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Do you ever remember hearing about how, per unit area, spider silk is stronger than steel? I can't measure tensile strength here at home, but I was just powerwashing outside and this spideweb took the full blast of the pressurized water... multiple times. The washer stripped the paint off of shingles, but couldn't take out the spider web. That's pretty cool.

Is George W. Bush really an idiot? It's debateable, of course. There's all those great Bushisms, but then I recently read that his IQ is above average. Jon Stewart has said he doesn't think Bush is dumb at all. The president went to Yale and Harvard B-school, though he rode his family's name right through the admissions process. However, it's pretty hard to shake the idea that W. isn't the sharpest tool in the shed (whether he's a tool of any kind, I'll leave that up to you). Bush's intellectual capacity was the biggest strike against him in 2000, in my book. I didn't really have anything resembling political ideology at the time, but I didn't want an idiot running the country. The idea that you'd vote for president based on "he's is a regular guy, someone I'd like to have a beer with," makes me cringe. Back in 2000, there was the argument that Bush would bolster his mental shortcomings and inexperience with a cadre of intelligent, professional advisors. You would be voting for a committee headed up by a guy who loved Jesus and didn't cheat on his wife, and that was what was important. Well, Matthew Yglesias writes today that the brains-thing is important. These are, of course, dangerous times. Moral clarity is only as good as the positive results it steers one towards. Fighting global terrorism, Islamicism [which is an ideology, not a religion], and facing state-based foreign policy issues requires an ability to understand very complicated ideas; declaring someone evil and then carpet bombing really hasn't gotten us too far (quite the contrary, I'd argue). Then there's domestic policy... Check out that article if you're so inclined. Calling the president an idiot may be shrill, but there really is a case to be made for electing a leader who can hold more than one thought in his head at a time.

Did you find yourself skimming, then eventually ignoring, this overly verbose Cry for Help about our trip to the Pats game? Does the sight of more than three paragraphs make you close your browser window faster than [something fast]? Well then you're in luck, as Em has illustrated our experience in visually pleasing drawings with a minimal word-count. Click here to check it out. I think she did an awesome job. Leave your thoughts in the comments!

I was feeling ready for a little change, so A Cry for Help has gone green. What do you think? I'll probably make one of those "Change the stylesheet" links soon, that way you can pick your color scheme if you're so inclined. Don't hold your breath, though, I get to these things when I get to them.

The Democratic Republic of Embilia has been having a bit of an environmental problem, as it's been known for its barren, inhospitible landscapes for quite some time now. Our national animal, the ring-tailed lemur, teetered on the brink of extinction due to widespread deforestation. Luckily, we in Embilia's enormous government have turned things around and our very large, socially progressive nation, is becoming renowned for its burgeoning Ring-Tailed Lemur population! And all it cost the citizens was a modest 2% increase in the tax rate (which, of course, is much higher for the wealthy) to 35%. Meanwhile, Steve is proud of his complete lack of income tax, so his people can keep more of their money (which they are subsequently murdered for).

Wow did last night suck. So en route to the Pats game, via the train from Providence, we had a slight change of plans. After a series of poor decisions, traffic-wise, Em and I were really pushing the clock to get a bite to eat and make the 6:20 train. We hit up the Union Station Brewery and then planned on walking over to the train station. That was actually a good plan, but due to a surprisingly crowded restaurant and our inclination to take it slow and enjoy the very excellent Golden Spike Ale they brew there, we decided not to rush just to catch the train. No problem, we most likely wouldn't have wanted to stay through the whole game anyway, as it was pre-season (thus the B-team takes over after a quarter or two). After killing our drinks, and the tasty spicy thai chicken skewers, we hit the highway for the short ride up to Foxboro. I figured there's be some traffic, but having never been up there for a game I had no idea there was three miles of traffic! Adding to our growing frustration was the fact that, unknown to Em or I, there is no free parking at Gilette stadium, and after sitting in the traffic we were relieved of $35 on the way into the massive, gigantic parking area (the paved parts were full, so we got the dirt lot). Getting everything together to head up into the stadium, Em grabbed an umbrella because we knew the rain was on its way. Approaching the stadium we hear the sounds of the game getting underway, we were later than I had anticipated. Then we hit the security "clump." I think there were supposed to be lines, but it was just a sweaty mass of people, not a few of whom were piss-drunk. In another little surprise twist, women and men have separate lines to go through, and though Em had no problem with a guy checking her for explosives, she was forced to head to the other end of the gate to enter in the female line. When we met up inside, she was sans umbrella, which they confiscated as a security threat. And by confiscated I really mean "thrown in a trash bin." So now we have nasty traffic, unexpected and exorbitant parking fees, a less than thrilling close encounter with a throng of NFL fans, and to top it off a lost umbrella (at least it wasn't raining, though). Now, I'm not sure how to say this and not come off like a total ass, but the stereotypical football fan is not the type of person I like being surrounded by. Between the falling-down drunkeness and the borderline-comical trashiness of my fellow fans, we were not having a good time. So we make our way to the seats, which thankfully I didn't pay for ($75 a piece?! Hell no. I won't even pay that at Fenway). Since our seats are in the middle of the row, about five people had to rise to let us into the sections interior seats. The last guy to get up fell over (yeah, onto the ground!), in slow motion. Gah. At least the view was cool, and we only missed about three minutes of action. And it was a beautiful night. Em, trooper that she is, was wearing a smile despite smoldering anger over being divested of her umbrella. Three plays later, the skies opened up. I thought perhaps it would be a quick shower, moving through and letting up. I was wrong. With everything going badly (did I mention $7 for a Bud Light? After I just had an amazing microbrew?), we decided to cut our losses and just leave. A quick trip to the liquor store would fix our ruined night in a jiff. Walking out, we managed to recover Em's umbrella from a bin piled high with discarded "security risks," and I even managed to grab one for myself to keep dry on the long walk back to what was quickly becoming a mud pit. Hey, at least there wasn't any traffic on the way out! And we did get to see the first touchdown thrown by the world champions this year. The moral of the story? The best seat you can have at a Patriots game is the one in front of your home television.

Is it football season already? Wow. The Patriots begin their Championship defense season with an exhibition game tonight. And I'm going. Unexpectedly, a pair of tickets came my way via my old boss, so Em and I are heading up to Gilette Stadium in Foxboro tonight for the game. I'm suped, I've never been there before, and the only time I've seen the Pats play was in New Orleans back in 1998. We're taking the train up from Providence as to avoid the famous Route 1 traffic, so it should be a good time. I should have pictures later, if you all are good.

A couple choice quotes from today's ProJo about the aforementioned casino debate. Narragansett Chief Sachem Matthew Thomas: "The people really want to vote on this issue, and to deny the people the right to vote on this issue that has been in the forefront for 14 years would be the crime of the millennium. It would just be unfathomable." Nineteen men hijack airplanes, murder 3,000 people and cause billions of dollars in damage, and yet not allowing people to vote on an unconstitutional referendum would be the crime of the millenium? Yikes. Supreme Court opinion: "If we were to sit idly by while an unconstitutional question was submitted to the voters, only to later issue a binding decision declaring the Casino Act and the referendum question void, chaos might well ensue." The great casino riots of 2004? Oh, if only people got that riled up about elections. So now that this is dead, we should only have another couple days or so of this ridiculousness. Then we can go back to debating inflatable gorillas...

Is it dead yet? Rhode Island has been grappling with the issue of whether to allow Harrah's and the Narragansett Indians to build a resort style casino in the state. This has been going on, in various incarnations, for years, but this year was especially notable. The Narragansett Indians, fresh off of an ugly confrontation with the RI State Police over cheap cigarettes, renewed their push to get a Foxwoods of their own in West Warwick (central RI). The state legislature is strongly behind the casino, but Governor Carcieri is strongly opposed. This set up a nice little debate, with no shortage of overheated rhetoric, between the Narragansetts, the lege and the governor. In Rhode Island, any new expansion of gambling in the state has to be approved by the voters in a statewide referendum. This was the year that the question was finally going to go on the ballot, after lawmakers rammed it through, then overrode the Gov's veto. Carcieri then went to court to question whether or not Harrah's ownership of the casino would be constitutional (in RI, the constitution says that only the state may run "lotteries"). All the while, pro-Casino folks demand that "the people should decide" in a vote. Today, in what may be the final story (this year, at least) of the Casino saga, some activist judges did what the Republicans wanted them to (heehee, sorry, couldn't resist) and removed the question from the ballot as it was deemed unconstitutional. Phew. I didn't want a casino in RI. There's a ton of arguments on both sides, which I won't go into for fear of a too-long post, but no way did I want to see Harrah's moving next door. Unfortunately, this is not over, and there'll probably be some movement next January on amending the constitution. Some people wanted to have the vote so that the whole project could be rejected once and for all, but I was much less optomistic about the results of the election. But at least, for the time being, RI is saved from a multi-million dollar campaign and an all around bad deal. Connecticut should thank us as our working poor and convention visitors will continue to funnel tons of money to their state. I wish I had been following this story more closely here, so that you wouldn't have to just read this jumbled and simplistic post, but thems the breaks. Sorry. Cliffs Notes: no Casino in RI... for now.

When I was younger, my Nana lived in South Providence off of Narragansett Boulevard and on Saturdays the whole family would get together there. My Papa (grandfather) owned a bar near Rhode Island hospital, and Nana would make sandwiches and meatballs for the bar, which would have to be delivered before lunch time. I always loved going with my mom to bring the Saturday haul up Allen's Ave and over to the bar (my Papa would let me run behind the bar and choose a bag of chips or cheez doodles). One of the highlights of that trip was seeing the giant rooster outside Solitto's Liquor store. It was at least four times my size at the time and strangely magical. The Rooster is still there, brought outside every morning (except, a few years back when it was stolen. The police recovered the giant bird a few weeks later). Unfortunately, instead of just being a bizarre and memorable landmark, the Rooster now doubles as a jingoistic bulletin board: Since the divisive run-up to the Iraq War, Solitto's Rooster has displayed that simple-minded, unpatriotic phrase. I don't know the mind of the owner, but in that mostly lower-class immigrant neighborhood that message could be construed as a double shot of right-wing nationalism (ie anti-immigrant as well as fearful of reasoned dissent). It's pretty sad that such a great childhood memory is now linked with the ugliness of current political atmosphere.

Oh Daily Show, why?! WHY?! I understand little Rhode Island is an easy target, but, contrary to your assertion in the segment on Nader's ballot aspirations, we have FOUR electoral votes, not three. What do you think we are, Wyoming?! What's that? Not watching the Daily Show?! Why do you hate America?

Erynne IMs me from her island hideaway with a couple good links: Then there's this one, too. I love when friends send these weird stories along, I never seem to include the odd news in my browsing. Thanks, E! UPDATE: from Erynne's non-Cry for Help reading sister, a cartoon.