MUST...WRITE...A...BLOG...ENTRY...(GASP)...MUST...REACH...MY...UTILIITY...BELT...

Got a few different topics to catch you up on, so I'll itemize them.

1. The resolution: We won, and we're not happy about it
2. I think I've found a place to call my karaoke home
3. My car accident
4. The subsequent letters from scumbag law firms about my accident

1. The resolution

Yes, Toledo is now one of the more than 200 cities/communities that have passed resolutions against the so-called "Patriot" Act. The problem is that they gutted the damn thing before they passed it. It got watered down so much that some of us held a press conference Monday to voice our disgust. The Blade ran articles Tuesday and Wednesday on the subject. The Tuesday article features a nice picture of yours truly and a few of my comrades. Check it out. Boy, don't we look pissed? Well, we were!

And so the shell of a resolution that remained got passed 10-2, which is a small, hollow victory for our side, but there remains much more work to be done. Now I'd like to see Toledo pass an ordinance, something with some substance, some teeth to it. The ultimate goal is to get the so-called "Patriot" Act and all other legislation like it thrown out and have the Bill of Rights restored!

2. Karaoke

Ever since my brief (one song) stint in Cleveland as lead singer of Pansy Division, I've been itching to get out and do some karaoke. Also Nick (bassist for Dirty Power) wants to form an all-lookalike band of big bald guys with goatees called Baldy and he's looking for a lead singer and a drummer, so I need to work on my singing. (That, or find a dirt-cheap set of drums and a tolerant neighborhood.)

After some investigation, I finally found a host site conducive to my location and work schedule. I plan to be a regular, so for those who, just in case, a few years from now, want to be able to tell everyone about how they were witness to Baldy lead singer Ducksoup's humble beginnings, you can, most likely, barring any unforseen circumstances, catch me at Mutz, 27 Broadway (the Oliver House) on Saturday nights starting around 9:30 or 10pm.

Given my vocal range, I think I do best with stuff like Pearl Jam or Staind, and last week I did okay with a couple of Weird Al ballads, but my current song of choice is Finger Eleven's "One Thing". I also need to explore my limits, though, so I'm ready to try just about any song I'm familiar with. But I promise not to shatter your eardrums. So please come cheer me on!

One query though: If I bill myself as my band, Eggs Danny Thomas Style, can I make my own band name list?

3. My car accident

Finally! Took me long enough, right? Hey, I needed time to gain some perspective on the whole experience. Bite me.

As far as the crash itself, there's really not much to tell. I hitched a ride home from work with a co-worker, she had a brain fart and accidentally (that's why they're called accidents) ran a red light, and we got t-boned on my side. Ouch.

As I said previously, there's nothing quite like riding shotgun, watching a pair of headlights approach from your side, knowing the car is going to t-bone you, knowing you're just a passenger, and knowing there's not a damn thing you can do about it. And all you can do is think to yourself, "Oh shit. This is going to be rather unpleasant." And then you brace for impact.

As it happens, I was in a Chrysler Fifth Avenue, a nice big tank of a car, and the other driver was in a compact. He had an airbag so he wasn't hurt. (But he was 85 and despite the roads being wet I'm not all that sure he really tried to slow down much, so it's too bad he wasn't faulted, or my co-worker and I would both be rolling into work in tight whips, baby! Bling bling!) Now, switch the cars around and I might not be sitting here typing this. But it's safe to say the tank I was in saved my life, so later that week, on Thanksgiving, I gave thanks to Chrysler for building it.

Immediately after impact, I had a very sore spot in my back around my right shoulder blade. Given my low threshold of pain, if something was broken I would be screaming my lungs out. And I've lost no mobility in any way. So I passed on visiting an emergency room. Some other sore spots came and went in the next week, the initial sore spot remains, but it's steadily getting better, save for a couple of times I've slept in the wrong position, so hopefully there are no long-term problems.

But I've saved my biggest sore spot for last...

4. Time for a mailbag segment! "Letters, oh we get letters, we get your letters every day..."

Let's see, what's in the ol' mailbag today...ooh, a big manila envelope, looks important.

It's not.

It's a fucking advertisement! From the law firm of Kalniz, Iorio & Feldstein. Seems they scoured the accident reports in the paper, saw me and my address listed and fired off this nice friendly insidious disgusting advertisement (I can tell it's an advertisement, you see, by the tiny little faintly stamped-in-red-ink "advertisement only" way at the bottom as per whatever regulations exist that say they have to stamp that on there somewhere however barely noticeable) with a nice friendly insidious disgusting suggestion: "SUE SUE SUE!"

"Go ahead, sue the crap out of your co-worker, who graciously offered you a ride home, went out of her way to do so, and showed the utmost concern for your well-being immediately after impact in spite of her own! Sue her kind thoughtful ass! Sue her even though she works the exact same job and the exact same hours and takes home the exact same crappy paycheck as you! Sue her even though your dear departed mother did not raise you that way. Don't listen to your mom, she's dead anyway. Listen to us. We know what's good for you. Never mind the fact that we're too damn lazy to go out and literally chase ambulances anymore."

Mind you, I was tempted to send it back with a nice friendly note of my own telling them just what I thought of their sickening little ad, but as my bro pointed out, that's like answering spam email. No need to confirm for them that there's a living body at this address who would surely just love to receive ten times more of stupid advertisements like this.

And in fact, I've received two more since then, specifically from Dzienny Law Offices, Ltd., and from the Law Offices of Douglas R. Price, Attorney At Law. All with the same nice friendly insidious disgusting advertising message. Why then, you must wonder, am I listing them here, along with their phone numbers?

Oops, did I forget to list their phone numbers? Sorry, my bad. Here ya go:

Kalniz, Iorio & Feldstein: 800-537-1954
Dzienny Law Offices: 877-255-7315
Douglas R. Price: 419-242-3540

Again, why am I listing them here? No reason. I mean, it's not like I'm encouraging everyone reading this to BOYCOTT THEM AND INUNDATE THEM WITH PHONE CALLS TELLING THEM WHAT SCUMBAGS THEY ARE FOR MAILING OUT THIS KIND OF CRAP. Because I'm sure those of you reading this who share my mindset on this subject will BOYCOTT THEM AND INUNDATE THEM WITH PHONE CALLS TELLING THEM WHAT SCUMBAGS THEY ARE FOR MAILING OUT THIS KIND OF CRAP without my encouragement. And if you do, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that if you first dial *67 it will block your phone number from them so they can't call you back.

And so as I sit here relieved that I've finally been able to write about all this stuff, I wonder, which will arrive next: the wave of mail advertisements from chiropractors, or the wave of mail advertisements from massage parlors?