Gentle Reader -- You are welcome to peruse my web-based journal. I assure you that my contributions to this medium will be both infrequent and inconsequential. Read on!

THE NIGHTMARE WEDDING . . .

Will be continued shortly. Been in NYC all weekend, got to be in court SO early tomorrow morning (and SO far away . . . ).



posted by Carlton at 10:20 PM

WEDDED BLISS

So, I went to the wedding of Miss X this weekend, so she is now Mrs. X, I suppose. It was really a beautiful event, and the party thereafter was a good time for all. Everyone was joyous and optimistic, as they should have been. The bride was beautiful, and her groom was handsome, and both comported themselves very well.

I met some nice people who are Mrs. X's friends: I think my favorite new person was a Ms. Picklefryer, with whom I danced a bit. Later, I was refused a dance by another young woman on the grounds that we were not married -- but it was a hilarious misunderstanding. I also saw Nichole, who occasionally contributes to this space, whom I had not seen in forever and who looked great! That's a good wedding. It's also a boring story, so I will substitute another one in its place -- see below! (See I'm posting out of order, so that these posts will read in their proper order . . . like anyone cares, ok.) posted by Carlton at 10:29 PM

THE NIGHTMARE WEDDING

The worst wedding I ever attended was near Fort Payne, Alabama, a town that has two claims to fame: 1) it is the home of country music supergroup *Alabama*, and 2) it bills itself as "The Sock Capital of the World" (They have a number of textile mills there, which make, I guess, socks).

I attended this wedding with my friend Anna Marie, who was at that time a law student in New Orleans. She was in a study group (I think) with the groom of this wedding, but was still somewhat surprised when he asked her to the wedding. She agreed to go, for whatever reason. When she asked me if I would go with her, I agreed to go, for whatever reason.

We rode to the wedding in Anna Marie's red Ford Ranger pickup. She drove, and I read the directions. Off of a two lane state highway, we turned onto a smaller road into a state park. After driving in the state park, we turned off onto a dirt road, and recognized by passing a sign that we entered something calling itself a "dude ranch." Finally we arrived at the wedding site: not a church, but a structure in the middle of a dirt clearing that billed itself as a "wedding chapel". It was made of wood, and about the size of a house trailer. If memory serves me correctly, the chapel stood two feet off the ground on brick columns. The wedding was at about three in the afternoon.

The entire wedding party was standing in the dirt parking lot, as there was no place to go except into the chapel, and no one seemed ready to do so. There were about twenty of us all told. The men wore everything from suits and ties (me, and another law school attendee), to black cowboy shirts and jeans. Hats and boots were in evidence. The women wore light-colored dresses and heels. We were surrounded by pine trees. (A dirt clearing in the woods in Alabama -- makes you wonder what went on there at night . . . )

The groom was about thirty-eight years old, black-haired, bearded, talking on a cell phone. He had been a preacher for several years before quitting both his career and his wife and turning to the law. The bride was a tall blonde of about the same age who had a beauty that was not so much faded as hardened -- I fancied that she had experienced a rough life. More than anything, she seeemed tired, resigned to her circumstances, hoping to get it all over with. I don't think I saw her crack a smile the entire day. She, too, had been married before.

The wedding dress was a story in itself. I was told that the groom had contributed to the look of the dress that his first bride wore. Not to be outdone, his second bride had insisted, by God, that he was going to design her dress, which he did. This fellow was not a dress designer. He had had the dress made in Mexico, while he was on a semester abroad -- and he didn't speak Spanish, and didn't have his bride there to measure.

It was all white, of course, too big for her in the top and too tight in the bottom. Large portions of the bodice (?) were made of material that was sheer in varying degrees, with only a small amount of truly opaque material to cover the bride's not insubstantial bosom. This had two effects: 1) it allowed the casual observer to see a lot of her body, and 2) prevented her from wearing a bra or other undergarment. Since the top of the dress was too big, she couldn't take a step without jongulating in her dress and flashing the world. The bottom of this dress . . . someone should have said something. It had a long train and was open in the front -- the two edges of the skirt came together in a lacy meeting -- where? "It's cut up too her crotch," I heard the groom say into the phone to a family member who couldn't attend. I could see the bride's underwear, which was also white. She stood in the middle of this parking lot, afraid to move, one arm clasped about her chest to hold her breasts in place, the other holding her train out of the dirt and in front of her white-clad privates..

More later . . . posted by Carlton at 10:21 PM

SEARCH RESULTS

I'll write a bit about the wedding later. Meanwhile, I'd like to point out that a search for "Carlton King" in Google turns up this. posted by Carlton at 6:40 PM

AN ACTUAL READER RESPONSE

I too was at the show at the Middle East. and heard the song about 911. But un like you I was up lifted and inspired by what she was saying “I found the victor in me" " the beauty of liberty." It's true that such a profound event can't be condensed in one song but just like human emotion and life drama, songwriters have the right to express their feelings on an event. And we as the public are allowed to have our opinions. Although you do make a good argument, you sound like a frustrated songwriter or maybe there’s a creative person that wants to come out in you. why don’t you try your hand at song writing or throwing clay maybe you’d be a happier person. I find that most people that are hypercritical are very un happy and they like to make everyone else unhappy with them. Maybe you should examine why you feel so threatened by other people creativity and expression of ideas?

-Gentle Reader


I don't think I was making an argument at all, actually, just expressing my irrefutable subjective assessment of the show. Probably the larger problem was simply that the music was simply "not my bag." I commend the young songstress for getting a band together and putting on a decent show. I don't think I am hypercritical -- although I like to think I am critical, in the good sense. I didn't care for the song.

While I will never be a songwriter, I agree with GR -- I probably would be happier with a creative outlet. Maybe haiku? posted by Carlton at 11:12 AM

SMALL WORLD

Let me say this all in one breath: My friend Marcia who lives in Santa Barbara, California has a friend whose father is a history professor at Vanderbilt. The friend's father is engaged to be married this summer to a history/Women's Studies professor at the University of Southern Mississippi, Marjorie Spruill (formerly Marjorie Spruill Wheeler).
Ain't that a kick in the pants? (Not if you didn't go to USM and take classes from Marjorie, I guess.) posted by Carlton at 3:11 PM

THE IMPENDING NUPTIALS OF MISS X

In case anyone is interested, I wanted to announce that I will shortly be attending the wedding of Miss X, the ex-girlfriend with whom I had my on-the-blog argument about whether or not I would attend her wedding. Looks like fun! I'll report anything interesting that occurs. posted by Carlton at 2:57 PM

PART OF MY PROBLEM

I have this deeply embedded drive to do something with my life. Can somebody help me get rid of this? Isn't it enough that I've gone to school and done well and found myself a good job? Why do I have to be bothered with the thought that I am not doing anything important, that I am not creating anything or making anyone's life even a little bit better?

I'm a nice, smart fellow, occasionally charming. I have friends and loved ones. I am engaged and reasonably knowledgable about the world around me. I expect to be a net gain to the society that produced me, generating more resources than I consume. Perhaps I will reproduce, perhaps not. Then I expect to die and, regardless of what happens to "me" thereafter, I do not expect the world to trouble itself much about me other than to clean up the mess that is my corporeal remains.

Why do I have to want to do something more than this? Why can't I just enjoy my life while it lasts? posted by Carlton at 2:54 PM

IT'S FOR REAL

Up till now, I've had a hard time taking this "unlawful combatant" situation seriously. In law school, we spend semesters learning about the Constitution, what the government can and cannor do to the individual, all about the types of scrutiny that the Supreme Court will apply to different types of social or criminal regulation, and how the Court will strike down attempts by the other branches to overreach their Constitutional powers. It's enough to get one used to the idea that there is a system of rules that everyone will follow, a system that is inefficient and inaccurate but which operates to protect the rights of the individual and help government work for us, at least by giving everyone some idea of what is and is not permissable. What this schooling leaves one totally UNPREPARED to accept is that the whole system can suddenly go off the rails at any moment, and that this intricate network of precedent and convention and legislation only operates at the indulgence of the people that hold the reins of power. Are we heading off the rails? Is the Bill of Rights something that we can no longer afford to honor? I hope that's not the case.

Are we watching the transformation from Roman Republic to Roman Empire? posted by Carlton at 4:57 PM

JUST SAY NO

As a distraction from all the perfectly awful stuff in the news these days, I include as a public service my own personal anti-drug message.

This is a true story, in that it happened to a friend of a friend.

This guy (we'll call him Dave, since I've forgotten his real name) lived in a section of Boston called Jamaica Plain, or JP. One of the local characters in JP is this guy who drives the "Jesus Van", a van covered with "Jesus Saves" and "Repent" stickers and insignia. It is very recognizable, and is often seen parked in different parts of JP.

One night, Dave was walking home from a late-night laundromat, carrying two gigantic duffle bags full of his clean laundry. The local laundomat was a hike from Dave's apartment, so he always waited until every last article of his clothing was dirty before he went a-washing. On his way home, Dave saw the Jesus Van parked on the street. Intrigued, he approached it and tried the door. The Jesus Van was unlocked. Further intrigued, Dave decided to climb into the Jesus Van and explore. There was a lot of interesting stff in the van, religious pamphlets, more stickers, some evangelical tapes, etc. Dave looked through all this stuff.

Then, Dave had a great idea. Wouldn't it be great to smoke a bowl in the Jesus Van? Dave had a supply with him, and did so. Then he went home, ate something, and went to bed.

What Dave realized the next morning was that he had left the two gigantic duffle bags of his laundry in the Jesus Van. All of his clothes were gone. Even if he could locate the Jesus Van and its owner (it was no longer where he had seen it the night before), how could he ask for his clothes? ("Sorry man, I broke into your van and smoked some weed and I need my clothes back.")

In addition to not having any clothes, Dave didn't have any money. He ended up buying a 3-pack of V-neck undershirts at K-mart and wearing them for 3 weeks until his next paycheck came through. The shirts got all sweaty and stained and yucky, and all Dave's friends made fun of him.

So kids, here's the message: smoking dope will make you lose all your clothes and look bad. You'll do dumb stuff and people will make fun of you. Don't believe what you see on *The Osbournes*. Also, you shouldn't break into people's vans. And you should do your laundry as often as possible. posted by Carlton at 8:30 PM

THE OTHER THREAT

Officials said the plot had not advanced beyond the discussion stage. Al Muhajir has not been charged with any crime. He is being held at the Consolidated Naval Brig in Charleston, South Carolina, apart from the regular brig population

Others have expressed their concern about this much more eloquently than I can. Still, I don't think it can be said often enough: this person is an American citizen. He may or may not have committed a crime (conspiracy, perhaps -- certainly not the substantive crime of making or setting off a bomb).

Evidently, this administration thinks that it can declare anyone it wants to question to be an "enemy combatant" and hold them indefinitely in a military prison. Maybe tomorrow, I'll be declared an enemy combatant. When they come for me, and I request my lawyer, the soldiers will say to me, "We don't want to try you or punish you. We just want to find out what you know." That will be a comfort.

What a PR blunder! It's pretty clear that the government released news of this man in order to make it clear they are making progress in the fight against terror. At the same time, the details of this man's imprisonment are really disturbing to anyone who is concerned about the state of our civil liberties.

An important rule to follow: If you are going to do bad stuff, you don't tell anyone about it. The current administration practically invented this rule. Funny they should forget it now.

posted by Carlton at 10:17 AM

THREAT UPDATE

All is well. I worked for a while and left without incident. I returned to work this morning to find an intact office building, not a smoking pile of rubble. That's good -- I was worried about my office plants. posted by Carlton at 8:49 AM

THREAT

So they tell us that my office building has received a bomb threat, and that we can leave if we want to. It's a sad commentary on the state of my life that I'd rather stay in my office and work.

My theory is that buildings that receive bomb threats don't get bombed. We'll see how this pans out. posted by Carlton at 5:41 PM

A BOLD STATEMENT

Every song that had been written about September 11 up to this moment sucks. I haven't heard them all, of course, but I've heard at least a couple. They sucked. I'd love to hear one that doesn't. Put all these songs on a 3-CD box set and seal it in a time capsule buried in whatever memorial they eventually build to the tragedy. We won't miss them.

Last night I went out to hear a couple of bands downstairs at the Middle East in Cambridge. Ms. Berks has a coworker who played in the first (very rockin') band, whose name I have inconveniently forgotten. The second band was this woman named Annette Farrington (and ensemble), who was in the "I'm going to sing a couple of songs about death and the ultimate futilty of everything, and then I'm going to bring the mood down a little" mode. She, of course, had a song about September 11. I think it was right before the one about the deaths of her parents.
It didn't do anything for me.

Why are these songs all so bad? I have some ideas:

1. Everyone who writes songs thinks they need to write "the September 11 song". Since there are a lot of people out there writing crummy songs anyway, nonstop, all the time, a lot of these songs will be pretty bad. People should write them, of course --- but, like the poems you wrote in the seventh grade when your two-week girlfriend dumped you, they should be put aside and not shown to anyone.

2. September 11 is not the kind of thing that is able to be encapsulated in a pop song. There aren't any good songs (that I know of ) about JFK's assasination, about the Holocaust, about the Vietnam War (as a war). These subjects are just too big. Pop songs are best at capturing small moments, relationships between individuals, not gigantic national tragedies with worldwide consequences. There are lots of songs about people who were affected by these big events -- just not any good songs about the events themselves.

3. These songwriters are trying too hard. Identification of a song with a tragedy most often happens by accident -- like that "Superman" song that ebveryone was playing over footage of firemen and policemen, or "I Will Remember You" with Columbine. (As an aside, I thought Sarah McG was foolish not to allow her song to be associated with Columbine, since people are almost certainly going to be talking about Columbine long after she has exited the scene -- think about the royalties!) You can't make it happen. None of the great songs we associate with WWII are about WWII, for example, they just reflect a prevalent mood at the time.

OK -- caveat time. I don't write songs -- in fact, I don't do anything creative at all. Yes, I'm being critical of creative people. But hey, I know what I like.

posted by Carlton at 12:01 PM

OUT THE OTHER END

I survived the race. It was actually pretty fun. I'm going to call my brother (a runner) tomorrow and tell him, "hey, I ran a race!" I'm a little proud of myself. I am also plum tuckered. I don't think I will be able to walk tomorrow.

I probably have something else to say about something of more weight, but I am so tired I think my eyeballs are going to fall out. ZZZZZZZ.

posted by Carlton at 10:37 PM

CORPORATE CHALLENGE

So, I'm about to go and participate (I won't say 'compete') in this thing called the Corporate Challenge. A bunch of us (hundreds, I'm told) downtown workers are going to run 3.5 miles, from the Common down to Kenmore Square and back (for you local-geography buffs out there). I'm not much of a runner -- those of you who knew me in college may wonder if I'm ANY kind of a runner. I have been on the treadmill quite a bit this spring, and according to its readout I have been running about 3.2 miles pretty consistently, at a mild incline.

But you know . . . running in FRONT of my coworkers . . . in the RAIN . . . I'm starting to reconsider this whole enterprise. Unfortunately, we leave in about 10 minutes, so my reconsidering time is limited. Hopefully this will be merely miserable and not miserable and embarassing.

And Greg -- you're getting way too hot under the collar for a chat-room exchange. Trust me, you will never get satisfaction, even if you were unjustly accused. posted by Carlton at 5:41 PM

GREG'S BLOG

. . . is worth reading. Here's a link. posted by Carlton at 9:54 PM

CONFESSIONS

For the first time ever in my whole life, it has occurred to me that there might be some merit in moving back to Mississippi. By Mississippi, of course, I mean Hattiesburg, the Hub City, the 'Patch, home of Seymour and the U of SM. Additionally, of course, it is the home of my parents and my brother. I miss my family, I confess it, and if they didn't live in such a god-forsaken wasteland of a place (where there isn't even a decent Italian restaurant, for the love of Pete!), I might take some steps to be closer to them.

I guess I'll just have to continue to miss them. posted by Carlton at 2:45 PM

THE RETURN OF CARLTON KING or
BORN TO BE MILD

Hey all. In case anyone was worried, I made it back from Nantucket A-OK. This was really one of the best vacations that I've had in a long time, since most of the trips I take on my down time involve a good deal of travel on either end to get where I'm going (Mississippi, for example, takes most of a stressful airport day each way). Nantucket was just super -- the house we rented turned out to be a really neat little bungalow about 3 miles out of town and close to the beaches on the southern part of the island. The group of us (me, Jennifer and Jason, Ms. Berks, Kathleen and Barak) all got along really well -- we seem to have struck a good mix for such outings.

We didn't have a car on the island, so we rented bikes and rode around -- one day doing a 20-mile (approximately) circuit of eastern Nantucket. Aside from that, it was a pretty tame few days. We purchased quite a bit of alcohol but much of it went undrunk (although one of us, who shall remain nameless, did drink enough to reach critical mass against the side of a building in Nantucket Town's quaint Old Port). As a group, we went to bed fairly early and got up at the crack of dawn. Other crazy events of the weekend included playing such games as 'Clue' and charades and putting together a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle. (We are some out-of-control folks, let me tell you.) I finished *The Secret Agent* and read the latest issues of *The New Yorker* and *The Atlantic Monthly* from cover to cover -- what luxury!

It was SO good to hang around with my friends for an unhurried period, I just can't quite express. Since graduation a year ago, so many of my law school pals have scattered to the four winds (much as my college friends have done -- it's good to get back in touch with you folks!), and those of us who are still here in Boston are pretty heavily scheduled. So . . . it was nice. Thanks for asking. posted by Carlton at 2:37 PM