I hopped right off the plane today and headed to downtown Seattle to see the sights. I was reluctant to go see the place where the people throw fish around, but a friend of mine insisted that was the place to be, so I decided I could handle being \”touristy\” and I went. After I saw all the markets, I just walked around downtown checking out restaurants and stores. Here are some fotografias:

Sadly, no fish went airborne while I was there.

Here\’s the Space Needle from First Street. This picture was taken right before someone who lives on First Street watered their window plants and dumped dirty water all over my head.

The two stadiums taxpayers just purchased the Seahawks and Mariners.

These parking meters had me completely confused. The problem wasn\’t parking downtown, it was figuring out how to pay to park.

Easy Street Records, where I was told I could get some good power-browsing in.

And, of course, no journey to Seattle would be complete without my quest to see the house Kurt Cobain killed himself in. Yes, I am aware of how lame this is. But I just had to do it.

The house is in an upscale lakefront neighborhood that\’s difficult to navigate, so I\’m sure I looked like an idiot tourist driving around slowly. I\’m pretty sure the neighbors have had it with morbid people like me. But I sucked it up and finally found the house, which, as you may expect, has high fences around the yard to block gawkers like me. Right next to the house, though, is a park that serves as a de facto vigil spot, where people still leave daily flowers on a bench:

For some reason, someone decided to leave a baby pacifier on the far end of the bench.

If you look closely, you can see a shout-out to Barack Obama on the back left side of the seat.

There\’s the top of the house. I think.

The evening wrapped up with a steak at Matt\’s in the Market, although the appeal of eating in a fancy restaurant is somewhat lessened when you\’re eating by yourself. I tried to explain to my waiter that I was in from out of town on business, but it was pretty clear he was ushering me out of there as soon as possible. I think the guy eating alone in the corner was depressing the rest of the customers.

Tonight will be comprised of getting my speech ready for tomorrow – a rockin\’ time, for sure. And there\’s a Taco Bell right next to the hotel, so the chances of a late night Grilled Stuft Burrito currently stand at 105%. I may even try to eat $10 worth of Taco Bell, a feat I still maintain is humanly impossible.

So here I am at the airport, waiting for my flight to Seattle. I’m headed out there for a big health care conference sponsored by the Washington Policy Center. My boss asked me if I wanted to go, and I said “sure,” thinking I’d really like to see Seattle. Then the WPC called me and asked if I had any materials to go with the presentation I had been giving. “The WHAT?” I inquired. So it appears I will be giving a speech on health care to 300 people tomorrow, and I still have no idea what I’m going to say. I guess I’ll figure it out on the plane.

This actually is my first real “business” trip, so I’m pretty excited. I almost feel like a real businessman with a real job. From now on, when I see all those commercials meant to appeal to business travelers, I’ll feel like they’re talking to me. Then, I’ll be able to say things like “why, yes – as a business traveler, I do appreciate having that extra pillow in my hotel room,” and “how does the movie “Midget Lingerie Party” show up on my corporate card?”

Of course, I have about an hour to kill here, since I got to Mitchell Airport early enough. They say you need to be here 90 minutes ahead of time, but that’s a total airline scam. It’s just a ploy on behalf of the airlines to make sure they don’t get a last minute crush of people screaming at their employees about how they have to get on their flight or the world will end. My wife is super-cautious about getting to airports early. Anything less than four hours before departure time is unacceptable. Which is especially fun when you have kids to entertain in the airport before the flight.

I actually do like the weird vibe in airports. I especially enjoy sitting here and watching the flights arrive. People walk off the plane, all with the same completely disoriented look on their face. Before 9/11, they used to lock in on the person there to pick them up, but now they have to wait until the baggage claim to have their big reunion. I always loved seeing the pure joy in peoples’ faces as they recognized someone they hadn’t seen in a while, then rushed into their embrace. Perhaps this is because nobody is ever really all that excited to see me. Except my dentist, who knows that when he sees me, he’ll be able to afford another wing on his office.

Before I came to sit down, I ran to the bathroom. It’s always a weird sight to see pilots in the bathroom taking a whizz. You tend to put pilots up on a superhuman pedestal – almost like they’re invincible. But there they are, taking dead aim at the urinal cakes next to you. It’s unnerving to realize that pilots are just regular human beings. I mean, what if this guy just found out his 15 year-old daughter knew Roger Clemens? What if just this morning he found out his wife had been finding comfort in the arms of Charlie Villanueva during his flights? I’d feel a lot better about things if my pilot was eating gravel and urinating glass shards. I want a real bad ass flying my plane.

So now I get to sit here and wait, surveying the crowd. If there’s any inviolate rule in boarding a plane, it is this: There is always some semi-attractive member of the opposite sex waiting for the plane that you decide it wouldn’t be too bad to sit next to. Not “supermodel hot,” but “airport hot.” Of course, you are all old and gross and married, but let’s be honest – it would certainly make the flight moderately more tolerable, right? Upon surveying this crowd, it appears the only candidate happens to have a six year-old boy in tow. That immediately disqualifies her from sitting within five rows of me.

Waiting for a flight watching the people also gives me a chance to play America’s favorite new games: “Daughter or Lover,” and “Gay or European?” Of course, after I make my guess, I’ll never know the answer, so the only real prize is the giggling I get to do quietly to myself.

Well, time to board my 4-hour flight. I’m not sure if it qualifies, but maybe I’ll try to join the mile-high club while flying solo. That should kill about 30 seconds. Sadly, they make you pay 8 bucks to connect to the wireless internet here at the airport, so I’ll have to wait until I get to my hotel room to post this.

Before today, the easiest way to make $5,000 was to spend an hour with Eliot Spitzer. But now, NASA has created a new program to pay you five grand per month for you to… lie in bed (Spitzer-free.)

Here\’s the deal:

Need a break from the working, walking, and standing required by the demanding and stressful life you lead?

Well, pack your bags for Houston because NASA wants to pay you $17,000 to stay in bed for 90 straight days.

The bed-rest experiment, to take place in the Human Test Subject Facility of Johnson Space Center, is designed to allow scientists to study some of the effects of microgravity on the human body. We read on the Bed Rest Study website:

Participants will spend 90 days lying in bed, (except for limited times for specific tests) with their body slightly tilted downward (head down, feet up). Every day, they will be awake for 16 hours and lights out (asleep) for 8 hours.

Here\’s the important question: Do I get credit for time already served? If so, I\’d be a millionaire.

Think about the thing you care for the most.  Now forget about your new HDTV and think about the thing you care about the second most.  That’s right – your family.  In the event something went terribly wrong, wouldn’t you like to have \”family insurance,\” just like you have homeowners insurance on your flat screen?  Of course you would.  Read on to find out how your government can help.

With a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage on the statewide ballot in 2006, the issue of state government’s role in the institution of marriage was at front and center in Wisconsin.  Some questioned why government has a role at all in marriage, which they argued is solely a religious institution.

The bottom line is that government does have its greasy fingers in your marriage.  State law dictates how marriages are formed, how those marriages may be dissolved, and how the whole mess is sorted out when things go bad.  In fact, Wisconsin state law even prevents someone who is divorced from being remarried within 6 months of their divorce, presumably to protect people from the horrors of marrying you.
Yet, there’s one area where government doesn’t help marriages nearly enough, which is why I’d like to propose a new law strengthening our households.  Think about what we do to insure ourselves against catastrophic events when they happen to individuals we love: We have a backup plan. The President has a Vice President.  The Packers have assistant coaches.  Ronald McDonald has Grimace.  That is why I am proposing the groundbreaking “Vice Wife” law.

In the event something horrible happens to your spouse, wouldn’t it make perfect sense to have a backup at the ready to assume those duties?  If your wife were to be pummeled to death by a kangaroo at the zoo, would she really want you to suffer, alone and miserable, while having to take care of the rest of your family duties?  I know your wife, and I think not. Who would take care of the kids while you spent all your time in court suing the kangaroo? The law would work like this:  A husband could direct one single woman to be his Vice Wife, eligible to take over marital duties should his “primary” wife die horribly and unexpectedly.

The rules are as follows:

• The Vice Wife has to agree to serve in this capacity – obviously, the husband can’t just pick anyone, regardless of how appealing that might be.  (I’d love to see Katherine Heigl’s face when she gets the call explaining she has to make me pancakes every morning.)

• The husband may not have any physical contact with the VW while his primary wife is still alive.  Any funny business with the Vice Wife is punishable by having to serve as the Brewers’ closer for the remainder of the season.

• For taking part in the Vice Wife program, the VW gets to pay her taxes on May 15th instead of April 15th.  She also gets one small free Wendy’s Frosty per month.

• If you actually cause the death of your wife, you forfeit the ability to take part in the program.  (Chances are, your Vice Wife will be assigned to you by the Wisconsin penal system.)  If your Vice Wife is significantly hotter than your regular wife (as determined by me), you are presumed guilty in any and all circumstances where your wife dies of unnatural causes.

Now, I realize the Legislature is out of session until next January.  But once lawmakers read this proposal, chances are they’re going to want to call a special session and bring everyone back into town to get this done.  I imagine there will be a lot of lights on in the Capitol late into the night finalizing the legal language on this groundbreaking new law. Of course, the only people that would oppose such a law are “pro-wife” groups, but they’re always nagging us to do things and we’ve all tuned them out anyway.  They can usually be dismissed with a wave and a grunt.  After all, this proposal is meant to strengthen the family by restoring order in a time of crisis.  Who would oppose such a thing?  Selfish, unreasonable wives, that’s who.
Of course, this program could work for women, too.  Certainly my wife will need a warm body to hold the couch down to the floor and make sure all the oatmeal cream pies get eaten in the (now extremely likely) event of my demise.

So here’s the plan of action, fatty: put down that gyro, print this column out, rush home, and explain the new plan to your wife.  It is likely she will immediately recognize that this proposal is what’s best for keeping your family strong in a time of crisis.  However, just in case she is too excited about this plan, you might want to make sure you have a sturdy protective cover over your lower abdomen and are wearing a football helmet.

I\’ve been busy with a lot of work writing lately, so I haven\’t really had time to post anything here. Instead, I\’ll cheat and just post a couple videos.

Here\’s \”Born Under a Bad Sign\” by Richard Hawley, whose albums \”Cole\’s Corner\” and \”Lady\’s Bridge\” have completely taken over my life in the past few weeks. I cannot possibly give them a stronger recommendation.

Here\’s Hawley\’s \”Tonight the Streets are Ours:\”

And via Nick Schweitzer, the inevitable \”what if our real lives were like Facebook?\”