Anonymous Communist

My 18-year-old self would not approve of this post.

Back in the day, I had written a column for Windows, the student newspaper at Southeast High School, titled “Take This Shirt And Shove It.” In it, I registered my disapproval at being told by a teacher to turn the T-shirt I was wearing inside out.

So in the current dress-code kerfuffle, you might think I would be on the side of free expression through clothing.

You would be wrong.

To get you up to speed, Franklin Middle School is one of a few schools that require a uniform of sorts, generally khaki pants and a school-colored polo-style shirt. A seventh-grader there is challenging this “uniform” by wearing what she pleases, and Mommy and Daddy are squarely in her corner.

Some well-meaning but misguided people are trying to make a federal case out of this. Others, seemingly completely without irony or perspective, are calling the girl’s actions “heroic” and comparing her “plight” to that of Rosa Parks:

How much longer before the administration starts widdling that down to the kids with blond hair and blue eyes sit in front, kids with black hair and brown eyes in back. … (I)t took one woman to stand up for her rights by saying No,I will not give up my seat so you can sit down. History was changed. This is about what is right and just.

Dress codes! It’s the new racism!

Is undermining the school’s authority “right and just?” This is a school rule. Students are to follow school rules. If a student can defy a rule and still pretty much get away with it, why would any other student follow the rule? Not being able go to a dance or a basketball game is hardly a punishment.

Still others think that the dress code is some sort of conspiracy to push clothing that the school sells:

This school capriciously enforces a standard of dress that is designed to push the sale of school apparel. It is no coincidence that this “policy” began soon after the sale of candy was eliminated. It’s all about the money, foks!

OK, so what? What’s the difference between buying a polo-style shirt at Kohl’s and buying a Falcons sweatshirt from the school? And is it such an awful thing to actually support your public schools beyond the property taxes you pay?

It’s all very simple. The school rule is very clear. If you break the rule, there will be consequences. Well, there were consequences, until the Franklin principal folded faster than Superman on laundry day.

And this is the message that is being sent to the students: If you don’t like the rules, don’t follow them. They aren’t going to be enforced anyway.

I just don’t understand the people who complain about how bad they think District 186 is but still actively undermine the district’s authority to enforce its own rules.

Absolutely pathetic.

It’s hard to tell who likes the “Cars” movie more: The Girl and The Boy, or their parents.

Watching it approximately 782 times really has gotten us to appreciate it. It’s a sweet but not overly cloying movie with a well-worn theme of personal redemption and helping others. I still get choked up every single time during the “Our Town” scene. Plus, the animation kicks ass.

And it wouldn’t be a kids movie without the associated line of officially licensed toys. Our family is officially cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs the diecast vehicles from the movie. We’ve probably got 40 different cars, strewn about in various locations around the house.

And if Mattel hasn’t gotten me sucked into these toys already, this has put me over the top:

Dude. An Apple Inc. “Cars” car. Must… have… at any… cost.

Actually, I think I’m going to need three of these. One to decorate my beloved iMac at home, one for my non-Apple computer at work and one to remain hermetically sealed in a safety-deposit box for all eternity. Oh, I guess the kids might like one to play with. So four, then.

For those equally or more obsessed, there’s plenty of good information to be found on the Google:

• The Drive-In is an encyclopedic reference guide for collectors.
• The Two A Day blog has detailed information about the newest releases.
• Two A Day also offers a checklist as a sortable spreadsheet.

A couple of days ago, my mom passed along a link to something called the Candidate Calculator.

It gives a list of 20 or so issues, and you indicate whether you support them or not and then rate each issue’s importance to you. It then spits out which candidate best matches up with what you picked.

With an 88 percent match, I got Dennis Kucinich. That guy’s a real person? I thought he was just make-believe, like elves, gremlins or Eskimos.

I sort of feel like Charlie Brown in his Halloween joint.

Well, well, well… look who scored some Chick-Fil-A during his trip out of town.

Honestly, Dan, you could have told the rest of us so we could have had you bring some back for us. Some of that sweet, juicy, delicious … *drooling*

During her junior year at high school, Mrs. Communist worked at White Oaks Mall’s corner of the Chick-Fil-A world. One of her less-enjoyed duties was to stand outside the store with the samples. She says there was no shortage of creepy middle-aged men asking, “May I sample your breast?”

By the time we began dating, she’d moved on to greener pastures but still knew people who worked there and who were gracious with the discounts. My preference then was to enjoy the Chick-Fil-A in all its plain, undressed glory. But the future Mrs. C introduced me to the wonder that is mayonnaise. Dipping the Chick-Fil-A nugs in mayonnaise somehow manages to improve perfection. I didn’t before nor do I after particularly care for mayonnaise, but damn it’s some good shit on the Chick-Fil-A.

As reported by Russ, voting for the Illinois Times Best of Springfield contest has commenced.

One of the categories is best Italian restaurant. I have voted for Joe Gallina’s, and I urge the rest of you to do the same. Here’s why:

Saturday evening at work, I thought silently about what I should grab for dinner, figuring that I’d probably end up driving through McDowell’s (metaphorically speaking, of course). But my fellow deskmate The Dog quickly knocked some sense into me with these words:

“I’m calling Vito. Anyone want anything?”

Dude, Gallina’s. Of course! It’s nearby, it’s cheap, and best of all, it’s incredibly delicious fucking tasty. Their Saturday special is the baked rigatoni, and with the hunk of bread and the ginormous soda my dinner came to $7.27.

And Gallina’s is the restaurant that keeps on giving, because once you finish the pasta, the puddle of sauce that remains and the hunk of bread represent a whole ‘nother meal. (unrelated aside: Is “whole ‘nother” a Springfieldism, or does everyone say it?)

Not only does it taste molto squisito, it’s filling, too. It’s been six hours since I ate, and I’m still good.

When we have local, authentic restaurants like Joe Gallina’s, why do people still eat at soul-destroying, ‘nad-sucking corporate Fauxtalian places like Olive Garden and Pasta House?

Marie at Disarranging Mine recently linked to a site that had found strange sites on Google Earth.

I’m a big fan of wasting time with Google Earth, so I decided to do a little snooping of my own. The idea that I had, though, didn’t really pan out, as I found only two major-league ballparks where games were being played: Yankee Stadium in the Bronx and Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia.

While there wasn’t a ball game at Seattle’s Safeco Field, check out what’s going on next door to the north at Seahawks Stadium. Looks like the Seahawks have their opponent pinned deep in its own territory.

Other fun stadium-related stuff I found:

• Google still shows the old concrete doughnut in St. Louis.
• Dodger Stadium appears to in the midst of renovation.
• PetCo Park in San Diego is barely past the twinkle-in-the-eye stage.

In ridding my inbox of old e-mail, I found one from my friend Eric. In it is a link to pictures of the urinals from men’s bathrooms on the campus of Southern Illinois University Carbondale, my (and his) alma mater.

It’s just one part of a site called Urinal.net, which bills itself as “the best place to piss away your time on the Internet.” There are pictures of pissers from all over the world, from Madrid to Makanda. And I’m not really sure why.

Anyway, this photo sure takes me back. I spent a lot of time there.

I’d always thought of Springfield as having a relatively low cost of living, e.g. housing, utilities, beer and so on.

But with the cost of gasoline here exceeding the national average, we now have small-town living at big-city prices. And that blows.

So I decided to sign up for the Springfield section of Illinois Gas Prices (linked to at right) and help report the prices of the stuff around town. While I think going way out of your way to save a penny per gallon is kind of silly, it’s worth knowing, for example, that if you’re headed out of town south on Interstate 55 that gas at the Phillips at Fifth and Stanford is a nickel more per than the Road Ranger at the I-55/72 interchange.

Of course, the best way to save money on gas is to buy less of it. The easiest way to buy less is to … *gasp* reduce your consumption. Seriously. Cutting consumption not only lowers prices and reduces pollution, it also means less money going to countries that hate us. It’s a cause that contemptible, freedom-hating liberals as well as uptight, war-mongering conservatives both can get behind.