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their own worst advertising
Saturday, June 29 2002Following Poorbob's lead, I went and took the test over at the Political Compass to map out the Cartesian co-ordinates of my political beliefs. Here you can see them, along with several famous political and economic figures thrown in to give a sense of where I stand with respect to them. (To create this composite graph, I was forced to do some fancy work in Adobe Photoshop.) Throught the day, I continued the shearing of Noah that I'd begun yesterday. Interestingly, I found myself treating him as if he was one of my paintings. He'd saunter into the room from the backyard and I'd see a tuft of fur that just had to go and I'd start snipping until the floor was covered with many clots of grey fur. During these sessions, he'd always start out friendly but would eventually grow weary of the snipping and retreat to some place where I couldn't get to him.
Hoping maybe birds could use Noah's fur to line their nests, I threw it all into a heap in the backyard. It didn't take long for that patch of ground to take on the appearance of cat roadkill. 
Noah's haircut this evening. Today was the first day our next door neighbors began making real use of their plank-upholstered backyard. The continual screeching of their two children is going to take a lot of getting used to. I hear that sound and wonder to myself, "Did I make such horrible noises when I was a kid?" If so, sorry World, I'm embarrassed. I suppose I can always plea that my behavior then was a youthfulable indiscretion. Still, the fact that people actually have kids in the age of birth control must indicate the overwhelming irrational force of hormones. Given the jarring fingernails-on-blackboard quality of their screaming, tantrum throwing, monotonous wailing, and the like, it seems to me that those over-ripe embryos are their own worst advertising.
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