Yes, we're at war. Wanna know how I know? I mean, besides the fact that it's on every single television station constantly? How's this for a big, fat clue:



Protesters are running around Portland, blocking bridges -- including Burnside, the main thoroughfare through town -- and an interstate or two. Look, I sympathize, folks. I think this is a stupid and bungled war, too, but you're not going to win any fans that way. Blocking streets isn't going to do anything but piss off the people who already disagree with you, and screw up the lives of people who need to get around.

But then I've been on the fence over this thing the whole time anyway. I despise Bush, but he's not murdering his own people or subjecting them to torture near on the scale of this Saddam guy. This article at Salon (subscription or ad click-through required) offers a leftie's take on why, while Bush's attempts at justifying this war were terrible, the war itself might not be. Things could have been done better, but they're done now, so we have to deal with that.

And believe me, I have plenty at stake here. My best friend since the fourth grade, Captain Zack Irvine (sorry -- that's the best link I could find), is somewhere over there with the Army Medical Corps, and I know his parents are frightened to death. (Which reminds me, I should give them a call.)

But back to the protesters (and I'm done with the proselytizing). It was sheer luck, but after a trip to return some overpriced CDs to Best Buy (generally, I can find things much cheaper here, except I have to wait for them, so often I'll buy something here and return an internet copy to the store later -- I know... bad consumer! Bad!), I was on the way to drop my friend James downtown when the CD in the stereo ended and I happened to turn on the radio. (Man... long paragraph. Sorry.) It was like one of those movies where, by sheer coincidence (yeah, right), they turn on the radio just in time to hear a very relevant news bulletin (as Crow on MST3K put it once, "You're listening to K-PLOT..."): The annoucer told us (well, the listening audience, anyway -- he wasn't speaking directly to James and I, I don't think...) that the protests had shut down the Burnside Bridge, which was the very one we had decided to take into town.

We found an alternate route, which, in spite of construction and some traffic, was clear. We had, in fact, decided not to take this route earlier for these very reasons. How very ironic. I dropped James off at the venue and, since I was in town, headed to Powell's, the world's greatest book store, to waste some time. While sitting in the coffee shop, eating a cookie, I heard a commotion. Or rather, what I heard was the barista telling her coworker to call security. This pricked up my ears, as I thought it meant someone was shoplifting or something. Instead, I discovered that a small Asian woman who was standing by some nearby stacks had collapsed. She already had some people attending to her, so I just finished my cookie and looked on. She said she didn't have epilepsy or diabetes, though the latter probably would have made this woman who was sitting near me happy. You know the type: They have one useful bit of experience or information, and they insist upon trying to shoe-horn it into whatever crisis pops up. Hers was diabetes. "Are there any sugar packets around?" She asked loudly. Even after being told the woman wasn't diabetic, she insisted upon relating the entire backstory of her expertise with diabetes. Naturally, being a Midwesterner, I listened politely and smiled while gritting my teeth.

But back to the woman. She finally said that she simply felt nauseous, which didn't seem too alarming to me until I remembered one thing: The deadly "flumonia" virus that's going around. Sure, she may just have regular flu or even be pregnant, but there was no way for me to know what was going on. Maybe it was her race and her broken English that made me uneasy, seeing as how all these infections came from Hong Kong. Or maybe it was all that being in a big public place, stuffing food in my maw near a woman who collapsed right after a MONTH of strep infections that suddenly made me feel very uneasy. Or all of it. Regardless, I bought my swag (bought these
two, if you must know) and left. Quickly.

But not before giving directions to the paramedics. Good deed for the day: Check.

Also of note, I'm writing again. A friend of mine on Instant Messenger asked me out of the blue if I was writing anything lately, which could either mean that she was genuinely curious or that she's been reading this here GernLog. If it's the latter, hiya. But honestly, I have no idea if anyone even reads this. If you do, hell, drop me a line. And, if you're not, obviously, don't.

As for what I'm writing, well, it's all secret for now. Don't want to jinx myself.

Oh, but before I go, a plug:

Yeah, I'm a nerd. But admit it, you know you want this, too.