It looks like we may soon be getting a new Twins stadium in Minneapolis. This could be the finale in a decade-long public debate about whether to build a new baseball stadium for the Twins. Everyone agrees that the cavernous, sterile Metrodome is a terrible forum for almost any professional or collegiate sport. I’ve been to the Dome for a variety of sporting events. As a venue for professional football, it’s tolerable. For baseball and college football, it’s depressing. A new stadium in the Warehouse District, with views of the downtown skyline, could be a splendid setting for a baseball game. The proposed financing deal is probably the best we can hope for. The owners will put up $125 million; the other half will come from a .015% sales tax increase in Hennepin County. A lot of county residents want to put the issue to a referendum, but the County Commission has already approved the tax increase. Now it’s up to the legislature to give final approval. I can understand how people continue to be upset about using public dollars for a stadium. As Jay Weiner, a fellow Humphrey Fellow and a local sports writer, likes to point out, a new sports stadium does not necessarily translate into economic benefits for the host city. But the tax amounts to only three cents on every twenty dollars. I’m not a huge baseball fan, but I’d like to see the Twins stay in Minnesota. And if we do get a new outdoor stadium, I might be persuaded to actually go to a few games.

Two recent news stories have caused me to question how much we really value the equality of women in American. First, some pharmacists are now deciding that they don’t have to fill prescriptions for birth control pills. Let’s leave aside the validity of their :cough:medieval:cough: beliefs for the moment. They are refusing to fill a physician’s prescription for a federally approved drug. Pharmacists are professionally obligated to dispense prescriptions, with a couple narrowly defined statutory exceptions here in Minnesota. When a pharmacist refuses to fill a prescription, that pharmacist is interfering with the doctor-patient relationship. Of course, this particular moral stance exclusively affects women. The underlying need for birth control pills may not even be related to reproduction, but the objecting pharmacist need not be bothered with such details. The pharmacist suddenly feels qualified to pass judgment on a complete stranger’s sexual habits and choices.
Americans love to pass judgment on women who are perceived as behaving badly. Look at the case of the woman who decided to skip out on her imminent wedding. As far as I know, it’s not a crime for a single woman to get on a bus and cross state lines. I’m sure it was upsetting to the family, but I think it’s ludicrous for the local DA to publicly mull whether he can bring any charges against the woman. After the woman returned, her fiance said that his only concern “was to get Jennifer well.” This quote bothers me because of its implication that she MUST have been crazy to not want to marry the guy. After all, women are impulsive, emotional, and unpredictable. Who knows why they do the things they do, right?
Fuck.
As someone with a disability, I have a passing familiarity with paternalism and condescension. And these stories smack of both. Unfortunately, the media turned the pharmacist issue into just another sideshow of the culture wars. Their coverage of the “runaway bride” was even more abhorrent for its voyeurism and almost Victorian undertones of disapproval. We may pay lip service to gender equality, but we aren’t even close yet.

When I got to work this morning, I noticed a couple snowflakes fall onto the windshield of my van. Snow. On May 2nd. Excuse me while I shake my fist at the sky� Okay, that’s better. I didn’t really shake my fist, though. It was more like a couple twitches of the wrist. Anyway, the Weather Oracles have assured us that Spring will return by the end of the week.
Now that summer is coming, a lot of my extracurricular activities will be ending. My Civics class ends in a couple weeks and my Humphrey Fellowship ends next month. In some ways, this is a good thing. I haven’t been able to stick to my daily writing schedule as much as I would like, at least as it relates to the book. A more open schedule might allow me to actually finish the thing this year. At the same time, I’m going to miss these regularly scheduled social interactions and group discussions. I’ve met a lot of cool people through these opportunities and I now consider many of them part of my circle of friends. I’ll have to resolve to find ways to keep in contact with them while looking for other networking opportunities. There’s a part of me that likes being kept busy and constantly meeting new people. I’ve never considered myself an extrovert, but I think people are endlessly fascinating and love learning about what drives them, what their quirks are, and so on. I’m sure other things will come up, even though I have no idea what they will be.

My impressions of last night’s concert:
Shirley Manson is hotter than an exploding star. My God, the woman is beautiful. But more importantly, she and the rest of the band put on one of the best musical performances I’ve seen in recent years. Manson tore into almost every song with self-assured relish. The playlist was equally divided between some of their older material and their new album, “Bleed Like Me.” As other Garbage fans might expect, the songs that generated the most enthusiastic crowd response, as well as the band’s most manic performances, included “Queer,” “Stupid Girl,” and “I Think I’m Paranoid.” But I also liked some of the newer, more metal-driven songs like “Run Baby Run” and “Bad Boyfriend.” Manson has a magnetic presence on stage; she was constantly in motion, prowling around the stage with a fierce, diva-like intensity. And when she spoke in between songs in that lovely Scottish brogue of hers, my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.
First Ave was packed, but I found a good spot right behind the mixing board that afforded me an excellent view of the stage. I was completely boxed in by other people; this place is not for claustrophobics. On my right was a guy furiously playing air drums during the whole concert. Behind me was a cute dark-haired girl using my chair as an armrest. And what is it about me and drunks at a concert? During or after a show, some obviously intoxicated person always comes up to me and wants to be my friend. In their alcohol-induced hazes, they seem to think they’re doing me a favor by striking up a slurred conversation with me. This time, I got ambushed outside the club as I was heading home. Fortunately, a couple friends who happened to be walking down the sidewalk rescued me from this encounter.

Blogs can be put to all kinds of creative uses. Exhibit #1: A blog written in the voice of Darth Vader. Whoever’s behind this is a true Star Wars geek. He (or she; mustn’t discount the possibility) knows the names of Imperial Star Destroyers, minor characters, and obscure planets that are only casually referenced in the movies. The scary thing is that I don’t have to look up any of those references. The blog itself is actually rather funny. Here’s Vader describing his dispatch of an incompetent Imperial officer:
The problem is solved now, however. I crushed his trachea with my mind, and promoted Piett to command the fleet. I have transmitted to following note to Ozzel’s kin:
Dear House of Ozzel,
I regret to inform you that your son has been killed in the line of duty.
He was an incompetent, yammering boob and he will be missed by none. I have allowed the men to pillage his personal belongings, which is why we have enclosed nothing but the sole remaining item: a torn advertisements page from a magazine of midget pornography. May it shock and disturb you, and may you think of it always when you remember your dearly departed son, the ninny.
This is geek humor, so if you’re not a Star Wars fan, you’ll probably just be puzzled by the whole thing. I’d like to see more bloggers do metafiction like this. How about a blog as written by Sauron? Or by Professor Moriarty? I’m not sure it would work as well for “good” characters. A blog by Luke Skywalker or Frodo Baggins would probably come across as a lot of self-righteous sniveling and whining.