I will eventually have a real post with words and stuff, but in the meantime some photos from our trip to the Northwest of the Metro.

Cue the sad Russian song:

httpvh://youtu.be/1QEDe2VP_vQ

After a nice time in the living room you may be thinking about visiting the restroom because…well, let’s just say you want to. Toilets, restrooms, outhouses, toilet paper, outdoor plumbing and all the related paraphernalia is the next chapter of my “Behind the Iron Curtain” series.

Toilet paper.

Toilet paper was hard to find. If it was available you had to stand in line like the one on this picture and then it was probably limited to a certain number of rolls per person. A proud new owner of the precious TP would head home with a bunch of rolls hanging around their neck causing jealous reactions from the not so lucky bystanders. Of course that was not soft, quilted or baby skin toilet paper that American buttocks are so used to. It was more like your printer paper in a roll, maybe a little thinner but still required substantial calluses in certain places. And calluses we had: since the paper was not readily available everything served the purpose. It could be magazines, newspaper, stolen forms from work. I distinctly remember reading an obit for some communist party honcho in the paper before using it for its intended purpose, and the guy died in 1983. In more civilized houses the newspaper was pre-cut into squares, in others you had to rip it yourself. Outdoors people used leaves and whatever else was easy to reach, I myself once split an empty cigarette box with my buddy when nothing else was available.
Now with toilet paper in hand you are about to discover the facilities.
To be continued.

I am all about killing and eating tasty chickens but I draw the line at shaving them!

Several billboards showed up along I35 from an organization seeking to promote hiring people with disabilities. I am not sure how effective their billboard investment will be, considering that relatively small amount of people who drive on the highway are in position to make hiring decisions. Nevertheless, I like their slogan “Think Beyond the Label” illustrated by an unfortunate white guy who is labeled “Rhythm Impaired”.

That made me think about other labels that are unfair like “white man can’t jump”, “white men don’t have a sense of rhythm” and “once you go black, you can’t go back”.

Think beyond the label!

Recently through the magic of Facebook an article came to my attention. Bruised Kansas by Jeffrey Ann Goudie laments the transformation of the State of Kansas from a state on the forefront of racial equality and “proud history of women in politics” to a state where Governor Brownback autocratically imposes his “boilerplate political agenda”.

The only thing missing was one of those before and after photos that get passed around on the internet.

When I read the article, I kept thinking that the author must not be living in the same Kansas I live in; one can argue that Johnson County, KS is not representative of the entire state, but I am fairly familiar with a large part of it, having driven thousands of miles on my semi-frequent road trips to familiarize myself with the state where I made my home for the past 20 years. During that time I have met many Kansans, had candid conversations with countless acquaintances and coworkers not necessarily constrained by Codes of Business Conduct and unnecessary politeness, so I have a pretty good idea about the people I am surrounded with in my daily life, and, boy, is this state RED.

I’d be the first one to defend Kansas for being unfairly maligned, but not because the criticism and stereotyping is misplaced, but because, in most cases, it’s coming from places that are no better and not much further along on the scale of progress. I will never stop saying that people of Kansas are some of the most kind, helpful, compassionate people I’ve ever met. But boy, is this state RED.