journal excerpts

This is just some stuff I've jotted down in my journal while killing time at different places:

My sister recently referred to a sandwich as "dank".  She was talking about sandwiches that Laurie used to make us when we were kids, so its not like she had just eaten a sandwich and was so overcome with emotion that the word "dank" just slipped out.  No, Emilie described a sandwich that she had eaten about 20 years ago, as "fuckin' dank".   Emilie Susan Gooch - Summa Cum Laude, University of Colorado.
They were pretty good, bean sprouts and brown mustard, big tomatoes etc.  Still though.

There is some dude at Piedmont that has called me "Brother" 3 times now; that's every time I've talked to him.  Except we've never really talked, it's just how he refers to me: "Thanks brother" when I held the door for him, "Have a good day Brother" when we made eye contact by the vending machines, "Wassup Brother? As he passed me on his way out of the mens room (without washing his hands).   Fat guy w/a ponytail, curly beard, sandals, neon green backpack, always standing around next to the little bus-stop thing that people have to smoke inside of but he doesn't ever seem to be smoking.  Looks kinda like the singer from My Morning Jacket, I get the feeling he knows this and is cultivating the resemblance.  (Understandable, Jim James is a handsome man).  He seems like a nice guy but it's weird having some post-adolescent hippy call me Brother in such a flippant way.  That's usually reserved for religious weirdos or people I actually consider to be my Brothers.  I know its just some friendly hippy-festival shit - I remember doing it at the rainbow gathering.  But in prison, or even in my life before prison, it actually held weight if somebody you'd known for a while started calling you Brother.  It meant something.  But using it everywhere - with everyone you see - kinda cheapens it a little.  Maybe.  Maybe I'm the only one he says it to because I look a lot like his brother who also attends PVCC.  I could be making some unsafe assumptions here.

entry into the academic

First college class ever.  Colleges success skills 100 – the 100 class is for people who haven’t been in school for at least 5 years, there is another for people just out of high school.  Looking around, I looked like maybe one of three people who would be able to buy beer, but after doing the “tell everyone something about yourself” portion of the class, I realized I’m just on the higher end of the age spectrum for that class.  I think that most of them were in their early twenties.  Nearly everybody had started and stopped (being in college) a few times and were back to make another go of it.  There was a tiny woman wearing corduroy shorts with a neat side-part that I assumed was about 19 but apparently she graduated a year before I would’ve, I think that I might be bad at estimating ages.  That, or I’m just assuming that most people starting college are young and inexperienced.  This wasn’t the case.  Most everyone seemed mature, well-adjusted and comfortable.  Many of the girls had several children and mentioned how busy they are all day every day.  There was one guy in his mid-60s who said he had 8 kids and 26 grandkids.  There was a lot of half-joking about college being the only way for these people to escape their domestic obligations.    Everyone seemed relaxed and nice.  I felt ill at ease and a little pukey.  The teacher didn’t have us go around the room and do our introductions in any particular order, preferring to let us decide when to jump in and offer up an explanation of ourselves.  This created several situations where nobody would talk for about ten seconds while people gathered courage and then 4 people would try to talk at the same time.  After the third or fourth person finished, I tried to speak, nervously thinking I’d just get it out of the way, and after I muttered “my name is”, two other people who couldn’t hear me started talking at the same time and then stopped when they heard everyone else talking.  Then we all started again at the same time.  I stopped and became very hot and uncomfortable while a guy on the other side of the room gave his spiel.  I could tell that my face was bright red and when he got done the two other girls who had started when I did turned and looked at me so I went through a little explanation of my age and the last time I’d been in a classroom environment – about 17 years ago (to save time I left out the job as a prison tutor).  I think looked like a tomato for about 10 more minutes and then was able to breathe properly and stop thinking about fighting the guys who seemed to really enjoy the opportunity to speak effortlessly about themselves and their intentions.  Then class was over and Dad brought me a big burger to eat on the way home.  All in all, a successful entry into the academic world.

progress towards academia

     Those things they feed you in prison about how your success rests entirely on you working hard towards your goals and having a good attitude isn't complete bullshit, but it's in the ballpark.  Like most vague and positive aphorisms, it's not something you can place a lot of faith in.  Especially the thing you hear most often: "What happens to you when you get out is entirely up to you, the only thing that can hold you back is your attitude and willingness to work hard".  Obviously we need to stay focused and work hard, avoid gangs and hate-groups.  We shouldn't inject drugs into our faces while driving.  Stop behaving violently and getting face tattoos.  That's (usually) good advice. but regardless of how well your'e behaving, you will still be entirely at the mercy of huge networks of indifferent people who agree that things should work but don't.  Those chipper people in the transitions department never mention that however much faith you have in yourself, and however willing you are to work your ass off to get what you want, your situation as a felon with no money or insurance or recent work history or skills, makes it so that your day-to-day progress tends to hinge entirely on whether or not strangers will go way out of their way to make things happen for you.    Which they generally won't.  Like with anything/anywhere else, the people in charge tend to be very adept at shifting any responsibility or work away from themselves while sounding empathetic and pleasant - but not actually answering any questions you need answered or providing anything that will help.  There's a lot of emphasis placed on "should".  "This should work.  Somebody at this # should be able to help.  They should have told/given you that..." etcetera.  Prison staff don't tell you that even though most of the people you meet will not be bothered by you being an ex-convict, there are plenty of time-honored roadblocks in place for us that nobody really knows how to clear out of the way - even though they seem silly and illogical to every single person you talk to.  That whole "it's all up to you" is a lot of bullshit, and the people saying it know that it is.  They are, I think, saying something closer to "If you want to sweep floors, or do something menial and unsatisfying that will never elevate you above where you are; you won't be told not to" (unless the ID and social security card and insurance stuff you applied for and we said we'd sent out never arrive because we didn't really do it).  But just thinking that you can achieve the things that they say you can - and I don't just mean easily or right away, I mean at all - is a mistake.  Believing what prison administration and staff and judges tell you usually is.  If you get out and think that the stuff they told you in the mandatory (because they get $ for making you sit through them) pre-release classes is true, and if you believe there are any effective institutions in place to actually help you - not just to put you through more and more bullshit while touting how much they care- you will  be disappointed.  Then you will get pissed, and become jaded.  Then, naturally, you'll want to join a hate group, inject some drugs into your face while driving, and steal the copper wiring out of your neighbors house to sell for its scrap value (between 0.65 and 1.95 a pound, depending on the wiring in your neighbors house).  And why shouldn't we be jaded?  For as long as we can remember, nearly everything we've been told by any authority figure has turned out to be self-serving bullshit that always makes them appear loving and reasonable.  So when you know for sure that the first 5 things they told you to do weren't actually available or applicable, and that they clearly knew that when they said them, why the fuck would you carry on with what they told you to do?  However...

      If you want a short reprieve from people who have access to the matrix that you don't and know that you're relying on them but would rather pass it on to somebody else who should be able to do something, people who can help you but don't have to so just give you platitudes and send you elsewhere, go to the Piedmont Virginia Community College and speak to the academic advisor Kristin.  Not being associated with any branch of the DOC or the police, Kristin doesn't have any agenda with felons aside from getting them into classes, which she seems genuinely interested in doing.  After being at the mercy of nearly every state-governed entity within a 50 mile radius, as well as constantly having to deal with the people in MN who left you hanging by not doing what they said they would and then hamstrung you by saying it was still in the works but it really wasn't, she is a nice bit of sincerity and was able to explain things so I could understand them while putting in however much time it took to make things work for me in my specific situation instead of just passing me along to the financial aid people and saying "its in their hands", something she easily could have done and not been (technically) in the wrong.  But since the financial aid people don't really have a number you can call them at - just an automated line that tells you how to pay them and what their hours are - she gave me the direct # for the financial aid director.  When that lady didn't answer or return my calls, Kristin went down there and spoke to somebody else about my situation and found a way for me to get my P.O. to sign off on where I've been and why I don't have any financial records.  I'll still have to eventually get the transcript from the IRS (I think, I haven't actually talked to anyone besides Kristin), but my immediate FAFSA situation isn't completely hinging on it anymore.  Presumably, I'll be able to start some classes in September.  All of this happened because Kristin walked down the hall and talked to her co-workers on behalf of somebody she doesn't know instead of just passing them down the line to somebody else that probably would't have given me the same response that they gave her.

     Now I need to get my P.O. to return my calls so that I can get what I need from her.  Guess I'll see how long that takes.  I might have somebody tell her I'm using drugs.  It isn't true but its a sure way to get her to physically come to me.  Immediately.  Where just telling her I have a time sensitive issue regarding my financial aid that only she can help with...Well, she has a lot of people to monitor for drug use and I might have to wait.

    

This week in summary

     Finally saw an advisor yesterday and got signed up for a class: College Success Studies, kind of a "welcome to PVCC" thing.  Everything else has to wait while I get my financial aid straightened out.  The FAFSA website, the PVCC website, and the emails I received from both of them, said I was good-to-go, but apparently I wasn't.  I have been "chosen for verification," so I need to produce some recent tax records, which obviously don't exist.  The IRS website has a thing called the DRT (Data Retrieval Tool), that is recommended on by various acronyms: PVCC, FAFSA, IRS, LMNOP, ETC.  The DRT would supposedly be the only thing i need to clear this up, but it seems to exist in name-only.  There are no links or directions or downloads for the DRT anywhere in sight, just disclaimers about how convenient and helpful the DRT is...  And obviously there isn't one single human being at the IRS, or at the PVCC financial aid department, that is available to talk to me and steer me in the right direction.  After 10 minutes of answering automated questions that I didn't fully understand, and 19 minutes of being on hold, during which I had to continually verify that I wanted to stay on the line and wait to talk to whatever the IRS considers a person - since they wouldn't want to answer an extension and have to hang up if nobody was there - I was told that there had "been an error," and my call was being dropped.  "Please try again later."  Still, it's only noonish and I've spent my mornings worse ways.  During all of this, I made some kombucha with a very questionable starter, and read a little bit out of The Pale King in the hopes that it would somehow align me with the spirit of the IRS.  I will dive back in shortly.

     The class I did sign up for cost $340+ and it's just a 10 week thing (although once the FAFSA goes through I'm supposed to get reimbursed for it from my PELL grant).  Unless I can get this verification sorted, all of the courses I'm going to take will require some financial aid if I don't want to ask Dad to shell out a little over 2k and hope it will just come out in the wash when the governmental/economic-beauracracy stars align. This all means I'll be doing some late-start classes in September.  The things I want to get out of the way, math mostly, are going to be available with the late-start stuff, and my actual time spent at the college won't be as massive a commitment as I thought so I'm happy with the outcome so far.  

     I tested well on reading and writing.  The guy at the testing center said I did as well as I was able to and won't have to take extra classes to get me up to college level in those areas.  Math wasn't nearly as easy.  I'll need to take some 1-credit classes to be able to test at college level, but I didn't do as terrible as I thought I would and considering I was class of 2000, the advisor assures me I didn't do bad at all.  That strikes me a bit as "you're not dumb...for your age".  But she meant it well and it's good news either way.

     I also finally got a state ID and an eye exam.

     Oh yeah, a CT scan shows there is a tumor in the sinuses on the right side of my face.  The words "significant tissue and bone loss" were used when he was first reading the results - which I'd had to ask him to look up since he hadn't bothered to look at them before seeing me.  But when I got curious about the tissue/bone loss comment, he didn't really feel like expanding on any of it and told me he'd refer me to an ENT ("make sure to call and ask if you haven't received an appointment time  after 2-3 weeks").  However, it convinced him to finally, after a month of him knowing I've been in constant pain for at least a year, write a script for some antibiotics that might clear up whatever infection that my tumor, that he only found by accident, might be causing.

     Progress.......

7-28-16
     After 95+ heat all week long, it clouds up and cools down on the day when I don't need to be outside scrubbing and weeding mowing and washing and killing birds.  Today, instead, I'm going to take the placement tests at PVCC.  I'm not really bothered by the tests but the thought of sitting around the college all afternoon waiting for a ride is killing me.  Hope I can work it so that I don't have to sit there forever.  I don't like being at the farm with a bunch of strangers and when I'm out there I can hide in the guest bedroom.  Sitting around a community college all afternoon with nothing to do is a bit terrifying.  Whatever.  I guess our phones have made it easier to be in public and be alone at the same time.  They'll have wifi...They'd better have wifi or I'm calling the entire thing off.

7-26-2016  
 More chicken processing tomorrow.  Em brought me to an appointment at  region 10  this afternoon and after she brought me back to the farm she and Logan took off in different vehicles to go to the market and some warehouse to buy a stainless steel table for chicken evisceration purposes.  So I'm at the farm with the chickens and the pigs and the goats and the dogs and the bees.  And Catric Swayze.

     The bees.  I went down there and checked them out after Emilie left.  The hive beetles are still there and are leaving the majority of the traps alone.  All we can do is deploy more traps, level some insults at the beetles, and put more sugar water in the feeder.  Beetles or not, there are a lot of fucking bees flying around down there.  I'm comfortable around the hives when I'm with somebody else.  I don't seem to notice them as much and the buzzing and thumping doesn't bother me as long as I'm wearing some bee gear.  But all alone, doing general hive maintenance, my threshold is lowered quite a bit.  I always end up doing it alone in the middle of the day so it's hot and they seem more agitated.  I'm always dripping sweat onto my glasses while I'm holding things, everything is more confusing.  Also, the bees know that I'm a novice and it makes them more brazen.  They sense my lack of confidence and it emboldens them - suddenly they're all a bunch of tough guys.  Still haven't been stung yet...Last week two of them stung the glove I was wearing and I left immediately with their stingers still hanging off of the glove.  I left them in there to show my dad and later when i brushed my finger against them, they both pulsed and wiggled a little, still trying to push more venom into my hand after being dead for an hour.

7-21-16
This is in response to the people constantly telling me, and everyone else, that we cant just group all the cops together, the "good" ones with the bad. Since that is being unfair to the other cops and "we obviously need them to keep us safe" This is, without fail, coming from people who've had barely any actual contact with police and only see the shitty behavior on TV. People who seem to love talking about how awful police brutality is but believe it's just a problem with individual cops. Not a systemic thing thats been going on constantly for as long as cops have existed. People who tend to not have any friends resembling any of the folks being abused or killed by pigs, on TV and the internet, daily.

What ratio of good cop to bad cop is the tipping point? Are we okay with 30% crooked w/30% obviously complicit and 40% claiming ignorance? Is that acceptable? How about a 40-50-10 division? What about 1/10 of the police force being very openly corrupt and abusive with the rest being described as "honest cops who are just trying to help and make a living", but those 10% are still comfortable working next to people who's violent behavior would've landed them in jail immediately if they didn't have a badge to excuse it. I see a lot more of an effort to convince people that most cops are honest than any attempt to hold the others accountable and keep it from happening. Nobody's ever accused me of having a perfect, or even accurate, moral compass, but if the restaurant I work at keeps serving rats and broken glass to people I will either expose it or quit - I wont keep working there and trying to deflect blame as if I never had any idea what was happening. "Dont lump me in with those people that I worked next to forever who kept spitting in peoples food. I'm still an honest, hygienic cook who wants to serve good food. What was I going to do about them, make some sort of sacrifice that might effect me negatively in order to help people?" Bad analogy. I know. But how often do you need food, and how often do you actually need help from the cops? Not the theoretical if they aren't here to protect us everything will fall apart help, but actually provide a service that doesn't involve putting people in jail type-of help? A-and, who is more dangerous to the public when not held accountable? Un-hygenic cooks or dirty cops.

So where are all of these great cops at? Do they just never ever appear and do good deeds wherever a camera is? Obviously bad shit will get more attention, but the pigs have been trying really hard to improve their PR, as are the news agencies who cover for them while making money off of reporting on their brutality. While I was locked up and had my tv on more often I saw a few cell phone videos of the police being all heroic and Norman Rockwell (as opposed to all the other videos of them being very shady and George Orwell), but they just seemed a little tough to come by. I know from personal experience that a camera can make a friendly cop REALLY aggressive, and that was way before live streaming and Black Lives Matter. So do we just not film the good ones in the hopes we don't push them over the top? Do we give them the benefit of the doubt (that they don't give anyone else) and wait for the bad ones to surface so that they can get suspended for 3 months and then work side by side, yet again, with all them good ones, and all of that responsible, tolerant, even temperedness wears off on the guys who were committing 1st degree assaults on the job and on camera, earlier that year? Possibly those apple-cheeked good cops will even hold them accountable this time?

Technically yes, cops are humans and likely to make mistakes. But everyone is cutting these guys a lot more slack than they would an easily distracted lifeguard or an incompetent nurse who slips up and let somebody die. (I know people doin time for both of those things). How did everyone get convinced that its unfair to hold cops - the people we pay to enforce morality - to a high moral standard? Or even the same standard we hold kids to on the playground? How do they get to file lawsuits to make sure they don't have to have to take the same drug tests as people at WallMart? How do their civil liberties preclude that? If it's not okay for somebody who works at a grocery store to smoke pot, why the hell is it okay to not even check to see if cops are doing cocaine?

 7-19-2016
re: the speech that Michelle Obama made during the 08 campaign and has recently been repurposed for Melania Trump.

For just a few minutes, forget that Mrs Obama and Mrs Trump made the same speech several years apart and just pay attention to how absolutely pointless the things they are saying are. These are two people, involved in politics, are saying "your word is your bond, do what you say you're going to do and keep your promises". Seriously?  Guantanamo Bay is still open, non-violent drug crimes carry more time than ever before (just not for crack, those guys are getting a break while the people who sell other drugs are getting hit with longer and longer sentences), and those increases in minimum wage don't mean shit now that everything costs more.  So don't prattle on about keeping promises.

My favorite part is when these obscenely rich members of the ruling elite say "The only limit to your achievements is the strength of your dreams and your willingness to work for them." Neither of those ladies strike me as having fought their way up out of abject poverty any time recently.  I'm not saying they haven't worked hard - I know Mrs Obama went to law school - but what a great way to tell everyone that the only reason things are so rough for so much of the country is because they haven't worked (or dreamed) hard enough - that the flaw is with them and not with a system that favors corporations over it's citizens and cares more about holding drug addicts accountable for shoplifting than banking officials who stole billions and crashed the economy. Sorry, you could've had equality and a fair amount of the income you've provided for the people running things, but there just wasn't enough strength in your dreams.  If your dreams were stronger, you'd be able to have what we have.

It's all just soundbites and nonsense, designed to sound meaningful without saying anything that they can be held to later. They spend a lot of money to make sure everyone claps and cheers without thinking about thinking too much about what they are saying. 

What is truly beautiful here is the fact that two huge crowds of people, who believe themselves to be the complete opposite of each other politically, cheered for the exact same political speech!!!  If people from the Obama crowd had heard Mrs Trump say those things they would not have clapped like maniacs and cheered loud as fuck, and vice versa.  If the Trump supporters had heard Michelle say those words they wouldn't have found them moving or meaningful.  But as long as their party is saying something they will cheer, even if it's the exact same thing the other party is saying.

"Yes We Can" and "Make America Great Again" are two sides of the same shitty coin. Regardless of which vapid, insincere mouth it comes out of.  

Stop clapping.

7-18-16
Went to a party at Emilie and Logans farm yesterday.  It was something they put together for the people that buy food from them, not a gathering of friends - since none of the people really knew each other - but a get-together to show people where their food is coming from and where their money is going.  30 people, give or take, who all seemed like decent, friendly people who enjoyed what they were doing and where they were.  There was some excellent food served and apparently a couple of guys brought some good beer from their brewery.  There were a few kids, all under 5, I think, that were well behaved and much less of a nuisance than I expect from kids of any age.  Nice day too, hotter than shit, but at least there was a breeze.

I spent most of the time between 3 and 9:30pm sitting inside on the couch or in the guest bedroom, simultaneously wishing that I had someone to talk to and that I could just be alone and very far away.  I was uncomfortable in a very specific, shitty way.  Not knowing anyone is one thing, but not having anything in common with a bunch of people who clearly have a lot to talk about with each other - even though they were mostly strangers - is shitty.  The normal social lubricants were off the table, for me anyways, I'd rather not talk than act stupid and Dad and Em would get uncomfortable if I were drinking.  Besides, my awkwardness had far outpaced the abilities of gluten-free craft beer within the first 1/2 hour.  It would've taken a lot of cocaine, or maybe some DMT, to break that ice.

It wasn't that I was terrified of talking to people, they were the least threatening people I've met in a long time, but there's a disconnect between me and those people.  A few charitable souls approached me throughout the evening but as soon as soon as the initial smalltalk was finished I became immediately bored as fuck with what we were talking about and hoped they would go find someone else to talk to about permaculture and guinea hens, and then they would and I would wish they were still there.  I grew impatient with (what I considered to be) their polite, inane attempts to be nice to somebody they didn't have much in common with and weren't interested in.  Also, the constant glances at my tattoos and hints that they'd known Emilie long enough to know that her brother was in prison, gave me the impression they wanted to know some stuff they weren't comfortable asking.

This had more to do with me than them.  They were, after all, very nice people.  I just didn't want to have forced conversations with them, it was brutal.  Especially since nearly any discussion of my life over the last 12 years would make one or both of us uncomfortable.  I don't have any stories about livestock or helpful knowledge of cross pollination to share.

This was fine though because none of what was going on was about me.  If I'm socially awkward around people that aren't criminals (still completely comfortable around the total strangers in the waiting room at the parole office, no uneasiness there), it doesn't take away from how great the Tweardies are doing.

It was a success all around, and while I didn't want to be there - and wouldn't have gone if Dad hadn't said we were going to leave after a couple of hours, which he knew was a lie.  I was more upset with him than anything else.  I told him I wasn't comfortable going but wouldn't mind it if we were only there for a couple of hours.  He told me he was only planning on stopping by for a little bit anyway so it didn't seem like a big deal.  But he brought us there way before anyone else showed up - earlier than Emilie had told us to show up - and kept us there as long as he could before leaving.  Emilie basically told us to leave because she didn't need help cleaning up and they were going to sit outside and drink with their friends for a while.  What was worse: the few times I was talking to anybody I would try to involve him in the conversation so he wouldn't just be standing around by himself, and he would physically boxed me out of the circle of people I'd been talking to!  Suddenly I'm standing there with him between me and the people and I'm wondering what the fuck happened.  I would try to stay involved but he would manage to move between me and them and completely act as if I weren't standing there.  I've heard my mom talk about him doing that forever and was never sure how much truth was to it, now I feel bad for her.  After having that happen a few times, I spent the rest of the day hiding out in the house like a teenager.

The word "alienated" occurs to me a lot lately because the term "alien" describes how I feel pretty well.   Situations like that make me realize how far apart I feel from most people.  The way I've learned to treat people, to behave, and to think about and interpret things, is all so different from the accepted way of doing things that I feel like I'm speaking a different language sometimes.  Not just because I feel out of place, but because of how backwards all the shit everyone else is doing seems.  Leaving Stillwater and coming to a place like this feels like landing among an aliens that look and talk and act human, but never quite get it right so there's always a cue telling me (and them), that we're not the same.

7-15-16
     Went up tho the peach orchard last night to watch the sunset.  There was bad weather to the west so there wasn't much to see aside from the view that is always there, which will certainly do in a pinch.  Just the atmosphere itself was worth going for. People  covering the grass with blankets and folding chairs to sit and watch the sky, happy dogs on leashes and girls eating peach ice cream cones, a guy on an acoustic guitar on one end of the deck with his (not very good) music being quietly piped through the PA.  It was like the beginning of a big party where nobody really knows each other very well, the nice part at the beginning before people are drunk and loud and talking to each other incoherently.  We were all there for the same thing but people seemed to be keeping to themselves in a friendly way.  Not a bad way to spend the evening.

      7-14-16

      Trying to set up something aside from the prison blog that Emilie created for me...Not sure if I'll keep this one going or if I'll end up abandoning it for something else. I'm trying out a lot of things right now. Nothing out here is too easy to use anymore.  Not to sound like an old man but everything has changed and its confusing and stupid and I don't like it...The world seems to have gotten bigger and faster since I went to prison.  Everything electric tries to sell me something whenever I turn it on and use it.  Being able to watch youtube and search the internet and pretend to stay connected to people on FB - all at the same time on one device - is convenient and cool, but it becomes immediately frustrating if you need to rely on the technology and haven't been using it constantly for the last six years.  These fucking devices are more active and more aware than i am, and without wanting to act like a paranoid prison person...It all makes me very uncomfortable.  Well, if not uncomfortable, suspicious as hell.  But I think I've become suspicious of things in general.

      My alienation and fresh-out-P.T.S.D. is mitigated by the following things:
      - Gelato is now everywhere and since it's not ice-cream, which is bad for you and immature and sugary, we can all eat the hell out of tubs of salt caramel cookie crunch and it's cool.
      - Toilet paper has evolved at an even greater rate than phones and the internet.  Even the cheaper stuff is akin to wiping your ass with crushed velvet.  Truly amazing.
      - I thought that "On Demand" meant that you could pay to see the show/movie whenever you wanted, like a newer form of pay-per-view.  Nope, if you have anything besides basic cable, that shit's free.  5,214 movies are currently available through Dish Network at my moms place in Minnesota.  Through an ap, they can be streamed to my dads ipod and watched in bed here in Virginia.  Whenever I feel like it.  There is a lot of stuff I'd have to rent if I wanted to see it, but there are thousands of movies to watch on each subscription.       

      - Crocs...