Hello Takoma Park: The Closing

I feel like Martin Sheen when he rises up from the water in Apocalypse Now. That is right, people, I have been in the shit. I entered Thunderdome.

Doubt me? Just ask any of the 8 people who were around the table with us today at our house closing. I've seen things, man, and now I can say I have seen a man go to a dark place over $35.

First off, let me go on record and say that as house owners, we were damn nice to the girl who bought our condo. As a sign of good faith (and also because we agreed to do so), we cleaned that condo head to toe, had everything packed up and gone the day before closing, and even went so far as to leave a nice bottle of wine for her and some dog treats for her pooch as a "welcome to your new home" gift.

What we received from our seller on the new house was nothing short of the all you can eat poo poo platter.

First off, the sellers insisted we go with a closing/settlement company that is perhaps the dumbest on the planet. I'm honestly thrilled that we got through both processes without blood being spilled. We'd get documents from them (questionnaires, forms, etc.) that would have mistakes strewn throughout and glaring omissions. Hell, at one point they sent us forms to sign saying we were buying a house in New Jersey. I mean, this was, as the wife would say, "Kendra levels of incompetence." And these people were in charge of overseeing almost $2 million worth of home transactions. It was a bit ridiculous.

But don't let that overshadow the main entertainment of the day ... the seller. First off, the sellers are a family of four. Instead of all participating in this glorious event since they are buying a new house for the first time in 15 years, they decided to mix it up. And I mean mix it up by saying that the wife took the two kids to France and left the husband to handle everything by himself. This poor guy man be the salt of the earth, and by all means he seems to be, but this is like leaving me in charge to wrestle a python while also using the pythagorean theorem to solve landing a cat on Neptune. Bad things are gonna happen.

He was supposed to be packed up by this morning; he wasn't. The house was to be empty by 11 a.m. for our walkthrough; it was chock full of nuts and furniture. He was supposed to be at the closing by 1; he wasn't. In fact, he showed up more than an hour late. For those of you unfamiliar to the house selling/buying world, this is a really big no-no unless Christ has returned to give mankind some advice. No apologies, nothing. He knew he was late, but he just played right through it as his realtor shot "you're frickin kiddin me, pal" beams from her eyes.

The best was yet to come. He, like myself, is clearly not the financial guru of the household. So that put him in an apt position to be managing the power of attorney for his wife and also checking over all the financials for the closing. Shame everything was no in hieroglyphs, because I think it would have made little difference. He questioned things that weren't even on the documents. But the coup de grace was when his movers called during the document signing. They were holding his furniture hostage because he failed to pay them up-front and therefore could not unload the truck (which was too small) so they could go back and get all the other furniture that remained (four hours after the place was supposed to be empty).

Again this guy seems like a completely nice guy in real life, but he was out of his element and within seconds, "saw white" as the wife put it and went to the dark place. In front of eight other people, this guy let loose a tirade into his cell phone that made Howard Beale look like a 5-year-old catholic schoolgirl. I cannot overstate how insane this guy went. It was so loud and abusive that the owner of the settlement company came from 3 rooms away to check on us because she thought the guy was screaming at her employees or, worse, us.

The real kicker was that all of this was over $35. He just hit a wall and all of the sudden nothing made sense to him anymore, and this extra $35 charge to move in his stuff was where the line was drawn. Yes, after our closing he left to go close on his $950k-plus house, but this $35 ... well, don't fuck with him over his $35. That is all I am saying.

Now proud owners of the house, we went there to discover that a whole slew of furniture and trash was strewn throughout the rooms of the house. And the "cleaners" he pre-paid to clean the house must have dug Ray Charles' body from the grave to do the work. We left our buyer a clean condo, a bottle of wine and treats for her dog. Our seller left us 13 pounds of dog hair, two crusted tennis balls, four bookshelves and a big middle finger. Instead of relishing in our first big house purchase, we spent the next four hours cleaning the place and shoving all this family's crap into the front yard for him to pick up later.

He stopped by and was totally chill and we actually helped move some of the remaining items to his new gigantor house ... which is only 7 houses down the block from us. Oh yeah, I didn't mention that, did I? Crazy McCrazystein completely took it to 11 on the dial of public insanity and now he lives 7 houses away.

The first thing we are doing tomorrow is making a very important phone call. We're getting all the locks changed.

Artomatic: How Do You Like That?

Time for a little pat on the back for yours truly. I did it. I cannot believe it happened, but it did.

I sold one of my photos.

That is right, someone actually thought my photography was worthy to hang on their wall. And it wasn't my mother, either.

It was a total stranger who contacted me over the weekend who went to Artomatic, loved my Bay and San Francisco photo and bought a copy for herself.

I'm stunned. Yes, I had hopes of selling some pieces in order to recoup some of my expenses for doing the show. But after three weeks of showing and tons of talkers but no buyers, I was beginning to chalk the show up to a great first experience showing my work publicly and call it there.

Now, as someone said to me today, "You have sold something. You can really call yourself an artist now." That was weird, thinking of it that way. I still won't believe it, but it's a totally different feeling than writing my game column. There, I know people are reading it because newspaper editors choose to put it in there and I get feedback from readers. This is different: someone actually thought my stuff was worthy of paying money for it.

I am done talking about it. But I cannot help but feel weird and happy and shocked and all sorts of things because this thing that I never thought I would be good at actually turned out to be something someone else wanted that was not directly tied to me by blood or friendship. I'll just stop now before I sound like an idiot (too late), and just say thanks to Marilyn, Leigh and Kristin for constantly pushing me to show my photography to outsiders because they saw something in it that I was missing.

Feel Like Some Meth? Hmm ... Maybe Not

When I was in Denver visiting Chelsea, we were walking back from dinner when I looked up and noticed this billboard. Living in DC spares me from seeing billboards all over the place, but this one really stood out.

Now, I am very aware that Kentucky (and many other states, for that matter) are dealing with a meth problem. I was not aware that Denver and the greater state of Colorado was fighting it as well. But I do have to say, giving people the impression that meth will make you get your freak on in a port-o-pottie or perhaps the dingiest truck stop bathroom ever was pretty good to me. Yes, that is a nasty-ass bathroom meth will make you want to have sex in (well, at least according to this billboard).

Holy Crap, What a Hotel Room

As part of the moving process from the condo to the new house, the wife and I have to stay in a hotel. She got us a nice room at the Wardman Park Marriott, and all was just fine the first night. Her mom crashed with us and though it was a little tight it could have been worse.

This morning, though, I awoke to discover that my mother-in-law secured us a "larger" room, and holy shit did she ever. Check out the photos of this joint. I think Kenneth Branagh filmed Hamlet here. By my quick count, this hotel "room" has 5 rooms, 3 bathrooms and a kitchen. Above the fireplace, there is a painting of some weird old lady (and I am sure she is smiling because who wouldn't who stayed in this room?).

The three os us quickly dispersed around the place, each taking up residence in a different room with a different TV and Internet connection. There are times when we are walking around and we have no idea where each of us are. We ate dinner tonight (Vace pizza) in the enormous dining room just because we felt like it was paramount to use every room at least once. The wife even tickled the ivory on the piano in the sitting room. Oh yeah, that is right folks, we have an effing piano in our hotel room. And it's not some piece of crap electric casio, either.

Needless to say, I am not nearly as distressed about crashing at a hotel as I may have been. I was worried that five nights in a hotel was going to test the limits of my sanity, but now I am getting to know the rich live on a regular basis. And I hate them that much more for it. But, then again, this is ridiculous living. I found that this room normally goes for well over a grand per night. Thank heavens for Marriott points. When they had Obama's Inaugural Ball here, I do wonder who perhaps crashed in this room. Be cool to think that Beyonce or someone fresh lived it up here before the Campbell/Crawford group strolled in.

No Reason for Concern, Right?

I'm getting more and more scared of this nation when after 200 days of Obama's presidency conservatives and the gun lobby have got it stuck up their craw that guns are apparently the solution to everything. It's really driving me nuts and pissing me off more than I care to say in this space. What makes it even worse is that even sensible gun advocates are being turned away by the completely lunatic fringe. Making matters worse, I now have to read about pastors from my own home town going out of their mind and asking people to bring guns to church. Are you fucking kidding me? Have we not seen what can happen with this shit? I am quickly running out of ways to defend my city and my state when I read crap like this.

Farewell to The Gloved One

He's gone. Sure, he was not in my life that much these days, but nevertheless his music has always had a spot on my iPod and I have fond memories of what he brought ... musically speaking ... into my life.

Growing up on Emerson back in Louisville, my mom kept a steady rotation of LPs (my brother probably has no idea what those are) going on the weekends when she cleaned the house. Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Billy Joel's Innocent Man, Huey Lewis and the News, and Michael Jackson's Thriller. I used to listen to it in the basement and I had to manually force the record to skip to the next song when Vincent Price's voice came on to tell me of my impending doom. Damn voice gave me nightmares.

It's sad how Michael's life turned out, but I guess that is the world we live in, when supposedly playing around with little boys and girls can really piss off the American public. And it's a shame, because if he just would have not creeped everyone out so much and potentially broken a lot of California statutory rape/child molestation laws, maybe his latter years could have been more celebratory than made for mockery. Those were his decisions, however, not ours. You can't sell 100 million copies of Thriller and then think no one will pay attention when you build an enormous theme park in your back yard for kids to stay at by themselves with only you to watch over.

Despite all this, I will retain many memories of MJ's music in my life. Listening to Thriller in my basement with the record player turned up loud. Watching the Grammys (when those actually meant something) and seeing him master the stage like few others ever. Doing the moonwalk like every kid in the 80s did. I once participated in that Jump Rope For Heart thing in grade school and they pumped Man in the Mirror and Lean on Me on repeat for about 4 hours straight. Donnie and I would blast Thriller and Off the Wall and Bad and other albums all the time while hauling ass down the highway in The Cougar to speech tournaments and wherever else. I remember tuning in to HBO to watch the world premiere of his Live from Bucharest concert in 1992 (Those people went nuts, it's just amazing to see how different concerts are now compared to back then, when seeing your favorite artist was a true experience). I sat and watched the MTV world premiere of his Black or White video, and remember the discussions of how exactly he got those people to morph into each other, a rather simple technology seemed like the greatest thing on the planet at the time. Even watching him teach Michael Jordan to dance in Jam was goofy and classic Michael. The videos to Thriller, Smooth Criminal, Beat It, Billy Jean, The Way You Make Me Feel. There are tons others, yes, but they are all seared into my head.

It's been less than 24 hours since your death, and I hope that the outpouring of support continues long after this blog post and the countless hours of coverage wear on. No sense in mocking you and wondering what could have been or what should have been or what might have happened. Instead, I will be thankful that I can still load up my favorite song of his, PYT, and think about how much you influenced our music and our culture. And with so many of your other songs, I can load them up, think back and, as the title of your song says, Remember The Time ...

Eating My Weight In Seafood

I am getting the lucky privilege of having work pay to send me to San Francisco. Kristin and I are working with a production company to shoot a series of videos for CFED and so we are spending a few days out here. Since we have an office here in San Fran, it makes them paying for the travel that much easier because at least they know we are getting work done.

But before today came along, there was yesterday's fun. I landed early, picked up my Prius rental and we headed off for Route 1 and the wonderful hills of California. Well, we didn't head off that fast. It took us about 3 minutes and a consultation of the handbook on how to get the damn thing started. Alas, we did hit the road and made a nice run up to Marshall, where we ate oysters, fish tacos and clam chowder on along the water.

Then we booked it over the Russian River Valley where we took in four wineries and tasted wines in speedy style (no merlots were consumed). I scored a few bottles of wine that I liked and the two of us had a wild conversation with a drunk guy at the Iron Horse winery who was trying to convince us that DC was a craphole and that the best thing to do at wineries is get drunk and have sex in the wine fields under the stars. He was hammered, his wife was stunned into avoiding him and we got a good laugh walking back to the car.

After that it was dinner along the bay in Sausalito, which involved more oysters and then a ton of mussels. If this trend continues, I'm gonna look like Bootstrap Bill before I get back to DC.

Trailer Love 3

If you never watched Band of Brothers, shame on you. HBO kicked some serious ass with that miniseries, so it does not surprise me in the least that they are returning to the WWII battlefield but this time on the other side of the planet with Pacific. The trailer below gives you the teaser for the series, which does not start until next year. I'm already looking forward to it.

When Recession Hits ...

Like everyone else these days, I know several people who have lost their jobs because of the recession. I feel awful for them and I hope they can find meaningful work soon. But if I may, please let me give you this one bit of advice:

Don't Be Like This Guy!

At 7:30 yesterday morning I got out of the Metro and this dude was trying to get people (in the pouring rain, no less) to get excited and interested in some product that had something to do with buzzkill. I don't know if it was gum or coffee or a home-based enema kit. Either way, the dude was in a rain storm dressed like a frickin bee.

Now, it would be wrong to make fun of him without admitting that I, too, have donned a costume for a job before. I once worked a kids playground where I had to dress up on occasion as a gigantic red giraffe. Hey, what can I say? It was 1993 and they paid higher than minimum wage. Plus I quit after working there for about 3 months, so I at least left with a shred of pride (as opposed to an old friend who worked there for like 2 years before getting canned). Anyway, at least I was 15 when I worked that job. This guy was like late-30s or early-40s. So I hope they were paying more than minimum wage. Otherwise, I'd be holding out for something better.

My Paper Challenge: April and May Edition

I have slacked off on reporting the continuing results of my paper challenge, but at least I didn't slack off on actually collecting the paper and weighing it. So now you are getting two months' worth in one post.

April's count was 3.58 pounds.
May's count was 3.88 pounds.

Seems like I am starting to get a handle on all this paper. If I can keep it under 4 pounds per month, that is on track to best the national average of 41 pounds of junk mail per year, because more than 50% of the paper I am recycling is not junk mail. After getting rid of a majority of my junk mail, now more than half of my paper weight comes from efforts to find paper to recycle from bills and other press releases I get from game companies and such. I am recycling more than 41 pounds of paper per year, and that is way better than it just be junk delivered to my house that I don't want. I think it may be time to start expanding my paper challenge outreach to others besides myself. My first two tasks will be my mom (and why note, she just looooooves it when I pick on her) and, oddly enough, my wife.

You see, my wife has only partially embraced my green obsession. Yes, she definitely is on board for the most part, but there are times when I see her (without meaning to) toss paper and recyclable materials into the trash can and then watch me fish them out later. It drives me nuts. I thought being a good example in the household would convert her, but instead it's like she's regressing. Some shock therapy might be in order. Or maybe I have to buy her dinner or get her some flowers. Hell, I don't know, she's a woman.

So instead of spending my time trying to convert some of my friends, I now am going to have to buckle down and get the wife full engaged on the issue. Of course, she fears that we're going to become like some of these people whose only next step is to kill each other. I think we can do this without the divorce, but thanks for the confidence-builder, honey.

What I've Watched: Dear Zachary

Beyond just reviewing the movies I see, I am sometimes compelled to tell this audience that a movie is so important that you darn-near need to drop what you are doing and watch it. Dear Zachary is that kind of movie.
And it’s such a good movie that I don’t even want to discuss all the contents and plot of this documentary, because I fear that even a cursory discussion of the story would give away a crucial details. This is such an intimate story of six people (plus tons more outsiders) that you cannot help but be riveted by the developments as they progress.
All I can say is that when you are done seeing the movie (and not before), I encourage all of you to check out dearzachary.com and learn more about this family and their cause. It’s worth your time to see how this story unfolds.

Knowing a Bit of What I Do

It's not always easy to describe the mission and work of CFED, the organization I work for. Simply, we are all about asset building and helping low- and middle-income people find ways to create assets and eventually break the cycle of poverty that exists in this nation. One of the many ways we are attacking this nationwide problem is through promoting children's development accounts. We recently finished a 10-year pilot program across the nation showing how children's development accounts are a worthwhile and scalable effort to combat poverty. And instead of me talking about it, I will let the video do the talking.

What I've Read: Manhunt

I once read an article or watched a movie in which someone said something to the effect of, "I don't have time for fiction, history is thrilling enough." Now, I am not going to be so bold as that, but I have found that over the last few years I am more and more left fiction to the side and focused almost exclusively on nonfiction books. And to my surprise, I love it more and more as I read it.

The wife recently went on a book run for a trip, and when I asked her to pick me something up, she got Manhunt as the "Buy 2, Get 1 Free" deal. She normally avoids Civil War topics like the plague (bad life experiences for another story at another time) and so I gladly snatched it from her. First off, the book was based primarily in DC, and second, it was all about the frantic hunt for John Wilkes Booth and his accomplices after the assassination of President Lincoln. Being an unabashed fan of nonfiction written like a thriller, I was instantly enamored with the book.

Besides recommending it for those with a love of history with lots of theatrics and twists and turns, the book's indelible mark left on me was it's subtle commentary of history keeping. I was amazed at how much detail Swanson was able to unearth about the time and the manhunt, primarily because everyone kept letters and journals and whatnot. Might seem trivial at first read, but the idea that we live in a society in which everyone e-mails, texts, twitters, blogs and makes phone calls.

I wonder if anything beyond books and newspapers will stand a hundred years from now to record events in people's lives. We don't live in a world where everyone keeps things and remembrances of the happenings in their lives, and if the day comes when someone wants to build family trees or get to know what their great-grandfather was like in the year 2009, what tools they will use unearth the facts and opinions of that person if they were not written about in a major publication. I guess it makes me also consider that this blog might be one of the only existing memories of my life decades from now. Maybe this is way too serious/existential/deep/whatever of a question for me to answer right now, but Manhunt gave me both a wonderful education into the lives of a great president and the men who conspired and killed him. But it also made me consider how we record the events of our lives in this age where newspapers are dying, celebrated memoirs are found to be falsified and too many people facebook or twitter about what they are eating at a given moment.

I'll be thinking of this as I continue eating my bagel. Just so you know.

Not Forgetting About DC (cont.)

I guess I should rename this post series "Screwed in DC" or something along those lines. I may be technically moving to Maryland, but my love for DC does end even if my new house is three blocks from the district line. One thing I will be gaining, however, is adequate representation. Well, adequate may be saying a lot until I get to know the local laws and such, but it's probably at any point going to be better than the crap treatment I've gotten in DC. And making matters worse, it now looks like DC is screwed for the foreseeable future thanks to those "patriots" in the gun lobby. After yet another shooting in DC (this time it got more play nationwide because it was at the Holocaust museum and not just a teenager that the media senselessly ignores), you'd think we'd start addressing the gun problem. Oh, who am I kidding?

My Good Deed ... Sort Of

So I set off this morning to do a good deed for the day, and my mom (as if on cue) came right in with a solid. She forwarded me this e-mail about how telemarketers at the end of month were going to start blasting my cell phone with sales pitches, text messages and pretty much making it impossible to keep my iPhone's battery stable for more than 5 hours at a time.

I took the e-mail's advice and called the Do Not Call registry (888-382-1222) and registered my cell phone. Luckily, it only takes about 30 seconds and was super easy to do, so go for it if you wish. Of course, it was soon after when my good deed got put in its place.

I forwarded the e-mail to the wife and her mother, thinking I was being the good husband/son-in-law. For some reason, however, I was blanking completely on the fact that the wife works for the same government agency that handles this stuff. I was quickly reminded that, according to said agency's website: "You may have received an email telling you that your cell phone is about to be assaulted by telemarketing calls as a result of a new cell phone number database; however, that is not the case. Federal Communications Commission regulations prohibit telemarketers from using automated dialers to call cell phone numbers."

1) It doesn't hurt to have me cell phone registered, so that's fine.

2) This is what I get for trusting my mother with technology. I know better than this. It took me two hours just to get her to understand how to work an mp3 player.

Feel The Rush

I've not posted anything in a couple days, but don't you worry, I am going to go nuts on this space soon. Every day I find about 4 more things to write about, and I just have not had time yet to get it all out of me, but I am about to go out of town where I should have some free time to start writing about some eco projects, family updates, moving madness, book and movie reviews and much. I know you all are missing me, so have no fear, The Campbler shall return shortly. And with vigor. Yes, I used the word vigor.

Playing the 'Bullshit Card'

So many years ago, a buddy of mine Dave gave me a business card with a simple word on it, "bullshit." I still have it, and I like to throw it out on a table when the occasion arrives that calls for it.

Well, walking around DC the over the weekend, I caught glimpse of the new Remy Martin ad campaign. Called, "Things are Getting Interesting" the campaign should more appropriately be called "Guys, buy our liquor and maybe you'll get in a threesome or watch some lesbian action you didn't have to order online." OK, maybe that title is a tad long, but still, it works.

Looking at the two ads, it's comical and sad all at once. I know many people claim about getting beer goggles or drinking liquid courage, but this was going far past that. Remy Martin is now touting that it's cognac can make miracles happen. Sorry, I'm not buying it. Sadly, instead of making me want to buy a case of the stuff, all this does is piss me off of how the had not-so-subtly implies that all we have to do is get some women drunk and we can get them to do anything.

So I'm laying down the bullshit card. Right after the wife finishes this bottle of cognac.

Empty Shelves

At first glance, you'd think this was Kelly's fridge. But it's actually mine. The wife and I had a few problems with our fridge and so we had to completely empty it and defrost the sucker. Meant we lost a lot of good food, which was a shame. Among the victims was a jar of my favorite BBQ sauce from Kentucky, a jar of homemade apple butter from the wife's grandmother, two solid bottles of wine, some rhubarb that I was hoping the wife would make into a pie for me, and a bunch of other stuff. A rough time. But at least for the next 36 hours I can revel in what it's like to live Kelly's life. But then again, he at least has some condiments and a container of butter. Oh, and usually a half-jug of water. So he's got that going for him.

And So It Begins: Vindication!?!

Kelly has gotten some mileage with Dan and I about UK's new coach and his potential troubles. Luckily, now that more of the facts have come out and people have chilled out a bit, it looks like us in UK Land might be OK. Not sure yet, but might is better than where we were a couple weeks ago. And this is coming from Bilas, who has never been high on UK, since he's all about the ACC and all about Digger Phelps' jock.

Can We Get Some Justice?

There is no denying that I am staunchly against the death penalty. There is nothing good about state-sanctioned killing of its own citizens. I just don't believe. Plus, you take the data saying that a disproportionate number of death row inmates are black versus the crimes they commit and you can see some eerie signs that it's a racist system. Add in that it costs more to kill a death row inmate that keep them in prison for life without parole and I'm sold. States all across the country are putting moratoriums on the death penalty (sadly, Kentucky is not one of them) and we're with some very poor company (Iran, China, Saudi Arabia) in terms of other countries that still practice the death penalty. So briefly, wrapping up, I don't like the death penalty and think we should bag it altogether.

But in the world in which we live that has not happened yet, and where I am most concerned about it is in cases like Troy Davis. His execution date has not yet been set, but he is on death row and he really only has one chance left, which is a petition currently in front of the Supreme Court. I won't get into all the details, because these two columnists lay it out there sufficiently enough. What I do know is that after reading more and more about the case, I have serious doubts about this guy's guilt, which means the idea of our highest court upholding his execution makes me really effing angry. Yes, he may actually be guilty, but there are a ton of people who are equally having serious doubts, and I think it's time this man had a better shot at justice. I hope the Court allows the hearing of new evidence, because in no "civilized" nation should our government be killing people who are (potentially) innocent.