Soldier Ant 

I used to drive by the Davis-Besse Nuclear Power Plant on trips to Put-in-bay during my years in Bowling Green. (It turns out I was comfortably, unknowingly, living well within the 50-mile Emergency Planning Zone for those 6 years.) You can see it squatting in the distance, hugging the Lake, from miles around. From a distance, it even looks oddly comforting.

Up close, it's anything but.

It seems that Davis-Besse has become something of a poster child for the imminent breakdown of our country's (indeed, the world's) aging nuclear facilities. "As Davis-Besse shapes up as a test case for a deteriorating industry, a nervous public, in northern Ohio and elsewhere, may be increasingly unwilling to roll the nuclear dice."

Obviously, now that I'm back in Ohio (and no longer naive enough to believe that nuclear radiation will play nice and pitch its tent in a strict 50-mile radius around a failed and flawed facility) this is mildy discomfiting.

(Courtesy Robot Wisdom.)

I wish I could punch sleep. Slap it around, show it who's boss. Judo chop to jumping sheep.

And cold weather. I hate cold weather. I like "light jacket" weather. Maybe because I really like my light jacket. It fits as a nice second skin. But fuck you, cold weather. You are my enemy.

This is what I really want. I want a fighting chance against cold weather. I don't find it fair that I don't have any sort of say in the outcome of the temperature. If I could get into a boxing ring, go 12 round, have some judges, and then the winner declares whether it'll be partially cloudy or warm as a baby's bottom.

That, friend, is fair. I would really like that. Maybe you would, too. Unless, of course, you like cold weather, and if that's the case, maybe I'll punch you too.

Ohio had a terrible storm on Sunday. People died. I was more fortunate. The only thing I got was ten small dents on my car, thanks to hail the size of human brains.

I couldn't do anything but stand in my back porch and watch these brains pound my car to death. I swear to god that would have never of happened if I could have gone one on one with mother nature.

I'll find a way.

Okay, so I saw Harry Potter 2. Funny, right? Because somewhere below on this web journal I said "i'm too good for harry potter 2, yawn, who cares, blah blah!" And then I go see it two days after the release.

Shut up.

I'm back in Columbus from Boston, and glad to be so. Some pleasant surprises from my trip:

Ben carved out an evening for me, and took me for some fantastic sushi at Blue Fin. We met his friends Josh and Amanda, who are lovely people.

I discovered that Sun has an local (probably a sales) office in Columbus! Not more than a mile from my house! With ~20 floating loaner-offices for use by remote workers! I'm going over there tomorrow to scope the space out.

Excellent.

Midmorning today, we left to cast our votes. The excitement and tension in Columbus is palpable (Bush was here yet again even today.) But the mood at the polling place was light and friendly. Chairs were brought out to sit on. Places were held for those who needed to duck out for a bite to eat. Kids were holding a bakesale. It still took us 2 hours to get through the line. It was worth it.

Check out my quick photo-essay of our swingstate election experience on Flickr.

If you spend.. oh, even half an afternoon driving around Columbus OH, you'll see this odd ad on the side of any given COTA bus, with some leering dude with creepy pink eyes. And he's saying "Auto Insurers Make Me See Pink."

Here's a bit of history behind Three-C auto, the upstart auto-body shop that faced down the insurance industry and won:

Bob Juniper, who had spent 20 years reconstructing smashed pieces of metal, turned out to be a marketing pro. He wrote the ads by hand in the evenings at home, recorded them at a radio-station studio, made decisions about where to place them.

The Three-C campaign was picked up by the trade press, and soon other shops were calling, wanting to use the same material in their markets. In 1994, Juniper and Hughes started a separate company, Jupiter Marketing & Advertising ("that's Jupiter, like the largest planet, not like my name"), to copyright the material and sell the best ads -- Three-C has tried 50 so far -- and to do ad placement. Vaughn Owens, who joined the operation last year, says wryly, "We're probably the only collision-shop-focused marketing agency in the world." Some 30 shop owners in 15 states have done business with the now-$2-million marketing company.

Awesome. J. Caleb Mozzocco is a local writer that I like a lot (he writes a weekly film review for Donewaiting.com, amongst other things.)

And he's uncovered a real gem—a reprint of a late-70s Captain Marvel comic, in which the good Captain visits Columbus, Ohio! Heck, he even comes to my very own neighborhood, German Village! And rubs shoulders with (apparently) Columbus' very own resident superhero, Minute-Man (the one man army.)

This, for me, is the most exciting superhero-related development in Columbus since... well, when Big Barda declared herself the town dictator.

Meet the Mayor, originally uploaded by soldierant.

Edison bumped into Columbus' Mayor yesterday at the North Star cafe—the one in the Short North—and it was a photo-op waiting to happen. The Mayor was extremely gracious, and handled our fidgety boy like a pro. Edison was more fascinated with whatever was going on behind them (the ladies at the register, I think—my boy's got an eye for the ladies) than looking at the camera. A quick whirl-and-a-clutch from Hizzoner brought the boy back into focus. «Click» Done.