Today we had Meg's baptism in a very special meeting along with seventy-two other eight year-olds from our stake. It was nice to have both grandparents and other family in town.
For the confirmation meeting Kaddi put together a special video montage of pictures of Meg. She spent hours collecting the footage, editing the video, and then searching for a medium to display it. When it was time to show the video she spent several minutes trying to get it to work - and if hadn't been for the intervention of a senior project manager, it may never have happened. But figure it out she did.
It's something all 301NIB viewers should be able to enjoy.
Aside from the technical difficulties, the baptismal meeting was not without its candor. All the children being baptized and their fathers sat on the front row so that the speakers could take directly to them. I ended up sitting next to a little boy who couldn't wait to be done with the entire affair so he could go outside and play.
As the prelude music was playing I heard him say, "What? There's going to be talks?! That's so boring!"
Later when other children walked onto the stage for a musical number he said, "There's no way you could get ME to go up there."
But the best part was during the final talk on the Holy Ghost. The speaker shared an experience where he had been hiking with his family and gotten lost, but found his way back to the car with the aid of a GPS device. Throughout the talk he held up his global positioning unit as a visual aid. This led to the following exchange:
Speaker: Today, each of you will receive a type of GPS-device...
Bored little boy: Awesome!
Speaker: ....called the Holy Ghost.
Bored little boy: Awww, man!
Best baptism meeting ever.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
It's a mad, Mad-town: Part II
When we last left our hero he was getting ready for the big move out of storage and into the moving van....
If it doesn't fit, she must forget
From the moment I reserved the truck online I was worried that it may have been too small for all our items. The truck description said it was ideal for 2-3 bedrooms, which is what we had. I was also certain the sixteen-footer was the exact size we had used to move out of your apartment two years ago. What I failed to consider was that we had already taken several van loads of boxes out of the apartment before the big moving day.
When we arrived at the storage and began pulling everything out it became obvious in a hurry that there would be some casualties. I started to panic a little, knowing the certain doom that awaited me in Provo when Kaddi learned some things had been left behind.
Several friends from the ward were nice enough to come help on a Saturday morning. Unfortunately, they spent most of their time standing around while I tried to prioritize the load. I even called Penske again to explore the possibility of renting a larger truck - which would have meant taking everything out of this truck, driving over to pick up another truck, then coming back and re-loading it. Not the ideal scenario. The clincher was the price difference. It would have cost an extra five hundred dollars. Since all our stuff put together was probably only worth five hundred dollars, it didn't seem like a wise investment.
So I made the executive decision. It was like Sophie's choice. Some of our belonging would live, and some would die.
The story has a somewhat happy ending. Many of the items found good homes with friends, and others were sold at garage sales. I was really just hoping Kaddi would forget everything we had, and so wouldn't notice that certain things were missing.
She didn't forget.
Living Separate Lives
After loading up the moving van we had to return to Chez Rock Star to get the most prized item of all - the Pier One table. We parked the truck in front of Steve's house and began unloading some items so that we could make room for the Holy Grail of the Madison move.
If it doesn't fit, she must forget
From the moment I reserved the truck online I was worried that it may have been too small for all our items. The truck description said it was ideal for 2-3 bedrooms, which is what we had. I was also certain the sixteen-footer was the exact size we had used to move out of your apartment two years ago. What I failed to consider was that we had already taken several van loads of boxes out of the apartment before the big moving day.
When we arrived at the storage and began pulling everything out it became obvious in a hurry that there would be some casualties. I started to panic a little, knowing the certain doom that awaited me in Provo when Kaddi learned some things had been left behind.
Several friends from the ward were nice enough to come help on a Saturday morning. Unfortunately, they spent most of their time standing around while I tried to prioritize the load. I even called Penske again to explore the possibility of renting a larger truck - which would have meant taking everything out of this truck, driving over to pick up another truck, then coming back and re-loading it. Not the ideal scenario. The clincher was the price difference. It would have cost an extra five hundred dollars. Since all our stuff put together was probably only worth five hundred dollars, it didn't seem like a wise investment.
So I made the executive decision. It was like Sophie's choice. Some of our belonging would live, and some would die.
The story has a somewhat happy ending. Many of the items found good homes with friends, and others were sold at garage sales. I was really just hoping Kaddi would forget everything we had, and so wouldn't notice that certain things were missing.
She didn't forget.
Living Separate Lives
After loading up the moving van we had to return to Chez Rock Star to get the most prized item of all - the Pier One table. We parked the truck in front of Steve's house and began unloading some items so that we could make room for the Holy Grail of the Madison move.
We kept it small, and we kept it realWhile we were working, several of Steve's neighbours passed by. You could just see the panic in their faces, thinking that he was moving out of the area.
"Oh no, he's moving out? If the Rock Star leaves the neighbourhood my property values are going to bottom out. Maybe if I promise to shovel his driveway all winter I can get him to stay..."
Steve calmed their fears by telling everyone that he wasn't moving, he was finally getting rid of some items that a freeloading friend had been keeping in his basement for over two years. Everyone had a hearty chuckle (except the free loading friend).
My laugh came later when the Rock Star went back into the house to take a phone call from his manager (Talk to me, Cindy!). Yet another neighbour came by and asked me if Steve and Jamie were moving out. I told him the marriage was in trouble and so Steve had decided to take an apartment on the west side. The guy responded, "That makes sense - I was trying to figure out why they had such a small moving truck."
We did manage to make room for the table and the chairs, which made all the way to Provo without any damage. (Which is pretty remarkable, considering it's soft wood.)
But when I was all packed up and had driven out of town, the table legs were still sitting in a box in Schaefer's basement.
Five minutes to Showtime
The most surreal experience of my weekend in Madison was church on Sunday. For ninety glorious minutes, I felt was it must be like to be the Rock Star.
Our ward in Madison has an elderly Lao couple who come to church faithfully each week, even though they understand little of the meetings. The Bishop gave them each callings, and was waiting for me to arrive so that I could explain those calling to them and assist in translating their ordination.
So, I arrived at church a half hour early and pulled up at the back entrance. Security whisked me through secret tunnels to the Bishop's office, where I spent the next thirty minutes in a meeting with the Manavongs talking about their callings and getting re-acquainted in Thai.
Then we headed into Sacrament meeting. It was complete chaos, with crowds of people pressing against security barriers, former Scouts asking me to sign their 'For the Strength of Youth' pamphlets, and everyone trying to get a glimpse of celebrity. It caught me a little off guard, but I really should have expected it. Madison was the birthplace of the Mack Strate phenomenon, and word had traveled fast that the local boy was returning home.
I have to admit that I was completely overwhelmed by the reception. If not for the coaching I received from the Rock Star, I never would have made it. He showed me how to stand so the paparazzi capture you from the best angles, how to approach the crowds without getting too close, and how to always leave them wanting more.
Sadly, I didn't get to visit with as many friends as I had hoped. Steve had to leave for a gig right after the meeting, and so security once again whisked us out through the service entrance and before I could re-orient myself we were on our way to the airport.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Uneasy Lies the Head
I have a confession.
It's something I've been hiding from everyone for quite a while. A secret so dark and sinister it has the potential to embarass my family and alienate me from friends. Fortunately, I work in academia - so coming clean about my true nature will not hurt my career (it will probably even help). Over time I think people close to me will learn to accept my alternative choice, but even if they don't it's time for me to come clean:
I want Obama to win in Novemember.
Let me quickly add that it's not because I agree with his policies. I still think he's wrong about Iraq, abortion, gun control, education, and a host of other issues. It's not that I believe Barry's the best person to govern the country, although given McCain's recent campaign strategy, it's hard to say. No, the reason I want the Democracts to win the Presidency is much more self-serving. I want to switch over to the resistance for a few years.
I just feel I would be more comfortable as part of the opposition. I could become one of those sophisticated, urbane, erudite commentators who scoff at the administration's transparent rhetoric because I'm so clever I see the world in its true state. Any mechanical drone can like things. A true intellectual understands why he should dislike them. This is the world we live in. Supporters are mindless and boring. Dissenters are smart and sexy.
If you've ever been to the movies you already know this. The unwashed masses come out of a theater and talk about who much fun they had watching the picture. They say things like, "I thought it was cute," or "It was very entertaining," or "Remember when they blew up that car? That was awesome!" These people enjoy almost every movie because they don't know any better.
To be considered a truly discerning moviegoer requires an element of harshness. The educated elite rarely endorse movies because they're capable of spotting the flaws in acting, storyline, and presentation. After viewing a film they say things like, "the acting was stilted and wooden," or "the plot eventually collapsed under its own weight," or "Kevin Costner couldn't inspire paint to dry."
And they say these things right after you just finished talking about how much you liked the movie, which makes you feel stupid. So you think to yourself, "If only I was smarter, then I would have been disappointed too." Do you have a friend who hates every movie he's ever seen? He's probably a genius.
And if Obama becomes President, maybe I could be like that friend.
The truth is I'm worn out. The past eight years of defending the Bush administration have been exhausting. Have you ever been at an academic gathering and tried defending the Iraq war, or 'No Child left Behind,' or Faith-based initiatives? I felt like a wounded gazelle asking a group of hungry Jackals for a leg splint. Bush opponents consider Bush supporters to be kool-aid drinkers, uninformed ideologues, reactionary Red Americans who ignore reality. If only they were a little smarter they could see the damage W has done to the country. But like the habitual theater-goer, they just like to sit there and watch things blow up.
Instead of trying to reason with an angry mob, I want to be part of that mob. I could spend the next four years making fun of Obama supporters who believe that he's really going pull the troops out during his first month in office, or that he can bring about universal healthcare, or put the country on track to be energy-independent in ten years. No longer would I be a mindless follower. My superior intelligence would be obvious from the intensity of my disdain.
Being for things is hard work. It's much more fun to be against things. When you're out of power you don't have to worry about achieving anything. You simply point out the ruling party's failures and critique their proposals. You get to appear smug and self-important as you explain that you see what everyone else is missing.
Yes sir, sign me up for a four year tour-of-duty in the resistance.
(I guess I could always support Nader. Then I'd be set no matter who won.)
It's something I've been hiding from everyone for quite a while. A secret so dark and sinister it has the potential to embarass my family and alienate me from friends. Fortunately, I work in academia - so coming clean about my true nature will not hurt my career (it will probably even help). Over time I think people close to me will learn to accept my alternative choice, but even if they don't it's time for me to come clean:
I want Obama to win in Novemember.
Let me quickly add that it's not because I agree with his policies. I still think he's wrong about Iraq, abortion, gun control, education, and a host of other issues. It's not that I believe Barry's the best person to govern the country, although given McCain's recent campaign strategy, it's hard to say. No, the reason I want the Democracts to win the Presidency is much more self-serving. I want to switch over to the resistance for a few years.
I just feel I would be more comfortable as part of the opposition. I could become one of those sophisticated, urbane, erudite commentators who scoff at the administration's transparent rhetoric because I'm so clever I see the world in its true state. Any mechanical drone can like things. A true intellectual understands why he should dislike them. This is the world we live in. Supporters are mindless and boring. Dissenters are smart and sexy.
If you've ever been to the movies you already know this. The unwashed masses come out of a theater and talk about who much fun they had watching the picture. They say things like, "I thought it was cute," or "It was very entertaining," or "Remember when they blew up that car? That was awesome!" These people enjoy almost every movie because they don't know any better.
To be considered a truly discerning moviegoer requires an element of harshness. The educated elite rarely endorse movies because they're capable of spotting the flaws in acting, storyline, and presentation. After viewing a film they say things like, "the acting was stilted and wooden," or "the plot eventually collapsed under its own weight," or "Kevin Costner couldn't inspire paint to dry."
And they say these things right after you just finished talking about how much you liked the movie, which makes you feel stupid. So you think to yourself, "If only I was smarter, then I would have been disappointed too." Do you have a friend who hates every movie he's ever seen? He's probably a genius.
And if Obama becomes President, maybe I could be like that friend.
The truth is I'm worn out. The past eight years of defending the Bush administration have been exhausting. Have you ever been at an academic gathering and tried defending the Iraq war, or 'No Child left Behind,' or Faith-based initiatives? I felt like a wounded gazelle asking a group of hungry Jackals for a leg splint. Bush opponents consider Bush supporters to be kool-aid drinkers, uninformed ideologues, reactionary Red Americans who ignore reality. If only they were a little smarter they could see the damage W has done to the country. But like the habitual theater-goer, they just like to sit there and watch things blow up.
Instead of trying to reason with an angry mob, I want to be part of that mob. I could spend the next four years making fun of Obama supporters who believe that he's really going pull the troops out during his first month in office, or that he can bring about universal healthcare, or put the country on track to be energy-independent in ten years. No longer would I be a mindless follower. My superior intelligence would be obvious from the intensity of my disdain.
Being for things is hard work. It's much more fun to be against things. When you're out of power you don't have to worry about achieving anything. You simply point out the ruling party's failures and critique their proposals. You get to appear smug and self-important as you explain that you see what everyone else is missing.
Yes sir, sign me up for a four year tour-of-duty in the resistance.
(I guess I could always support Nader. Then I'd be set no matter who won.)
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Regrets? I've had a few
For most people, the beginning of a new year is the time when they take stock of their lives. The yearly cycle of a grad student/fake professor, however, always begins anew with the start of a fall semester. This is season when the leaves start to change, the morning air is crisp and cold, and I begin to wonder if perhaps I should have done some things differently.
For instance, maybe we shouldn't have had our two oldest children one day a part at the beginning of September. Each year their birthdays come around the same time that tuition is due. Hey, I love my kids, but graduate school doesn't pay for itself. Fortunately this year we have an abundance of excess items that we've pulled out of storage. We'll say 'happy birthday' to Meg with an old clock radio, while Jake can look forward to unwrapping his winter coat from two years ago.
I'm also starting to question whether I can handle the day-to-day performance pressure of being a university professor. At Hawaii each class had only forty students. Here I stand up at the lectern and see 150 sets of eyes boring into me. The pressure doesn't let up after lectures either. I have to face the tough questions like, "Uh...can I have a syllabus?" Geesh. Just because I've been studying this for ten years doesn't mean I know every single thing about the entire history of forever.
And then of course I say things I probably shouldn't. Last class I moved the deadline of a paper back to give the students more time to complete it. I explained it was a shameless attempt to get them to like me, but was also necessary so that their papers stayed separate from the other section's assignments. My explanation led to the following exchange:
Student: You're right, this DOES make me like you more!
Me: Really? I still like you about the same.
There go the teaching evaluations.
Even my eating habits probably need re-evaluation. Last night after dinner I was looking for something to get the non-chocolate taste out of my mouth, but came up empty. After searching through pantry and cupboards, I finally found a bag of leftover cinnamon bears that had been in the back of the fridge for two weeks. At least it was sugar.
My mouth still tastes like freezer burn.
For instance, maybe we shouldn't have had our two oldest children one day a part at the beginning of September. Each year their birthdays come around the same time that tuition is due. Hey, I love my kids, but graduate school doesn't pay for itself. Fortunately this year we have an abundance of excess items that we've pulled out of storage. We'll say 'happy birthday' to Meg with an old clock radio, while Jake can look forward to unwrapping his winter coat from two years ago.
I'm also starting to question whether I can handle the day-to-day performance pressure of being a university professor. At Hawaii each class had only forty students. Here I stand up at the lectern and see 150 sets of eyes boring into me. The pressure doesn't let up after lectures either. I have to face the tough questions like, "Uh...can I have a syllabus?" Geesh. Just because I've been studying this for ten years doesn't mean I know every single thing about the entire history of forever.
And then of course I say things I probably shouldn't. Last class I moved the deadline of a paper back to give the students more time to complete it. I explained it was a shameless attempt to get them to like me, but was also necessary so that their papers stayed separate from the other section's assignments. My explanation led to the following exchange:
Student: You're right, this DOES make me like you more!
Me: Really? I still like you about the same.
There go the teaching evaluations.
Even my eating habits probably need re-evaluation. Last night after dinner I was looking for something to get the non-chocolate taste out of my mouth, but came up empty. After searching through pantry and cupboards, I finally found a bag of leftover cinnamon bears that had been in the back of the fridge for two weeks. At least it was sugar.
My mouth still tastes like freezer burn.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Chicken Soup for the Conservative Soul
I'll be honest.
When I first heard McCain's VP announcement I though it was a disaster. Nominating a first-term governor from a state no one cares about seemed to undercut his emphasis on being 'ready to govern'. For months St. John (and I) have been criticizing Obama as a community organizer masquerading as a Presidential candidate. Well, that line of reasoning is dead and buried. The Republicans have just added the 2008 version of Dan Quayle to their ticket. People might as well take their chances on Barry.
(I must also point out the press's fascination with the Maverick moniker makes me want to watch Spanish language news. Choosing Lieberman would have been a Maverick move, and resulted in the complete implosion of the GOP campaign. Choosing Palin was simply an acknowledgement that McCain wasn't getting it done.)
It came across as such a desperate, image-conscious decision. After a week of watching the Obama disciples in spread the Good News from Denver, McCain realized he was in big trouble. There no exictement, no energy, no winning issue. I'm sure it was like Governor Pappy O'Daniel sitting on the porch with his brain trust thinking, "Hey, why don't we get ourselves a little midget even smaller than Stokes'?!!"
Which, of course, is what McCain did. He looked past Romney and Pawlenty and Lieberman and many people more qualified, and reached up into the Last Frontier to pull down Sarah Palin.
Two thing have shocked me since that announcement. The way the right has embraced Palin and the way the left has assaulted her.
The fact that conservatives seem overjoyed to have Palin on the ticket is somewhat understandable. After all, there was serious panic within the party that they might end up with Lieberman. This woman is pro-life, a gun-owner, in favor of more drilling, and an unapologetic evangelical. But when Palin's name came up in speculation EVERYONE talked about her as a poor choice, simply because she's so new to the national game. The clamour was all about getting someone like Romney or Pawlenty who would make the Obama candidacy look even riskier.
I also expected the Democracy strategists to simply laugh at Palin's introduction, but instead they've assaulted her like a beach at Normandy. There's a serious contradiction within Obama's approach. Palin could be either completely unknown or completely incompetent, she can't be both. Even as they deride her abilities and qualifications they dig up every rumor and innuendo possible to throw at her. Her daughter's pregnant, the baby isn't hers, she tired to have her ex-bro-in-law fired. There were even tabloids trying to link her romatically with the editor of 301NIB.
It's becoming increasingly obvious that the left has no idea how to deal with this type of Republican candidate. All of a sudden we have the Gloria Steinem crowd is accusing her of jeopardizing her family's well-being by spending too much time on her career. (That's supposed to be OUR line). Is it conceivable that a woman could be successful professionally while embracing marriage and shunning abortion? Acceptance of such an idea would sound the death-knell of liberal feminism.
But the real reason we love Sarah Palin is that she appears to have stepped right out of Frank Capra film. Each of his films (Mr. Deeds goes to Town, Mr. Smith goes to Washington, It's a Wonderful Life) celebrated the ability of the idealistic small-town everyman to triumph over the cynicism and snobbery of the urbane elitist. Her campaign speech at the convention was relentless in it criticism of Obama, but managed to do so with such relaxed humor that it avoided the appearance of bitterness. Biden should take note for the VP debate. If he's not careful he'll come across as the cantankerous Henry Potter trying to squash the Bailey building and loan.
In the end I don't think even this appeal to middle American will save the GOP from the electorate's overwhelming desire to punish Republicans for the past eight years. But, it certainly has given conservatives more of a reason to head to the voting booths on a Tuesday night.
When I first heard McCain's VP announcement I though it was a disaster. Nominating a first-term governor from a state no one cares about seemed to undercut his emphasis on being 'ready to govern'. For months St. John (and I) have been criticizing Obama as a community organizer masquerading as a Presidential candidate. Well, that line of reasoning is dead and buried. The Republicans have just added the 2008 version of Dan Quayle to their ticket. People might as well take their chances on Barry.
(I must also point out the press's fascination with the Maverick moniker makes me want to watch Spanish language news. Choosing Lieberman would have been a Maverick move, and resulted in the complete implosion of the GOP campaign. Choosing Palin was simply an acknowledgement that McCain wasn't getting it done.)
It came across as such a desperate, image-conscious decision. After a week of watching the Obama disciples in spread the Good News from Denver, McCain realized he was in big trouble. There no exictement, no energy, no winning issue. I'm sure it was like Governor Pappy O'Daniel sitting on the porch with his brain trust thinking, "Hey, why don't we get ourselves a little midget even smaller than Stokes'?!!"
Which, of course, is what McCain did. He looked past Romney and Pawlenty and Lieberman and many people more qualified, and reached up into the Last Frontier to pull down Sarah Palin.
Two thing have shocked me since that announcement. The way the right has embraced Palin and the way the left has assaulted her.
The fact that conservatives seem overjoyed to have Palin on the ticket is somewhat understandable. After all, there was serious panic within the party that they might end up with Lieberman. This woman is pro-life, a gun-owner, in favor of more drilling, and an unapologetic evangelical. But when Palin's name came up in speculation EVERYONE talked about her as a poor choice, simply because she's so new to the national game. The clamour was all about getting someone like Romney or Pawlenty who would make the Obama candidacy look even riskier.
I also expected the Democracy strategists to simply laugh at Palin's introduction, but instead they've assaulted her like a beach at Normandy. There's a serious contradiction within Obama's approach. Palin could be either completely unknown or completely incompetent, she can't be both. Even as they deride her abilities and qualifications they dig up every rumor and innuendo possible to throw at her. Her daughter's pregnant, the baby isn't hers, she tired to have her ex-bro-in-law fired. There were even tabloids trying to link her romatically with the editor of 301NIB.
It's becoming increasingly obvious that the left has no idea how to deal with this type of Republican candidate. All of a sudden we have the Gloria Steinem crowd is accusing her of jeopardizing her family's well-being by spending too much time on her career. (That's supposed to be OUR line). Is it conceivable that a woman could be successful professionally while embracing marriage and shunning abortion? Acceptance of such an idea would sound the death-knell of liberal feminism.
But the real reason we love Sarah Palin is that she appears to have stepped right out of Frank Capra film. Each of his films (Mr. Deeds goes to Town, Mr. Smith goes to Washington, It's a Wonderful Life) celebrated the ability of the idealistic small-town everyman to triumph over the cynicism and snobbery of the urbane elitist. Her campaign speech at the convention was relentless in it criticism of Obama, but managed to do so with such relaxed humor that it avoided the appearance of bitterness. Biden should take note for the VP debate. If he's not careful he'll come across as the cantankerous Henry Potter trying to squash the Bailey building and loan.
In the end I don't think even this appeal to middle American will save the GOP from the electorate's overwhelming desire to punish Republicans for the past eight years. But, it certainly has given conservatives more of a reason to head to the voting booths on a Tuesday night.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Canadians are Americans too
It is a busy time here in the mountain west. My classes start today, which means I have to dust off my lecture notes and prepare my powerpoints. My job applications for next year are due in a few days. I have to finish up posts lauding Sarah Palin (and making fun of Obama). And as always the dissertation looms large overhead.
But each of these tasks pales in importance to congratulating the winner of our caption contest. The voting was close, going down to the wire before a victor emerged. I really should have announced the winner a few days ago, but some of our viewers in Ohio filed a legal injunction against 301NIB, claiming that someone tampered with their voting machines. (We settled out of court)
So congratulations to Joe from Tucson, a virtual unknown who came out of nowhere to claim the 2008 title with this caption:
"C'mon Meg… just pull the trigger already! I don't know how it works either! When I was your age all we got to do for fun was throw rocks eh!"
Well done, Joe. Apparently the combination of portraying me as an illiterate, slack-yawed technophobe and making fun of my Canadian accent put you over the top in a close race - proving once again that anti-immigrant sentiment always sells.
On a related note, I was disappointed that my own entry (entered under a pseudonym) didn't register a single vote. I had no idea the 301NIB public was so hostile to Canadian-Americans.
Ah, well - in the end it was an honor just nominating myself.
But each of these tasks pales in importance to congratulating the winner of our caption contest. The voting was close, going down to the wire before a victor emerged. I really should have announced the winner a few days ago, but some of our viewers in Ohio filed a legal injunction against 301NIB, claiming that someone tampered with their voting machines. (We settled out of court)
So congratulations to Joe from Tucson, a virtual unknown who came out of nowhere to claim the 2008 title with this caption:
"C'mon Meg… just pull the trigger already! I don't know how it works either! When I was your age all we got to do for fun was throw rocks eh!"Well done, Joe. Apparently the combination of portraying me as an illiterate, slack-yawed technophobe and making fun of my Canadian accent put you over the top in a close race - proving once again that anti-immigrant sentiment always sells.
On a related note, I was disappointed that my own entry (entered under a pseudonym) didn't register a single vote. I had no idea the 301NIB public was so hostile to Canadian-Americans.
Ah, well - in the end it was an honor just nominating myself.
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