Jesse Lou Bagget 1997?-2010

On Saturday, September 18, 2010 at approximately 2:20 pm EDST, Jesse Lou Bagget passed away from a lethal injection of anesthetic administered humanely at Hudson Highland Veterninary Hospital in Hopewell Junction, New York. Mr Bagget suffered from degenerative myelitis which had progressed to the point where he could no longer rise up on is own power and which caused him considerable suffering.

The circumstances of Mr Bagget's birth are shrouded in mystery. He first appeared to his ultimate adoptive family, the St Georges, as a fully adult dog in the summer of 1999 in Edith Welty Park in Yonkers, NY. Mr Bagget was a denizen of the park and the surrounding neighborhood in the Bryn Mawr section of Yonkers. He eluded dog catchers and would be adoptive families for over two years. He often joined neigborhood dogs and their families when they were on their walks in the park. He was particularly fond of Bob Geriak and his German shepherd Princess and would wait for them outside the Geriak apartment each morning.

In some parts of the neighborhood, Mr Bagget was known as Hobo. In others, he was Pal. He enjoyed the genersoity of many households who did not begrudge him table scraps. In the block where the St George family resided, he was known as Jesse. Mrs St George made a bed for Jesse on the porch for very cold nights and rainy weather, and it was to this bed that he retreated after being struck by a car and seriously injured. This led to his becoming the fourth dog in the St George household.

Mr Bagget was known for his dignity and good looks as well as his dog aggression and hatred of cats. He rose through the ranks as the St George dogs aged and passed away and assumed the position of alpha dog in 2003 on the passing of Sundance, the last of the beagles from the Washington, DC era. He governed Wm Jasper stone, a pit bull, who joined the family in 2003.

Mr Bagget is survived by WJ Stone, his underdog, and DA St George of Stormville, NY and Ellen St George of Jersey City, NJ.

Time to Get Over 9/11

Every year as September 11th approaches, Americans ramp up the ritual of narcissistic self pity about the terrorist attack on that date in 2001. I hear cries of "9/11 changed everything!" and "Never forget!" as if 9/11 actually changed anything and as if there were any possibility that it would be forgotten. Yes, the attacks on September 11, 2001 were terrible, and it is a pity that so many died, but let's try to have a little perspective.

Londoners in World War II endured rocket attacks and death and destruction without wallowing in bathos. Half of Europe experienced devastating bombings, and today little is made of it. Japan was nuked, for crying out loud, and the Japanese do not define themselves by their victimization. The Old World endured those monsters Stalin, Hitler and Mao with tens of millions dead and tens of millions more in agony. And yet life goes on and moves forward in a way that does not permit the monsters of the past to define the future or the present. Even today, there are places where suffering and death occur on a scale which renders 9/11 insignificant. Indeed, Americans have inflicted far greater suffering and death in their reaction to 9/11 on victims who had nothing to do with 9/11 than occurred on 9/11.

Where's our stiff upper lip? Why do we display such an obsession with 9/11 and surrender to a stupid eliminationist reaction? Is it because Americans are terrified? If so, the terrorists have achieved their aims.

Do you hate and fear Muslims now when before 9/11 you didn't even know they existed or didn't even give them a second thought? Then the terrorists have succeeded with you.

Are you ready to shred the Constitution and surrender your liberties for the illusion of security? Then the terrorists have succeeded with you.

Do you buy into the irrational notion that Islamist extremists pose an existential threat? Then they have you right where they want you. You are afraid of shadows.

9/11 changed nothing for me. I am not afraid. You should not be, either. Take a good long look at the figures in the media and in politics who stoke your fears. They are doing the terrorists' work; their interests are aligned with those of the terrorists. They want you afraid, because when you afraid you are stupid. And when you are stupid, you will support them. Don't be afraid; don't be stupid; don't let 9/11 change anything.

Bermuda

I just got home from a seven day cruise to Bermuda. My traveling companion was my 14 year old nephew. Actually, "companion" is not really an appropriate word, since I rarely saw him. He was off with the teen club and his new friends whenever he could. The NCL cruises are great for parents who don't want to see their kids much.

Basically, I was a single traveler on a cruise with no particular facilities or activities for adult singles, so I had to put some effort into enjoying myself. And enjoy myself I did. I spent a small fortune in the spa and racked up an epic bar bill. Gambling accounted for a few hundred bucks, and it was money well spent. I managed to find dance partners most of the time. On two evenings I had dates with women I met on the ship. Alas, there was no Love Boat happy ending where Gopher brings the star crossed lovers together.

I was delighted with the service and the friendliness of the crew. I met a lot of nice people who let me hang around with them. My only complaint would be that most of the passengers were of a lower social class than I am accustomed to hanging around with, so many of them were loud and obnoxious and whiny and constantly complaining about everything. I wanted to throw them overboard.

I don't think I'll take a cruise as a single person again unless it's explicitly a "Singles' Cruise".

Masochism

I've been on the road a lot and keeping busy with divers activities and lessons and dating, and I have neglected to blog. I haven't had much of interest to relate besides dating horror stories and discovering that huckleberry infused vodka with lemonade is EVIL. I have done some soul searching, though, and think I have made a breakthrough that might be interesting to my reader.

My query to myself has been "what kind of fool stays in a relationship in which he is mistreated and disrespected"? A further line of inquiry is "and what kind of fool does it again and again"? A partial answer is that I believed the objects of my devotion when they suggested that I didn't deserve any better and that I couldn't do any better than them. But I am coming to realize that the problem is rooted in the nature of courting as I learned it and some deeper issues that I need to address.

Southern gentlemen press a kind of courtly, chivalric suit with unreserved and enthusiastic expressions of interest and flattery directed at women who are expected to appear to be indifferent. Or at least that's how it always seemed to me to be the way it was supposed to work. There was nothing more attractive to me than indifference (except perhaps outright hostility). Indifference was a sure sign of a lady's merit. She was not supposed to show any sign of interest until I had spent ages showering her with my devotion and practicing every charm I could muster, and then it would be most reluctantly bestowed.

So from youth, I always pursued females who did not like me and ignored those who did (assuming ad arguendo that such females existed). If they did like me, they would have to be unavailable in order to be attractive. In high school, I had some very close female friends as a result of this but very few dates. When I had girlfriends, I liked them more than they liked me, and I ignored the obvious "enthusiasm gaps" that should have foreshadowed the inevitable painful breakups.

I persisted in this throughout college and law school. I had lovers who were exceedingly selfish and inconsiderate of me. The higher maintenance, the better it must have seemed to me. I passed on many lovely young women (I was a catch at one time) who would have adored me in favor of cold and indifferent women who, in retrospect, cared nothing for me.

At first, my ex-wife was a break in the pattern for me. She pursued me relentlessly for months, and I was not attracted to her as a result. It was only when I got to know her and discovered that she was relatively unaffectionate and withholding that I realized that I had to have her. And the more she grew to despise me, the more I loved her. You can imagine that my love for her reached its zenith as she was walking out on me.

Tragic and stupid, huh? How do I break this pattern? I don't want to end up with another high maintenance, withholding and contemptuous lover, but I fear that I will be drawn to just such a woman like a moth to a flame. Perhaps the nature of on line dating will prevent me from hooking up with such women. After all, if they are indifferent to me, why would they consent to meet me or date me? I suppose, though, that there are women who enjoy being pursued and flattered by men whom they enjoy tormenting, and I am probably doomed to meet some of them. They'll be looking for men like me.

I'm hoping that awareness will help me see when my destructive pattern is emerging so I can make an escape. I really do want to find someone who will love me back. I think it would be better to die alone than to endure another lopsided relationship.

I need to develop a list of warning signs. Any ideas on what should be on that list would be welcomed.

Ballroom Dancing is Just like NASCAR!

During dance lesson #4 on Saturday, I had the sudden realization that ballroom dancing is just like NASCAR, except that everybody wins. It all made sense. It's all about a series of left turns. I'm the driver; the lady is the car; and the object is to get around the dance floor without crashing into other dancers or the wall. OK, so it's only a little like NASCAR.

I tried the swing step again and almost got it. Crap, it's fast. And it smacks of effort. I need to get in better shape before I do too much swing dancing. I really like the foxtrot, rhumba and tango, and I can visualize myself driving a woman around the dance floor and maybe even carrying on a conversation.

I used to wonder why men who were dancing seemed preoccupied and inattentive to their partners. Now I know they're scouting the track and planning their moves to avoid collisions. You can't be peering into your partner's eyes too much or you'll get into a pile up!

I've got two more lessons next weekend.

I Know Enough About Ballroom Dancing to Get Someone Killed

I had my third session of ballroom dancing lessons with Lyudmilla this evening. I have to say it was pretty gratifying because I didn't forget the previous lessons and was actually doing a pretty good foxtrot with directional changes and promenades, even a turn. Lyudmilla thinks I may eventually be able converse with my partner while I dance insteaad of counting in my head the whole time (slow, slow, quick, quick).

I had the basic rhumba down and started to work the hips a little. It must have been pretty sad because Lyudmilla quickly moved on to a cool riff on the dance, the name of which I didn't catch. It felt pretty fancy though, and I mastered it.

We started to take up swing dancing but I was such a retard that we didn't spend much time on it and moved on remedial tango where we danced around the room and did promenades . Lyudmilla promised to try swing again in the morning when I'm fresh. It won't matter. I'm always a spaz with a new step. I aim to learn it because it looks like fun and a way to dance to faster pop songs.

All in all, I am pretty satisfied with the progress I have made with 2 hours and 25 minutes of instruction.

The Dating Pool

I estimate that there are 850,000 unmarried white women aged 32-52 within a 60 or so mile radius of my home. I'm ruling our married women as part of my Don't Be a Douchebag commitment. And I'm ruling out ethnicities other than white because I am physically attracted only to white women, and I want my next relationship to be physical to make up for the virtual sexlessness of the last 15 years of my loveless marriage.

Of the SWFs, I reckon 42,500 are lesbians, leaving 807,500 in the pool. I'm going to want to date someone from the right side of the bell curve (although exceptional hotness may be substituted for smartness up to a point), so the pool of potential partners is reduced to 201,880 women.

Then I have to figure in my subjective preferences. I have a type (Catherine Zeta Jones, Tanya Memme, Nigella Lawson, but a woman doesn't necessarily have to be a curvy brunette to be attractive to me. Hell, I was married to a scrawny blonde woman for 26 years. Based on a very unscientific survey consisiting of my keeping loose track of the times I have thought to myself "I'd tap that" compared to the total number of women who come into my field of vision, I figure that I could be attracted to no more than 20% of women. I'm not saying 80% of women are unattractive, just that they don't do anything for me. This gets me down to 40,376 women whom I would consider dating.

Of these demographically and subjectively qualified potential partners, I reckon that about half of them will have dealbreaking personality or character flaws. They may have voted for McCain/Palin, for one example. Or their kids could be such unbearable shits that I'd have to question their mother's judgment as a human being for letting them get that way. Now I'm down to 20,188 women who might be acceptable to me.

Of these acceptable women, given that they are intelligent and attractive, at least half of them will be in committed relationships and therefore unavailable. That leaves 10,094 ladies.

By far the largest winnower of remaining potential mates will be whether they will want to have anything to do with me. Will I meet their criteria? I'm guessing that at least half, especially on the younger end of my acceptable age range, will not be able to get past the fact that I'm 52 years old. That leaves me with 5,047 ladies. I'm not a bad looking guy, and I won't always have the paunch I'm sporting now, but I figure at least half of the remaining ladies will not be attracted to me in the least for one reason or another. I'm not their type; they like long hair or beards; whatever. They'll take one look at me and say "hell no". So, I'm down to 2,523.5. Half of these ladies just plain won't like my personality after talking to me for two minutes. Now I'm down to 1,261.75 potential mates.

I will encounter only a small fraction of these remaining ladies. They'll be on an on line dating site, or they'll be members of my church, or a mutual acquaintance will introduce us, or I'll pick them up in some singles venue. Most of the potential mates will never even know I exist. I'll probably encounter no more than 50 women in the next six months.

Maybe I should look into those Russian women who are so keen to meet me.