Saturday, January 31, 2009

Stuff White People Like

well you might wonder what the title Stuff White People Like is doing on a blog about jobs and portland soccer. But if you think about it. It should be on the official list at There is a mention of soccer there but what is really a glaring omission is Jobs. Outside of the rest of the country, one of the things that white people really like are Jobs. They are a defining element of ones persona. Just think. In high school and college you could get away with just looking good, but later its all about the job. Ever see an ugly old guy with a beautiful young woman on his arm. Is she into senior citizens or wisdom? No. Its all about the job. Chances are the guy is a CEO, business owner or just plain has money. It is a no brainer she likes the finer things in life and lets face it, it takes some time in life to get ahead unless you inherit the money which is the exception that makes the rule. Do I care about this social anomally? Not really I am married but I am quite sure my wife would settle for a guy with money to travel, shop, get plastic surgery or all those things that typify the may december romances you see everywhere. So what is my point? Jobs are high on the list of things that white people like. Lest I sound racist white people are not the only race that like jobs all races do. But it is a really big priority topic at the cocktail party. I mean how do you impress "I am between jobs right now. Would the reply be "oh how interesting, it must really be challenging." Truth is it is really challenging as in pay the bills chalenging. But that does't get much traction. And you certainly won't be invited to serve on the board of a public interest organization.

Having no job is actually harder than working for gainful employment. Because looking for work is just work for no pay. At least you get paid for slaving away in the cubicle. Being jobless is more like having a character flaw rather than bad luck or economics. I mean really, normal people work for gainful employment. Jobsearchers are like lepers. It is assummed they have nothing to offer all evidence to the contrary notwithstanding. In the final analysis you were found lacking or could not be put to good use. There is a tradeoff however, you swap a demanding boss for contemt and self loathing.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Don't ever Wear Counter Culture Cargo Shorts to the PDX

Take it from me friends dont' ever wear Counter Culture Brand Cargo Shorts to the Portland International Airport. Its the quickest trip I ever got to "secondary inspection." I don't think I helped my cause by lurking around the magazine rack on the "safe sidea" of the Security Area because we were early for the flight. While my wife concerned herself with all other things airport, I was amazaed at my good luck to find a brand new Scientific American Magazine sitting in one the chairs. I may have been reported to the authorities, as the rightful owner quickly identified himself by striding right up to me and simplying staking his claim to the magazine. If this had been the Yukon during the gold rush there might have been a fight. But we were after all in the non-secure portion of the PDX next to the magazine rack and dammit I knew it wasn't my magazine.
However, I had been so engrossed in articles about computer security and algorithms that made my head swim I immediately purchased a copy of my own and took in on the plane. I showed it off proudly trying to pass myself off as a teckie with a Microsoft job or even something more sinister. Since when does being a run of the mill lawyer become ho hum?
Anyway, back to the the metal detector. I made sure I was on my best security clearance know don't follow the person in front too close....wait for the TSA Nazi to wave you forward. Well, on this day I got a local kid. Blonde and shinning and a dead ringer for a Hitler youth if I ever saw one. I am of partial mideastern decent and he didn't like the looks of my olive skin and dark circles under the eyes. His eyes actually lit up when the "price is right" bells lit up the neon gateway. It was wand time. After a few passes he determined the problem was located somewhere in my shorts and asked me to take the belt off. He became more suspicious when I advised him that the belt was sewn in. TSA youth was going to get to the bottom of this and off to secondary inspection to remove my shorts. Thank God today was not a commando day, although I was a little embarassed by the colorful fruit of the loom briefs. I saw the hint of a snicker in his eye before his mind turned to more intimate hiding spots there might be. It was a cold day and I sweated out the possibility of having to reveal God's little trick to the TSA youth.
Anyway I must have looked pathetic so he spared me the indignity when the shorts came up clean. Lucky for me I had been in town to watch a Portland Pilot Soccer match and not flight lessons. I could tell this guy was an American football fan when his nose went up in a sneer at the mention of futbol. Especially womens' football. Eventually, TSA youth concluded I was a weak sister trying to look cool and let me through.