My little sis

I can't believe my little sister is going to graduate high school this year – well, this school year anyway. She had her senior pics taken, and it's weird because I always envision her as being a little girl. When I left home more than 7 years ago, she was only 10 years old, and she's kind of stayed that way in my mind. It almost feels like it's my kid who's going to graduate and leave home. And it's going to be weird going home to visit my parents and having neither of my sisters there.

OK, I just thought her pics were so cute, I had to post one of them.

too much time on my hands

I was checking out NEWSEUM today for the first time in a long time, and I realized that I finally work somewhere that has Newseum representation. It's pretty cool, since I mostly just design the front page now, anyway. This is what I did with my Friday night. I was fairly happy with it, though it's not quite as balanced as I would like it to be.

It's pretty good for me, though, since my academic training in design/graphic arts is nil. Any time I come up with a design that I don't think looks like total shit is a major accomplishment.

It's official

Yes, I'm now officially a South Dakotan. I was forced to get a driver's license today in order to be able to vote on several key issues Nov. 7 – abortion and gay marriage being the most crucial ones. I'll also vote for governor, but there's really no point since there hasn't been a Democratic governor in this state since the 70s – and there hasn't been a Democratic-controlled Legislature since the frickin' Great Depression.

That fact is just one of many reasons why I was loath to give up my Minnesota driver's license. There actually are a whole litany of reasons why I hate the state of South Dakota, but it would take me days to articulate them all. I try to forget about it since I do enjoy living in Sioux Falls – if only it wasn't part of the hellhole that is South Dakota.

But the corrupt GOP political machine that controls every facet of government here didn't want to let me vote the first time I attempted to register because I didn't have a South Dakota driver's license. When I produced my Minnesota license and my vehicle registration (which has my South Dakota address on it and proves that I live here), the woman at the auditor's office immediately said, "Oh, we don't do things like they do in Minnesota. You have to have a South Dakota driver's license." She went on to say something like, "They just let anyone vote over there."

I guess that's the problem with Minnesota – the nerve of those bastards, just letting everybody who wants to vote do so, including Democrats.

Basically, I jumped through a bunch of hooops, went down to the DMV, got a stupid driver's license and registered to vote. That brings the number of Democrats in South Dakota to an even 10. We're gaining momentum now, I can feel it.

I'll stop ranting about South Dakota now.

Ewwwwwwwwww

Hey, have you ever heard what it sounds like when two drunk people stumble home from the bars at 2 a.m. on a WEDNESDAY and start going at it on the living room floor directly above where you're sleeping? I can safely say that I do know what that sounds like – and it's not pretty. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from some form of post-traumatic stress syndrome – I might need some form of mind-altering drug to help erase the grunting, slapping, clattering mess of noises that has been seared into my brain.

I've heard and seen some weird shit in my time. There was that one naked party during college where I saw more of some of my roommates than I ever cared to see; and there was that time that some form of an orgy took place while I was sleeping; and then that other time when we found scuff marks all over the bathroom floor – the likely result of some goth couple's Halloween quickie. And there probably are more things I'm not thinking of right now.

But never have I experienced anything that even approaches the level of nastiness exuded in this situation. The entire house literally was shuddering – and it didn't stop for a LONG time. And suffice it to say, I won't be spending much – or any – time in that living room again. Not until the carpet is detoxified.

All churches are not created equal

I decided to break out of my normal Sunday routine, which involves going to 7 p.m. Mass at a church that's near where I work. Originally, when I was working Sundays, I would just go to church over my break, and I found it actually very refreshing and rewarding. But today, I knew I wasn't going to make it to 7 p.m. Mass, so I decided to go at 11 to a church that's closer to my apartment. I had doubts about it, because I had been there once before and it seemed way conservative, but I shrugged it off.

So you can imagine my shock and dismay when the first thing that they did at this church, even before the Mass started, was have the entire congregation recite a prayer asking God to ensure the passage of Referred Law 6. And yes, the prayer actually contained the words "Referred Law 6, otherwise known as House Bill 1215." Or, for those of you who don't live in South Dakota, the extremist ban on abortion.

This prayer was taped on the inside cover of every hymnal at the church. When the entire congregation began reciting this prayer, my instinct was to get up and walk out. But I thought it would attract too much attention to do so, and I would surely be given the label of "baby-killer." So I decided to protest by not reciting the prayer and telling myself, it will get better – they'll say the prayer and that will be the last of it.

Oops, I was wrong. The priest then proceeded to devote his entire sermon to Referred Law 6, as I'm sure he has been doing every Sunday and will continue to do until the election Nov. 7.

Now, some Catholic Church abortion rhetoric is tolerable and even commendable. I don't support abortions. I think it's immoral, and I have no problems with prayers such as, "Please God, help women considering this choice the value of life," or even "let's pray that there are fewer abortions in this country."

It crosses the line, however, when the rhetoric becomes, "Please God, let the baby-killers realize that they are evil and smite them with your vengeance, so that more children who are unwanted can be born to crack-addicted mothers and pushed into the foster care system." Everything about this church was crossing that line (though not with those exact words), and I found myself becoming more irate, and then just really depressed.

I toyed with the idea of reporting the church to the IRS, because I'm fairly certain that that prayer would be sufficient grounds for the church to lose its tax-exempt status. But I'm too sad about the whole ordeal, so instead I think I'll just boycott that particular parish from now on – no matter how close it is to my apartment.