I’ve had a few events in my life that can classify as “near misses.” Fortunately, there are very few, but I’d like to focus on one that happened to me on Wednesday afternoon.

Let me take you to the town of Sebastian and to a property my father listed. The property was priced to move, particularly as the original owner had passed away of natural causes, and it was placed into a trust bequeathed to the surviving relatives. Within a few days of listing, the sellers received a very solid offer and the property is expected to close next month.

Anyway, the surviving son and his wife cleaned up the place before they had to head back to their own home, apparently in another state or somewhere within considerable driving distance. My dad was the first to check it out in the early afternoon, and while there fate had just happened to sneak up on him: one of the wire shelves in the garage was overloaded, so the simple act of opening the door leading from the house to the garage apparently broke the clips. This resulted in cans of paint unceremoniously hitting the garage floor. Some of this splatter went on my father’s slacks and dress shoes. He was pressed for time as it is, because he had another engagement he had to attend, so he was unable to clean it up himself.

Here’s where I come in. My dad comes home and tells me the situation, and so I head there. Before I left, he also asks me to take pictures of the interior, as the relatives were cleaning out the place when it was first listed. I was also told that the relatives headed back home yesterday, and as such I’m not expecting to meet with anyone there. Armed with this information, I break out my old work clothes, seeing as I’d have to be cleaning up paint.

I go there, assess the situation, and start cleaning up. It takes about 15 minutes to clean everything up, and another couple of minutes to wash the paint from my hands. (I should have snagged some latex gloves, but that’s a moot point now.) With everything squared away in the garage, I start prepping the interior so that it can be photographed.

It was maybe 5 minutes into this when I hear a man’s voice. “Hello, anyone here?”

I stop what I’m doing to meet the guy at the front door.

He has a gun pulled out. It’s not aimed at me, but it’s out.

(It is times like these where vulgarity is more than appropriate. Fuck.)

What happens next was a bit of a blur, for I went into autopilot. In my head was a voice wanting to scream. I felt my heart begin to race, in conjunction with all the other little things that go into the flight-or-fight response. I remained calm and introduced myself as working for the listing agent, told him that I was his son and that I was there to take photos.

Oh, and in the confines of my tiny brain, I also asked that I’d not be shot. Or, failing that, if I were shot, that it would be quick.

Fortunately, the gun was holstered and I remain physically unscathed. I proceeded to work as normally as I could from the experience; I informed him and his wife about the shelving issue in the garage, and that I would be back sometime later or tomorrow to fix it. Real simple, as I’d just need to get new plastic clips from Home Depot. I went around to open blinds, make sure things were presentable, and began snapping photos. They left again.

My mind was wanting to race out from my skull at that point. I debated on whether or not I should inform my father of what had happened, or whether or not I should even bring it up at all. Nothing came from it, so I just continued doing what I was sent there to do.

It was as I was wrapping up that I received a phone call from my father.

“So you met the sellers, huh?” he said.

I replied in the affirmative, and in the course of the conversation he revealed that the seller called him and told him about what happened. As you could imagine, my father didn’t react too kindly to having a gun pulled out at his son.  My dad also has the ability to joke about things, and so jokingly told me that he would buy me a new pair of pants. We laughed and that phone conversation soon ended.

Yet my mind still reeled, knowing full well that the situation could have turned out badly. I could see all sides of the event that I’ve described, all the whys and wherefores. That doesn’t really disturb me. What disturbs me is all the unknown factors that could have come into play. I don’t know the guy; the guy didn’t know me.

So I don’t know his mental state, what level of training he has with firearms, or his disposition. For all I knew, he could have been a robber, seeing as I had never met the sellers before. (Normally, I meet with most of my father’s sellers as well during the listing process.)

Now he didn’t know me either, as I’ve already noted. However, my car was out in the driveway, and from it he could have surmised two things: one, my last name was Beaudoin (because the name’s on the vanity plate at the back of the car, spelled semi-phonetically in six letters), and two I was related to a Realtor, since I have a plate at the front of my car that says “Consult a Realtor.”

I’m unsure about what thought process went into the seller pulling out his weapon and entering the house. I’ll never know, so I try not to think about it… However, it crosses my mind from time to time.

Honestly, with all the things that could go wrong, it scares the shit out of me some days. This event certainly jarred me from my complacency. I never really think that something is going to go horribly wrong with me, or that I might involve myself in a bad situation. I don’t think most people act that way, otherwise who would want to wake up from their beds?

Yet this event unsettled me, and it still does. It’s not debilitating but it gives me pause, reminding me to be thankful for all the good things in life—even if life can sometimes kick you in the jewels. Or have a gun brandished about your person.

Upon returning to Florida in the spring, I visited the Indian River Mall to find that the Starbucks—itself having been, in a previous life, a Barnie’s Coffee and Tea—near the food court was closed down. The signs on the outside had been removed, and you could tell it had been a Starbuck’s by the configuration of the holes and subtle lines that the signs left behind. Even through the dark windows, you could see the empty room and the naked counter. That was a bit sad, although there was a Starbuck’s right on the road in front of the Indian River Plaza, which was a good 10 minute or so walk from the mall. Not a total loss. Not as much as the next store I noticed.

In December (and into January), I saw these depressing signs that were inside the Vero Beach Waldenbooks:

Sunuvabitch...

This does hurt me a bit on a personal level because of my love of the printed word. I grew up on having a Waldenbooks in the mall I could go to.

While it wasn’t this specific one, I grew up with the one in my hometown of Manchester, Connecticut. I went there a few times a month as a tyke, brought there by my mother and grandmother. I would always walk into that store with some of my chore money (my father paid me a “wage” of $1/hr), pick up a science fiction book I wanted to add to my collection (either Star Trek, Star Wars or a comic) and walk out with a small, plastic white bag with “Waldenbooks” on each side.

I also met a few authors at my Manchester Waldenbooks—yes, I used that possessive adjective, deal with it. I remember getting my copy of Robert Greenberger‘s book, The Romulan Strategem, signed by Mr. Greenberger all those years ago.

It’s not that I’m not able to get my books elsewhere. I can. There’s a Books-A-Million in the small plaza to the east of the Indian River Plaza, next to the Publix. It has a bigger selection of books. It has its own little Joe’s Coffee shop. (Yes, it’s named Joe’s Coffee. Clearly, no relation.)

I could also go to the library, which I have thus far neglected doing since my return to Florida, but there’s something about owning a good book and having it on your bookshelf that is immensely satisfying. More than some trophy or worthless paper award to be placed on some wall.

And if I wanted to go the online route, I can go to Amazon and buy it there without paying sales taxes. But there’s something to be said about seeing a book on the shelf with portals to all those worlds. Worlds that groups of people took the time and energy under the exacting toll of immeasurable frustration to create and get published. There’s a process there that most people don’t realize. I’m all too familiar with getting something published, as I’ve been responsible for the creation of two books. All that pain and suffering that went into it, all the long hours of writing and revising… Most people give up.

However, I’m flying off on another tangent there, so let me regain some semblance of control.

You can buy your stuff online, and I’ve done that with DVD and CDs, as well as the occasional book. With books, I find that I enjoy the tactile sensation, to feel the weight of the book, to feel the edges of the pages as I flip through them. Then there’s the rich aroma of the paper that wafts from the pages and fills your nostrils, if you let it. It’s a wonderful smell and while the new books have that “book aroma,” I find that older books that are well kept have a richer smell… like aged wine tastes versus newer vintages.

There’s also the fact that you get to physically meet people in a bookstore and, perhaps, strike up a conversation with them. We can say that we have message boards, blogs, and other “social media” outlets, but there’s nothing that can replace our need for physical contact, even if it is a chat. You can’t mirror truthful facial expressions in emoticons, or hear someone’s laugh, or hear someone sigh over troubling content in a book… You just can’t.

And so I find myself melancholy at the prospect of a bookstore closing down, even if it is part of a chain. It saddens me because it reflects the economic woes of our times, as well as the inevitable change where more and more people flock to the internet for whatever tickles their fancy. It is yet another reminder that our technology and our lust for better/faster/stronger change has outpaced our hearts and the potential worthwhile abilities of the human race.

Watch these clips, then ask yourself… Well, ask yourself the question that Dana Gould asked at the end of the second segment. Because I need an answer to that question.

For those reading this as a Facebook note, the Youtube links are:

• http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBGusPcNzxw
• http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ht_W5_Ogh0U

For those reading this as a blog on my website, JoeBeaudoinDOTnet, I’ve embedded these clips below:

Bill Maher made an excellent point on last Friday’s Real Time with Bill Maher, namely that Obama isn’t the socialist that the right has endeavored to make him out to be, and that the Democratic Party has turned to the center-right. This would leave the Republican party somewhere in the sanitarium, which is where most of them belong. For a party that advocates the reduction of government in our lives, the Republicfraks have done their very best to enlarge the scope of government over their eight years in power. The consequences of this enlargement and entrenchment into our lives have yet to fully manifest themselves, but the day of reckoning when we realize what this has done to our civil liberties and constitutional rights is not so far off in the future, sadly.

And while I tend not to get political about such things, both parties are responsible for sowing what we are now reaping in terms of economic and social failures that are occurring in this country. And this has not happened since 9/11, but has been happening for the past three decades. If not more.

Oh, and I know that Obama is neither Jesus Christ or, better yet, FDR. I knew this when I “voted” for him. Regardless, Obama is, sadly, better than John McCain and the inept airline stewardess who has a great view of Russia, whose only reason for being thrown on the McCain ticket was to recruit “scorned” Hillary Clinton supporters. (And had she never opened her mouth, the Republicans may have succeeded in winning the White House.) Honestly, had McCain chosen Mitt Romney as his VP, then I would have voted for that ticket.

Why? The USA needs to be run more like a business, particularly with runaway spending and the fact that we are borrowing money from a Communist country. Romney was able to govern one of the most “liberal” states of this union and bring that spending under control. I may not care for some of the social policies or views of that (sadly) non-existent ticket, but… you cannot have everything, and you have to prioritize.

And, going back to the video above, I don’t agree with everything Maher says… but his program honestly allows for some of the most honest dialogue out there, better than anything CNN, MSNBC or Faux News can spew out via their own “programs” whether they be the idiotic Hannity, O’Reilly, Olberman, et al.

Ok, I’m now sick. Frak politics. Sorry that you had to read this.

Read the truth here:

1. AT&T on the 809 #
2. Snopes.com on the 809 #

<cruise>It’s… it’s like… I have the power to help. You, you know, help people. I’d like to go on the Internet, have fun and play… but… I can’t do that… maybe if I… (laughing hysterically) change the world… then we can all go on the Internet to have fun and play. We are the experts. (begins counting with fingers) We can cure illness. We can decriminalize the criminals. We can rebuild people. We have the technology… We are Scientologists. We are the Incomprehensible Missive Force. (cue Mission Impossible music)</cruise>

Although the video has been yanked from YouTube, Google, and various other sites repeatedly, it is located here.

Watch for yourself, then try to figure out what the fuck you just watched… If it wasn’t an example of a very, very bad ad libbing session, I don’t know what is.

Don’t pump gas on May 15th
Body: Don’t pump gas on May 15.

In April 1997, there was a “gas out” conducted nationwide in protest of gas prices.
Gasoline prices dropped 30 cents a gallon overnight.

On May 15th 2007, all myspace members are to not go to a gas station in protest of
high gas prices. Gas is now over $3.00 a gallon in most places.

There are 73,000,000+ American members currently on the myspace network, and the
average car takes about 20 to 30 dollars to fill up.

If all myspace members did not go to the pump on the 15th, it would take
$2,200,000,000.00 (that’s BILLION) out of the oil company’s pockets for just one day.

If you agree (which I cant see why you wouldn’t) repost this bulletin repost it with
‘Don’t pump gas on May 15th

As anyone with some form if intellect can painfully see, there is a big-fucking-problem with this logic. Sure, you can do a “strike” for one day, but you still have a car, right? Don’t know if you folks knew this or not, but you car will still need gas — good intentions be damned. ‘Tis be the nature of the beast.

So instead of filling up on May 15th, you fill up the day after, or the day before. Basically, you’re still giving the oil companies your money. They’re still getting their $2.2 billion that they’re supposed to “lose” that day.

See kiddies, they think for the long term. Contrary to popular belief, greed does not equate to stupidity; stupid people are greedy, or greed may be the impetus for stupidity, but greed isn’t stupid. See, they know you have a car, and that you must fill your car with gas. (More refined countries call it “petrol”, by the way.) Catch-22. They win, even if they have to placate the generally idiotic public by dropping the gas .30 cents.

Instead, the smarter thing to do would be to ride bikes, walk, car pool, or even budget your trips. For instance, make a list of things you need to get, and shop at one place. Bargain hunting these days is mostly through the internet anyway, and you end up spending more money (and time!) running around trying to price match and “get the best deal”.

So go ahead and don’t go to the gas station on May 15th… Just go on May 14th… or May 16th… Or any other day other than May 15th.

At the end of the day, you still haven’t solved the problem of dependence on foreign oil. Solve that, and the gas prices will address themselves.

It starts with a manager coming up to me and commenting on what a rabid customer was screaming about last night. The rather customer made the claim that the horror DVD section should be moved from the aisle containing the Disney DVDs, because children shouldn’t be subjected to horror. (The customer was apparently incoherent and rambling; the epitome of someone who should have been neutered prior to any sexual intercourse.)
Now understand that on one side of the aisle, the Disney section is to the extreme left of the row, while the horror section is to the extreme right. With 12 4-foot sections in this side, the Disney DVDs take up two sections, with the horror (on that side) taking only 1 4-footer. This leaves, oh, 9 sections (totalling some 36 feet) separating the two. Just for good measure, let me draw this out for the folks paying attention. After Disney, this is the breakdown of what is between Disney and the oh-so-dreaded horror:

1. 1 section of Nickelodeon videos.
2. 1 section of young children’s movies.
3. 2 sections of family movies, which “Over The Hedge”, “Open Season”, and “Ice Age” are a part.
4. 3 sections of Anime, which is not that kid friendly either.
5. 2 sections of science fiction movies.

If this were not the case, I would understand the parent’s concern. (Although I won’t cover how the parent presented his concern, because the way he did it isn’t something to hold up as an example of maturity.)

So to add salt to my brain hemorrhaging, as it were, the manager who brought this to my attention asks me to send an e-mail to the “media bus”. (The media bus is where media employees in the field go to ask for help when a problem is encountered on the battlefield that none of the imbeciles in upper management is able to answer, either consistently or at all. Sadly, this is only a theory since media bus is hardly helpful and doesn’t respond to queries in a timely manner; the lowest response time I’ve ever received from them is roughly 72 hours.) He asks me to ask them whether or not we can move the section, which I know we can’t because the DVDs are in a certain order, or what we refer to as a “flow”. This makes each Worst Buy consistent, since (in the bloodshot-eyed-world of Best Buy corporate) a customer should be able to enter a Best Buy and be able to gain the same experience, regardless of region. My thoughts on that are for another entry, but anyway I wasted 15 minutes trying to write the e-mail.

Yes, I wasted 15 minutes on composing a one paragraph e-mail essentially asking “Can I move the horror section because it is in the same aisle as the family-oriented DVDs and one dim-witted, incoherent mentally deficient cunt had a hissy over it being in the same aisle?” The reason for which is because of how I worded the letter, so that I personally don’t look stupid to the monkey reading the e-mail at the other end…

But then again, I guess I’m assuming good faith in my assumption that the monkey can identify stupidity when it sees it.

Either way, I’m morbidly interested in seeing how this all plays out.

It reminds me of the time when a Best Buy employee asked where the 1 year Xbox Live cards were and then, in the same breath, commented that all he saw were the 12 month cards, the 3 month cards, and the one month card.

Perhaps abortion should be legalized after all.

That’s right. Someone copied (some) of my MySpace page. It’s not really all that creative, and it’s pretty asinine since the only thing that was done, in an attempt to slander, was “I like jacking off to porn all day long”. (I’ll be the first to point out that I’ve already tried this and it’s not good for the hand or for the organ in question. For Christ’s fucking sake, I don’t care to murder the kittens! PETA would be on my ass in a minute. Shit.)
Quite witty, this queen of wit. Apparently last login for Captain Intellect was 12/11/2006.

So I sent “Joe” the following message:

Must say, you have very sexy profile. Very sexy picture.

Now you must excuse. Must make sexy time with the hand.

High five!

Here’s the link.

Note: You’ll have to turn off the page style, since it won’t show up otherwise. If you have Firefox, simply select “View”, then “Page Style”, then “No Style” to see the thing.

The following quote sums up my feelings on Christmas (or any holiday that has been raped and hollowed out for the sake of making a quick buck) more eloquently and ferociously than anything I could come up with:

Christmas is an awfulness that compares favorably with the great London plague and fire of 1665-66. No one escapes the feelings of mortal dejection, inadequacy, frustration, loneliness, guilt and pity. No one escapes feeling used by society, by religion, by friends and relatives, by the utterly artifical responsiblities of extending false greetings, sending banal cards, reciprocating unsolicited gifts, going to dull parties, putting up with acquaintances and family one avoids all the rest of the year…in short, of being brutalized by a ‘holiday’ that has lost virtually all of its original meanings and has become a merchandising ploy for color tv set manufacturers and ravagers of the woodlands.

— Harlan Ellison, “No Offense Intended, But Fuck Xmas!” (1972) The Harlan Ellison Hornbook

I make no apologies for my firm beliefs in this matter. After experiencing the atrocities wrought by so-called human beings out to placate their spoiled progeny with vapid toys and intellectual devoid time wasters, Christmas has been perverted from a childhood joy into a steaming pile of fecal matter.

Or perhaps it was always like this, and my brain just finally realized this idiocy.