Post modern civil comparatives (urban vs. rural)

Triton Cove is an eclectic mix of characters to say the least. Many of the cabins, like our family’s, have been owned for generations. If a house has been owned for only one generation, it is inevitably due to the fact that the resident can tell you what it was like when cars were invented.

new button yo!

Needless to say, people know each other (more on creepy friendlies here). In fact, my grandparents know pretty much every single person who lives on the cove, along with any associated children, pets, friends or close relatives (no really). When here, my grandfather goes for a daily walk around the cove and often stops and actually TALKS with the neighbors. I don’t mean he tells someone they need to cut their lawn or asks them to please not report his car abandoned so they can have his parking spot, (see also: LA neighbors) I mean they have real conversations, about real life, not just sports or weather either. It’s sort of creepy before you get used to it. They know every person in the neighborhood by name. Plus how their surgery went last week, if the dog's allergy medecine has been working, and since it's November, that Betty will be making her signature pumpkin pies.

Imagine that for a moment. Think about how strange it would be to walk around your neighborhood and every time you saw someone you went up to them and had a 20 minutes conversation.

By contrast, we lived for 2.6 years in  the sunny little beach town of Oceanside and when we left we didn’t know the name of a single person on our whole street. The woman who lived across the street from us for all those years came out as we were about to disembark and told us she was sorry to see us go because we were “quiet neighbors.”

The majority of interactions with our Oceanside neighbors involved a pack of teenage boys, lead by our 38ish year old, dread-locked neighbor, skateboarding off a plywood ramp at 4am on a Tuesday. There was also, picking up McDonald’s wrappers, beer cans, cigarette cartons and various other pieces of trash that were hurled over the white picket fence into our front yard by youths, housewives and marines alike as they walked from their cars to the apartments next door. Not to mention a woman across the street who let herself into the backyard next door to steal fruit from the trees while the residents were at work, the drunken lunatic who used a metal stop sign pole as a battering ram in an attempt to smash his way into his apartment after apparently being locked out by his roommate/lover or the people who would report our cars abandoned when they were parked for more than 8 hours outside our own house, the screaming abusive mother, the body builder marine who punched his girlfriend in the middle of the street at 9:15pm as I stood in the front yard watching, or the neighbors who would from time to time tug on our garage door, just to see if it was unlocked that night to afford an opportunity for easy larson.

I say all this not with the intention of bashing Oceanside, but to note that it was actually one of the safest and most pleasant places I have lived during my 18 years as a California resident (Before Oside I lived by Echo Park and South Central). There are better neighborhoods and better neighbors in Cali to be sure, but things have changed in America recently, and not for the best. The fact that this was normal life to me for so long is staggering now that I’m outside looking back.

There is a tragic loss that happens in the city when people live so close together. They push each other apart. We share so much space in the city that we become obsessed with walls and barricades. Finding any tiny little island of privacy becomes a consuming thought when you can't go more than 30 seconds without hearing the aural byproduct of someone’s rage/lust/entertainment/playtime/life. Humanity collapses in around us and so we retreat inside ourselves, trying to block out the miserable unwavering pressure of humanity around us. When things are quiet, when life is slow, when peace abounds, people seem to look outward, to reach for one another, to build community, in order to share and enjoy life together more fully. (They are also bored) These relationships, these tiny bonds allow people to treat each other better, with more respect and care. People don’t try to harm their neighbor, they live with more harmony, they act more decent, because word spreads fast. And a community of bonded individuals is the best social guidance mechanism on earth. We don’t need more laws and penalties for road rage, parking violations, and petty theft, we just need to get some community back.

so my mom hates tattoos...

I recently made it known to The Mom that I am in the process yet again of deciding on a design to carve into my infant flesh. (see I can use the strike-thru like all the cool kids in blogtown. I can fit in I promise!) She took the news with a nominal amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth. (pretty sure she put ashes on her head though) Considering she's of the opinion only carnies, bikers and ex cons should have tattoos, (thereby facilitating quick and easy identification of unscrupulous fringe groups). I myself am (currently) none of the above, having never done any significant time in prison.

Living in a "Nick at Night" neighborhood. Also I have A.D.D.

Our neighbors are creepy. Well, mostly just one couple. As I mentioned in one of my first posts, Triton Cove is a place so devoid of the usual quantum douchiness of the urban landscape that it can sometimes give you psychological whiplash to go between our cabin and the city. I'll try to explain. 

Why is it so hard to make friends when I'm so awesome?

Since moving to the MOFN (as in: "middle of..." ooooh new web vocab, you read it here first people, go fourth and abbreviate) it has become painfully obvious to me that making relevant friends in this new land will be no can of creamed corn.

Admittedly, when I lived in the social capital of the known universe, (Twitter,  Myspace, Facebook, are all based in Californicationland. The Fran, Bev Hills, and P. Alto, respectively) it was still pretty friggin hard to make decent friends. I qualify that statement with decent because its totally easy to make douchebag friends. If you want someone to drink you're beer, use you for rides, couch squat, and perpetually flake on you any time you need the slightest help or emotional support, then it's a snap. I will say that the two years I spent in San Diego were the best I've had of Cali. Although it has it's problems, SD is nowhere near as slimy as the city of shallow angels. It may seem like I'm being harsh and in truth there are alot of great folks in Cali. In fact my best friend lives in the very bowels of Mordor (lower hollywierd) and he, is the dogs bullocks. But after spending the first 10 years of my life in The Evergreen State (with layovers in DC, CO, and MO) I bunkered down and spent the last 2/3 of my life living in various Californian urbs and burbs. Given my nearly 20 years of anthropological field research on the subject of douchebaggery and general flakiness, if being a Tool was a recognized area of psychological pathology, I would have a Nobel Prize by now (isn't it awesome that the guy who invented blowing people up created a peace award, he'd fit right in on Sunset blvd.)

But I digress. Back to the difficulty of recruiting friends. The problem stems primarily from our being younger than everyone within a 40 mile radius by a several decades. Given my perspective on politics, music, movies, television, books, tattoos, etc. -"how can you hate two and a half men!??? Whaaat, no kate plus 8 either?"- it's safe to say that when it comes to intellectual discourse, the over sixty and sexy crowd is not really my key demographic group. So, that leaves the girl who works at the grocery store in town, and the dude who tends bar at his parents' saloon down the road. But these options lead to another conundrum. How do you go about making friends with someone in the service industry? "Thanks for the screwdriver Jesse, hey, sometime when you're off the clock you wanna go grab a b... oh yeh, this is the only bar." For that matter in my experience without the social construct of a mutually enjoyable or detestable activity, trying to recruit strangers to your friendship army can be a little creepy. For example, when I'm "hangin out" with Jesse he's a perfectly pleasant and enjoyable person, he watches food network almost as much as I do, and keeps The History Channel rolling above the bar instead of sporting events, plus he has am awesome mountain man beard. So I'm pretty sure that given some one on one time (see, even that sounds creepy) Jesse would think I was totally rad. But our social interactions are tainted by our disproportionate roles. When we chat, I'm cooling my heels, having some down time. He, on the other hand is at work. This means not only does he have to be cordial to me, but I always tip him when I leave. This makes the whole thing feel dirty, akin to asking for a dinner date with a stripper as you hand over singles. Granted, Jesse ain't no stripper and I would never want to witness such a sight, but it's still a service industry yo. There is no common ground on which to establish a mutual understanding. He can't tell if I'm just bored and talking to the bartender like everyone else does, and I can't tell if he thinks I'm some loser patron. What you need is the lack of obligatory conversation to know where someone stands. This makes the jump from situational friends to real friends much more tricky, "wanna hang out after you finish serving me?"

So anyway, I could go on, but this is getting way too long for this kind of navel gazing subject matter (what's a blog if not that?) so I will leave you with a question. Does anyone out there have a good friend maker pickup line? Does anyone else pick up friends outside of work, school or structured activity? Does anyone just start talking to strangers and ask for a number? (in a platonic way) If so, how do you keep from coming across as a total psycho? Are you perhaps a psycho? Deep philosophical questions to ponder.

Mythbusting part 1

So lately I keep hearing from people, -and reading online- about all these totally outrageous "facts" about Bully breeds. The truth is these assumptions have no physical or scientific evidence to back them up. The sad part is, it's all about bad PR and the fact that people can't accept responsibility for our actions. When someone gets hurt, or a dog is attacked, it's easy to say "ooh it was the evil Pitbull" and not, "hey that owner needs to be held accountable". Pitbull's were once upon a time the most popular family dog breed in America. When trained right, treated well and given love they are the most loyal, reliable and steadfast dog you could ask for. They are great with kids and other dogs (I'm not guessing about this) they are adoring and affectionate, shameless cuddle fiends and they'll give their life for their family at a moments notice. I've owned two and worked with many and the only imbalances I have ever seen were man made.

In an effort to change the perception of these animals and raise awareness about the tragedy of dog fighting that is going on in our nation right now, we started www.NoDogFights.com. so I already have my soap box and i don't intend to turn this blog into an activist site. However, I would like to debunk some of the misunderstandings that people have about Pitbulls and similar breeds. So I've decided to start a series of mythbusting posts. The goal of each post will be to address one myth that has been propagated about these dogs.

The list of myths about Pitbulls is a mile long, so theres plenty to pick from, but if anyone out there has a question they would like answered, a "fact" you would like researched or mythbusted, or if you just want a good old fashion debate, feel free to contact me and I'll be happy to address you're topic.

On with the show. Probably the most common misconception about Pitbulls, and the one I hear the most from people is that Pitbulls have the most powerful and dangerous bite of all dog breeds measuring in excess of 5,000 PSI. These are just inflated urban legends. Scientific experiments have actually been conducted to quantify the bite strength of Pitbulls, alongside many other breeds of dogs. The most accurate measurement of bite force is obviously PSI (pounds per square inch) and the average PSI of a dog bite is around 320PSI. There are idiots all over the web (I know, it's shocking right?) asserting that it's a well known fact that Pitbulls deliver over 1200PSI (It's the TOP rated answer on yahoo answers. true story) In reality Pitbulls don't deliver nearly that power, in fact they don't even come close to having the strongest bite of any breed. Recently Dr. Brady Barr of National Geographic conducted a comparative test between a Pit Bull, a Rottweiler, and a German Shepherd. The Pit Bull had the lowest PSI rating of all three!

  
The highest pressure recorded from the Pit Bull was 235 lbs PSI.  The highest from the Sheppard was 238, and the highest from the Rott was 328. Dr. Barr states that as far as he knows, the PSI tested in the Rott is the highest on record for any domestic canine. What happened to the supposed 10,000 pounds PSI pressure that the breed supposedly has???  It's a myth, pure and simple. 

The bottom line here is simple. A Pit Bull's bite is exactly the same as any other larger breed dog. They're jaws don't lock and they don't turn on their owners. (But that's a topic for another post)

Here's the clip from the bite force experiment. Notice that these dogs are charging full speed into the PSI calculator too. This isn't just the force of a bite down, but the impact of the dog's momentum as well. 

So that's all for today. Hard evidence proving that a Pitbull's bite is no different from any other big dog. If you have some dog "facts" you would like me to research and debunk send em on over. And if you have a love for these amazing, misunderstoof animals, stop by Dog Fight Inc, get more information or get involved in the fight to return the APBT to the place it once held in the hearts of the American people.

We interrupt your regular schedule life for this commercial break

*Disclaimer*
  You may read this and say to yourself "This is mindless drivel. Doesn't this Jag have anything more intellectual to write about?  To which I reply, "First off buddy, maybe I DO have better stuff to write about and I'm saving it up untill another 3 people are following this blog okay! Yeh I can hear what you're thinking to yourself while reading this. what now? You don't have to partake of this schlock if you're just gonna drink hatorade the whole time and pee on my parade, and B. I blame YOU cause if you had a better idea, you shoulda emailed me with a question or thought and I would be happy to engage you in a witty repartee on the subject of your choosing , and 3. you ain't my mom, you're not the boss of me! That's right, suck it.

...But seriously Email me with your post ideas and I'll drop tightly coiled piles of knowledge on your topic. for FREE!



 Tonight's philosophical journey begins with a delightful stroll through the television jungle at 2:37am

Click
...Stop suffering every time you look at yourself in the mirror. No more confining girdles or endless dieting. STOP hassling with complicated exercise programs. Actually feel good about the way you look without spending thousands on plastic surgery. ALL you need is the new BodyShapertm
Click
...get those abs shredded while you lay in bed for just 3 minutes a
Click
...you know they say when you stand up straight you have more confidence and this just pulls that gut right in without ever hitting the gy
Click
...only about 3 thousand more of these coins Richard and they. are. going. fast. And if people don't act right now
Click
...Now you can steam, grill, fry, bake or roast- ALL in your microwave. All under ten minutes!
Click
...I love shopping now. I'm trying on clothes that I haven't tried on in 20 years.
Click
...is now making over $50,000 a month while sitting on the couch playing video games.
Click
...I tried other things and nothing worked but this.
Click
...to get into the BEST shape of your life faster and easier than you ever dreamed possible. With just 6-8 minutes a day you can
Click
...Kim, Khloe and Kourney show you the secret to their PERFECT skin
Click
...locks in flavor
Click
...the easiest most delicious pork shops you have every eaten in your entire
Click
...in just 20 minutes a day, 3 times a week you can transform your body like you've never
Click
...totally recession proof
Click
...you're doing quiche, eggs AND cinnamon rolls all together? at once? that's crazy Jill
Click
...Sausage, you got bacon, bagel, pancakes, waffles. Let's go over here to lunch. You got burg
Click
...comes from a melon, in the south of France and it really stops your skin from showing the signs of aging. And after the very first treatment
Click
...thinner than I was in highschool



Of course, this makes me ponder (you as well I'm sure) the question of alien life and whether they have visited earth before. I offer this as proof that higher beings have in fact not stumbled across our little marble, because if they did, they would undoubtedly first begin research of our species before making contact. The first and most obvious study would of course be rendered upon the orbital mosh pit of satellites that circles our globe and the information transmitted to and from. Assuming that the aliens would most likely orbit us on the night side of the rock, as to hide their giant crafts in the darkness of space and stay green by reducing the usage of AC units on board, they would surely pick up nighttime broadcast such that the preceding exhibit.

Upon completion of this recon effort and council would convene for a whole 10 minutes and inevitably conclude that we were the lowest form of intelligence know to the Galaxy. Our value system as represented can be defined as such:

1. Look skinny.
2. Eat more.
3. Look young.
4, Get more money, but without hard work.
5. Cook food quickly and easily. (see item 2)
6. Spend as little time exercising as possible (see item 1)
7. Clean domestic domicile
8. Diet. (or just pop pills)
9. have phone sex (That's the other tele-sattelite broadcasting at 3am)
10. look better.

This would prompt the aliens to turn their ships around and leave our sad little species to eventually eat each other alive or die out from overdosing on diet pills, fake tan spray (discovered to cause mental retardation in the year 2038) and gorging on chemically process, hormone injected meat products cooked with nuclear ions for 5 out of 6 meals a day.

The aliens would be shaking their collective giant green heads and flipping a bitch over Wisconsin when Reggie would stumble across The history Channel or CNN. The aliens would instantly realize that we are not just image obsessed, glutinous, lazy, superficial, money hungry, Prima Donnas. but also bloodthirsty, greedy war mongers. There would be a collective sigh as they turned around and death-rayed the crap out of us all like the intergalactic flu bug before we spread our doctrine beyond our planet. Then they'd mosey on down the cosmos.

So, the moral of this story is:  

PAID ADVERTISING + HUMANITY STILL ALIVE = PROOF ALIENS DO NOT EXIST.

 Church.

Real talk (just this once)

This is a rare, serious post. If you love dogs animals, own a dog or know someone who owns a dog (especially, Bully breeds, Mastiffs, Dobermans, and Rotties) then this should concern you. Also people who don't care about animals but would like the government to quit taking so much damn control over our every day lives. (I'll keep my dog and my shotgun, thank you)

*This pic is not one of our dogs, although they do this alot*

Here's the deal, breed specific legislation is in the pipeline in Colorado. (and other places under the radar) Ultimately this ends with the government being allowed to ban and then kill your pet with immunity if you have a mix of a specific breed. Including, but not limited to Pit-bulls, Stafforshire Terriers, Bull Terriers, Bull Mastiffs, Rottweilers, Akitas, Dobermans, and other "bad" breeds as determined by some idiot sitting behind a desk on capital hill who never even owned a pet hamster, let alone knows anything about your dog specifically. If you own one of these breeds and live within the county that has a breed ban passed, regardless of it's temperament history, if you're dog gets out of your house once, he's dead. Sometimes they just take them straight out of your yard while you're at work. Imagine coming home and finding out your dog was put down by the government without notice. It starts small but snowballs fast. Think you're cool because you don't own a Pitbull? Thank again.


Pissed off? Click here to go to the facebook page of the dude behind it all, the head of Denver Animal control. Email him and let him know what you think about him killing over 3,000 dogs (many family pets with no record of malfeasance. The video at the bottom has contact info for all the guilty parties perpetrating this genocide.


We need serious  penalties for people who abuse animals! REAL prison time, serious fines. It's shameful that our "justice" system doles out more lenient penalties for people who torture animals to death purely than for littering ($1-4k per ticket in many places! Apparently our concrete highways are more precious than living creatures) or a minor narcotics possession. A guy trains his dog to be a killer, through a lifetime of neglect and pain, he gets caught dog fighting, gets slammed  with a $300 fine and starts adopting dogs from the local kennel the very next day. Because it's easier to blame the dog than admit what an insidious, blood thirsty species we humans can be.

*careful kid, he might snap and rip your face off any moment*

You may or may not share my belief that Pitbulls are one of the most loyal, affectionate, reliable and loving breeds there is, that's fine, that's a rant for another day. The bottom line is that some people use Pitbulls' natural loyalty to make them dangerous, they aren't born evil, they are born wanting to love, please and protect. Unfortunately if someone is a sociopath like Mike Vick (evidence for this later), what pleases them is seeing animals get tortured and killed. And Pitbulls are one of the breeds that will cause or endure any amount of pain in order to please and protect their pack leader. This willingness to accept pain and injury in the hopes of pleasing the master is known as "gameness." It's not a dog breed problem, it's a human being problem. We are blaming the wrong species.

So I urge you, find out about Breed Specific Legislation in your city, and please please please, if you care about dogs at all, go to this link and help this cause be heard. It's crazy fast/easy and super effective. Politicians crap their pants if they think anyone is actually paying attention and might get pissed off.

http://ohmydogblog.com/2010/05/campaign-to-end-bsl-operation-denver

We need to push for stronger penalties against animal abuse, not outlaw certain breeds, especially loyal ones. You wanna outlaw a breed, what about cats? My friend had one of those and that little bastard didn't care about anyone, thought he was like, sooo much better than everyone. (JK yo! Calm down cat people, don't get your whiskers twisted, I'm just kidding. I had two cats on the farm growing up and they were the shiz. More on that later.)

Check out our anti dog fighting charity for more info.

Still feeling like it's really not that big of a deal? I dare you to watch this quick video. 

Michael Vick sucks...

So if you are a dog lover you probably know all about what a massive steaming pile Michael Vick is. We've been trying to raise awareness about this issue and get people to boycott the Eagles for hiring him since he was allowed back into the NFL to once again make millions of dollars being a role model for young kids.

Well if you're much a fan of Michael Dick as I am you'll be happy to know that Karma is still in the world and doing a bang up job. Granted, getting smashed like a bug between a couple 300+ D-linemen and breaking some ribs and a collarbone doesn't really balance out with years of torturing and killing dogs for entertainment, but it still makes the most satisfying highlight reel I've seen all year.

Sadly, because the NFL roots out footage online like the gestapo, I can't post the clip here. So instead here's a little insight into Vick's true character. The guy is nothing but class.

The twighlight zone DMV

The nearest major consumer temple is Wal-Mart, an hour south on Hwy 101, along the winding coastline. No mountains have been blasted, no coastline desecrated to make way for a straight and smooth 6 lane abomination.  Between our cabin in Lilliwaup and Shelton, the nearest metropolis (pop. 8,442), are a handful of little towns about the size of a home depot. You know, the kind where they have 853 different door knobs but not a single one matches the hole that’s cut in your door. Because of the different towns along the two lane Highway, the speed limit changes between 50, 55, 35, 40, 25, 30, 45 and 60 about every quarter mile. It may wear out your brakes but it keeps you on your toes and looking for the next speed change, lest you find yourself cited for a minor speeding infraction, like ever one in my family except us. (so far)
Although in the years since the 2000 census the population may have swelled past 8,442 people, the Shelton DMV still had a line stretching 7 whole people when we arrived on Friday afternoon to get our new Washington driver’s licenses. (It should be noted that since 6 of the people were a family with small children the line was actually only 2 customers long). The door had not closed behind us before we were waved over by a smiling man who was so pleasant I was sure we had walked into some hidden camera TV show or some strange psychological experiment played out by scientists to determine  how humans react in surreal and incredible situations like the twilight zone. I stood dumbfounded, looking around for Ashton Kutcher to jump out in a bedazzled trucker hat and send me off to the real DMV to suffer as God intended.

The man behind the counter just smiled and joked with us as he simultaneously set up both our licenses. (Simultaneously! At one station!) Noting as he asked for our phone numbers that if we weren’t comfortable giving that information out, he understood and was happy to leave it blank. Flashbacks of my strip search, finger printing, DNA and blood samples in order to obtain my California license flooded my mind.

Needless to say we were suspicious of his intentions, assuming that he was baiting us in for a devastating blow of Sun Tzu proportions.  But when a whole 15 minutes had past of us sitting there (yes they have chairs across the counter and no bullet proof glass. I guess when you treat people decent they don‘t shoot at you) he expressed deep remorse and frustration with his outdated computer, gushing an apology for making us wait almost 20 whole minutes for both our licenses.  At this point I  realized he was not an emotional sadist or con man, but only insane. Perhaps years of smoking LSD and watching reruns of Andy Griffith had lead him to believe he actually lived in Mayberry. I told him if he took less than 6 hours to process our request I might have a stroke and die of shock. He did his best to help us feel at home, but in the end could not bring himself to make us wait longer than 35 minutes before we were standing outside in the fresh summer breeze holding temporary paper licenses, trying to stop hyperventilating.

There really is something to be said for small town service. 

True story.

The neighbors make baked goods for each other! Yes, I disgraced this beautiful dish by degrading it with my camera phone, but my Nikon was out of batteries and the tastebuds would hear nothing about waiting to charge it back up. Photo: epic fail. Rhubarb upside down cake by Loraine, sweet success.

I challenge you, make something from scratch and take it to a neighbor. You don't need to wait for some special event, just do it and say I thought you might like this. Leave it at that. You'll be shocked at how much power a cheesecake can wield. They say good fences make good neighbors, I say, good cookies.

Welcome to Triton Cove

Well hello there! Welcome to Triton Cove. A snazzy name not only for our new blog, but also the lovely little hideaway in which we live on the Hood Canal. The Hood Canal is part of the Puget Sound in case you (like everyone else in the world) aren’t familiar. In fact, if you Google “Triton Cove”, references to our little inlet are really the only results you will get. Entering "Triton Cove" into Google Maps, without so much as a county, state, zip code or country to narrow the search, still only yields a single location with a tiny red marker sitting directly on our rooftop. This exemplifies the utter nowhereness of our habitude as well as the amazing singularity of the place.

Triton Cove seems to have been left behind by the rest of American civilization in all the right ways. Neighbors wave at each other, stop and chat as they pass in the front yard. They bring each other cookies and apple pie. They take care of their own. They help each other live better more comfortable lives. No one here is in a hurry. There is something surreal and yet very tangible about the cove. It’s a world unto itself, a life you expect to play out on a grainy black and white TV set. I expect it to only get better once we’ve settled in, but for now that seems to be a far off dream.

 Since the day we arrived we have been descended upon by hoards of children. They come like locusts, consuming all in their path. Sodas, chocolate milk, cereal, bread, eggs, chips...the whole harvest is laid to waste before them. Behind them is a swath of bags, books, laundry, blankets, sleeping bags, videos, games and candy wrappers. So alas we have battened down the hatches and dug in to wait out this hurricane of zealous youth before we bleach and mop and sweep and organize our life. For now it’s vacation time - and we are loving it.