his head very imperceptibly. I knew then that Cthulhu was probably out of the running.

More stuff happened, but it’s all pretty boring. Even more boring that the tale I just related, if you can believe it. But what’s cool is that when I went into Wal-Mart to drop of my proof of serving, our Personnel manager told me that I get paid for my full shift that day. So I got eight hours of pay for sitting in a sweaty, cramped room and listening to an otherworldly creature blubber shamelessly. And that’s pretty awesome. At the very least I got a post out of it.

JAB

We had the Wal-Mart Christmas party at Nick’s house last night. It wasn’t the “official” Wal-Mart party for everyone at the store — just for those of us who work in the lab, connection center, and Krystel from electronics. Jason didn’t attend, because he is a Very Bad Person, though Bill from Trotwood was there.

It had been a good day for me, but I must admit I wasn’t too excited about going ahead of time. After I got to Nick’s, I found my second wind (it was hiding in the bushes) and had a grrr-eat! time. There was drinking involved, but not so much that I couldn’t drive home okay. Andrew even partook of some alcohol, which I think is his first time ever. One might even go so far as to say Andrew punctured his metaphorical alcohol-hymen at Nick’s house. Nick’s ladyfriend, Diana, was kind enough to make fancy food-trays after coming home from work and before going to her sister’s. Thanks Diana!

I brought Lindsey’s new digital camera, a Canon Powershot A520 that is 4 megapixels with a 4X optical zoom, and took some photos for the hell of it. I find I enjoy being that creepy guy at parties with the camera, putting on a forced, zany facade, and inserting myself into conversations and taking photos of everyone, especially the girls. It’s a great way to get slapped and/or maced. Unfortunately, our work environment is a sausage-fest, so Krystel was the only girl there.

She’s smiling for the photo, but don’t be fooled. Right after I took it, she beat the shit out of me and stole my wallet. Maybe being that creepy guy isn’t that fun after all.

Before getting my ass furtherly stomped at Halo 2 (may the makers of that game rot and broil in the eternal fires of hell), we stood around talking for a while, waiting for everyone to arrive. Shortly after the talking and the standing commenced, we found hats.

Man, we look tough in that photo, like real cowboys. Almost like we rode horses, herding cattle with lassos and killing indians, and, I dunno…stuff. Though I think Andrew looked the best in a hat.

I can’t tell if he’s a cowboy or a pimp. Maybe he’s — gasp — both. A cowpimp or something.

As I said earlier, there was drinking involved. Ryan especially took to the libations with much gusto, so of course it wasn’t long before he had no pants on.

I shudder to think just what that hat is doing to him that would elicit the face he’s making. Moving on…

The highlight of the evening — or perhaps “The evening hit rockbottom” would be a more accurate opening — was when the gift exchange began. Someone had the bright decision of doing something different for this gift exchange (I think it was Nick, that bastard.) Instead of doing a secret Santa, we did a crappy Christmas, which shouldn’t be confused with a Cleveland steamer. What this basically entails is this: numbers are drawn, and whoever gets numero uno opens a gift. He or she has to keep the gift at this point. Numero dos can decide to open another gift, or steal what numero uno has. Then numero tres has the option of opening a gift or stealing one of numero uno or dos’s gift. This continues throughout the rest of the numbers. So there was much swapping of sweet gifts, like an XM radio and “Chapelle’s Show: Season 2″ (but not my gift, which was an awesome toy lightsaber), and then the atmo progressed from friendly stealing to outright, cutthroat shanghaiing. Eventually, and I stress the word eventually, the situation sorted itself out. I wound up with the lightsaber I’d bought, which was fine with me, as I’m just going to return it tomorrow.

We settled down a bit, hung out some more, and then I capped off the night with a surprise for everyone: an acoustic performance of my popular Christian country ballad, “Jesus Is My Motor.”

He’s the proxy of a vengeful God
He’s also my best friend.
Jesus is my motor
And his message I portend.

After that point, the party started breaking up. Krystel gave me my wallet back, then I drove home screaming along with Screeching Weasel’s “Anthem For a New Tomorrow.”

Like I said, it was a good time.

JAB

— just been busy of late.

Between working and actually going out and doing stuff(!), I haven’t had much time for the Internets.

Friday, I hung out with Jason for a while, and we watched Land of the Dead. I really dig that movie because it’s a zombie movie, but at the same time it’s a badass action movie. Dennis Hopper plays a pretty effective villain, or maybe I’m just comparing him in this to the gut-wrenchingly awful cameo he had in The Crow: Wicked Prayer as an evil, trash-talking, “gangsta” mystic. God, that movie was terrible.

After work on Saturday, I went with Nate to Beavercreek, looking for a CD player and stuff for his new car. He trade his Avenger in for a black, ’99 Mitsubishi Eclipse. I liked the Avenger — or as I called it, Avengy — but the Eclipse is sweet as hell. I think henceforth I shall refer to it as “Eclipso the Sea Nymph.”

Monday night Sarah and I rented a movie after I got off a busy day of work. I had a choice between The Devil’s Rejects or House of Wax, and sadly, I chose the latter. I wasn’t in the mood for Rejects. I wanted something lighter, I suppose. So there’s no one to blame but myself for watching the dog shit that is House of Wax. I’ll save my scathing invective about that movie for a later review, however.

Tuesday and Wednesday I also worked, but as I closed Tuesday and opened Wednesday, I didn’t do much Tuesday night. Yesterday I just went home and, after going to the Y, zombied out in front of the television. I watched Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy with my Pop, and we both struggled to stay awake and/or understand what was going on. It was pretty good on a whole, and I particularly liked Marvin the manically-depressed robot, excellently voiced by Alan Rickman. Actually, Hitchhiker’s Guide mostly served to make me want to watch Galaxy Quest, another movie featuring Rickman in a hee-larious role.

Today I’ve done shit. I woke up around nine, glanced out my window and watched a white car do a slow three-sixty in the middle of the snow-covered road before continuing on its merry way. Immediately following this spectacle, I promptly decided to not go into Habitat. Then I whiled away some time on the computer, rereading old Strongbad emails. Around noon, I realized I had a headache caused by staying at home for long periods of time, thus reinforcing my belief that my house wants me dead (ask me about it sometime). I ate some leftover chicken, then plunged outside to shovel the driveway. This cleared up my headache, thankfully, but I didn’t want to remain home, locked in my room, waiting to get another headache…so I went out.

I’m writing this, sitting at Tim Horton’s, to be posted later when I go home. I was hoping I might be able to leech off the wifi signal emitted by the neighboring B-Dub’s, mais, non. Now I am going to sign off and work on a story.

JAB

Man, I got served.

For jury duty.

The summons came yesterday in the mail. I have to call on the 20th of this month, after seven pm, to find out what time I need to report the next day and endure the selection process. I’m not exactly thrilled, but at least it gets me out of work that day.

It’s not a regular jury summons, either — it’s for a grand jury. The neat thing about grand juries is that, if selected, I can serve for up to four months. Plus, grand juries aren’t nearly as exciting as a regular petit jury. All they do is listen to evidence and decide whether there is enough to issue an indictment, i.e. move forward to a trial. That’s it. At least if I were on a petit jury, the type used during the trial, I’d be faced with the enjoyable prospect of deciding someone’s fate. But, no, all I’ll be doing is saying yea or nay to a trial.

Personally, I’d rather not be selected at all. Things would get stupid in regards to work, I’d get bored off my ass Monday through Friday, listening to boring “evidence” presented by even more boring lawyers. Maybe I’ll just pretend I have Tourette’s and randomly shout obscenities. I’m sure I wouldn’t get selected then. Or the judge might yell at me a lot. Either way, it’d be a hell of a time.

The one bright spot in this pit of absolute darkness (okay, maybe I exaggerate) is that Wal-Mart will still pay me. I get paid at my full rate for the time I spend during the jury selection process, and I receive some fractal compensation for every other hour I might potentially spend playing God doing my civic duty. Oh yes, I mustn’t forget the staggeringly generous ten dollars a day that the state pays me. I’ll be so fucking rich, I won’t know what to do.

JAB

I was going through some old files from high school tonight, and I ran upon a folder containing a story and a poem for a class I took my senior year: Writing for the 21st Century. It was probably one of my more favorite classes in school. Among other things, such as writing a short story and a poem, one of the projects was to design a web site for a teacher. I chose my old biology teacher, Kevin Jones, for mine. Curious if my web site still existed, I went to Northmont’s home page and found that, yes, Mr. Jones was still using the site I created waaaay back on September 22, 1999.

Now bear in mind, this was the first web site I ever designed, and it definitely shows. We used some sort of weird program, though I don’t remember what it was. What I do remember is how proud I was of the logo I created, even though it looks pretty crappy. And I recall I had a whole lotta trouble with the anchor links, which served to link to various sections on the same page. They wouldn’t work properly, failing to call up the proper section when clicked upon.

It looks so damn terrible to me now, I sort of wish I could redesign the whole damn thing, if only so that my name isn’t attached to such a boring and displeasing-to-the-eye web site. Fortunately, I doubt too many people, other than Mr. Jones’s students, have ever been subjected to its visual…failings.

So without further ado, here is Mr. Kevin Jones’s Official Homepage.

JAB

Well this is rather gross. I’ve got this peculiar feeling in the back of my throat, as though I’m ready to vomit…or have already vomited just a little in my mouth. It’s a bit perplexing, and truthfully I wonder why I’m even sharing this with you — a question I bet you’re asking yourself right now. Maybe I’ll go get something to wash that vomit-y sensation away. And then sleep. Sweet, blissful sleep.

JAB