Last Minute Plea

All the news outlets are reporting that California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger (that still sounds so weird) has denied clemency for Stanley "Tookie" Williams, founding member of the infamous Crips gang. He is scheduled to die Tuesday morning.

This story has been making headlines for the past few weeks, especially after Kenneth Lee Boyd become the 1,000th person to be executed in the United States. He died of a leathal injection, but reports say he did live long enough to see the confetti and balloons with "1000!" printed on them drop from the ceiling.

According to an AP report, prosecutors and victims' advocates say Williams is undeserving of clemency because he never owned up to his crimes and refused to inform on fellow gang members. As co-founder of the Crips, he is in essence responsible for hundreds of deaths since 1971.

On the other hand, many people look to Williams' 20 years in prison, where he wrote a cautionary memoir and children's books warinig of the dangers of gangs. They had hoped Schwarzenegger would commuted Williams'death sentence to life in prison without parole.

But regardless of your stance on this case, or the death penalty in general, I think we can all agree that "Tookie" is a completely stupid nickname. And no one, no matter what ills they did in life, deserves to have "Tookie" etched into their headstone. And so, I'm offering this last minute plea: please give Tookie a new nickname before he dies. I would have gone with, wait for it....









The Cripskeeper.

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Hey, Remember That Time...

Remember back in the late ninties when NBC aired reruns all summer, but tried to pawn them off as new, because "if you haven't seen them, they're new to you"? Man, that was lame. Who did they think they were kidding?

Hey, remember when the fate of the world depended on going back to the year 2004? Or when I watched Catwoman? And who could forget when that guy on the train asked the woman next to him if she wanted to see his toes? Oooh...or how about that time I did something remarkably similar to what I'm doing right now?

Yeah, those were the days.

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Is it Safe?

I walked through the Public Garden on my way to work yesterday morning and I saw a squirrel fall out of a tree. I didn't even know what it was at first, I just saw something drop out of the corner of my eye (I saw it out of the corner of my eye, it didn't drop out of the corner of my eye), followed by a loud thud.

The squirrel was okay, though. He landed in the pond and jumped out as quickly as he fell in. The way he hopped back onto the tree almost looked like the was he fell out, only in reverse. Except that now his once-fluffy tail was all wet and stringy. And he looked pretty mad. I don't know if he was mad because he fell and all his little squirrel buddies saw him, or if he was trying to kill himself but didn't fall from high enough, so now he's just wet and cold. Or maybe, just maybe, he was pushed. Whatever the case, he didn't look happy, which is pretty difficult for a squirrel.

I knew as soon as it happened that that's what I was going to write about yesterday. But as the day went on and more and more faxes piled up in front of me, I realized that wasn't going to happen.

Later in the day, I saw a guy on the corner in front of Starbucks, saying "Will someone just give me some money, please? I ran out of excuses." I'll give him points for originality, Even though he can't hold a candle to this guy:



So, uh, ninjas killed your family, huh?

Yup.

And left you with nothing but the clothes on your back and a peice of cardboard?

And a Sharpie. They are an enigmatic people.

Okay, but if they killed your family, why did you draw little smiley faces?

Well, that's what the ninjas look like. Have you seen them?

Smiley face ninjas? No, can't say that I have. Sorry.

They're just...big spheres with smiley faces on them. They're like...you ever play that old Atari game Berzerk?

Yeah. With that stupid smiley face guy that would kill you. What was that thing called?

Oh, um...something like Art. Argo...

Otto! Evil Otto!

Yeah, that's the guy. These ninja dudes look like Evil Otto from Berzerk. They kill you, and they smile when they do it.

Oh that's creepy.

That's right, so that's why I'm trying to get some cash for some lessons to avenge my family.

Okay. Well, um, here's a dollar. Go get those smiley bastards. And hey...be careful out there.

Hey, thanks man. I will.

I knew as soon as he said it that that's what I was going to write about yesterday. But as the day went on and more and more faxes piled up in front of me, I realized that wasn't going to happen.

Today, I had to run over to Staples to get some cartridge toner for my boss. His printer is in his office, and I've never seen it, so I can never remember what model it is. In the past, I'd just bring the empty container along and have them find one that looks like it. But that always takes too long, because they can never find it, and usually they have to call everyone that works there over to the counter to look for it. Fortunately, last time I noticed that each box has a different picture on it, so now instead of pulling out a crumpled piece of paper that says "S020108, " I just say, "I need the one with the dice on it."

Anyway, on my way to the store, I was nearly hit by a giant, powder-blue sheet of Styrofoam that a strong gust of wind flung in my direction. The wind is unusually strong today, and I heard the thing flying towards me. I have to admit, I wasn't thinking about you guys, because I moved out of the way just in time as it slammed into the trash barrel next to me. If I was thinking of you guys, I would have let it hit me, because reading about someone who was hit by a giant, powder-blue sheet of Styrofoam is a lot more entertaining that reading about someone who was almost hit with one. But I wasn't sure how much it was going to hurt. I mean, yeah, it was light weight, but the wind was really strong and it had some momentum behind it. Plus it's cold out, so the cold air must have made the Styrofoam harder; more solid. Kind of like how a football gets if you leave it out all winter.

I think about that when I'm watching a game in the dead of winter. That ball must be like a rock. Imagine trying to kick one of those things. People are always saying place kickers aren't real athletes, but I'd imagine kicking a cold football any distance must hurt like hell. It's like stubbing your toe for a living. I don't think that's a career I'll be pursuing.

Well, nearly being done in by flying killer Styrofoam was the last straw. I still have a pile of faxes in front of me, but I had to take the time to share that with you, because if I didn't, progressively weirder shit would just keep happening until I wrote about it. So I think I'm safe now. For a little while, anyway.

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