Americana

Went trap shooting a few weeks ago. Pretty cool. I hit one on my first shot. Then it started to hurt, the recoil, that is.

Last week I saw my first Marilyn Monroe movie, Some Like it Hot. Well done.

Fourth of July went well. I wore a black arm band to mourn the death of freedom. People liked that, surprisingly. Or maybe they liked that freedom was dead. But I brought a few copies of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution (sent to Campus Libertarians by the Cato Institute. Someone else started passing them out, and listened to him read the Declaration aloud. Nice. Some good discussion, too.

No soap, bathroom

What to say about the convention? I’ll work back in time. On the way home Matt and I were listening to perhaps the greatest driving music in my CD collection, Crazy Rhythms, by the Feelies. Track 4 started near the on-ramp to Interstate 70, and it has this great build up of what can only be called “guitar tension”, and it broke out just as we got onto I-70 and picked up speed, and a Delorian passed us. Very nice.

There were probably 100 men at the convention. All of them use the same restroom, and there is no soap. My question: how can they just leave and not either find soap, and/or tell someone to do his job and get new soap in the dispenser? Is there something wrong in my brain? I could not let it go.

At some point I’ll mention the actual content of the convention. The highlight had to be meeting and talking to Boston T. Party.