Utah: Now with 0.0005% more Mormon!

Yes, someone actually gave a shit enough to do a study. Apparently this is interesting because over the last several years the number of LDS in the state has been declining--albeit at a very slow rate--because of the influx of people who move to Utah for work and are not Mormon. Not that that's been much of a goldrush...just 1500 people moved to Utah in 2009, including my wife and me.

More here if you give a shit.

Letter to Wisconsin, circa 2004

I used to carry notepads with me to the bars in order to record my various thoughts about things. On closer, and more sober review, much of it is gibberish. Tough, I'm posting it anyway. I also used to write frequent letters to various people, places, and things that I found vexing. To wit, a 2004 (ish) letter to the State of Wisconsin:

Yo Wisconsin--
can I call you 'consin? Good. You can call me Al. I am writing b/c I saw your quarter. It's cool...I guess. I get the cow & the cheese, but Not the corn. B/C I am from Indiana, & WE make corn, NOT you guys. Also, WHAT THE ABSOLUTELY RAINSTORM FUCKING FUCK IS UP WITH "FORWARD"?! THAT SHIT DOES NOT MAKE ANY SENSE YOU DUMBASS!!

Apparently I followed up that letter with another one:

Dear 'Consin--
I thought you were cool. Why you gots ta hate? My newest friend "Honey" tells me that perhaps "Forward" really means "straight". Is it true that you may actually be trying to keep gay people from living there? It is totally NOT 1952. Get w/the times! What if Brett Favre was gay? Not that he is, I'm just saying, wouldn't you love him just the same? Don't hate 'Consin, appreciate.

No, I don't know either. Alcohol is a helluva drug. Bitchin!

Drunken Haikus

Recently I found a series of haiku that I forced drunk strangers in bars to write about 5 or 6 years ago. My plan was to approach complete strangers, say nothing, but hand them a pen and a piece of paper. At the top of the paper I had pre-written the following: "Hello. My name is John. You have 3 minutes to write a haiku on this page. Welcome to the game!" No, I don't have any idea what "the game!" was or why I thought it was necessary to write something so goofy. Also, my name is not John. Or maybe it is.

Anyway, only one or two people refused to participate initially. More often than not the person would initially openly ridicule and mock me in front of their friends, then proceed to actually concentrate and write a haiku. I like to believe this proves that my awesome has the ability to overpower trepidation and lameness. Enough of this explaining of things and more haiku! The following are transcribed exactly as written, grammar, spelling, and all.

Haiku One:
Hank was a great man
He went allot af places
His Hat fit him well
ZACHARY A BELL
[Ed. note: If you ever read this Zachary A. Bell, drop me a line. You deserve to be recognized for your haiku.]

Haiku Two:
Video Saloon
How I love to drink High-Life!
Only five dollars.
--Merett

Haiku Three:
i like tasty drinks
liquor flows in my belly
i will be drunk soon
*lauren*

Haiku Four:
Elvis was a narc
chasing squirrels in the park
man, pop cultures dark
--Aaron

Haiku Five:
I drink beer all night
Then I go home to
smoke weed
Get out of my sight
--B.O.
[Ed. note: I guess B.O. didn't understand the format of a haiku.]

Haiku Six:
Pabst Blue Ribbon is
as the bird flies south-western
good in my wet mouth
--Jay McClurey
[Ed. note: Again, Jay, should you read this feel free to contact me. Also of note is that this haiku was written many years before the current set of idiotic hipsters "discovered" PBR, so I guess that makes Jay ahead of his time.]

Haiku Seven:
I want beer
beer
deer
[Uh, this one must have been too drunk to join "the game!"]

Haiku Eight:
I don't know
Goddamn you fucker
Haiku is really tough here
I'm just drinking my beer
[This was illegible, but fortunately I asked for a translation and wrote it on the back.]

Haiku Nine:
I like sex a lot
I will have it everyday
If you will fuck me
--Tabby
[Creative!]

Haiku Ten:
blue jeans hanging low
asscrack has become the new
statement of fashion

Let's try something new

It's obvious I got bored with this blog pretty quickly--maybe not as quickly as some of you, but that's another matter. I have decided that I will keep up with the occasional posts related to Utah, but that perhaps I can keep my own interest going more if I discuss other things as well. As a result, this blog is now going to be fully as random as my own mind. Enjoy. Or don't. Whatever. It's up to you. Though if you do enjoy it, even a little, be sure and let me know. Or don't. Happy Sunday.

Cover Letter

Saw this ad on craigslist today asking for help to write a resume cover letter. What interested me about the ad is not the ad itself, but the fact that the person who posted it knew enough about the internet to be able to post to craigslist, but didn't think to google "resume cover letter".

State Liquor Issues Volume II

I've already explained the issue of the hours of operation for the State Liquor Stores here in SLC, but I wouldn't be doing this blog any justice not to discuss the shortfalls of the actual stores.

1. Nothing is sold cold. I suppose this is to keep you from immediately guzzling the stuff. No matter, you can still go and buy lower % beer cold at the grocery store. The problem comes when you actually want to drink a decent beer--in my case Newcastle or Peroni--which is not sold at the grocery stores.

2. No mixers of any kind. Not even bottles of Coca-Cola. No margarita mix. No sour mix. Not even margarita salt. No sir (or ma'am) you're going to have to go somewhere else for that.

3. No mini-bottles, half-pints, or pints. Again, I guess that promotes alcoholism. I suppose selling an entire fifth of whiskey is more likely to prevent alcohol abuse?

4. The wine selection is shit. There is a separate store for wines if you want a decent selection of wine (I'm told), but again you're going to be making multiple trips around town if you're planning to have a party or just to have a nice dinner.

5. Price. The prices of the warm beers are astronomical. Contrary to the anti-alcohol slant of the places, you can buy single (warm) beers--which is nice if you want to try something new. Of course there are only about 12 different kinds of beer at the store so you won't need to do that much. As an example: You can buy a single Peroni for $2 or a six-pack for $12. Compare that to the $12 that a 12-pack costs in the mid-west and you start to see what I'm on about.

Oddly, apparently you can bring small children in with you--and no doubt dogs too since I see people bring their dogs inside of almost every store I've been to in town so far.


Liquor laws in general are from the stone ages here. Aside from the issues with buying liquor at the stores there are the problems with the way in which they handle serving liquor at restaurants and bars.

Let's say you'd like a good glass of wine or maybe a decent beer. You're walking by a good looking restaurant and think you'll just pop in and have a pint right quick. Not so fast. You MUST have food if you are going to have a drink in a restaurant. Go back and read that again so that it sinks in. That means you cannot join friends and have a drink and not order food. What if you're not hungry or you've already eaten? Guess you shoulda thought of that first, heathen.

As for bars...there is some confusion on this issue because of the positive press Utah has gotten about this lately. Until July 1 of this year the bars here were run like private clubs. A patron was required to fill out detailed paperwork about themselves and pay an annual membership fee in order to have a drink in a bar. Utah abolished that requirement but some of the bars kept the club style because they liked the free money of the membership dues. What is often left out of the happy news of the change is that in exchange for getting rid of the private clubs Utah created a big-brother system to replace it. Now, when you enter a bar you must hand your ID to the bouncer who then scans it with a special machine. This machine stores all of your ID information for a period of time (some news outlets have said 7 days some have said 60 days) just in case you have a car accident later--that way they can prove you were in a bar beforehand.

As if that isn't enough, there is no free-pour of alcohol in Utah. No alcoholic drink can have more than 1.5 ounces of liquor in it, unless it is a mixed drink which can have no more than 2.5 ounces. Good luck ordering a Long Island Iced Tea then I suppose...

The most hilarious part of all this bullshit is that the people who live here really don't seem to understand just how ridiculous these laws are. To be honest, it is difficult to understand just how annoying the combination of all of these rules are until you spend a couple of days here. I am just happy I didn't move here from Kentucky or any number of southern states where they keep their laws off of your drinking--I can't imagine the shock of going from being able to buy cold single beers at a gas station 7 days a week, 24-hours a day, to living here. If you like to drink recreationally--or like it's your full-time job--I would recommend you stay far away from this entire state.

Whaddayoulookinat?

There is a pronounced difference between the people out East and the people here. It has been hard for me to figure out exactly what has been striking me as so odd because it turns out that these differences are somewhat subtle. I am going to do my best to try and explain...

The first thing that I noticed around here was an unusual refusal to speak when in close quarters. You know how it goes, you’re coming down an aisle in the store for example, and a stranger is blocking the aisle examining the array of hot dog buns or whatever. Maybe the person doesn’t see you coming, and you don’t really mean to inconvenience them, so your natural response is to say, “Excuse me” as you pass by. Now to be sure, this is not always an observed courtesy in all areas of the country, and even back East there can be times when you are made to feel invisible by the occasional jerk in a store. Here in SLC however, it is the norm to ignore everyone else. Not once, not one single time since I’ve been here, have I said “excuse me” and had the other person so much as look my direction. Not to mention when I was the person to whom the “excuse me” should have been delivered--boy oh boy is that EVER asking too much of the locals. They will walk by close enough to smell your breath, their clothes may even brush against your arm, and not say a single word or grunt for that matter. It is infuriating. In fact, I honestly would prefer it if they said, “Fuck you” as they passed. At least they’d be speaking a language I could understand. Nah, they’d rather just move on pretending you’re not there. Shit, even in NYC if you say “Excuse me” as you pass by they may not speak to you (though they often do) but they’ll at least look at you and move their cart or body out of your way. Not here though, we’ll just keep pretending you’re a ghost.

The second thing I noticed is very odd: they stare. And I don’t mean you happen to catch someone sneaking a glance at your shopping cart or checking you out physically. No, this is more like a direct, unflinching stare; the kind that makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, like maybe you have a booger on your nose or your fly is down. It doesn’t really matter where you are in the town either...grocery store, parking lot, restaurant...wherever you are you can be sure that if you look up for a moment there is at least one person staring at you. Unlike the rest of the world, where when you catch someone staring they tend to avert their gaze quickly so as not to cause the stare-ee to feel as though they are being challenged. I’m sure this goes back to when we were animals living in the wild and seems to be a standard response understood by everyone over the age of 8. Not here though, where even the dudes keep staring even if you lock eyes--which is creepy, and in violation of the long-established man-law (Section 9, Paragraph 14, Lines 10-25) against locking eyes with another man unless you’re about to punch him. Also, the staring combines with the complete refusal to speak mentioned above to create the sense that these people must all either have IQs no higher than 65 or they’re going to murder you when you turn your back.

The third difference that has become more apparent is the overtly rude demeanor when they do actually get around to speaking. Uncharacteristically, I have waited quite a while to make up my mind about this because I wanted to be sure I was not just running across a lot of people having bad days. At this point, however, it has become clear that it is simply normal behavior for these people to not give a shit about what you may be asking or what you have to say--especially if it is their job to provide you with such assistance. [link to DMV] If you ask a question of someone you have a 60/40 chance that they will show some sign of annoyed body language before providing you with the minimum possible amount of information. Frequently this causes you to need to ask follow-up questions, which are almost always answered with a high degree of frustration--I mean, what are you some kind of idiot that you didn’t understand me the first time when I gave you the most vague, half-assed of answers?

Example: Today I had to call the benefits office of my wife’s employer four times to find out our health insurance ID number for the pharmacy. (We don’t have the cards yet.) The first three calls were me asking for the information and being given one sentence answers like, “You’ll get the cards in 2 to 3 weeks” [what does that have to do with anything?!] or, “It’s just her employee ID with 9-0-0 at the beginning” [oh, so I guess I’m supposed to be psychic. My bad.] The fourth call, however, was me asking why the pharmacy was unable to find us in the system. The lady on the phone, exasperated with my repeated calling--yeah lady, like I really wanted to call you four times this morning--proceeded to tell me, “Well the problem is that you just sent in the paperwork at the end of last week, on Friday, and now you’re trying to use it today.” WHAT? For those of you who know me, you will be proud to know that I did not snatch her bald-headed over the phone. However...who the fuck does she think she is? Is it not her JOB to make sure that when she informs someone of their policy number that the plan is actually ACTIVE? Oh but nevermind because now she will just interrupt me while I try to ask another question and tell me that if I’d just, “WAIT for FIVE minutes” she’ll have it active in the system. So, not only is she a bitch, she’s a bitch because I’m asking her to actually do her job.

I cannot wait until I get a job here, because apparently you don’t have to do anything once you get one.

So yeah, the people here are different. Also, no one over the age of 19 is without a wedding ring and at least two small children; hardly anyone can parent (I know that’s not unusual in America, but I find it odd in a place with so very many kids--shouldn’t they have mastered it by now?); and you cannot go anywhere here without hearing scream, trantrummy children.

Now, if I can just find the strength to explain what it’s like to drive here...