My book came in this last week. Amazon.com had given me an estimated date of December 20, but I guess they wanted to buy a little time in case shipping was slow, as I got it well over a month ahead of time.

My initial thoughts and review are below the fold; I m still only halfway done, but nearing the end of the work rage 'section'? and heading towards the school shooting comments, so this is a good place to stop. You know what to do if you want to read the rest.

I m floored. It s mostly well written, although it needed a more cautious editor as there s tiny words missing in many places. Mark Ames has a writing style reminiscent of a professor teaching a seminar - not too simplistic, not too formal, and he doesn t avoid the use of 'I'? and 'me'? in referring to himself and his thoughts and experiences. This immediately suggests that he is not a formally trained journalist, his newspaper experience notwithstanding.

Well, I did it. I finally did it.

Two weeks ago, I moved into a new apartment. When I picked up the change of address form from the DMV, the second page was a voter's registration form.

I have officially left the Democratic party. I registered as a Green voter. Now, if I could just find the stamps in one of these boxes so I can get it mailed.....

I must have this book.
Alternet has excerpts.

Brownlee, a thirty-year-old African American, had been forced to work seventy to eighty hour workweeks to keep up with the supervisor's demands and the heavy volume of mail. He worked the night shift sorting letters on a wrenchingly loud machine.

Brownlee was already mentally fragile, but as his lawyer contended, the stress and overwork, combined with the nature of the job, pushed him over the edge. On the day of his murder spree, the mail load was so exceptionally large that he and other sorters were asked to come to work two hours early.

I guess I ought to be a manly, uh- woman. Er. Womanly man? Screw it, I'll be brave. I'll tell you my faults. Or, one of them, at least.

I am quite capable of holding a grudge. I've given most of the grudges I've ever held up, largely out of self-interest: I found that falling asleep musing over how much fun it would be to perform as much bodily damage to certain people as they have performed emotional damage to me tends to bring bloody dreams my way. As I don't enjoy ugly, bloody dreams much, I learned to forgive. Sort of.

I also have a "better than thou" approach to some people on some subjects. That being said, I am the kind of horrible, evil person who looks at an article like this one, and immediately drafts a short list of people I'd like to duct tape into a chair with their eyelids stapled open and scroll the artlcle past them. Just so that I know they've seen it. If I could think of an evil genius way to ensure that they think about it, too, I would.

I was driving home from the house that I'm house-sitting for this weekend tonight, when a little sedan, two cars in front of me, proceeded to make a right-hand turn from the left-hand lane.

I grumbled. For some reason, this particular intersection attracts loonies who don't seem to know where they're trying to go until they actually arrive.

After grumbling, I hollered out my window, "What do you call that?" Then, quieter: "Oh, I get it, you're the Democratic Party. We *thought* you were on the left, but actually, you wanted to go right....."

Some time ago, I cam across this well-written article by Chris Crass. After I read it, I didn't know whether I wanted to scream or cry.

Mr. Crass (whom I'm sure had a difficult time over his name in school) introduces himself as a young man who has a long involvement in political thought. At first, he is shocked to hear from some of his colleagues that the women members of the group are unhappy with the dynamics of the group. But he and his fellows do something unusual. They listen. They take the concerns of the women seriously.