To the RNC delegate whom I was trying to get by because she and her friends were standing in the middle of the sidewalk on 7th Street: I’m sure you’re a very nice lady, but you don’t get to call me “honey”, “sweetheart”, and stroke my arm until we’ve been properly introduced. Because despite what most people think, I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy and I like to take things slow.
Summer’s over already? But I’m just starting to get a good tan going. And I haven’t gotten through even half of the books on my summer reading list. Not to mention the fact that my fancy linen pants are barely broken in.
I’m going to have to drag my sweaters out of storage in a few weeks, aren’t I?
Suck.
Overheard as I passed a group of RNC delegates who were standing outside the Graves 601 Hotel:
“Oh my God, I forgot my cigars!”
I was smiling the rest of the way home.
The convention hasn’t even started yet, but the parades are already underway here in downtown Minneapolis. Today’s post-modern political parade can be a frustrating thing to watch if you’re expecting a consistent, unified message. It’s best just to take in the spectacle and not try to make sense of it. To illustrate my point, here’s a sampling of what I saw at today’s parade on Nicollet Mall:
I’ve heard from various sources that Governor Pawlenty was in a pissy mood after he learned that he wouldn’t be McCain’s veep pick. It would seem that he got bitten by the same identity politics that Republicans have long accused Democrats of playing. Any Republican who denies that gender was the prime consideration in Sarah Palin’s selection is kidding themselves. Sure, she’s a strong fiscal and social conservative, but so are plenty of other, more experienced candidates. And I’m not one of those who believes that pointing out that Palin’s inexperience only highlights Obama’s own inexperience. What’s really at issue is the candidates’ judgment. Obama’s pick demonstrated that he has the necessary judgment to surround himself with competent and experienced advisors. As James Fallows points out, McCain is more interested in getting votes than forming an effective government.
One thing that hasn’t received much attention in the liberal blogosphere is the fact that Palin has a child with Down’s Syndrome. I’m curious how this informs her views on issues like special education, civil rights, and health care. Hopefully, someone in the press will ask those questions.
Summer is coming to an end. I know this because I paid a visit to the State Fair today. The Fair becomes much more tolerable when it isn’t oppressively hot and this evening was spectacular. I also discovered that the Fine Arts Building is a wonderful showcase of local artists while it also provides a refuge from the Fair’s more annoying patrons. Like the guy sitting on the sidewalk who, as I passed by, exhorted me to “check out the girls.”
Target has settled the class action lawsuit brought forth a couple years ago by blind customers unable to navigate the store’s inaccessible website. The terms of the settlement require the merchant to pay $6 million in damages to members of the affected class as well as improve its website’s accessibility. Kudos to Target for choosing to settle rather than litigate. The settlement is significant because it signals to other corporations that, in the long run, it’s cheaper to make their websites accessible rather than risk legal action.
And yes, I need to do more to make this blog accessible to everyone.
I’ve always liked my first name. It’s short and resistant to any nicknaming conventions (very few people have ever called me Marky). It’s old-school but not antiquated. And it sounds really sexy when women whisper it in my ear (or so I imagine). But whenever I have to introduce myself, people usually can’t catch it the first time around. The peculiarities of my disability cause me to struggle a bit with the hard “k” sound, so I’ll say “Mark” and people will hear “Marv” or “Murray” or even “Mara”. My life would probably be incrementally easier if my parents had named me “Joe” or “Andy”, but I don’t think I look much like either one of those guys. Besides, I need to practice my enunciation so that everyone will understand my coronation speech on the day I’m crowned Emperor of Everything.
Remember how I was moaning yesterday about wanting a pair of booster rockets? Screw that. I want this guy’s exoskeleton. It looks bad-ass, like something you would wear to a showdown with Lex Luthor and his Legion of Doom. Maybe someone could outfit me with an exoskeleton tricked out with booster rockets, kind of like Iron Man. Except without the handsome multimillionaire on the inside.
My ventilator keeps alarming for no apparent reason. Perhaps it’s bored. Pushing breath after breath into me must get old after a while. I’d better give it some attention.
I need a wheelchair with booster rockets. In the past week, I’ve been invited to a couple events at friends’ homes–homes that were built in a previous era when people like me were expected to stay in the attic and not venture out to socialize with the neighbors. My friends, of course, are wonderful and are always quick to offer to move events outside or make other arrangements to accommodate me. But I feel awkward whenever situations like this come up. For all the noise I make about how the world needs to be more accessible, I don’t want my friends to apologize for living in houses with front steps or narrow doors. It’s certainly not their fault that the homebuilders of yesteryear weren’t schooled in the ways of universal design. Just give me a couple booster rockets that can elevate me a few feet over those pesky architectural barriers. Some kind of teleporter would be even better, but I’m trying to keep my expectations realistic.