Body language: Reading body language

There is more to body language than meets the eye. Isn't that an interesting way to put it? But I'm being serious.

One aspect of body language is proxemics, the study of spacial distances between people. How do people maintain their personal space, how do they interact with other people's personal spaces? These are questions which reveal much about who is aggressive, submissive, open, closed, confident, fearful, overcompensating, and overreaching.

Another aspect of body language is kinesics, the study of body movements, gestures, and expressions. How do people express themselves silently? This area of body language is probably the most commonly written about topic on the Internet (and perhaps in books). Kinesics gave rise to some interesting myths, such as the oft-cited (and nonsensical) 7-38-55 rule that tells us 90% of our communication is non-verbal.

Another area of body language, which is especially admired by fast seduction fans, is kinesthetics or kinaesthetics, which they often call "kino". Technically, kinesthetics is the ability to feel movements of the limbs or body. But seduction practitioners refer to the use of touch to seduce another person as kino. I'm not sure how they managed to twist the word's meaning around, but base ignorance often gives rise to new uses for words.

Kino fans don't simply use touch to communicate with their targets. Rather, they use it to anchor or associate feelings with certain actions that the seducers control. Kino-based body language can be very obvious if you know that two people are virtually strangers to each other. Women often use touch to communicate their interest in other people. A woman offering emotional support to someone will touch that person, usually on the arm or shoulder. Men who use kino to seduce women often resort to arm and back-touching in order to create a false emotional bond with the women, as well as to encourage the women to become comfortable with their touch.

When you research body language on the Web, you'll find a plethora of hard-core sales and seduction FAQs, tutorials, articles, and blogs. Most of them are worthless, except as brief introductions to some standard tips and tricks. There are very few in-depth body language resources that I have found.

One interesting resource on handshaking is offered by Robert E. Brown, a management and leadership consultant. I'm not entirely sure I'd trust him in person, as his picture makes him look like an evil corrupted Yoda. But maybe he was just on the 17th take of a very long photo shoot and getting a little tired of smiling for the camera. You never know. Maybe that's what he genuinely looks like when he is happy and feeling good about himself.

Another area of study is photo analysis. Dr. Gabriel Raam's site and Kevin Hogan's site provide interesting case studies about photographs and what they reveal about us. My sister-in-law can look at a picture and evaluate a person's emotional state, maturity, and basic personality in the space of a few seconds. It's an amazing gift.

Patti Wood, the self-proclaimed Body Language Lady, maintains an infrequently updated body language blog that I wish she updated more often. She offers insights from both personal experience and occasionally she shares her interpretations of photographs.

Still, these resources just barely skim the surface of the study of body language. Robert Brown's handshaking tutorial, for example, doesn't touch on the romantic side of handshakes. R. Don Steele, one of many dating experts, wrote a book on body language in which he talks about how women convey interest in men through hand shakes. He says they give you a "Yes", "Maybe", and a "No" handshake. I've often wondered what the "Yes" handshake feels like. I think I've encountered it, but if you ask women about this they act like there is no such thing. Maybe some women convey yes/maybe/no and some don't. Maybe it's entirely subconscious.

Steele is a professionally trained and credentialed psychologist who specialized in body language. After his second marriage broke up, he applied what he knew about people to himself and developed a program for men to help them find, meet, date, and win the girls of their dreams. He doesn't believe in fast seduction and he advises against the use of kino. But studying and understanding body language is central to his philosophy.

Note: For those guys who are curious, I found an audio file where Steele describes the "Yes" handshake in a radio interview. He says the girl gives you a firm, lingering handshake, where she trails her fingers through your own as you release your grip. I have experienced this kind of handshake, but only from women who were unquestionably on the liberal side of sexual behavior. Many more conservative women have given me lingering handshakes which I think were more subtle "Yes" greetings based on their subsequent actions.

Some body language tutorials will focus on minutiae such as lint-picking. According to some guides, if a person starts picking lint off their leg or arm, they are indicating boredom or lack of interest. But lint-picking has also been described as a preening gesture, which is in fact an indication of interest (in fact, it's a sign of sexual anxiety -- "I am nervously attracted to this person"). Lint-picking can also be a signal of arrogance or dominance: "You are less important to me than this piece of lint that just grabbed my attention."

How do you tell the difference? You have to look for clusters of signals. If a girl is picking lint because she is interested in you, she may be very gentle and sensual in her movements. There will be a sinuous quality, and her eyes will be submissively downcast. Her body will be pointed toward you, and she won't position any protective barriers between the two of you. She leaves herself in a vulnerable position. A man who is conveying his disregard for you and lack of respect will not make eye contact and he'll find other things to play with besides imaginary lint on his leg. He'll position things between you and him.

A romantic case of lint-picking is more open and honest. A fearful case of lint-picking may be surreptitious or hidden behind a barrier of some sort. My point is that lint-picking by itself doesn't tell you anything. You have to look at the person's posture and demeanor and understand what you are being shown collectively. But the tutorials and articles really don't go into such detail. More often, you'll find lint-picking listed as a bullet-point in a "good stuff" and "bad stuff" format.

Remember those cute auditors who have been here this week? It's been interesting to watch the men, even married men, find excuses to interact with them. Who people choose to interact with says a great deal about what is going on in their minds. In a dance class I will be very ambiguous about, there was a gentleman who has a noticeably strong body odor. If I can smell it, you know it's strong. Women avoid him like the plague. Watching the dance teacher maneuver a woman to be his partner was a bit painful, but the man seems to be genuinely unaware of how much he reeks and how uncomfortable other people are around him because of his body odor.

I have learned to make a point of being friendly to people even when I don't need to interact with them. You never know when you'll need their help, and you have to look beyond more than just the first impression. Think about how people feel about you if you only talk to them when you need something. You're conveying the message to them that they don't matter to you except when they have something of value (an answer to a question, a stapler, or the skill to perform a function you cannot perform for yourself).

For many years I felt that people who spent a lot of time chatting at work were wasting time, but I've learned that there are important reasons to allow this kind of behavior. You need to be sure co-workers respect each other and treat each other as people, not as faceless servants. They have to have opportunities to bond and form workplace friendships so that they value each other's company. Saying "good morning" and "good night" to everyone, even if that's the only time you talk to them, raises your value in their estimation.

The study of group dynamics is very closely related to the study of body language. Groups form and breakup continually, and one expert says they go through four phases of "life". Some groups may get stuck in the third phase, but eventually all groups hit that fourth phase, which you can call the breakup phase. There is the "Meeting Phase", the "Passion Phase", the "Comfort Phase", and the "Dissasociative Phase". These are my names for the phases, because they correspond to the phases of personal relationships.

Many relationships (and many groups) never get past the "Meeting Phase". And sometimes they die in th "Passion Phase". If a relationship or group reach the "Comfort Phase", things may last a very long time. The "Disassociative Phase" can be traumatic or it can be a quiet denoument. It just depends on how solid the bonds formed during the first two phases proved to be.

A handshake really goes through those four phases, too. When you meet someone, you decide whether you are going to risk being vulnerable enough to offer your hand to that person. One body language tutorial I've read says that a handshake is equivalent to three hours of conversation. If that is true, then refusing to shake hands with someone means you don't want to associate with that person for any length of time. So, when you meet someone, and you offer to shake hands, you are getting past the "Meeting Phase".

How you grasp the other person's hand, and how you respond to the way they grasp your hand, constitutes the "Passion Phase". I often find taller men grasping just my fingers. It's very awkward and they make no effort to adjust their grip to fully envelope my hand. This is a clear signal of discomfort. There is no passion at all, and it usually indicates that things aren't going to last long. On the other hand, if a woman holds my hand just a tad longer than usual, I know I can expect her to strike up a conversation very quickly.

The "Comfort Phase" of the handshake corresponds to the actual shaking. If there is no shake, there is no comfort. If there is a vigorous shake from one side, there is no comfort. Both partners have to genuinely welcome the contact, and when that happens they equally contribute to the shaking process. Men who crush your hand, women who break the contact prematurely, people who collapse their hands usually do so in this phase.

The "Disassociative Phase" is where you let go of the other person's hand. Sometimes I'll get a little playful and refuse to let go. Then I'll be mean and say, "Okay, you can let go now." Usually, if I say that, you know I'm the one who won't let go. Refusing to break off a relationship is a power play. It's a sign of ownership and dominance. It can also be a sign of weakness and neediness. A child may be very reluctant to let go of a parent during a hug or when a father and son shake hands as one leaves the other for an extended period of time (usually for the first time).

I've noticed similar phases with dance partners, although they are more subtle -- especially with fellow dance students. If I provide a very good lead, even advanced dance students will be reluctant to leave me during a rotation. If I provide a particularly bad lead, they cannot wait to get away from me.

When you come together with a woman to dance, you have a "Meeting Phase" where you are paired up. The "Passion Phase" is where you establish rapport and one partner establishes the lead. If the man establishes a good lead, the woman continues to dance with him. If he fails to establish a good lead, she dances with herself. Sometimes the man is at fault and sometimes the woman is at fault. Some women just don't know how to follow, or they don't want to follow. When the man fails to establish the lead, there is no "Comfort Phase".

The bulk of the dance constitutes the "Comfort Phase". If there is no rapport and the two people stay together out of politeness, it's more like a "Discomfort Phase". You cannot wait for the song to end, and it seems to take forever. I usually won't walk away from a stranger, but I have done it on one or two occasions. I've walked away from my friend Maggie a few times because she and I know we'll dance together again.

I can tell if a girl is interested in me by how close she stands when we dance. If I have to keep pushing her away, she is almost certainly attracted to me. If I have to keep drawing her closer, she is almost certainly not attracted to me. I was dancing with someone earlier this week who kept backing away from me. I had to constantly pull her in. Maybe she was just really excited and trying to control herself, but I got the distinct impression she would rather have been dancing with a rock. They say you should trust your gut instincts, so there are times when I'm just not as good a dancer as a rock.

Take that for what it's worth.

Motivation: Men at work in motivated selling

I seldom talk about work. I have spent most of my life working with computers, but on more than one occasion I've found myself in a sales position. I dropped out of high school when I was in the 9th grade. My parents struggled to motivate me to go back to school, but I stubbornly refused to do it. When I turned 16, they said, "Get a job or get out of the house." Well, the "job" turned out to be a 16-month excursion into fruitless direct sales in a depressed economy. I sold soap, mostly to businesses. My customers went out of business faster than I could find new customers.

I attended weekly sales meetings and motivational seminars for over a year. I listened to senior salespeople talk about their successes. I watched people rise to become "top sellers". I saw the same people burn out and fade away. Some of them were driven off in shame and fury because they couldn't produce anything and were always negative.

"Negativity" is one of those business buzz words I have always hated. The sales world fixates on negativism and positive attitudes like drowning people grasping for lifelines. You are expected to buy motivational books that tell you to wake up every morning and greet the new day as a vista filled with opportunities. The indoctrination in some sales organizations never ends. One of the reasons why I left sales eventually was that I wanted to regain my humanity.

When I turned to technical work as a career (after returning to school and getting a tech school diploma and two college degrees), I found that salespeople could be the worst enemy on the planet. Computer systems salespeople especially left me with a foul taste in my mouth. I often found myself having to fulfill contracts where the salespeople appeared to have just blatantly lied to the customers about the capabiliies of the systems they were selling.

I remember one sales guy, Landy, coming in to an office on a weekend and blasting me for not completing a project on time. According to the schedule I had been given, I was doing fine. Another programmer walked up to me and said, "Don't worry about him. Rumor has it he's upset because he's about to lose a $25,000 bonus over this deal. But he never should have promised a conversion in the short time frame he gave the client."

When I became an IT manager for the first time, I had to buy a computer for my office. It was just a PC but this was still back when buying PCs was a considered expense. Dell and Gateway were just starting up and most people still turned to Compaq and IBM for their office computers. I called a local PC distributor and asked for a quote. My supervisor told me to get some competitive quotes. Rolling my eyes, I solicited the competitive quotes and found another supplier offering the same machine (an Everex 386) for several hundred dollars less.

"See?" my supervisor said sagely. "That's why you get competitive quotes. Salespeople are always padding their commissions."

Hm. Well, in the end, we went with the first company because I had proposed installing a multiuser DOS operating system on the PC. We wanted to try a product which I think was called MultiDos by Western Digital (or Western Something). The company with the lower-priced Everex ignored me when I said, "I don't want PC-MOS. I can't remember the other product's name, but that is what I want." They called me back and said, "What you want is PC-MOS."

Salespeople who don't listen just don't get my business. The guy who got the business was named Joe Brown. He told me he hadn't heard of the product but said he would make some calls. I said, "If you cannot find anything other than PC-MOS, please don't try to sell me on it."

"I won't do that, Michael," he promised. An hour later he called up and said, "I don't know if this is what you want, but how about MultiDOS (or whatever it was called) by Western Digital?" He had, in fact, found the real product and he ordered it for me. I got approval to switch the order from the lower-priced vendor to Joe's company.

It's important to build trust and rapport with your customers when you're in sales, and the one thing you don't want to do is come across like a smarmy sales guy who is only interested in earning a commission. Don't ever tell me I want PC-MOS if I specifically say I don't want PC-MOS. It's a simple rule. You'd be amazed at how often people violate it.

When I left the IT field a couple of years ago, I had a pretty foul taste in my mouth again. It wasn't because of salespeople, though. I had inherited an IT management position I didn't want, and I inherited a new boss I didn't know, whom I hadn't interviewed and hired, and who turned out to be (in my opinion) the most incompetent decision-maker I've ever had to deal with. He was easily swayed by anyone's opinion other than mine, regardless of how few credentials and how little experience they had. The ex-boss whose position I inherited told me long afterward that my opinion was disregarded because I was honest about not wanting the responsibility.

You know, if you're going to distrust people because they are honest, there is something seriously wrong with you. Get therapy immediately if you are a decision-maker who doesn't want to hear the truth from your IT guy.

So I eventually settled on sales. I'd actually had to bring in my own business while working for a small software firm after leaving my first IT management position. I didn't like being responsible for my own paycheck and having to solve people's problems. But here I am, invested in sales again.

Now I'm a licensed insurance agent. There is a lot to learn about insurance, which is pretty much the ugly step-child of business. When you become an insurance agent, the first thing that happens is someone says, "Congratulations on making the best decision of your life!" The second thing that happens is they hand you a phone book and say, "Go sell insurance."

A very good friend helped me make the transition to insurance. He enrolled me in a series of insurance selling courses, took me to a seminar in Dallas, and basically walked me through the process of knocking on doors and learning how to open up to business people. He risked a lot to help me out. I've tried not to let him down, though I have since moved on to work for another (much larger) brokerage. There was one rough spot, when I became very ill last year, where my friend took me aside and gave me the dreaded Sales Responsibility Talk.

salespeople who are selling don't hear this talk. But I'm pretty sure every sales person hears it at least once in their career. I heard it more than once when I was selling soap as a teenager. Basically, you hit a slump. Things go wrong. You stop selling, or don't get started selling. Someone who has invested a lot of time in training and motivating you gets frustrated.

I was doing okay, but I got sick. I got really sick, and I stopped going out on cold calls. This went on for a couple of weeks and suddenly I had no more appointments and no one to call back. My pipeline broke, and I was back at square one. Now, being very ill, I was in no position to be driving around Houston, knocking on doors. When my friend accepted that I was that ill, he said two things: "If you're really sick, you need to see a doctor. And just because you cannot drive doesn't mean you cannot pick up a telephone and call people. In the worst case, I'll handle your appointments for you."

And he was right. So I saw the doctor and I spent two weeks hammering the telephone from home. Those were the two most productive weeks of my insurance sales career up to that point. I set up lots of appointments and I overcame what my friend calls "phone call reluctance".

He says he suffers from it himself. Many insurance agents hate to make cold calls on the phone. I don't understand why, but I watched myself and have watched myself ever since. I recognize when the reluctance sets in. I force myself to pick up the phone and call a stranger and say something pleasant and as compelling as possible.

Now that I'm with a larger brokerage, which hired me in part because I got to the point where I made 50 calls one day and set appointments, I've learned that getting appointments is actually the easy part of the business. I switched from selling voluntary benefits to selling commercial insurance. I was hungry to build up my book of business. Every new agent needs 2-3 years to build a solid book of business. There are a few occasional exceptional people who walk in the door with tons of personal contacts that help them get started right away. They become fast burnout star performers because after they run through their friends and relatives they have nothing left but cold calls, and they don't know ho wto make them.

Placing commercial insurance requires a lot of work. And decision-makers don't make the process easy. They are always asking for "competitive quotes" (sound familiar?). If you are dealing with three mid-sized brokerages, getting competitive quotes may actually make sense because none of them can get to all the markets. I work for one of the top ten brokers in the world. There are no markets we cannot get to.

When you deal with a company like ours, we can do the quote negotiating for you. But many business people don't trust insurance brokers to provide the truly best deals. We're supposedly padding our quotes with extra commission. Actually, that does happen, but the law requires that the agent/broker disclose all additinoal fees.

So far, I haven't seen anyone in my office do anything but bust their butt trying to get the most cmpetitive quotes for prospects. When we have to talk about fees, we're up front with them. I'm working with the largest group of honest salespeople I've ever met. There is relatively little smarm in my office, and I have yet to get up in the morning with a dreadful "I wish I wasn't working with these people" feeling.

However, there's a sob story in every crowd. My sob story turned out to be frustraton at the slow pace of building my book of business. My sales manager and the office President kept telling me I was ahead of the curve. I hit the phones every day and filled up my appointment list. That took several months, but at one point I had more new business in marketing than any of the experienced producers. Unfortunately, we didn't land most of those accounts in large part because we were too expensive (for small startup companies) or because it was taking too long to get quotes from wholesalers and underwriters.

Why does it take so long to get quotes? Because every insurance agent in the world is constantly asking for quotes. Underwriters pick and choose who they will provide quotes for. In commercial insurance, the power of the relationship is important. I was a new entity and the underwriters apparently didn't like the quality of the companies I was bringing in. So I made adjustments and started calling larger companies. Quotes started coming a little faster, but I was still frustrated.

I'll call anyone. I don't care how large or how small they are. But top ten brokers have business plans that call for customers who meet minimum requirements. Easy as it was to learn to qualify small companies out of the competition for my high-powered resources, I now found myself calling on companies that were too big. Hey, if the president of a $1,000,000,000 corporation is going to pick up the phone and return my voice mail about insurance, why should I not take his call?

Sadly, I've been told to drop more than one prospect because they were too big. We just don't go after that kind of business. We specialize in "the middle market" -- companies that make $5,000,000 to $500,000,000. But it's not easy to find these companies (don't even mention Dun & Bradstreet).

Well, this is getting long (as usual), so I'll cut to the chase. I switched to telemarketing. That is, my company uses an outside telemarketing firm to set appointments. When I heard what that firm was being paid per appointment, I told my sales manager, "I'll set appointments for that kind of money. I can get appointments, dude."

I was half-joking but we were having a Michael-is-frustrated-because-marketing-cannot-keep-up day. He went back to his boss and pitched the idea. They liked it. So now I telemarket for the brokerage and I set appointments for the other producers. Technically, if a prospect wants to meet me I'm free to go on the appointments, but I can't make phone calls when I'm doing that.

I have turned my accounts over to other producers. Some of them have required more attention than others. Insurance agents have to drop what they are doing and deal with client requests. Now that I'm setting appointments for other producers, I cannot afford to spend that time working on client requests. So my book of business is gone, but I'm making more money than I was last year. I have no complaints.

Still, not every agent is happy. There is always a certain amount of turnover in any sales group. Despite the fact that I'm seeing improvement in our marketing group (they have expanded and are hiring) and customer support group (they are also hiring), some of the producers are not happy. Some are happier than others. One producer in particular is having a hard time setting appointments and today she unloaded on me.

I don't take crap from people. I've tried to be a good office buddy, but in sales you have to promote a positive, outgoing attitude. When you're frustrated or angry or not feeling good, you have to dig deep and find something to feel good about. Otherwise, you project the wrong attitude to people. Even telemarketers have to adhere to this rule. I know when I blow a phone call because I listen to myself, and I take notes and write down, "Blew it. Sounded smarmy and cheap" or "Fumbled on the call. Sounded like a fool."

But the worst thing that can happen is for one producer to seek emotional support and rapport from another producer. Do you know what happens when you start sympathizing with someone who is having a bad day or week? You have a bad day or week. We instinctively take on the feelings of anyone we strive to build rapport with. While in a therapeutic situation that can help in the long run, in sales it's a disaster. I've seen salespeople who started spreading their toxic moods around be shown the door with the most unceremonious speed.

I'm not saying that happens where I work, but it easily could. If all the producers started feeling bad and complaining about how they hate to get on the phone and how they hate this company and don't want to bring their friends in as customers, you'd better believe the president will start handing out pink slips.

We are not liars. We don't go out and promise the moon to people. But we do look for opportunities to show people that we're willing and capable of going the extra mile. This one producer mentioned a former employer when we went to lunch. It's a company I tried to cold call and got nowhere with. She knows the owner. I suggested she call him.

She came back to me later and said she was trying to get his cell phone number. I said, "Just call the office."

"He's not always there."

Okay. I let that slide. But then she started saying, "Besides, he's happy where he is. I know I can get the appointment but I don't know what we can offer him. He self-insures in one area and I don't know what his business income coverage is like."

Now, understand that she and I are both relatively new to insurance. We got into it about the same time, although she has worked in Sureties (bonds) for over ten years. Still, I know that many companies are underinsured when it comes to business income. They don't understand that just because an insurance policy will pay for lost inventory, equipment, and ruined property when a tornado or hurricane strikes that they are still not making any money. Business income insurance replaces the income you lose while you rebuild.

I'm amazed by how many companies along the Gulf Coast cannot start up again because they had inadequate business income coverage. A lot of companies that did have it have long since exhausted their coverages. So I said, "Did this guy lose business when Houston was evacuated?"

She agreed he must have. So I suggested she go after the business income. "But first I want to check with marketing and see if we can provide any," she said.

While that is a prudent move, by this point in the conversation I was sure she was just coming up with excuses not to make the phone call. It is nothing to say, "Joe, do you have business income insurance?"

If he says, "Yes," then you know the coverage is available. If he says, "No," you say, "Well, let's get together and discuss it. Maybe I can help you in case Houston is evacuated again."

You don't promise anything more than an offer to do some research.

Unfortunately, the conversation tanked at that point. Why? Because she wasn't looking for advice. She was looking for rapport. And I don't give rapport to people who are feeling bad when I'm on the job. I have to write positive letters and make happy phone calls.

Could I have handled that conversation better? Yes. I could have remembered that women instinctively seek rapport and emotional support when they are feeling down, and that men just want to solve problems. I cannot be an office girlfriend, and to be honest I've learned not to be any woman's girlfriend anyway. Men offer emotional support and rapport to their close partners, not to co-workers. That may sound cold, but that is how men have had to be throughout history.

From a biological perspective, we are expected to walk into dangerous situations and bring home the food, fight off the dangerous enemies, and keep the women and children safe. We cannot stop in the middle of a crisis and say, "Frank, I'm having a bad day. You know how I feel?"

"Sure, Michael. Let's talk about it. We can fight the Zombie Demons after lunch."

That just isn't the way men are wired. I know some men try to be that way, but I don't believe that's what we're supposed to be like. We need to be polite, professional, and positively encouraging and supportive in the workplace.

But if a man is working in sales and a co-worker is having a bad day, he cannot afford to become that co-worker's girlfriend. The co-worker cannot afford to convert him to a girlfriend. It's harder for a woman to turn off the emotional support because they are so naturally good at providing it, but saleswomen have to be just as focused.

After all, if your salespeople aren't selling, where is your revenue coming from? They don't offer insurance for having-a-bad-day-at-work. And even if they did, how many companies would buy it when they don't have sense enough to buy business income insurance to take care of the real disasters?

Updating the updates, or, keeping up-to-date on dating and updates

I said there would be no more "Michael Meets Girls" posts for a while, so that's not what this is. (As an aside, I love doing that and have ever since I saw an old sitcom, maybe I Love Lucy, where this wacky oldtimer says to one of the show's stars -- who has stopped to ask for directions -- "You see that old tree down there? Well if you go that way and turn right and drive for about a mile, you'll come to a dead end -- so you don't want to go that way.")

The right way to go -- I mean, Miss Cute Reluctant joined me for dancing Saturday night. I don't know that anything will come of it, but I at least got her name and phone number (before Saturday evening). And May may or may not come back in May. She did ask if I would be there again, so that's something, but she was in a weird mood tonight. There were some laughs and giggles, but I all but had to break out into Hip Hop dancing to elicit them (and if you have ever seen me Hip Hop dance, you'd understand why there should be plenty of laughing and giggling).

In other news tonight, Julie Tam has updated her blog but the layout is now different and I don't feel like clicking on all those links. And the automatic song may put some people off. Sorry, Julie. I just calls 'em as I sees 'em.

However, while scrolling down through Julie's main page, I noticed she has a really cute friend whose profile says she is single and still lives in Houston.

Girl, make up a boyfriend for your profile before you find yourself inundated with phone numbers. Better yet, contact me and I'll set you up with a dance class where you can meet crazy, funny, non-creepy guys.

So, today at work I heard the IT guy setting up computers just on the other side of my cubicle. I detected the sound of 1 or 2 female voices. Curiosity got the better of me and I stepped around the corner and introduced myself. Whoa! These three cute girls have come in to audit us. I told my boss this evening, right before I left, "I don't know what we did wrong, but I hope we keep doing it." He laughed and said, "I wondered why you were staying so late."

Of course, after making a great first impression by saying "Good morning, ladies, I'm Michael and though you won't be needing my help with your audit, I wanted to introduce myself", I later on managed to run -- I say again, I ran like a fool to get -- to my boss' office before someone else got there and Julie, the cutest one in the bunch (in my opinion) just happened to be walking down the hallway as I came barreling out of a doorway.

It's a good thing you're not supposed to hit on auditors, because I'd have lost all opportunity at that moment. If you could have seen her expression, you'd know what I mean by "Oops." Make that a BIG OOPS. Nor was my boss in his office at that moment. He had gone off to another meeting. You have to understand that the guy is really busy and even when you book an appointment in advance just to recap your week with him, he may or may not make the appointment.

I washed my car this weekend. Is that worthy of mention in a blog? I did it Sunday evening, after the weekend was over. Went to an automated car wash and paid for the $7.00 Everything Goes special (or whatever they call it). As I drove up, something blasted the undercarriage of my car like a skirt blowing machine in a fun park. I thought, "Should I have driven over that thing more slowly?" Of course, the blower at the end of the session doesn't dry your car off. It just sort of moves the water around. I've never quite figured out if you're supposed to drive slowly through it one time, or just sit with the air blowing at the center of your car, hoping the water is all pushed away. I tend to just rock the car back and forth. A guy in a pickup truck almost hit me one time as I did that.

And I am sure other things happened. I just don't care to tell you about who I met, where I had lunch, what came in the mail, or all that good stuff you find on so many other blogs. I can't say anything exceptionally exciting happened. I certainly wasn't treated badly by passers-by like Julie Tam reports she was (skip over the "Desperate Housewives" entry if you're a man).

I have been reluctant to update Xenite.Org with new content because Google doesn't seem to like the pages in one particular directory. They have no hidden text, no redirecting links, nothing sneaky. Google just doesn't want to index them. What's up with that, Google? In the meantime, I've got people waiting for me to write articles and stuff and post them on Xenite and I have no idea if I need to come up with a new page template.

I have often said that Google needs me more than I need Google, and that's true because Xenite gets a lot of traffic. But it just irks me that they'll disregard good, clean content. And don't even think about saying, "You need more links" because they gobble up new content in other directories. It's just this one directory.

I suspect the problem is due to the fact that the directory itself is fairly new and Google has changed the way it crawls the Web. There may, in fact, not be enough links to that directory. In which case, I may have to ugh engage in a link-building campaign. I hate link-building. It is so street-level SEO.

I'm a high-priced call-boy when it comes to SEO. I don't sell my services to just anyone. I'm still trying to figure out if I can afford to pay myself enough to do my own link building campaign. It might be cheaper to hire one of the so-called linking experts.

Google, that is just too weird. So, what's up with you guys, anyway?

Search engines: search engine optimization and search engine marketing

I occasionally take on a small contract to help businesses improve their online marketing. Some people ask why I don't try to earn a living at this, since I am stay involved in the SEO community. The short answer is that I don't like the responsibility of having to maintain someone's Web site.

Proper, full-blown search engine optimization requires a lot of hands-on work. You have to make sure that the Web designer(s) include content that search engines can find, index, and use to find more content. It's not just about links. Optimization comes down to details like word choice, word emphasis, word positioning (should I put "green eggs and spam" or "spam and green eggs"?).

Search engine optimization begins with goal setting. You have to know what you are optimizing for. Goals cannot be limited to "we want the top position for our keywords". That's just bogus. It means nothing. Do you have the right keywords? And if you do have the right keywords, what does the search engine show people when they see your site in the search results.

Which links are you more likely to click on when you search for "girls, girls, girls":

Link 1: Girls, Girls, Girls, girls, girls, girls, girls

Link 2: Girls, Girls, Girls. We've got more pictures of girls, tips and tutorials on how to meet and date beautiful girls, links to great Web sites where girls hang out....

If you're a lonely guy searching for girls on the Internet -- well, first of all, get off the Internet and go meet some girls at a local college or something. But if you're looking for stuff about girls on the Internet, aren't you more likely to look at the site whose description tells you they have "tips and tutorials"?

A competent SEO specialist knows that you have to pre-sell the surfer with the search engine listing. Many people who practice SEO understand that directory descriptions, often limited to 25 words or less, have to be conceise and compelling. But they fall short on title tags and meta descriptions. They cram them full of keywords hoping they'll get good rankings.

But what good are rankings without conversions? Search engine optimization is about selling. You are selling from the first moment you propose you optimize someone's site all the way through getting that last check as you say, "Bye, and thanks for all the business!"

You have to sell people on the idea that clicking on the link is good for them. You have to sell people on the idea that the page they have clicked to is what they are looking for. You have to sell them on the idea that following your call to action is the right thing to do.

I visit a lot of Web pages and believe me, the wrong-way selling that permeates the Web is killing people. The last thing you want to be doing is requiring people to scroll through 15 pages of endless B.S. hype and pseudo-testimonials (they always come in ugly yellow boxes). Don't put the, "Are you convinced now? Just click on my PayPal link and pay me $39.95 for my valuable eBook!", at the bottom of the last page. Don't put it at the bottom of any page.

If someone is willing to scroll past all the B.S., you're lucky. You're not smart, not clever, not cool. You're just plain stupid and lucky that you got someone to go that far. It's like a guy trying to ask a girl out for a date by looking down at his shoes and saying, "Gee, Louise, I guess since you have all those manly men knocking on your door you don't want to go out with a small, mousy guy like me. I'll just wait until you are lonely and desperate like I am and maybe then you'll see what a really great guy I am and we can maybe, I dunno, go see a movie or something."

And you're waiting for Louise to scream out, "Ohmygod! You're the sexiest man alive! I want you! Take me, you tiger! Take me now!"

If it don't work so well with getting a date, why should it work so well in selling eBooks. I just don't believe people who put up pages like that really know how to sell merchandise online.

If they do it because they "need content", the best content to get is a customer review. The world's largest online retailers (Amazon and eBay) allow customers to post feedback and reviews. Is it any coincidence that people buy their merchandise?

Indexable content can be compelling if it's honest, to the point, and doesn't try to flim-flam people. You don't have to waste everyone's time by extolling the virtues of your unnamed, unpriced product for 14 pages while boring people to tears with repetitive B.S. testimonials like, "I think Michael Martinez is the greatest! K. Smith, Wisconsin".

Puh-leeze, get a clue.

When you sit down to plan your next search engine optimization campaign, remember that what you serve up to the search engines is just the beginning. You have to provide good, compelling content and be sure that it's content people are actually looking for. If you're hiring SEO specialists, I might give you a shot, but frankly, many clients pay an SEO for advice they won't follow.

I'm serious. One of the most common complaints among SEOs is that they take on a contract, the client won't give them control over the site, and then the client won't make any recommended changes. Some SEOs use external content to manipulate search engine positioning. And you know what happens to that content when you stop paying those SEOs? It goes away. Along with your good placements (assuming you actually had any).

I've had people come to me for advice, pay me to do research and offer advice, and their Web sites today look the same as they did when they came to me. I don't like taking money from people who aren't serious about search engine optimization. Maybe you are. Maybe you really want my help. Frankly, I have found more enjoyable challenges in life. Most of you will have to get by with what you can find on the Internet.

You're rolling the dice. Good luck to you.

The other side of body language tips

Learning about body language through the Web is very difficult because so many sites just repeat the same vapid bullet points without exploring the topic in depth. Admittedly, most people reading the Web don't have much time for depth, but when you're looking for new information, seeing the same old regurgitated information is not helpful.

One of the most common "facts" I have seen cited concerns sock pulling by Men. This is supposedly a major preening gesture. Um, I've read the studies that produced this nonsense fact, but let me set the record straight. Men pull up their socks when they are alone, no one can possibly see them, and there is no hope of anyone seeing them with straight socks.

We do it because we feel uncomfortable and we want to feel more comfortable. While discomfort can be associated with a stressful or emotionally charged (or hormonally charged) situation, when it comes to socks, the most common reason we feel discomfort is that they've lost their elasticity. They just sag around the ankles and they feel uncomfortable. I have learned to buy long socks that reach up over the calf, but they are more expensive than the nylon socks you can buy at Wal-Mart, K-Mart, and Target stores. And eventually those socks shrink, shrivel, or waste away into wads of lint you have to clean out of the dryer.

I'll be rolling down the road on a 12-hour trip, minding my own business, when suddenly one of my socks slides down my leg. I pull it up. I don't do that because I hope the 300-pound trucker who is now about to pass me may decide I'm cute enough for a cup of coffee. I do it because it just feels weird to have a sock squished down around my ankle.

So, to all you sock tip body language experts: GET A CLUE.

There are some other body language tips I don't always agree with. For example, hands on hips. Sometimes I put my hands on my hips because I have nowhere else to put them. I could put them on my butt but that feels weird. Actually, sometimes I do put them on my butt when I'm around women because women say I have a nice butt. If you see me with my hands on my butt, I'm overtly saying, "Hey, ladies, look at my nice butt".

And I'm also trying not to look dorky by letting my arms dangle at my side.

Body positioning can be due to non-sexual/non-romantic causes as well. Sometimes, you cannot help but point your body a certain way. Sometimes, when you're sitting in a small seat, you spread yourself out as much as possible in order to keep other people from sitting down next to you. So that, "Hey, baby, I like the way you look" knee on leg scenario could be, "God, I hope the dirt-covered, major stinky dude who hasn't bathed in a week doesn't come sit next to me".

Hands on hips is another way of marking turf and intimidating possible rivals for space. If you don't want other men to stand near you, put your hands on your hips. Yes, it's a signal that says, "I'm ready for action -- I might just kick your knee caps if you get too close."

You can be inviting to other men by putting your hands on your hips if you look at them squarely, engage them in conversation, and tilt your head. Why does that work? Because head tilting bares the neck and makes you look vulnerable. You're saying, "Dude, I'm on your side. Let's get together and strategize."

Preening (straightening of clothes) is usually a reliable sign of a man's interest in someone else, but it may not be romantic/sexual interest. Men will preen before going on stage, before going into a sales meeting, and before going into a boardroom meeting where they have to make a presentation. But in all situations where men preen, we are trying to look our best and feel our best. Feeling comfortable and feeling like you are well-put together helps you feel confident. Looking your best reassures you that you will make a great first impression.

There is a funny television commercial that sells something I cannot remember. It starts out with an executive, a silver-haired gentleman, strolling down the hallway on his way to a meeting. His employees casually and gracefully say "Hello" to him, "Good luck", etc. They tie his shoe laces, clear off his dandruff ("There is snow on the mountains! I repeat, there is snow on the mountains!"), and generally fix him up. Unfortunately, when he greets his Japanese guests, he smiles broadly and reveals that part of his lunch is hanging in his teeth.

The commercial drives home the point that first impressions are crucial. It's a pity it didn't compel me to remember what it was advertising, but this kind of preparation for any encounter is a major part of a man's behavioral arsenal. Sadly, too many men let this weapon rust in the shed.

We don't consciously communicate our feelings through our body language. Our bodies do that for us. Think of body language as the body's way of seeking equilibrium in a constantly swirling pool of emotions, stimuli, and circumstances. We never quite settle down. Even when we sit perfectly, rigidly still, we are saying something about our emotional states and our mental states.

Nonetheless, many experienced public speakers know you can school yourself to project certain elements. Older men often put one hand in a pocket (usually a jacket or sweater pocket) and gesture moderately with their primary hand. They look casual, comfortable, and authoritative if they do it right.

They look like John Kerry if they do it wrong. The guy must have been coached by whoever conceived the original "High Karate" commercials, because he karate chops every point he makes. Kerry's body language screams out, "I am coached. I am going to beat my point of view into you regardless of what you want to believe."

Do you honestly want to entrust your life with a man who is trying to beat the crap out of you? He may have run a close election, but he lost in large part because his body language made him look belligerant, rude, bullying, and arrogant. He acted arrogantly in many other ways, as well. His body language, as coached as it was, revealed his true inner state: he was feeling aggressive and wanted to dominate the American people. He allowed no room for other viewpoints.

President George W. Bush's body language has been roundly critized as well. While his sincerity is legitimate (he often touches his heart, which is a widely recognized sub-conscious gesture that proclaims, "I believe what I am saying in my heart"), he often furrows his brow. The brow furrow can mean many things, but I believe most Americans correctly interpret Bush's furrowing as "I am trying to figure this out."

Our President's most frequently cited drawback, at least in the eyes of many people, is that he doesn't seem to be too bright. Most people who know him personally say he is extremely intelligent and very capable of seeing depth in complex situations. But on television he looks like a totally lost first year freshman student who just stepped onto the campus of life. Do you really want to entrust your future to someone who constantly misses the student life center?

Ronald Reagan, the Great Communicator, was just absolutely awesome to watch. I was always impressed with the man's presentation, and he left office many years before I learned my first lessons in reading body language. He projected warmth, humor, confidence, knowledge, passion, and strength. He was powerful and even his greatest detractors gave him credit for being able to save any situation. He is, to my knowledge, the only President of the United States to pass gas on worldwide television. When that happened, he paused long enough to let the distraction finish itself, and then he continued right on without missing another beat. He never lost his poise. He didn't become infatuated with infantile humor or petty personal attacks.

Reagan's politics may not have pleased everyone, but most people felt more comfortable with Reagan as a leader than they do with any of today's politicians. Men in general have lost that polish they were once taught to flourish in public. We are no longer conscious of why we do what we do. We have given up control over our own actions and we're just going with the flow.

Guys, the flow ain't too comfortable. You feel like you're not in control and you look like you're not in control. A man has to take responsibility for his actions in every way. He has to present himself as someone he is proud to be, not as someone who is better than everyone else, but as someone who is the match and equal of anyone in the room. Of course, there are times when we defer to others. But even in such moments, you have to learn to assert your stature or you run the risk of losing the other person's respect before you even have a chance to earn it.

Remember, the next time you are around anyone, make yourself feel like you are someone to be respected. You'll project that feeling, and other people will see it and they'll react to it. Or make yourself feel like you are lower than dirt, worthless and just something to be stepped on. See what happens then.

That's the kind of depth I find lacking in body language tutorials on the Web. Notice I didn't include any bullet points.

Things I wrote that you may never read

I have written far more essays and book-length projects than will probably ever see the light of day. Or, some of them have seen the light of day but they have slipped into darkness for a variety of reasons.

One of my first paying assignments was a work-for-hire project for a company called CyberAction. They produced interactive collectible cybercards with a unique technology that allowed you to buy specific electronic files that were branded with serial numbers. The system supposedly ensured unique value. That is, you couldn't simply copy the files from one computer to another. You had to deactivate the file on the first machine and activate it on the second machine.

Unfortunately, CyberAction did not survive the dot-com meltdown of 2000-2001, and all the work I did for them has vanished (except from my personal archives, possibly). I was hired to write scaled-down episode summaries of the Kevin Sorbo Hercules movies and the first season of Xena episodes. The CyberCards included trivia questions that I was quite proud of. Actually, encapsulating a 45-minute episode into 7 paragraphs was quite a challenge, too, since I had to include as many dialogue quotes as possible.

Another work-for-hire project was a collection of commissioned essays for Toy Vault, makers of a pre-Peter Jackson line of Lord of the Rings action figures. Toy Vault wanted their customers to get a feel for Tolkien's Middle-earth, so they commissioned me to write an essay for each character they featured in the line of action figures. The last project I did for them consisted of writing liner notes for their Lord of the Nazgul supersized action figure. The factory producing the packaging made an error on the first production run, and if I recall correctly, about 200 (or maybe that was 2000) boxes were printed with only a portion of my liner notes.

When Tolkien Enterprises started yanking licenses back from various companies around the world so they could relicence merchandise in association with the movies, Toy Vault lost its franchise and they turned all my essays over to Tolkien Enterprises. I have never seen them since. I don't recall all the topics I wrote about, but I am sure I wrote essays on Galadriel, Gimli, and the Balrog. It's possible a well-known Web archive has copies of some or all of the essays, but I haven't looked recently.

In 2004 I left Houston briefly and returned to Florida, land of my birth. During that transitional process, I signed up with a service called Blogit. I wanted to see if there was really any decent money to be made in subscription blogging. While it seems some people did make good money, the effort to create content and attract an audience was just too demanding. I posted three essays at Blogit that I didn't keep permanent copies of. Tonight, I finally signed up again (burning $6 in the process for a one-month subscription) so that I could get my essays back. I deleted them from the service after saving them.

Those essays are now republished in the Xenite.Org Staff Essays section, where you may read them for free. Technically, they cost me $12 dollars to write. I paid for a one-month subscription to test the service. They are the only works I have ever paid to have puhblished, despite what some people would tell you.

In the merry old land of Oz is a nostalgic review of the power and the influence of L. Frank Baum's original Wizard of Oz story and the 1939 Victor Fleming film adaptation (starring Judy Garland, Buddy Ebsen -- I mean, Ray Bolger, and a few other great actors). The essay ranges into Tolkien and Rowling and the movies based on their books, too.

Sky Captain and the world of yesterday's movies is another nostalgic piece disguised as a pre-review of "Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow". I actually like "Sky Captain" and I bought the DvD. I hope we'll see more movies like it, but I'm not holding my breath.

The third Blogit essay I wrote was A song for the soul, a melody for the day. This piece is another nostalgic venture into my youthful interest, passing up into more recent musical tastes. I had for a while entertained the notion of focusing on nostalgic writing for Blogit, but the low rate of return on my monthly subscriptions and the amount of effort it would require to build a paying audience just didn't justify that much creativity. Besides which, I wasn't feeling all that nostalgic after writing these essays.

In the 1990s I wrote a series of book-length manuscripts for a fantasy world. These stories evolved from a teenage Tolkien knockoff world I created. The 1990s books were too traditional compared to the schlocky fantasy novels that were being published at the time. Modern fantasy has descended to new depths of low quality every few years. I'm not sure of why people get tired of reading more traditional fantasy, but I suppose the fact that every self-appointed critic bashes Tolkien has something to do with it.

Which is not to say that my books were well-written masterpieces. A few publishers indicated some possible interest, one agent said she thought they might be marketable, but no one bought anything and I got tired of collecting query letters. I did take the opening chapters for one of the books and rewrote them into a short story. I submitted the short story to a workshop Marion Zimmer Bradley offered to do for a small convention I was helping with. That may have been the last or one of the last workshops MZB did for unpublished writers.

The lady was simply amazing. There was no fooling around with her. She took my story out of an envelope, slammed it down on the table we were using, and said, "This is a novel, not a short story."

Did she think there was hope? She was circumspect about promising me riches and fame, but she offered concrete advice on how to expand the story (back) into novel form. I never found time to work on it again.

That short story, the original book it came from, and many other books, partial books, protobooks, and some short stories all went into boxes that I left with a relative in New Mexico when I moved to Texas in 2001. Through the years, those boxes -- I am told -- have ended up in yet another person's possession, although they are in storage. I no longer have access to my own work.

I did bring five notebooks with background information, historical essays, notes, chronological tabels, genealogies, and maps to Texas with me. But those notes were packed up when I moved to Florida and I had to leave them in my brother's care. I have since toyed with the idea of recreating the entire fantasy world from scratch and self-publishing it as a series of eBooks (for pay). But those manuscripts and notes represent about 15 years' worth of work. It is just such a daunting task to start over from scratch. And though I might actually write better stories this time around, they would not be the original stories.

My fiction career just never took off, and I have advised so many authors not to self-publish their fiction that I would feel very hypocritical to do so myself. Then again, since the kind of stories I like to read are no longer being published by mainstream publishers, I guess New York City is irrelevant to my fantasy interests anyway.

My current agent, who hasn't received anything from in a year, may no longer consider herself my agent. I've been struggling with some chronic health issues -- not simply chasing girls -- for a couple of years. It is very difficult to write for any length of time when you are not feeling well. Good writing requires discipline. After I started this blog, I realized it would serve as an opportunity for me to re-establish my discipline.

I don't pretend that this blog will become as popular as my old Suite101 topic was. While I hope the Suite doesn't represent the highlight of my career, I was riding the coat-tails of three immensely popular movies. And my essay topics were focused and consistent enough that I was able to build a large loyal audience. Here, I'm just sort of meandering through personal experience pieces. It's a new style of writing for me. But, who knows? Maybe it will help me write some first-person fiction -- that is the most dreaded form of fiction, by the way. Some people would say it tends to be the most dreadful form, since many beginning writers resort to it.

But if I can keep the momentum going, maybe I'll hit a new stride and kick off another great period of productive writing.

Immigration: Illegal Immigrants Like Puritans Should Go Home!

My father is Mexican. He was born in a little village which has long since been swallowed up by Monterrey. His family moved to San Antonio when he was about 8 years old and his father died soon afterward, leaving my grandmother to raise 10 children by herself. And she died within a few years, leaving the older children to raise the younger ones. They lived in what is now a tourist attraction called La Villita, "the little village", near the Alamo. The house where they lived is now a store selling gifts and souvenirs.

My mother's father was German. His family came over from Germany, and he married the daughter of an Irish immigrant, who had married the daughter of a Dutch immigrant.

Do you see a pattern here? I do.

When hundreds of thousands of Latin Americans marched through the streets of our cities recently, I wanted very badly to join them. I wanted to show them that they are as important to the United States of America as anyone who (like me) was actually born here. Circumstances prevented me from taking time off from work to join those protests, but I was with them in spirit.

While I understand the concerns of millions of Americans about the so-called expense of maintaining social services for illegal immigrants, those concerns are largely misguided. Let's look at health care and education.

Health care costs have been rising steadily for decades. The chief reasons for these spiraling costs are: the larger and more frequent malpractice settlements brought against doctors and hospitals by juries; the impact of an aging Baby Boomer generation that abused fast food, cigarettes, alcohol, and prescription and illegal drugs for decades; and the short-sightedness of many American companies whose owner-operators only buy insurance from close friends or relatives without demanding fully competitive pricing and service.

It has been said that the United States could not exist without lawyers. Our constitution was framed by lawyers. Our laws are shaped by lawyers. Our courts are run by special lawyers (we call them "judges"). And we reach for lawyers every time we have a car accident or serious physical injury.

I've retained a personal injury lawyer on two occasions, the same one each time, and both times he said he would not pursue vindictive judgements. He was up front with me about getting a quick, reasonable claim from the insurance company and moving on. I wasn't seriously injured either time. The total amount of "pain-and-suffering" I experienced was judged to be $5,000. He got his cut and I moved on.

Some lawsuits end up with massive settlements, though. Where medical services cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, one certainly expects an insurance company to pick up the cost. That is what insurance is supposed to do. Lost wages and income should also be covered, but ironically they often are not replaced by typical settlements.

On the other hand, our Workers Compensation laws have become encrusted with procedures and requirements that many people now game. Companies have burdened themselves with the expense of seeking out and fighting fraudulent Workers Comp claims because they cannot know in advance which employees will try to game the system with "Monday Morning Injuries". (Ironically, many companies can reduce WC claims and costs by offering their employees supplemental accident insurance, even on a voluntary basis -- but they don't take advantage of such plans.)

Baby Boomers are famous for being the "wild generation" of the 60s and 70s. I grew up with Baby Boomers to the right of me and the left of me. They loved their cigarettes, booze, and drugs. Not all of them, but a great many of them abused substances. Cigarette and other tobacco addictions kill thousands of Americans every month and the medical costs of treating them and caring for them will increase until, basically, the entire generation has died off.

But Baby Boomers also gave us the megacorporate fast foods (including microwavable dinners, junk food, and fast food hamburgers) industry. So now Americans are struggling to rein in their growing waistlines. We're getting fatter every day, and we're becoming increasingly diabetic and incurring other weight-related illnesses. These conditions force us to turn to doctors and medicines and hospitals.

And American businesses often hate to discuss insurance. They rush through their renewals without really looking at who is placing their insurance and how much that placement costs them. Companies that could be substantially reducing their insurance costs instead pay friends and family to gather a few quotes and turn in something that can be lived with.

All these factors, as well as others, are both controllable and well beyond the influence of illegal immigrants. If we take control over these cost-inducing elements of our society, health care costs will start to level off. I wish I could prescribe a formula for bringing them down, but that's not likely to happen.

Education is another area where illegal immigrants are hardly breaking the system. We've already forfeited per capita educational spending on our future in more ways than I can blog about here. Basic reading skills among Americans decline each year because we are no longer held to the stringent standards of learning to read (and write) proper English. Instead, we have allowed ourselves to become lazy.

The most abused word in the English language today is "myself". There was a time when anyone who dared say, "The total effect of poor education is borne by Americans such as myself" would have been scolded by a teacher. Now we have teachers saying nonsense like that.

Our communities devote less and less money to school systems each year on a per capita basis for a variety of reasons, the most often-cited reason being that taxpayers want relief. We're not willing to pay for the education our children should have, so let's blame illegal immigrants for the problem. Sorry, dudes, that dog won't hunt.

If we're going to start sending people home because they're here without visas, we need to round up all the descendants of the Puritans and the founders of Jamestown and send them packing back to Europe. Who in America invited them to come and stay? Who in America said the land was free for the taking? History teaches us that this land was taken and its prior inhabitants conquered or driven off.

Hispanic immigrants are coming north for the same reason that English immigrants came west hundreds of years ago: they want to feed their children and make a better life for themselves. Our business policies only exasperate the situation. Despite considerable opposition from labor unions and businessmen like Ross Perot, we agreed to the North American Free Trade Agreement. While we haven't heard that "huge sucking sound" Perot said would come, several hundred thousand American jobs did go south.

And the reason they went south was that the cost of labor is lower in Mexico. Since te cost of labor is less, we can make bigger profits by manufacturing goods in Mexico and bringing them north or shipping them overseas. As stockholders, we love the dividends and stock splits we get, but as jobholders we have to wonder how much longer we'll keep our jobs. In the meantime, we don't want to pay the same price for goods made in Mexico that we're willing to pay for American goods.

So should anyone wonder that Mexican laborers still want to come north to get better paying jobs? Maybe if we shipped more jobs south we'd stem the flow of illegal immigrants. Maybe if we decided to pay the same prices for Mexican goods as for U.S. goods we'd stem the flow of illegal immigrants.

I could go on, but time and space don't allow for that. While many Norte Americanos feel somehow threatened by the Mexicans and other Latin Americans who cross our borders illegally, they're just coming here (for the most part) to find work that we ourselves are not willing to do. We cannot afford to live on $500 a month. We need $5000 a month so we can drive the best cars and live in big houses.

American men have no problem crossing the Mexican border to visit prostitutes, many of them only teenagers, who have no other means of earning a living. Many Mexican girls who come north are driven to become prostitutes either through slavery or desperation. So how badly do their patrons want to send them home? They might be better off if we did deport them, but that's just insult to injury. The real problem is that we want cheap labor and cheap goods but we're not willing to tolerate the full cost of keeping the prices of labor and goods in the conveniently affordable range.

There is no quick, easy solution to the illegal immigration issue. It's not a problem, it's a whole set of problems, many of which really have nothing to do with Latin Americans. Last year, a girl from Mexico lost both her legs below the knees while trying to jump a train in Texas. She came here because she needed work. American factory workers sometimes complain that people like her take their jobs away. In fact, the people who are taking away American jobs are the CEOs who enact cost-cutting measures in order to keep their stockholders happy.

How many Mexican girls do you honestly believe would want to lose their legs just so hey can be deported for trying to pick tomatoes -- a job neither you nor I want to do anyway?

If the best response you can bring to these and other concerns is along the lines of, "This is our country, not theirs" or "they don't belong here", think again. The truth is that this country was founded by immigrant families, it was built by immigrant families, and it has long been defended by immigrant families who have sacrificed sons and limbs to fight in America's wars (and my father served this country for 24 years as a soldier). The fact that today millions of Americans don't have the right piece of paper in their hands doesn't make them any less Americans. Some of them only want to work here temporarily. Some want to live here permanently.

There is still room to spare for new people. And we need new people because we're not having as many babies as we used to. When you're old and depending on an immigrant to wheel you around the hospital, you'll thank God stupid anti-immigrant laws didn't pass review.

If there is a problem, the solution is not to close our borders. The solution is to help people find the means of providing safe, comfortable lives in their own countries while encouraging a reasonable number to join us and keep our culture and our economy rolling along. We won't find that solution through close-mindedness, prejudice, and failing to take responsibility for our own actions.

News, Breaking News, World News

In other news around the world, the legendary Julie Tam got a new engagement ring. I only mention that -- well, I'm not going to say why I mention it, but I doubt many of you would actually figure out the technical reasons for why I write some of the things I write.

In any event, Julie Tam is a native Texas girl making good in...Tennessee or someplace like that. She's a television reporter who now has her own official Julie Tam blog. Julie's blog is not quite as adventurous as mine, I suppose. After all, she stands before a television camera most days of the week and she's been interviewed by CNN and other networks for her coverage of some national interest-achieving stories (including the kidnap of a little girl in Tyler, TX).

Yes, that is where you may have heard of Julie Tam, if you didn't read about her on our Xenite Cool Sites page. So, maybe her blog is just a way of letting people know she's not a plastic television person. Maybe it's just a way for her to relax and stay in touch with friends and family. But it's one of the blogs I occasionally visit. While Julie may not tell the funniest stories in the world, or obsess about bass fishing like I do, she did post an interesting article on her blog on April 16. The entry is titled "Why I've never dated an Asian man".

You may never have heard of Angry Asian Man syndrome, but I have. It's a growing ethno-social issue here in the United States, and perhaps elsewhere, that is becoming more visible. In a nutshell, young Asian men are increasingly complaining about the difficulty of finding and marrying an Asian girl. Julie offers one Asian girl's perspective:

Here's some advice to you Asian guys out there, so you don't lose another Asian woman to another race... Don't be shy, show a girl you're interested, open your mouth and talk! Otherwise, we get impatient, discouraged, and we move on.

You know, this advice cuts across all ethnic and age groups. There are a lot of guys today who haunt dating and seduction forums, asking for magic bullet advice that will help them get the girls of their dreams. The chief obstacle to finding a good relationship is one's own reluctance to get out there and say, "Hi. What's your name?"

So what if the girl is seeing someone? Maybe she is willing to trade up. You just need to show her you're a good tradeup. And maybe she has a lot of friends who are not seeing anyone. Just because a girl is committed to someone doesn't mean she won't like you enough to include you in her social circle. You never know who you'll meet.

Well, I stumbled across Angry Asian Man sites last year while I was doing online research about Asian culture. My Asian friends would tell me a few things, but I wanted to see what is on the Internet. My long-standing criticism of the Internet is generally vindicated by the huge amounts of nonsense I found. I'd mention a few things to my friends, or to Linda (the ex-, not Tall Linda from the dance class) and they would roll their eyes and say, "Why do you search the Internet for this stuff?"

You're not going to learn everything about what it means to be Asian and living in America from the Internet. I don't expect to ever have more than a casual awareness of some of the issues Asian Americans face. But you can watch new phenomena unfold across the Web and discussion groups if you know what to look for. People share their most intimate, personal feelings on blogs and in online discussions. They feel a false sense of security and anonymity and that makes them uninhibited (or less inhibited).

When you put enough similar comments together, you can detect a broad social stress point, such as the fact that Asian families are struggling to maintain their cultural heritage in the United States. Other ethnic groups have passed through similar stress in their acculturation processes. Hispanic families experience similar cultural incongruities as their children grow up in largely English-speaking cmmunities and attend English-speaking schools.

I can attest to the confusion a child experiences when people assume he or she is a classic Hispanic stereotype. I don't speak with a Hispanic accent, I don't really speak Spanish, and I didn't really develop a taste for Mexican and other Latin foods until I was an adult. I grew up on hamburgers and hot dogs. Captain Kirk was my childhood hero. Gilligan and the Skipper taught me how to laugh. Donna Douglas and Dawn Wells taught me why men appreciate non-plastic, down home girls.

Italians, Germans, Swedes, Spaniards, French -- every classic "white" ethnic group that has settled in America has melted into the mainstream. But there remain enclaves in some areas where old languages and traditions persist. Those cultural enclaves continue to impact our cuisine, our language, and our imagination. Maybe one day they'll vanish completely, but hopefully we'll be comfortable enough with who are and who we are becoming to accept that we have a new culture that is directly derived from all the old cultures.

Culture has never been idle or static. The "old ways" were once new ways in the old world. People don't appreciate that their ancestors once crossed a desert or mountains or passed through a jungle to settle in a strange new land where they had to adjust to a new way of life. It's a continuing process in human experience.

So, yes, maybe I'm having fun with Asian girls because they respond to my confidence more than they do to Asian men's traditional quietness. Maybe there are other reasons. I know that some Asian girls don't make the switch to non-Asian men. At least not for long. I'm pretty sure I started losing interest in my last relationship when it became clear to me that I wasn't Vietnamese enough. I never wanted to be Vietnamese. I am who I am and I am comfortable with that.

For some girls, I won't be Hispanic enough, either. One day, those concerns won't be with many of us because each generation finds a way to confront them. But today we can see in the Asian and Hispanic communities the resonating clash of cultural identities that new American families have always experienced through the generations.

In reality, that's not news at all. It's just the way human experience unfolds.

Girls, Girls Gone Wild, And Girls, Girls, Girls

Okay, now that I have your attention, let me say this will be the last "Michael meets girls" post for a while. I don't feel like documenting every flirt, name exchange, evening out, and whatever for the rest of my love life. So, pull up a chair and enjoy the show. Tomorrow we'll move on to other interests.

First of all, I ran into Lan Saturday night. It wasn't the plan, but that's the way things turned out. I was supposed to spend the evening with someone else, but she and I forgot to followup with each other, and when I called her Saturday night to confirm, well, we didn't get together.

I realized later on in the evening that I am doing this so half-heartedly. I need to just relax and stop thinking about where I'm going next, because I am honestly having more fun when I do that than when I try to plan something. Besides, Easter weekend is not the best time to get together with someone you're not already seeing on a regular basis. People have families. They make plans for holiday weekends.

It's kind of funny, though, as I sometimes check my horoscope at a popular Web magazine just to see how far off from my reality the generic advice doled out to 250 million men (1/24th of the current human population) can be. This week it said I might have opportunities for romance if I involved myself with events that have something to do with children. Hm. Actually, two strange conversations occurred where that did seem like a possibility. But I didn't follow through with either one.

What I did do, as I realized I had fumbled the ball on my Saturday night, was call up Geno, who had told me a week or two ago that he had no parties or special events scheduled for the Saturday of Easter weekend. That just means Geno picks out a club and dances the evening away. I called him up and got him on the phone just as he was getting ready to go out for the evening. The chosen hot spot was Tropicana. I had also spoken with Lan, to see where she was going, and she also said Tropicana.

So, Tropicana became my Plan B right before I found out for sure that Plan A wasn't going to happen. I was kind of disappointed because I wanted to see Mary's Band, who now only play at Plaza 59 on Saturday nights. I sometimes wonder if Lan doesn't like the competition from Mary, but maybe she just likes different bands. She's allowed to have likes different from my own (but she always teases me about how I love Mary -- so I'm going to trust my instincts and stick with "Lan doesn't like competition").

Well, the hostess at Plaza 59 came over to talk with me but she had to get back to work, and I couldn't see me sitting around by myself for 2 hours waiting for the band to come on. So I told the guys up front it was nothing personal and headed out to Tropicana.

Normally when I go to a club I call and reserve a table. I don't like getting stuck in the back or having to spend the evening at the bar breathing in everyone else's cigarette smoke. Nonetheless, I hit Tropicana as the free dance lesson was winding down and found a table in the back against the wall. But I really couldn't see anything and doubted my friends would wander around the club looking for me (it's hard to find people once the crowd shows up, so we tend to stay close to our reserved tables).

The hostess at Tropicana sort of knows me, so I finally went to ask her if I could steal a table by the door. She looked a little panicked but started to think about whom she could move away. All of a sudden, Lan walked in. "Hi, Michael!"

Well, turns out she had a table in the usual spot, and she said something about "My girlfriends will be joining me later. But there's room for one more." So, I invited myself to join Lan's group.

She looked stunning, by the way. Absolutely gorgeous. And Lan never lacks for dance partners. She occasionally gives me grief if I don't ask her to dance, but I honestly don't feel like standing in line waiting for a chance to grab her. She'll ask me to dance once in a while, and she is a great dancer. One is rarely disappointed with Lan as a dance partner. We were chatting for a while as people slowly walked into the club and a bachata started up, so I took Lan out on the dance floor "before your queue of partners shows up". She laughed and said it was good to dance before the club grew crowded anyway.

I think that was the only time I danced with Lan all evening. But when the girlfriends showed up, I suddenly found myself the center of attention. There I was, surrounded by some of the hottest Vietnamese women in Houston, and they were dressed to kill. Men came darting from all sides of the club to ask my permission to dance with the ladies. I had only met one of them once before. She actually signed up for one of Gloria Jones' Houston dance classes and we had spoken briefly about ten days previously.

Geno came over at one point and said, "So, what's it feel like to be the center of attention?" I honestly didn't know what he meant, as I was trying to spread my dancing out across several ladies (Elsie, another of Gloria's students who asks me to dance, came by -- she's very good, too). I let Geno's comment pass until Lan came back to rest for a moment and she sat down next to me. She leaned over and said, "Michael, how does it feel to be the center of attention?"

I said, "What do you mean?"

She laughed and replied, "You're surrounded by beautiful women!" I looked around and suddenly understood what she and Geno were talking about. We were in the middle of a cluster of women. Now, the doorward area of the club is often a spot where guys congregate, but Saturday it seemed like the girls in that spot outnumbered the guys 2-to-1. It's usually the other way around.

The full effect didn't hit home, though, until I was actually leaving. As I got up to leave and said good-bye to Lan and her friends, a cute girl behind us actually gave me the most disappointed look. I didn't even know she was there, but that's the way it goes. She could have asked me to dance or something.

Although I hate dancing with strangers unless I've seen them dance first. I broke that rule with one lady. I was walking by Elsie at one point and she said, "Michael, this is my friend...." She couldn't remember the friend's name, but I held out my hand and shook the friend's hand. Elsie suddenly disappeared. I thought, "Okay, I guess she wants me to dance with the friend." So I did the courteous thing and asked the friend to dance.

This lady could not dance Salsa, and she didn't want to follow. I owe Elsie BIG for that.

Or maybe it was just a trick Geno set me up for. When he came by the table at one point, I said, "Why haven't you asked one of these ladies to dance?"

"They look like beginners."

I laughed and shrugged. "They are beginners," I said. But I figure forewarned is forearmed. Besides, they were willing to follow. So Geno grabbed one and took her out on the dance floor. Naturally, the band (Grupo Kandente, who have just added a female singer) launched into a super fast Salsa. You don't want to dance with a beginner on such a fast song, but Geno stayed with it and she did a pretty good job of following him, in my opinion.

I saw German Hernandez standing close by and asked him why the song sounded different to me. It seemed to have an almost Jamaican feel to it.

"They're playing it too fast," he replied. "It's just a standard Salsa, but they've upped the beat." He counted off 123..567..123..567 really fast and suddenly I understood what he meant. "But this is an older Salsa song," he added. "It's a classic." Older Salsas (from the 1960s through 1980s) tend to be slower than modern Salsas, but the band had obviously brought it up-to-date for the 21st century.

So, I had a great time Saturday, maybe I found a new dance partner in one of Lan's friends, and my only big disappointment was not getting to hear Mary's Band. I may check them out at another venue next weekend. They play at Cantina Laredo earlier in the evening on Fridays and Saturdays.

So, what's with the "Girls Gone Wild" in the subject line? I'm getting to that.

I went by the dance studio to help out again tonight. I helped demonstrate the Two Step for a beginner class at 8:00 PM. I'm not very good at Two Step but for beginning stuff I can usually handle a teacher's backleads well enough to get a basic step across to other people. I didn't embarrass myself too much.

The real fun started at 9:00 PM, with Gloria's Beginner Ballroom class. Anna, the cute redhead from the Intermediate class, did not stay around to help as there were once again too many ladies. Another girl I don't know did stay. But I found myself standing near the tall Asian girl I mentioned previously. I think she has a boyfriend, but tonight she was by herself.

Asian women generally are not as aggressive as American women. American women may not feel they are aggressive, but the cultural differences are immense. I think that was the big problem between me and Linda, the Vietnamese girl I had been seeing for a few months. She stole my heart but my Asian friends warned me that she was probably too traditional to accept being with an American man. I don't know. I meet Asian women all the time, and their acculturation (or Americanization) varies tremendously. The girls who grow up here are very much like other American girls, except that they still tend to be more conservative than Anglo and even Hispanic girls (in general -- every ethnic group of course has its conservative and liberal families).

But my point is that Asian women don't usually try to draw men out (through overt flirting) the way non-Asian women often do. An Asian woman can be just as intensely interested in you as any other woman, but her family has raised her to act a certain way. It's hard to know if there are signs of interest or what the interest represents (it's not always romantic or sexual interest -- some Asian women are more receptive to befriending non-Asian men than others).

So I moved over to stand next to the tall Asian girl and started chatting with her. She recognized me from both the Ballroom and the Beginner Salsa class. I drew a complete blank on the Salsa class, but she is taking the Beginner Salsa class this month. I'm sorry, but I have danced with so many girls in Salsa classes, they have to spend a fair amount of time with me to register on my radar. I slowly began to recall her from across the room. I spent most of that evening with the girl I called Miss Cute Reluctant, whose friends had brought her into the class on the second week. (NOTE ON EDIT: Nope. Miss Cute Reluctant is from a Saturday class -- I cannot keep them all straight.)

So, we're talking and I learn she's out of college and working for a company in a nearby location. And her name is Linda (but she is not Vietnamese -- at least not ethnic Vietnamese). I was kind of stunned to be dancing with a Linda but life goes on. There are a lot of Lindas in Houston. Lots of Asian Lindas. Who are beautiful and find me interesting enough to engage in light conversation with me. Yeah, right.

It was a freaky moment, but she made a point of saying good-bye to me when the class was over.

As we started dancing, Linda refused to make eye contact with me. That's not unusual in Asian culture. It's a sign of respect for the other person, so I knew not to try and stare into her eyes, and kept my eyes diverted as much as possible. But at one point I noticed her pupils were extremely dilated so something had got her interest and I'll be bold and say I think it was me.

Linda has danced before. So she followed well enough and we were having a nice chat when Gloria came over and asked me to trade partners (was I being too obvious, or what?). I'm just there to help, so I do what I'm asked. And Gloria asked the Intermediate girl who had stayed to help (and who was filling in as a "guy") to dance with Linda. Gloria paired me up with the other Asian girl I had danced with last week.

This girl's name is May (I asked her tonight, and she at least asked me what they call me when people speak with me). I don't know much about May, but she is not a traditional Asian girl. She grew up in America. For all I know, her parents grew up in America. So, not only is she extremely cute; she's not afraid to flirt.

Dear God, what a flirt this girl was. So far as I know, she's only 18-20 but I don't ask ages and I just go with the flow.

May doesn't have as much dance experience as Tall Linda, so she still needs a little gentle reminding about keeping her frame and putting a little more pressure into her arms. I decided to make a game of it by gently but firmly pressing her hand back until she caught on.

Boy did she catch on.

One minute we're dancing the FoxTrot and the next we're locked in an arm-wrestling competition. She slammed her hand back into mine and caught me off-guard. My first reaction was to relax my arm because I didn't want to look like I was fighting with a girl half my age in the middle of a dance class. But I realized quickly that would send the wrong signal, so I started fighting back.

Now, I'm pretty sure Gloria doesn't want me to wrestle with her students in the middle of class, so I didn't put all my effort into it. But May found a little more strength to throw in. This girl is strong. I didn't ask her, but I think she must be into sports. She works out, I'm sure. I had to struggle to seem manly and firm without losing the poise and dignity of just being there to dance.

By this time, we're locking gazes and our expressions are getting intense. She was smirking at me and I said very carefully, "What are you doing?"

"Giving you pressure."

"I see. So, you like to dominate all the guys?"

She laughed and kept it up. By this time I'm leading her around the room in a FoxTrot but she's not following at all. Too much of her attention is going into pressing home the attack. She got out of step several times and tried to take the lead away from me. That don't work with Michael.

I said, "You're not going to win this battle, so don't even try." She began to relax at that point, but the fight hadn't quite gone out of her yet.

I teased her about leading street gangs in her spare time. "But my gang is such a nice gang," she replied.

"There ain't no nice gangs," I said coldly. "You just need to learn to submit."

Now, I'm just recapping the highlights. Every time Gloria came by I had to relax and act like nothing untoward was happening. Fortunately, May caught on to that quickly and she relaxed, too. But we'd go right back at it as soon as Gloria moved on. If Gloria ever reads this blog, she'll kill me, I'm sure.

I kept saying, "You are so going to get me into trouble."

I've been in a lot of funny dance situations, but that's the first time anyone has tried to wrestle me down. It was a funny moment but as the other students rumbled across the room in their first unrehearsed dances, things got a little crazy. I'd be counting for May to help her (and me, to be honest) stay in time, playing the subtle Pressure Game with her, teasing her about wrestling tigers on the weekends, and avoiding collisions on a near minute-by-minute basis.

I doubt she learned much about Ballroom Dancing tonight, except that it's important to follow the man's lead. By the end of the class, I'm pretty sure she understood that I lead, she follows. I injected a few moves that Gloria wasn't teaching yet just to keep May off balance. She had no idea of what was coming next, but she didn't stop smiling so I know she was loving every moment of the class.

Only problem is, what am I going to do next week?

Well, you all will just have to bide your time and hope I blog about it again. But this girl, young as she is, definitely has some potential. Yeah, I said that. Any 18-20 year-old-girl who is gutsy enough to almost start a fight with me in the middle of a dance class deserves a second look. You just don't often run into spunk and fire like that.

And she's cute, too. Did I say that?

Bass Fishing: A True Fishing Story About Grandpa Bass

Everyone has a fishing story. This one is true, I swear on my soul! It's true, I tell you; true, true, true. It really happened.

When I was a kid, maybe 4-5 years old (I don't remember exactly), my family lived somwehere in the south Miami area. I remember the street on which we lived vividly. There was a tall tree outside our house in the front yard. A hedge separated our backyard from the backyard of the house behind us. There was an empty lot around the corner from our house, facing the two houses' backyards. A bee stung me on the elbow in that lot. Across the main road was a church where, curiously, I was taken for a YMCA summer day camp a few years later when my family had moved to Miami Beach.

I doubt if we lived there for a year, but I have a lot of memories of that house. We occasionally had catered lunches delivered from Three Sisters. I weathered at least one hurricane there. One of my mother's friends came over for the storm and everyone gathered in the living room for a Hurricne Party. It got so hot and stuffy in there I was kind of grossed out, so I went back to my bedroom. My mother had opened all the jalousy windows in the house so my room was cool and a bit moist. The storm raged outside with thunder and lightning that I'll never forget. I hit the bed and when I woke up in the morning the weather had passed on, but the street was transformed into a really cool scene with tree limbs and water everywhere (kids just think any disaster is cool).

If you turned left from the main road onto the street that ran by our house, you would pass our street and wander through the neighborhood. Eventually you would reach a little green common area, sort of a mini-park that looked out over an artificial lake. The lake, as I recall, was formed by a river that had been partially blocked when the main road was paved over. The lake was a freshwater pond, really, but it had a very deep section the kids were not allowed to swim in. You could see seaweed (or whatever the freshwater equivalent of seaweed is) growing out in that section, and once in a while a powerboat would cruise up and down the river.

There was a small dock that marched out into the water from the common area. It ran alongside the shore and then jutted straight out in a classic T-shape, so you could tie up boats on either side of the main stem. On the left side of the dock the water was shallow enough that I could wade through it close to shore or swim around near the dock as it moved toward the deep water.

My brother is 20 months older than me, and he used to look after me. Wherever Rick went, there I went, too. I was the classic attached little brother. For many years, we had many adventures together. We'd share the same friends, explore new vistas together, get into trouble together, and we fought like Tom and Jerry, cats and dogs, fire and ice.

Rick was more outgoing than me, and he actually made more friends than I knew. He would hang with the teenagers in the neighborhood on occasion. They worked on their bicycles and skateboards and taught him the basic mechanical skills he would later use to build go-carts, mini-bikes, and weird thingees I cannot begin to describe. I remember looking out the front window one day and seeing the bottom part of a bicycle. The upper part (the seat and handle bars) were at least ten feet above the wheels. The older kids had built extension bars onto the bike and were riding it up and down the street.

I was kind of scared because I was afraid the boy riding the bicycle would fall off. I ran and hid in my room, but my brother ran outside to see the bike. I don't know if they gave him a ride on it, but I eventually gathered up my courage and followed him outside. He was down the street talking with the boys and I went up and asked about the giant bike. One of the teenagers said, "What giant bike?"

I said, "The one I saw you riding down the street."

"I didn't see any giant bike."

Well, I knew he was lying, so I turned to Rick to get him to help me out. Rick didn't want to get into the middle of it. I guess he liked the fact that the older boy was teasing me. But I got indignant. I knew what I'd seen, and I insisted he show me where the bike was. The older boy finally walked over to his bicycle and picked it up over his head. "You mean this giant bike?" he asked.

"No!"

He laughed at me and then said they had taken it apart. The guy who owned the extension rods had taken them home. I did get to see the bike up close one other time when they were putting the extension rods on it. It was pretty cool, but I guess in today's litigious world not too many parents would let their kids build such a contraption.

Those were the days of cleancut teenage boys who just wanted to have fun without getting into serious trouble. They were safe to let your young kids hang around. If we got in over our heads, the older boys would (reluctantly) help us out of whatever dilemma we found ourselves in. And they taught me and Rick how to fish. Mostly Rick. I never had the patience for fishing, and never could keep my fishing line from tangling up. I spent many an hour untangling that fishing line and finally gave up.

Rick said, "Don't worry about it. Just watch the fish and I'll share some with you."

He loved to fish. Still does. He'd catch brim (is that spelled b-r-e-a-m?) for an hour or two and then we'd take his catch home. Our maid would gut the fish and cook them for us, and we'd have a nice lunch. That was a magic summer. Some days all the kids would go down to the fishin' dock for a swim, or to fish for brim and bass, and some days it would just be me and Rick. You never knew who would show up or how long they'd stay.

Well, a lot of men in that neighborhood spent some time fishing at the dock, too. They loved to fish for bass. You could sit around and listen to fishing stories for hours on end. And one story I always loved to hear, in its many variations, was the story about "Grandpa Bass". He was the biggest, meanest, ornierest fish you'd ever seen. And nobody really had seen him because he'd stay out in the deep water amidst all the kelp. But people knew he was there because he broke fishing lines and stole prize fishing poles. His conquests were legion.

Some guys offered real money for a chance to play Grandpa Bass if anyone would hook him. Of course, all the old-timers said he was too smart to get hooked any more. One old man said, "Why, son, that fish ought to be so scarred he ain't got no lip left to hook. I done hooked him when I was a kid and he got clean away with my fishing pole and everything."

"Do you still try to catch him?" I asked.

"Naw. I give up years ago."

That fish beat a lot of men. I just couldn't believe it. These guys would come and bag bass right and left. If I saw an especially big one, I'd ask, "Is that Grandpa Bass?"

One day, the boy with the giant bike laughed at me and said, "Michael, Grandpa Bass is THIS BIG!" He held out his arms as far as they could go. "If they ever catch that fish, you'll know it. They'll be on TV."

Well, my hopes of ever seeing Grandpa Bass were dashed, because I knew no one could ever hook a fish that big (little did I know what I would see come off the boats when I moved to Miami Beach -- but that's another story). So I went back to watching Rick's catch, or playing with my friends, and enjoying the endless days of childhood's last pre-school summer.

One morning, Rick and I walked up to the dock to catch our lunch. No one else was there. As usual, Rick hooked brim after brim and threw them up on the grass. I'd stand there and watch them. For some reason, I wasn't wearing any shoes that morning. I guess I just liked the feel of the grass under my feet (and never much believed in the vicious hookworms that Mom said I'd catch if I didn't wear my shoes). One of the fish kept flopping back toward the water. It was a fighter. I decided it was getting too close and tried to kick it back up the slope.

Well, that works when you're wearing shoes. But the dang thing bit my big toe. "Ouch!" I stooped to press my fingers around the blood and think angry thoughts at a poor fish that would soon be my lunch.

So, there I was, surrounded by vicious, angry, dying fish, bleeding from my wound, when all of a sudden I heard my brother say, "Mike! Mike! Come here!"

"I can't," I said. "Your stupid fish bit me."

"What'd it bite you for?"

"I was kicking it."

"Don't kick my fish and come here!"

Well, I didn't want to do what he said but he was providing lunch so I reluctanly turned around.

What an amazing sight. I'll never forget it.

There was my 7-year-old older brother holding on to his fishing pole for dear life. The pole was bent near to the breaking point and the line was taut with the tension of a mighty struggle. But the most amazing part of that scene was the fact that Rick, who was wearing shoes, was slowly sliding toward the end of the dock.

"Come here and help me!" he yelled.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked.

"Grab me!"

"I can't! You're too big!"

"Stop screaming and get over here!"

Well, I limped over there as fast as I could (still bleeding from my toe). I grabbed Rick around his waist and held on tightly.

"Don't hold me, you idiot! Pull me back!"

So I tugged and I pulled and I writhed and I cried. It didn't matter what I did, that fish just pulled us closer and closer to the water.

"What is it?" I screamed. "Is it a monster?"

"No, you idiot! It's Grandpa Bass! I've got him and I'm going to catch him!"

Well, that was about all I needed to hear. A fish bigger than me and my brother was going to pull us into the forbidden deep waters and either swallow or drownd us.

"Let go, Ricky! Let go!" I yelled. "I don't want to die!"

"We're not going to die, Mike! Just hang on!"

Well, we were running out of dock and by now instead of leaning back against the pull of the line we were both almost upright. My strength was giving out, partly due to fear, I'm sure. I didn't let go because I didn't want to lose my brother. But I sure didn't want to hit that water!

"Please let go, Ricky! Please let go!"

"No, we've got him!"

"PLEASE!"

I guess Rick was moved by the terror in my voice, or maybe he finally realized he wouldn't win the battle. Right as we were about to hit the edge of the dock he yanked the pole or the fish yanked it. The line snapped and we both went tumbling back.

I, of course, started bawling like a baby. I was just so relieved to be alive I couldn't hardly breathe. Rick, of course, was not happy about losing the fish, half his line, or his best lure and snag hook. He got up and started stamping and fuming.

"We had him! We had him!" Rick cried out in frustration.

"We didn't have him," I said. "He had us!"

So, there I sat blubbering like a 5-year-old fool and along came the boy with the giant bicycle (that's how I'll always remember him). "What's going on?" he asked. "Why are you crying like a baby?"

Rick wouldn't say a word. So, I said it for him. "Grandpa Bass almost killed us!"

The boy just laughed at me. "Grandpa Bass didn't just try to kill you."

"Yes, he did!" I insisted. "He almost pulled us into the lake!"

The boy looked at Rick, who must still have looked pretty shaken. Then he looked at Rick's fishing pole and saw the broken line. "What happened, Ricky?"

"It's like Mike said," my brother replied. "I hooked a big fish and it almost pulled us in."

The boy still didn't believe us. "There is no Grandpa Bass," he said.

"Yes, there is," I insisted. "He almost pulled us in."

Well, about that time, some fish decided to jump out of the water. I didn't see it. I don't know if Rick saw it, but Giant Bicycle Boy saw it. "Jesus!" he cried. "IT's GRANDPA BASS!"

He ran back to the grass where I'd laid my fishing rod and he started casting out into the deep water. Now I got mad, because I knew he was too big to be dragged into the water, but I was afraid he'd get my pole broken. So there we were, yelling and screaming at each other about my fishing pole while he was whipping that line out into the deep water like crazy, and Rick was just laughing, and up comes one of the neighborhood dads.

"What are you boys yelling about?" he asked.

"He won't let me use his fishing pole," Giant Bicycle Boy said.

"He's trying to catch Grandpa Bass!" I complained.

The man just laughed. "He won't catch anything with that light rod, son. And, besides, there isn't any Grandpa Bass."

"Yes, there is! He almost pulled me and Ricky into the water."

Well, 5-year-olds have no credibility, so everyone looked at Rick. He just shrugged. "I never saw it," he said. "I just know something was pulling us in."

The man just shook his head. "You boys are lucky the line broke. You could have drowned out there. I've heard those stories since I was a boy. I never hooked him, but people have got into trouble in the deep water."

"You don't believe in Grandpa Bass?" I said.

"Son, that fish would have to be sixty years old. Do you think any fish would live that long?"

I shook my head. "I dunno," I said.

But by this time, Giant Bicycle Boy had put my fishing pole down. "I hooked him once," he said. "He broke my rod."

"Something broke your rod," the man replied.

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe it was a monster."

"It wasn't no monster," Giant Bicycle Boy said.

"Well how could it be a 60-year-old fish?" I demanded (and I had no idea of what 60 years was anyway).

The boy just spread his arms wide and said, "Why do you think they call him Grandpa Bass?"

Body Language: Dancing in the Moonlight

Social dancing has been described as having sex in a standing position. The body movements in many social dances reveal the details of their origins. For example, if you watch couples dancing the "dirty" Bachata dance style, they are obviously emulating sexual activity. The "clean" Bachata dance style is not nearly as intimate. The man stands further away from his partner, he doesn't gyrate nearly as suggestively, and it's just a fun little dance you could teach your kids without wondering what they'll be up to.

Tango is a popular dance style and many people consider it to be very sexy. I don't. It looks extremely stylized and formal to me, and that reflects its origin. Tango was invented by Argentinian men who needed to pass the hours away as they waited outside of brothels. In Tango, partners rarely if ever make eye contact, and they often look over each other's shoulders. They also are expected to maintain a very disciplined posture. Nonetheless, Tango has evolved in an artistic, graceful dance and I suppose that is why many women like it. It probably helps that the man has to provide a strong lead.

In Salsa, there are many moves where women are free to add some styling. They can swivel their hips, glance over their shoulders, stroke their hair, wave their arms with their palms out and up -- these are all classic courtship body moves. They are flirtateous actions that make a woman look sexy and interested in a man.

Men do have some styling moves in Salsa, but not nearly as many as women do. I've seen men in the clubs assume some stances that Gloria Jones, my dance teacher in Houston, has told me not to do.

One movement guys tend to make is they put their hands behind their backs as they spin their partners. The technical reason not to do this is that it can throw you off balance, and indeed many guys just stop their footwork and guide their partners. But I remember when I was in college I went up to talk with a girl and I put one arm behind my back. A friend of mine came up to me later on and he said, "Michael. Don't put your arm behind your back like that when you talk with a girl. You look like a dork."

Okay, we don't want to look like dorks, do we?

Another movement guys make is to place their hand on their stomach as the lead their partners across the floor (often in a Cross Body Lead or a Coca-Cola/Inside Turn). I'm not sure of why they do that. If a guy has a big gut, it draws attention to his stomach. The girl he is dancing with may or may not care about his gut, but he may be emphasizing his least attractive asset in front of prospective partners. More importantly, though, he looks like he doesn't have control. Again, usually when I see guys place their hand on their stomach, they stop their footwork. They are so obviously concentrating they don't look smooth or polished. It's a good idea to practice dancing with your free hand held just slightly off to the side in front of you, moving gently in time to the music, as you continue your footwork.

I often sense, when I am dancing with beginning partners, what I can do with them. Some girls take a lead very well, some girls insist on leading themselves, and some girls just don't dance well enough to either take a lead or give it. The best partners are relaxed and enjoying themselves. They concentrate on doing the moves but they are smiling confidently and maybe even flirtateously. Whatever is going through their minds, impressing me with their dance steps is not the priority.

If a beginning girl trusts me enough to lead her, I can get her to do just about anything. I've seen some dance teachers take a beginner and move her through some very complex stuff. They give strong, firm leads and the girls just dazzle everyone. A friend of mine once tried to dance with a beginner he had seen me dance with and she couldn't do any of the moves he tried with her. He was so used to dancing with girls who lead themselves, he didn't realize she needed a good strong lead.

An advanced dancer can take the gentlest of leads and do amazing things. But when you just start dancing with a new partner, you have to provide a firm guidance. This is a lot like starting out a relationship. We talk about "training" our new partners in relationships, and sometimes it's a joke. But in reality we are looking to achieve a level of comfort as quickly as possible with new romantic partners (even new friends and new business partners). It's the same way in dancing partnerships.

The more rigid and inflexible your body is as you start to dance with someone new, the less able you and that person are to train each other to achieve that mutually desired comfort level. On the other hand, if the woman is too soft (at least in Latin dances), she sort of drapes herself like a sheet across her partner. I have literally had to peel some women off my chest. There wasn't much I could do with them in dance steps. Turning and spinning were pretty much out of the question.

If a woman feels comfortable enough with you to embrace you on the dance floor, maybe you just need to lead her over to the bar and by that stereotypical drink. I don't know. But if she won't take any lead at all, about the best thing you can do is break off, say, "Thank you", and move on.

The body language of dance is as important as the body language of love. You have to read how your partner is taking your lead. You have to project the attitude you want her to perceive about you. You have to be consistent and confident. Men who lack confidence in their dancing shrink in on themselves, they stand away from their partners, they apologize constantly, and they don't smile. A confident man will come over to a woman and expect her to dance with him. An unconfident man may tremble or stumble or mutter through "Will you dance with me?"

Asking the girl to dance is the second thing the man should do. The first thing he should do is check out her body language. What is she doing before he walks up to her and says very casually, "Do you dance Salsa?" or "Will you dance with me?"

If she is holding a drink directly in front of her, you may have to chat her up. The drink is a barrier. If she is facing a friend, she is not interested in dancing with you (at that moment). If she drops her shoulders, she feels threatened. Back off.

One of the worst signals I've encountered with girls is when they look down. They are wrapped up in their feet. They don't know enough about dancing to feel confident enough to look at you or over your shoulder. Dropping her head like that only throws her off balance and makes her dancing worse. If you see a girl dancing like that with someone else, either write her off or be prepared to bring out every funny joke in the book (and they probably won't be funny).

When a girl is really enjoying a dance, she'll push her hair back firmly. She is just so into the moment she doesn't want to miss a thing.

The more I watch people's body gestures as they dance, the more I understand about what people are silently telling us in other situations through their body gestures. If a woman holds her partner away in an intimate dance, she doesn't want to be near him. If she only looks over his shoulder, she is not interested in him. If she remains upright and rigid when he drapes himself on her, she is feeling turned off. If she lays her head on his shoulder, she is feeling extremely close and intimate. If she rubs her hands on his back or shoulders, she is really feeling intimate.

Men tend to be very sloppy and lazy when they dance. Is it any wonder most relationships are ended by women? We lose our focus, take what's happening for granted, and she just gets tired of not being made to feel special. There is an endless supply of men who are waiting to give her that special feeling, even if it's only for a few minutes. For some women, that's all it takes to tell a man she has to barf rather than dance with him. For other women, it may require a lot more (especially if she knows the man and he is tired or injured or sick).

A man who dances crisply, who makes his partner shine is always in demand. Women flock to him. A man who dances no better than all the other guys can go around the club asking women to dance with him, and plenty of women will agree to, but they won't give him those 'buying' signals.

Your goal when you dance with a girl should be to make her smile, make her push her hair back, make her want to be with you again.

Is that any different when you're in a more romantic situation?

If you lose your interest before she does, you'll lose your focus. And when you lose your focus, when you lose your interest, she'll know before you do. She reads you faster than you read her. I've had many a lackluster dance with girls I wasn't interested in dancing with. They seldom ever asked me to dance again.

That's where the magic lies: you find a partner that you want to be confident and smiling for, and she'll smile and dig being with you more than anything else as long as you're together. And then, when music ends, maybe you'll continue dancing in the moonlight anyway.

Magic Monday: Happy Mondays

Well, for those of you who keep coming back for more (you do have lives, right?), I drove by Los Andes restaurant yesterday on the way home from work. It's on Richmond, facing the road with a huge friggin' sign that reads in unobstructed bold white letters, "LOS ANDES". But the Internet mapping service I used to locate the restaurant told me to turn onto a different street. The Internet has a ways to go before it becomes an information back-alley, much less an information superhighway.

In other breaking news, Cheeta the Chimp turned 74 years old. I didn't realize that chimpanzees could live that long. Tarzan has changed faces a few times over the decades. I wonder what Chita makes of all them?

Among other people reading my blog are some corporate clientele of a national market research company. I caught some referrals from their Web site yesterday that looked strange. I called the company to see what was up, and the president of the firm called me back. He was very complimentary about one of my articles, saying it explained in entertaining detail the kind of information his clients need. I was glad to reach the right people. I hope they get the message.

And then I had to go downtown to visit the Houston Police Department. For reasons unknown to me, one of the local television stations was doing a report just outside the building. I didn't stop to watch or listen, but maybe the footage they showed on the air caught me walking back toward my car.

As I wandered through traffic on my way home, my cell phone kept ringing. One of the callers was Gloria Jones, who asked if I could help with an Intermediate Ballroom Dance Class in Houston. Okay. One of the regular guys sent her an email and said he wouldn't be there. So now I would be doing 3 dance classes in a row: Intermediate Ballroom, Beginner Two Step, and Beginner Ballroom.

The first two classes proved to be less full than expected. I think I did a little dancing in the Pre-Intermediate Ballroom at 8:00 instead of the Two Step class, where I wasn't needed after all. I was just beginning to chat up Anna, a cute redhead, when Gloria asked me to switch partners. Such a thing is unheard of in these Ballroom Classes. Was I being too obvious? I don't think so. I suspect Gloria felt my lead (such as it is in Ballroom Dancing) was better used with a lady who had just joined the class (we were into the second of four classes).

I can do Cha Cha. I get by okay on the Rumba, too, because it's a Latin dance and I can keep in time. Tango sort of works but I only know a very little Tango. My Waltz is probably way too mechanical, and I am only just beginning to not feel dorky when I do Jitterbug. I just keep picturing Happy Days reruns when I do the Jitterbug, and the new lady blurted out, "Boy this takes me back!"

The Beginner Ballroom class is pretty big and Gloria asked 1 or 2 other guys to stay over and help out. There I was going to partner up with someone from last week who seemed very interested. I mean, she's close to my age, very attractive, and she went out of her way to make it clear she was interested in me. So, I was standing in the middle of the room as she came in with a friend. She said, "Hi!" and whizzed past me. The friend said, "Hi, Michael" and acted like she might stay to chat if I were of a mind to do so, but I passed on the opportunity.

At the end of the class, the Interested Lady came up and said, "Michael, you didn't dance with me." I only replied, "No, I didn't dance with you."

Sorry, but I don't chase. I believe that was what she expected, in retrospect. I think I was supposed to obediently turn around and walk up behind her and say, "How have you been?"

That's the problem with beautiful women, I think. They are so used to guys hitting on them they just tend to expect men to follow them around and beg for attention. And, of course, they never actually fall in love with those guys or have their babies. So why should a man bother to do that?

In the meantime, I kept to myself, waited for all the students to sort themselves out, and found a different partner. She and two friends came in last week as well. Both girls are very cute but I figured the guy was someone's boyfriend. After last night, I'm not sure of what kind of trio they are. One girl is the same ethnic group as the guy (I think), and the other girl is a different ethnic group. All three are of Asian descent.

Now, I'll be honest. I was mildly interested in the girl from the second ethnic group last week. I thought, "She's really cute. I wonder if she's legal."

You don't get many teenagers in these classes, but it happens. There is a girl in the Intermediate Ballroom class who is very young. I think she is legal, but I have no idea. I'm a terrible judge of age. I seriously doubt the Intermediate girl is over 20 years old.

So, I partnered up with one of the Asian girls -- in fact, I thought she and the guy were boyfriend/girlfriend, but it appeared as the class went on that the other Asian girl was his girlfriend. Maybe. I mean, they were playful and touched each other a lot, but they were not romantic toward each other. A new couple came into the Beginner class (at least, I didn't recognize them from last week) and they were clearly boyfriend/girlfriend. What is it with people going to dance classes to make out in the middle of a crowd of strangers? Rent a hall, people!

I decided I was just going to have some fun. Dancing with beginning students can be stressful because they are so self-conscious and oftentimes don't know how to dance (once in a while, someone with dance experience shows up to learn new steps or get back in the groove). This girl seemed a little shy but not overly nervous. So I joked with her. When we got into the Rumba, I said, "I hope you like the Bee Gees".

"I love the Bee Gees!" (I thought: Where were you in the 60s? Oh, never mind.)

So, we danced Rumba to "How Deep Is Your Love?" and I did my best not to sing it for her (I only know about half the lyrics anyway -- forgive me, Amanda Bynes).

When the Foxtrot came up, I said, "I hope you like Frank (Sinatra)," and she said, "Yeah!" I mean, she was enthusiastic. "Yeah!" Ole' blue eyes still knocks 'em dead even from the grave. It dawned on me slowly that this sweet young thing might just happen to like all the music she would be learning to dance to, and maybe that was why she wanted to learn to dance to it.

Men can be so dense.

As we scooted back and forth across the room, I kept teasing her about her lack of frame. For some reason, a lot of the young girls just try to melt into my chest. Much as I might enjoy some huggin' and kissin', they might not have that on their minds. I kept saying, "Hold me back! Fight me off! I'm going to be all over you."

It rarely works. I mean, they laugh, they tense up a little, but after a minute or so they just go limp again and I cannot maintain the proper distance between us. You know, men like to hold cute and curvaceous young women in their arms. But that makes it very difficult to dance.

Fortunately, we were dancing near a large fan that was blowing at almost max speed. Every time I backed her close to that fan, it blew her hair into her face and she had to do a hair flip. Oh, yeah, I was manipulating the moves. At one point, while we were doing Tango, I turned her around and shook my head like I was whipping my hair in the wind and I said, "You know...when I bite into a York Peppermint Patty, I feel like I'm dancing the Tango!"

Groan all you wish, it worked. She laughed at my stupid joke.

Well, no, I have no idea of what her name is. Didn't ask. I'll wait and see if she avoids me next week or whatever. Her girlfriend kept exchanging glances with her and at one point arched her back for me. The guy friend was standing behind her, so I am pretty sure I was the target.

When a girl arches her back, she does it so the man she is flirting with sees her in profile. I was standing to her right. I got to see the full sinuous movement. It's not so much a "Come and get it" flirting move as more like a "Like what you see? Maybe I'll give you a shot at earning it."

Back arches are extremely sexy, the girls know they are, and any man who sees one should understand immediately that an option has just been placed on his table. And just because a girl has a boyfriend doesn't mean she is committed to him. A lot of guys won't approach a girl who is "taken". They don't realize that until they feel committed, girls will keep their eyes and their options open.

So, am I an option for her, or was she just trying to get a rise out of the older man? I have no idea. But I'll keep my eyes open. Girls tend to get competitive around men, so the girls could have just been having a little innocent competition with neither intending to follow through on anything. To be honest, I know one of them just turned 18 and I'm really not interested in riding that emotional roller coaster. My ideal woman would be 25 to 35, no kids yet, but definitely planning to have mine.

My friends say I need to be a little more flexible. I say, why? I know what I want. Why should I settle for less?

And, yes, I thought about Linda, but I'm getting past that day by day.

Lost in Salsa

This is long. That's just the way it goes.

It seems like a lot of things happened this week, and stuff just keeps unfolding faster than I can take it in. I'll pick up with Thursday, I suppose. Gloria Jones called me about two minutes after I walked in the door Thursday evening. "Hey, Michael, I've got some extra ladies tonight. Have you made any plans?"

Technically, I had just gotten off the phone with an old friend from college who said he would email me some stuff. I was supposed to wait by the computer with bated breath, hoping his email came through the flood of spam, newsletters, Xenite/SF-FANDOM administrative notifications, other personal emails, and the usual odd stuff that strangers elect to send me for reasons I can seldom fathom.

Hm. Spend an evening dancing with Gloria's students in one of her Houston Salsa Classes or sit by the computer waiting on an email. Such difficult choices demand less than a coin toss. I threw my stuff in a corner and said, "I'll be there in five minutes." (Yes, I live close to the dance studio, but that was a fortuitous accident when I picked my current apartment). Blake's email didn't show up until sometime Friday, anyway, so it turned out to be the best choice.

Helping with a dance class is not the easiest thing to do, especially when you've been ill for a couple of months, barely dancing with your friends, and not able to keep up with the curriculum. I spent two hours dancing with Pre-Intermediate and Begiinning Salsa students. The evening was a blur, but there were so many ladies in one class -- and the men (bless their hearts, as Texans like to say) are not yet able to lead -- that they gave me an ovation when the class was over. I kid you not. When I told my friend Geno about the ovation, his B.S. meter went off the scale. He needs to get that thing fixed.

Have I ever mentioned that I was a terrible beginning dancer? I believe I have. It takes a man at least 3-4 months to start to give the ladies some type of lead. I took a private lesson with Gloria every week for two years, and we worked on leads and timing more than anything else. You can pick up the patterns in the classes, but learning to lead is really hard. Half the problem, unfortunately, is that the ladies get so frustrated waiting for the men to lead them that they start leading themselves.

Like many dance teachers, Gloria does not require people to bring partners to her classes. She has everyone rotate so that each student gets a chance to dance with multiple partners. But whenever she is short on ladies or men, she'll ask students from a more advanced class to stay over and help out. If she knows in advance that a class is short one gender, she asks people several days in advance to help. But this week Gloria was just starting a new series of monthly classes and she got caught short a few men.

All that is to say that when an advanced student (and there are several of us who help Gloria with her Beginner and Pre-Intermediate classes on occasion) walks into an early level class, the ladies have absolutely no idea of what to expect. They've become so accustomed to leading themselves, they honestly don't do a good job of following. I usually throw in some extra moves to throw their concentration off. They cannot lead if I won't let them.

Most of the time, that works. Gloria and I have had a few discussions about how I should handle overzealous beginning ladies. On one hand, I have to be careful not to upset her students (and those of you who know something about my Internet history may be surprised to learn that I have only rarely upset any of Gloria's students -- at least to the point where I have heard anything about it). On the other hand, they need to learn how to follow.

Being able to lead gives a man a tremendous advantage in a dance class. He doesn't have to do much to start seeing wide-eyed stares and earn a few admiring looks from the ladies. By the end of a first-week class, it is not unusual (as Gloria breaks the class up and repairs the students after showing the class a new step) for at least one or two girls to start jockeying to become my partner. Does that happen to all the advanced guys who help out? I don't know. I think the ladies all appreciate a good lead. I just don't spend much time watching other advanced students because when you're helping with a class, you have to concentrate on who you're dancing with.

When I was helping regularly, I often danced five nights a week. And I could devote several months to working with several ladies from Beginning Salsa to Intermediate Salsa before they moved on to other interests. Some of them joined our club nights group and became very good social dancers. The ladies that stay with the classes the longest are almost always in demand as dance partners at the clubs. Needless to say, men who stay with the program are always in demand, period.

Friday came and went. I had stuff to do Friday evening so I didn't go out with my friends, but several of them took in a performance at Crystal (Art Williams, The Wandering Salsero, mentioned the Crystal event on his blog). That is actually Art's picture on the front page of Geno's blog (I'm not sure if I've seen Geno's picture on the Web). Art is an interesting guy but I don't think he quite knows what to make of me. And I haven't been as socially engaging lately as I have in the past.

Lan, one of Gloria's advanced students, has been helping Gloria with her classes, too. Lan is gorgeous and nearly all the men I know who know Lan have admitted to secret fantasies about her (to me). Or so it seems. She mentioned the Friday night thing to me but I passed. But then she mentioned a dance group getting together for dinner on Saturday night at Los Andes. Should I mention the restaurant? I guess I will. You'll see why I don't like it shortly.

"Is that an invitation?" I asked Lan. I caught her off guard, because I'm sure she found out I was seeing someone else last year when it seemed like she was interested in a little more than dancing (I'm talking about dinner, you preverts). So, after doing a double-take (in which she literally blinked), Lan said, "Sure. It's an invitation."

Okay, I don't judge books by their covers. I wouldn't have inveigled my way into Lan's dinner plans just because she is stunningly beautiful. I like her and I didn't feel like there would be any unnecesary pressure on either of us if I just asked to join her dinner group.

So, Friday came and went and Saturday morning I went in for Gloria's advanced Salsa class. Lan takes the class and we confirmed the time and place where I should show up. I've never been to Los Andes restaurant. I'd heard about it, knew approximately where it was supposed to be located, but didn't really pay much attention to the fact that I didn't know where the restaurant was.

Well, come noon I had to scoot out the door and take care of some errands. But before I could go very far Gloria stepped beside me and quietly asked if I would stay to help with the next class. For some reason, she has a small advanced class this month, so I wasn't surprised that she asked me to stay.

The Intermediate class was pretty big. In fact, it was one of the larger Intermediate classes I've helped with. Lan was there, and Terri Alcala, but I don't think any other advanced students or teachers stayed. Gloria introduced a routine I barely recognized. Her Intermediate curriculum is almost as varied as her advanced curriculum. She teaches a sequence of about six routines (one routine per monthly class) to prepare the students for advanced Salsa. But every year Gloria varies one of the routines, or replaces one completely. I just haven't been helping out as regularly as I used to, so I had to pick up the steps as Gloria demonstrated them.

So I made a few mistakes throughout the class, but I still surprised the ladies. I guess a lot of them had just moved up from Pre-Intermediate. They were still used to leading themselves, and in glancing at the men in the class I could see that none of them really had the leading part under control. Bless their hearts.

To be honest, it's extremely difficult to take control over an intermediate dancer's routine. These ladies had been dancing and leading themselves in Gloria's classes for at least two months. All of a sudden, here I come insisting I'm going to take them through the steps. And why should they let me? After all, I'm just a man, and men cannot lead.

Asserting a lead in that kind of environment requires a lot of patience and a good sense of humor. With some of the girls, I was able to tease them and joke with them. They started giving me uncertain looks, but by the end of the class they understood that I wasn't trying to show off (and I did do one major step wrong for three partners before I figured out which way Gloria wanted us to turn). I didn't get any ovations, but a couple of the girls came up and thanked me, including (I think) the one I played "peek-a-boo" with.

She was not feeling very comfortable with the routine, and in this step the man turns his partner, holding both her hands at her hips, so that she ends up with one arm behind her back (this is called a "hammerlock position"). After the man puts his partner into a hammerlock, he is supposed to step to one side of her, turn, and then move her back and forth behind him. She is supposed to do a fifth position or cumbia step. In an advanced or private lesson, the teacher would add a little styling motion, and for this kind of move both partners are supposed to look at each other over their shoulders.

So, man steps right and moves the girl to his left, peek-a-boo! He steps left and moves her to his right, peek-a-boo! It's actually a very flirty step and quite popular when you do it right (just about any move where the man puts the girl behind him is popular if he executes it right because it just looks so cool to see that kind of control).

This girl was so self-conscious I knew I had to take her mind off the dancing. So I said, "Play peek-a-boo." She just stared at me like, "Are you CRAZY??" I was fast slipping into perverted weirdo category, I'm sure. So I took her through the move and as she stepped to my left I looked over my shoulder and said, "Peek-a-boo!" She cracked up and immediately understood what I wanted her to do. She started giving me flirty looks (I don't mean she was flirting -- I just mean that this kind of styling is flirty -- but maybe she was flirting).

Taking control over a self-conscious girl who tries to lead herself and stare at the floor at the same time is about the only way to avoid a dancing disaster. It doesn't always work. I once teased a girl too much because she was looking at the floor (this throws your balance off and you cannot do the moves properly). I'm sure she quit the class because of me, although her friends had dragooned her into taking it in the first place. I walked softly and low around Gloria after that, but she is an extremely gracious lady. Angry though she may have been with me, she also knows that sometimes people who are talked into taking a dance class don't come back for any excuse.

There are things you can do in a dance class and things you should not do. I've learned to get away with near-sexual murder on some occasions. It depends on the girl, but sometimes it backfires. I took a chance with the shy girl in Saturday's Intermediate Class and I got away with it. But I think the peek-a-boo game is a safer way to tease a girl into relaxing than some other methods I've tried. They don't all fail, but the riskier tricks are just not worth the potential hard feelings. Besides, when you step into a class you have never seen before, you have no idea of who's boyfriend or husband is in there. The girls may flirt when they are in your arms, but they walk out with Mr. Jealous.

That sort of happened Thursday. A tall Asian girl caught my eye (she is pretty, but a tall Asian girl is so unusual, I would have noticed her anywhere). She didn't pay much attention to me throughout the class so I assumed she was very taken. When she partnered with me during a rotation her face lit up with the sudden realization that I could lead. She was one of the ones who only reluctantly rotated away from me, but I never saw her try to make eye contact again, and when the class ended she walked out with some tall handsome guy.

I don't expect to find any girlfriends in dance classes, although more than a few ladies have indicated some interest. A couple were extremely blatant. One girl brought a date to a club one week and the next week was giving me all the classic "I want you to ask me out" moves. But she smoked cigars and reminded me so much of a girl I fell for in college I was just turned off for too many reasons.

Well, I survived Saturday's Intermediate Salsa and Gloria stepped over again and said, "Would you mind staying for the next class?" By now the clock was ticking. I had to go pick up my shoes at the Houston Shoe Hospital and they don't stay open all day long on Saturday. But I still had a couple hours 'till closing time so I said, "Okay."

Pre-Intermediate Salsa was small and mostly mature, married ladies. There was no flirting with this group, but they were happy to have a man who knew how to lead dancing with them. My only complaint is that turning heavier ladies so many times in a row is hard on my shoulder. I've been in two head-on car accidents (neither my fault) in which my neck and shoulder tendons were ripped (classic whiplash). That is one of the most painful and debilitating injuries you can suffer. You literally cannot lift your arms without agonizing pain shooting through your shoulders. All the therapy and muscle relaxants in the world won't take that away. The last doctor to treat me for that injury said he won't play the disability game but he gave me a permanent medical impairment (meaning, I'm always going to feel pain in my shoulders).

Interestingly, my current doctor says he no longer trusts me. For an unrelated medical condition he just diagnosed (treatable), he said most people with my physical symptoms would be screaming for narcotic painkillers. I have noticed some discomfort on an increasingly frequent basis. I'm just one of those 10 percent of people who has a high tolerance for pain. Frankly, I think being in love has a lot to do with it. I swear, there were weeks when after spending just a little time with Linda I would feel a true natural high for two to three days. My brain must turn out dopamine by the gallon with the right stimuli: love, pain, chocolate.

So, three hours into dancing and I was starting to feel a little tired. And dehydrated. I didn't have lunch. But at the end of the class Gloria said, "Michael, would you mind staying...."

I thought I would get out of the last class. I shouldn't put it that way, but I have lost my stamina from being sick for so long. A few of the Intermediate and Pre-Intermediate guys were hanging around and I was hoping I could leave and go get my shoes. But girls kept walking in the door.

So, the students kept pouring in through the rip in the dam. The room filled up. I'm surprised, now that I think about it, that Gloria didn't take the class back to a larger room. She had apparently received quite a few requests from people who wanted to jump into Beginning Salsa Week Two. That was unusual, and I understood why she wanted me to stay.

After about 40 minutes Gloria introduced the Cross Body Lead. This is as important as the Basic step in Salsa. In the Cross Body Lead, the man steps back, gets out of his partner's way, and brings her across in front of him, then he steps back in behind her as she turns, and they end up facing each other again, but they have turned 180 degrees. It's not an easy move to execute when you're a beginner. The men have to learn some fancy footwork (bless their hearts) and they have to learn how to lead.

As Gloria finished drilling the class in the footwork, she said, "Okay, everyone grab a partner." Only one girl held back. She had a slightly panicked look on her face. Having already thrown caution to the winds, and since I'm once again free and single, I boldly went where all the other guys were pining to go anyway. I stepped up to her and quietly summoned her with a gesture. I'm not sure of why I did that, except I was trying to be reassuring.

She came to me but, though she seemed pleased to have me as a partner (she knew by now none of the other guys could lead very well -- bless their hearts), she kept her distance. "What's up with this?" I thought. Well, I didn't have time to analyze the situation with a girl I will likely never see again. I just paired up with her.

Gloria doesn't actually let the students touch each other as they start to put the Cross Body Lead together. I won't describe her technique, but it's very effective (in my opinion). Unfortunately, our fair Damsel was Distressed again because she had never seen anything like this move. Normally, I would just take her into my frame and lead her through the steps with an extra amount of pressure. Most women pick up the Cross Body Lead quickly when an experienced man shows them what they have to do. But Gloria said very loudly and clearly, "No touching!"

I was genuinedly disappointed and frustrated. I wanted so much to show this girl that she could do it. So I dipped into my bag of tricks again. I pulled out my Magic Touchless Lead.

Yes, there is such a thing. I don't know where I latched onto it. I guess because I have such a strong interest in body language, and because I have noticed people using gesture languages in various situations, I just started resorting to using hand gestures in the clubs when dancing with new partners. My technique is not very sophisticated, although I think it evolved several degrees on Saturday.

I've never lead a Cross Body Lead without actually touching my partner. But Gloria's No Touching stipulation droppped between us like a sheet of lead. I've seldom felt such an overwhelming longing for physical contact in a non-romantic situation. I started guiding her through the Basic Step and the Cross Body Lead with my hand gestures. After a couple of attempts, she figured out what I was doing. I think she appreciated my ingenuity. I was just glad I didn't look too much like a gesturing fool. Gloria was behind me and I couldn't see her in the mirror, so I had no idea of whether I was breaking the Commandment or not.

But we got through the Cross Body Lead and I am sure this girl will become a fine dancer if she stays with it. I'd like to dance with her in a club, just to see how she does. I felt like she'd follow me anywhere by the end of the class. And when Gloria asked the students if they thought they'd want to continue on in Pre-Intermediate Salsa next month, I think I saw a cute but reluctant hand shyly rise into the air.

Maybe I'll get to dance with her after all. But we have to get through Easter weekend, when there are no dance classes. Two weeks is a lifetime for me. I've had whole relationships last a lifetime through two weeks.

Well, I didn't get the girl's name. I guess that was one of Linda's concerns about me. She says American guys are so "easy come, easy go". And in a way she is right. There is always another girl in the next class, someone sitting in the booth next to me stroking her hair, someone stopping to say, "Wow!" Whatever. The girls come and go and I cannot remember all ther names. I never ask for phone numbers. There is just no point. I couldn't call them all if I was being paid to.

So, I went off to get my shoes without saying good-bye. I was like to dead, anyway. I should say I wanted to crawl out of there, but the male hormone system won't let a man slouch when he's around a possible, potential mate. I blazed a hole through the door while the students were still milling about in shock and waited until I got to my car to collapse in near-total exhaustion. Who ever thought waving your hand through the air could be so stressful?

I got to the Houston Shoe Hospital (for the second time that day) and they actually found a pair of shoes that were lost in the morning before dance class. I was glad of that because I hate to lose a pair of $120 Italian leather shoes. I only stopped buying the K-Mart/Wal-mart shoes because I found out that expensive shoes can actually be comfortable (but not Cole & Haan -- I'll never buy their shoes again).

Well, the day was running away and I couldn't do the other stuff I needed to do. My car is filthy and needs to be cleaned, but I was just too tired. I grabbed a hamburger and went home. Lan and Company were only a few hours away, and I was sort of looking forward to checking out what would be for me a new dance venue.

It never happened.

I got to the general area of the restaurant on time, but I drove around and drove around and couldn't find it. I stopped and asked a police officer, a security guard, a lady walking along with her children. None of these people had ever heard of Los Andes. So I called the restaurant and the phone rang. And rang. And rang. I had to call Information to get the number and their system says it so fast I couldn't write the number down so I let them connect me for free.

The first time I got through. The answering machine picked up after many rings and it said, "Thank you for calling Los Andes. Please leave a message."

You know, maybe it's just the Salsa clubs and movie theaters, but when you get a recording in Houston, normally you get directions to the business location from popular highways. So I hung up on the answering machine. I called Lan. She didn't answer. Okay, my friends and I seldom answered our cell phones. In fact, I only picked up for Linda or someone in my family, unless I was just curious about a new number showing up on the display. So I left Lan a couple of messages. I tried calling Information again but they never gave me the same number twice. What was up with that?

After 30 minutes of driving around and calling other people who don't answer their cell phones on a Saturday night, I gave up. I left Lan a message saying I' m sorry but I'm heading over to Plaza 59. She knows I love Mary's Band.

Only I never made it to Plaza 59.

I don't know why, but I suddenly decided to check in with Geno. If he isn't going to a party or watching a game with the guys, Geno is usually checking out an interesting club on Saturday. I was really in the mood to do something different, so I was very surprised when he answered on the first ring. Yes, Geno knows where Los Andes is located. But his directions were about the same as the ones I got off the Internet. Truth be told, if the evening had been more like a date or something, I probably would have driven over there in the afternoon and found the restaurant while I had time to be lost and befuddled without looking stupid and foolish.

Well, Geno was going to a club named Amnesia. I've heard of it but have never visited there. Amnesia was having a show, Geno said. "Some of the best Salsa dancers in Houston will be there," he added. The last time Geno said something like that to me, and I attended the event, he was right. If Geno says "the best Salsa dancers in Houston should be there", you can expect some great dancing.

"Just one thing, Michael," he said as we about to get off the phone. "The club is not located in the best part of town. That's always been a problem with some of our friends." I knew what he meant. Getting the ladies in my dance group to check out a new location without a retinue of U.S. Marines to maintain security is darned near impossible. They spook easily. That was one of the reasons (Lan being the other) why I wanted to check out Los Andes. But I have to admit that if the evening had been so important to me, I would never have put off finding the restaurant for so long.

Michael does not fall out of love so easily.

Anyway, I stopped at Los Tios and grabbed some dinner. By this time it was getting close to ten and I noticed my legs were not what they used to be in the morning. I was still exhausted. In fact, here it is almost one A.M. Monday morning and my legs are still sore, although Amnesia had something to do with that.

The parking lot is well lit and I put my car under one of the big lights. I then walked into the club and started to realize as I scanned the bare exterior walls of the shopping plaza what Geno meant by "not located in the best part of town." I've done time in some holes-in-the-wall through my wild youthful years, but I was surprised that serious dancers would hit a spot in this kind of location. There were two guys standing outside the doors and one of them moved to open the doors for me.

"Well, " I thought, "Underdressed bouncers is okay, I suppose." Only he stopped me. "Senor, I have to {something unintelligible, possibly in Spanglish}".

"Huh? Habla Engles?"

"I must pat you down, Sir."

Oh. Okay, he patted me down. Truth be told, if I had wanted to go in there to start trouble, all I needed was my car keys. When I was a wild rotten youth, I got into a few fights. I learned to fight with weapons of every sort. I am always armed if I have a metal pen or a set of car keys with me. When I was in college, one of my friends brought a replica sword onto the campus. All the guys in our group had to spend part of their days playing swashbuckler fancy-poo. Except me. I'd done the real thing years before, and have drawn blood in my time I am ashamed to say.

So one day one of my friends picked up the sword while we were in a student organization office and he said, "This really should not be on campus."

"Why is that?" I asked.

He looked at me liked I had just failed Kindergarten for the tenth time. "Come on, Michael. This is a sword. It's a dangerous weapon."

I couldn't help but laugh. "My car keys are a dangerous weapon, but I bring them onto campus every day."

Matt couldn't help but be skeptical. "That's not the same thing," he insisted.

"If I shove a pen through your eye, what will happen?" I asked. I picked up a pen and held it against the profile of my head.

"Yeah, but no one uses a pen to kill anyone," he said.

"Matt," I replied, "When you're in a fight and you fear for your life, you'll use anything you can get your hands on. That's where the broken beer bottle cliche came from."

Well, he wasn't convinced that my car keys made a dangerous weapon, so I persuaded him to attack me with the sword. He actually made a good faith lunge to poke me in the stomach. It would have hurt had he succeeded. However, the difference between an idiot with a sword and someone who views car keys as a dangerous weapon is that the idiot doesn't know what he's doing. The guy with the car keys may very well know where to poke you to make you cry out in agony. Sorry, Matt.

Not that I go looking for trouble. I don't care to be the next headline on CNN: "Author fails to defend life with car keys." Just keep in mind that patting me down, looking for obvious weapons, doesn't mean I'm safe.

So they let me into the club anyway. I paid my fifteen dollars and kept thinking something equivalent to, "What a dump." But Art Williams says they are remodeling, so I'll cut them some slack. Although I hope they remodal the uncomfortable chairs. Ick. What a dump.

Was the night worthwhile? Well...yeah. I mean, there were some gorgeous women there and most of them seemed to know how to dance. But the guys knew how to dance, too. I don't think there were any beginners in the crowd. After the crowd showed up, I forgot to think, "What a dump!"

The DJ played some interesting music. There is a Jazz-Salsa blend that is popular in Houston (and I suppose elsewhere) that sometimes sounds awful and sometimes sounds right. This DJ played some of the best Jazz-Salsa fusion I've heard since I joined the Salsa scene. In fact, I was watching some dancers break into a Cha Cha as I was thinking, "This sounds like those slick jazzy movie soundtracks from the 1960s." Think of Matt Helm cutting across a spiffy club. That was the feeling I had.

And then I realized I was looking at this huge bear of a guy dancing Cha Cha. And he was good. Very good. Damn good. Bodacious-damn-son-where'd-you-learn-to-dance-like-that good. Holy mackeral! This guy has to be at least 6-foot-1 and 250-280 pounds, easily. Being tall isn't a great impairment for Salsa dancing although the ladies often complain about tall dance partners. But being tall and big: that's an issue. I've seen women struggle to dance with a large partner who just towers over them like a mountain. The guys feel frustrated, too.

I've asked Gloria what guys like that do. She made the point that you have to dance to your body's capability. I didn't understand what she meant, exactly, but I knew enough to see that a thin guy is going to do some moves differently from a heavy guy. But this Cha Cha Dude, he was dancing Cha Cha like I'd never seen it danced before.

He understands the strengths and limitations of his body. He knows where he can lead his partners. His moves are graceful and strong, powerful. He just radiates volumes of strength when he dances. That is what Gloria meant. I'm more of a smooth dancer (when I do it right). She taught me to be smooth, to make my partner feel like she is gliding on air. A good lead really doesn't seem to be there, but the woman feels it. I could tell that this guy was giving his partner a good lead.

But he can do the man's part, too. He wasn't afraid to get sassy. I kept thinking, "He has such a sassy attitude, and it's working. He's got Sassitude."

I should have realized Geno wouldn't lead me wrong. I was looking at some of the best Latin dancers in Texas and Los Angeles, as it turned out. The showcase featured exhibition dance teams from Houston, Austin, Dallas, San Antonio, and Los Angeles, including a guy who started one of the first Salsa exhibition companies in the country. Some of the dancers are obviously up-and-coming, but some of the dancers were polished professionals who clearly have professional choreography experience (or professional choreographers).

The Big Guy was not in the showcase, but some of the other dancers I noticed ended up on the stage. One group from Austin, five girls in sexy two-piece red outfits that look like fire (the red cloth is cut or woven to look like moving flames as they dance), did a pretty good routine but I felt like they had the wrong line up. I had noticed their shortest girl dancing in the crowd earler. She was good, but she radiated a vibrant, sexy, "I so love this kind of dancing!" attitude. She had total enthusiasm and tons of energy.

For reasons I'll never know, one of the taller girls was in the middle of the group and the choreography just did not fit well with the lineup. The short girl should have been in the middle because the choreography is made for a symmetrical review. With the short girl to the side, there is no symmetry. Sorry, ladies, but that's how I call it.

Another dance group, two guys drssed in white and black (respectively) did a routine to what I think was a medley of Hip or Reggaeton (Reggaeton is a fusion of Salsa and Hip Hop music). The review was not confined to Salsa dancing by any means, although there was no Cha Cha (which is a shame -- Cha Cha is a great dance for a review). The two guys' choreography conveyed the idea of competing males. I cannot explain it, but it was a great routine. It started out a little slowly, but as I caught on to the fact that they were supposed to be two friends who are secretly jealous of each other (and the words in the song seemed to be about the same topic), I found myself appreciating the execution of the moves.

The best dancers came on last, of course, and they executed acrobatic moves you rarely see on the dance floor (in fact, these were the kind of moves that you're not supposed to try on the dance floor, although I have seen them a few times). One guy wrapped his partner around his body, flipping her with apparent ease between his legs, around his back, and over his shoulder. He received the longest spontaneous ovation. A previous couple had tried a less aggressive move where the guy slid the girl between his legs and she got stuck. I can only say I admire his professionalism, because he continued dancing as if nothing happened. That is not an easy move by any means, and it's just downright dangerous for a man (and women, too) to attempt.

So, to watch the show I had to stand up. I stood slightly to the side of the camera operator and therefore had to stand on the cold concrete floor outside the wood-covered dance area. My legs were so cold and stiff when I walked out of there I could barely walk. I suppose my car keys would not have done me much good had some idiot with a sword wanted to mug me after all.

So, that was the Salsa part of my weekend. No Linda. I know, I'm supposed to put all that behind me. But it's going to be tough to find someone new as long as I keep comparing everyone to the girl I fell in love with. I wish she and I could have kept those happy moments going, but I've come to realize that when you get into arguments every time you're together, something is wrong.


Anyway, tomorrow is another day. And I'll be seeing someone else who has indicated she is interested. I'm not sure I'm ready for this.

Bless my heart.

Fishing for evolutionary ideas of life: Does God plan ahead?

The Creationism-versus-Evolution debate has always sort of amazed me. As a Bible-thumping Christian, I've been known to quote chapter-and-verse to my "fellow" fundamentalists who often pick and choose the verses they want to emphasize. Christian Fundamentalists can be pretty good at distorting the teachings of the Bible, which warns people against doing that sort of thing. In reality, I rarely speak of myself as a Biblical Fundamentalist because it sounds too much like an oxymoron.

As Jesus put it: you will know the tree by the fruit it bears. Today's Christian Fundamentalism is fragmented by ideological differences and obsessive isolations of specific principles. Protestantism in general has flourished in a sea of ideaological differences almost since Martin Luther first nailed his complaints about the Roman Catholic Church to a door. Protestants just don't seem to stop protesting against the excesses of established religion.

Fundamentalist Christian faiths are now pretty well established. We're probably on the brink of seeing the birth of a NeoFundantalist movement, and maybe some collateral movements such as Modern Fundamentalism. The stage has almost been set for a counter-revolution in Fundamentalist thinking because of the hypocrisy and illusory teachings of the current Fundamentalist movements. They certainly aren't doing God or their fellow sinners any favors.

What brings on this cascade of thoughts is the latest hullaballoo from the scientific world about the fish that could almost walk. This supposed "missing link" so far consists of a head and shoulders fossil (or collection of fossils). Perhaps the fossils are really just metaphors for dandruff shampoo.

But it's impossible to plot an accurate evolutionary path because we have no way (at least so far) to test for DNA relationships between fossils. The fossils are mineral-based copies of once living organisms. The minerals formed or seeped into cavities left behind in sediments where ancient plants and animals died. They are sort of like x-rays from the past, or maybe 3-d reproductions from the past. But we're not finding the actual bodies so we have to infer a lot of things.

Some fossils are quite detailed, such as the dinosaur eggs that clearly show the remains of unborn baby dinosaurs; and there are a few fossils which reveal what the last meals of the animals consisted of. But these types of details are not only very rare, they provide no real connection between the various species that are thought to have been linked by an evolutionary path.

While the effect of evolution (where a species slowly changes and takes on new physical traits and abilities across a large number of generations) is unquestionably proven by our domesticated animal breeding programs, the evolutionary path itself is periodically revised and updated. Creationists lunge onto the periodic readjustments as proof that the scientists don't know what they are talking about.

In return, the scientists deny they are trying to disprove the existence of God, and insist that God is "a matter of the supernatural and is therefore not something science can study", but they gloat and celebrate over the discovery of fishy fossils and imply that, once again, the Bible has been proven wrong.

Technically, the Bible has nothing to say on the matter of evolution. Where we run into conflict (besides the assertion that God exists and takes a deep personal interest in affairs on Earth) is in the creation story as presented in the Book of Genesis (and liberally referred to in later documents). There is nothing in any of the books of the Catholic or most Protestant Bibles that speaks about the infallibility or absolute correctness of the Bible. In fact, when those various texts were written, there was no Bible. The concept of a Bible wasn't devised until more than 100 years after The Revelation of St. John the Divine was written down at the end of the 1st century CE.

So, there is no text in the Bible which refers to the Bible itself. Nothing actualy authorizes, condones, recognizes, foresees, mandates, or in way anticipates the collections of works that are called the Bible (and Christianity has never been satisfied with just one Bible -- there have always been more than one). Nonetheless, many Christians look at the Bible as "the infallible word of God" even though the infallible word is actually the "Word" (Jesus). And there are some passages in various texts which challenge the accuracy or quality or faithfulness or correctness of scripture, or documents that are presumed to be scripture.

To make matters worse, you have misinformed atheists pedantically striving to prove that the Bible contradicts itself. There are a few well-known contradictions or differences, such as the two distinct geneaologies for Jesus, the two names for Moses' father-in-law, etc. But the Bible was not written under any contract forbidding contradictions or differences, much less under any mandate to get every detail right.

Take the first five books of the Bible, the Pentateuch. Even many Jewish scholars refer to these as the Books of Moses. However, the books attributed to Moses in the texts have different names and are said (in these Biblical texts) to include information you cannot find in the Pentateuch. So much for 3,000 years of careful reading and strenuous educational traditions. In fact, the books which are Biblically attributed to Moses appear to be lost to posterity.

So, while the Bible has been attacked on numerous fronts by Christians, atheists, and scientists, it nonetheless remains one of the most remarkably reliable sources of information about the ancient Middle Eastern world. Hundreds of archaeological digs throughout the region have confirmed lost cities, tribes, events, and artifacts that doubtful scholars have questioned through decades of debate and determined attempts to undermine the credibility of the Bible. Some people unnecesarily defend the Bible by pointing out that it was never intended to be a historical record.

Actually, that's incorrect, too. Some books in the Old Testament are exactly that: historical records, and they have proven to be very useful in digging up the past. But the Bible itself has always represented an attempt by early Christian scholars to establish a canon, an authoritative body of texts which encapsulate the beliefs and teachings of the followers of Jesus. They made a good first effort, in my opinion, though we've since been treated to many different Bible editions.

Science understandably leaves itself little room for investigating the existence of God. How does one go about proving or disproving God's existence without inciting a religious war? (Which would be contradictory to Christian teaching, by the way -- "'Vengeance is mine', says the Lord. 'I will repay.'") So scientists attempt to be clever and either assert their sincere belief in God or they imply that only ignorant church-going fools would believe in God or they just play it safe and say, "That is a matter beyond science".

Sorry, that dog won't cop out for you, boys. If God exists, his existence cannot be ignored or ruled out by "science" (which is simply the collective organized knowledge of our experience). Science is founded upon the principle that we can test any hypothesis, either through experimentation or by observation. Many hypotheses have been tested and rejected, only to be reasserted and confirmed through later, more sophisticated science.

If science today does not know how to look for whether God exists, that does not mean that science tomorrow will be equally incapable of asking the Grand Question. Of course, some people still question whether Man exists. But that's another matter altogether.

Evolutionary biologists are no more qualified to snicker at the idea of a God who creates the universe and guides it through his divine wisdom than Creationists are to dissect the proposed path of evolutionary development. Neither group is very well-schooled in the topics that they challenged. And, frankly, if I were to launch the Quest for God Project today, the last place I would turn to for criteria in setting up proper scientific study would be the religious communities. They understand religion. Understanding God, that's a little beyond human capacity (for now).

It's saying too much to stipulate that this ancient fossilic fish is the actual missing link between water-based animals and land-based animals. Yes, it shows that it was capable of doing some things, but maybe it was a failed evolutionary experiment that didn't get anyway. Maybe the real missing link is a collection of missing links that we'll never find.

God doesn't need space aliens to come and do his work for him, but that doesn't mean he won't allow life to evolve or evolve elsewhere. Nor does God need a series of unprovable miracles to create a universe. The universe supposedly burst into existence in a fraction of a second and expanded to billions of light-years in the course of a hundred thousand years. Now, how is that possible if the speed of light is consistent?

Technically, some scientists say that the physical laws governing the universe did not sort themselves out immediately with the Big Bang. Oh. Someone forgot to include that principle in the press kits sent out to the media.

Technically, Cosmic String Theory (or some parts of it) suggest that it is possible to traverse vast distances along string paths at speeds many times greater than the speed of light.

Of course, Einstein's Relativity principle says none of this is possible, or that the measurements of these speeds and distances are all relevant to each other but not generally to every other point of reference. That is, speed is relative to the observer. If you are moving west at 100 miles per hour and someone passes you while moving at 200 miles per hour, you will only clock their speed at 100 miles per hour. That is because, with respect to their motion through time and space, you are standing still.

Confusing? It gets worse. Quantum theory tells us that we really cannot know the state of any particle. That is, we can either measure where it is or how fast it is going, but not both. Hence, being incapable of seeing the universe as it really is, we have to infer what it must be like by piecing together bits of data. So maybe Plato got it right after all, and we're actually chained to a wall in a cave and we can only see the universe as a reflection cast upon an opposite wall.

These debates won't go away. They'll be handed down from generation to generation and all sides will pass on reams of misinformation. None of them will be in the right either morally or factually because they don't even try to get the facts straight. They just strive to present the facts that work for them.

Scientists, at least, should know better than to try to pull off a partial citation argument, but many of them have been challenged on such tactics throughout the scientific literature with respect to relatively minor issues.

Christians should know better than to misstate obvious truths, but they all start out as sinners. Were it not for the blood of Jesus, we'd all be in a heap of trouble.

And atheists -- well, I guess they just feel put upon. Can't really say much about that, as they appear to remain in the minority.

So, what do I believe? I believe that God loves us all. Scientist, atheist, and Fundamentalist alike. Despite our faults. After all, we're only human.

What a girl wants

My (now) ex-girlfriend and I stopped seeing each other recently. Okay, I stopped seeing her. I started to feel like things were no longer going in the direction I wanted, and I decided not to drag it out. Some of my friends think I bailed too soon, some of them think I bailed too late. I don't know. I started to see someone else, and in fact women seem to be coming out of the woodwork right now. I keep checking myself in the mirror to see if there is a "Now Available" neon sign glowing over my head, but I don't see it.

While I've always enjoyed attention from women, right now ain't the best time for it, in my opinion. I mean, yes, I reluctantly asked out someone who went out of her way to make it clear she wants to see me. And, as life will have it, I found out today that Linda is now seeing someone else. "Not like boyfriend and girlfriend, though!" Hm. Well, I still have feelings for her and that will take time to change.

Men wallow in their feelings. We're supposed to be Manly Men, Cool Cats, Smooth Dudes, etc. Women like confident, happy, secure, fun-loving men. I have to admit that the last month or so I spent with Linda things were anything but happy and fun. That's a sure sign you're not heading to the altar (although some people manage to stagger their way up the church steps anyway, and they use the Divorce Court exit in the back).

Women, on the other hand, seem to want to replace one relationship with another. I've never understood that. It's out-with-the-old-in-with-the-new. I've known a few solitary women, but only a very few. Most of the women I know are either very happy or at least admirably content in rock-solid relationships, or they show up with a new man on their arm every so often. In fact, many women tend to line up the next boyfriend before they get rid of the current one. Not all women do that, or so they say, but I've never seen a girl fail to bring out the new boyfriend at the appropriate time.

On rare occasions I've met honestly, legitimately single women through friends. Some psychologists estimate only 1 in 10 women are single at any given time. The highest estimate I have seen is 1 in 4 women are single at any given time. But what do these people mean by "single"? When a girl says, "I'm not seeing anyone", it can actually mean, "I'd like to see you" or "I have no interest in you, please get lost."

I have no idea of what's going on with Linda. Maybe she doesn't. When we were talking earlier today, I just didn't feel like talking. What was I supposed to say? She asked if I have a girlfriend yet. I said "No". Technically, I don't. To be honest, I don't want a girlfriend. I'd like to be with the happy Linda who enjoyed my company, but she's just a beautiful memory now. I suppose the happy Michael who enjoyed her company is just a memory, too.

I never really talked about the other women I've dated with Linda. When I was with her, I wanted to be with her and no one else (in my heart). I often found myself just staring at her face during those comfortable silences when the conversation died down. I caught her staring at me sometimes too.

So what happened? I guess we just wanted different things. I could speculate on cultural obstacles. All my Asian friends are convinced the cultural obstacles just impeded the relationship. I don't know. No one knows, except maybe Linda, but I doubt she really knows, either. We both just know that somewhere we stopped laughing and smiling together.

So, while I don't lack for opportunities, I want to take some time to let my feelings die down. I want to grieve a little, but not feel sorry for myself. Some of my friends have tried to console me but I don't want consolation. I just want a little time to get over it.

But why do these other women want to be with me? I mean, where is that neon sign?

I remember talking to my father about another girl once. He said, "Don't try to understand her. You won't be able to." I guess every father passes along that advice to his sons. Or they should. So, I don't pretend to understand women any better than the next guy.

I just know they'll flirt with me more when I'm not interested, and they'll ask me out (or ask me to ask them out in their roundabout "So, I'm not doing anything with my tons of spare time" way) when I'm not really available. I guess I am available, but I'm not ready to fall in love again.

I haven't fallen out of love yet. I think Linda has some lingering feelings too. She kept trying to engage me in conversation and maintain eye contact, but I'm just not going to play that game. We had our shot. Either it wasn't meant to be or we blew it. Or I blew it. Or she blew it. Doesn't matter.

It's over. I finally put her pictures away this evening.

All of them.

I want to remember the good times, not think about the times that won't be.

Anh yeu em.

Clues I wish the SEO community would get

There is nothing like a good technical post and this won't be anything like it either.

It's not quite a rant, though. It's just that people don't stop and think about what they read about on the Web. The scary thing is that the Internet has now become an accepted resource in our eductational system. Teachers and librarians regularly assist students in finding information on the Internet.

Lord, I hope they stay away from Wikipedia.

But the search engine community takes the cake when it comes to naivete and laziness. I don't know how many times people go barging into forums with an opening like this:

Just found this site. What a great resource! Thank you for being here. But while reading through all the discussions, I couldn't find the answer to my questions, so I hope it's okay to ask here. Um, is it okay if I ....

And that is where they ask the same question that's been asked and answered a dozen times in the last week. Yeah, they read the forums.

Of course, some people do actually read the forums. And there are people who enjoy it when I start swatting at flies and arguing with folks over what is and isn't good SEO. I do that. I challenge people on their beliefs and assumptions. Sorry, but that was the way I was taught to be. Blame my professors and tech school instructors.

There was nothing quite so humiliating in college as sitting down to a Calculus or Set Theory test, putting together what seemed like a solid proof of some really minor mathematical principle, and having it come back the next day marked up in red with "NO! This fails here! Where did you learn this, because this isn't what I taught!"

I got the message well enough to understand that if I felt a proof didn't work right, it probably was broken. Most proofs don't stand up to close scrutiny when you're just learning. And that is in formal logic. The world of search engine optimization is anything but formal, and most people learn how to do it by reading forums and tutorials.

The tutorials are the worst possible sources of information because they summarize information without pointing to the sources. What is wrong with providing clear and concise references? It's not like people are going to check every fact in these papers (although every fact should be checked). But if someone wants to know why you say that it's important to host all their domains on different Class C IP address blocks (it's actually NOT important to do so), you should be telling them where you read about this.

Many people participate in SEO forums to show off their skill and knowledge in the field, hoping to attract new clients and newsletter subscribers. They are easy to identify because they'll often start discussions that reiterate very basic ideas (sometimes with rather bizarre rationalizations). Here I've been doing search engine optimization for 8 years and someone comes along and tells me what the basics are. Thank you. I'm a little bit beyond that.

If you're going to preach, be sure you're preaching to an audience that knows less than you. They may not appreciate your preaching anyway (I am often criticized for coming across like a know-it-all -- but when you answer as many questions as I do, or share as many opinions as I do, see how tactful and diplomatic you care to be).

It's not that I feel rudeness is okay. Technically, I'm not being rude (the people who resort to name-calling are rude, but they always exclude themselves because I compelled them to be rude). Technically, I'm just being to the point and direct and a bit insensitive to people's crushable egos. I'm sorry I don't have time to do a psychiatric evaluation of how well you'll receive advice and criticism you don't want to hear. But I'm not your therapist and you're not paying me to be your sycophant. In fact, you're not paying anyone on a forum to give you advice and feedback, and if you think the SEO community is rude and callous, go ask the jaded jerks in news.admin.net-abuse.email why they blacklisted your ISP's 32,000 IP addresses. They don't bother to explain the basics. They just open fire and call you names that drunken sailors staggering out of brothels would be ashamed to speak.

The NANAE folks are professionally rude. They enjoy it. They live for the challenge of shoving your head down through your feet. Well, that's just my opinion based on years of sifting through their pointless childish flame wars, looking for information about why certain ISPs get blacklisted. I've learned not to ask why, but rather just to confirm the blacklisting and move on.

But SEOs think I'm a know-it-all. I don't actually feel I know it all. I just know that if you're going to say something on the Internet, someone will demand you back it up with proof and support. Funny how I link to the technical papers so much and many "Old Hands" in the field just sort of cough and mutter another SEO's name.

There are some very well-known, highly respected, oft-cited SEO "experts" (who moderate SEO forums) who don't know their heads from a hole-in-the-ground. They grab buzzwords and beat them to death. They explain PageRank. They assess the importance of Hilltop. They know all about Florida. They agonize over every data center. They hobnob with Googlers and know all there is to know about search engine optimization.

But their proofs and arguments have all the finesse of an 8-year-old kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, looking down and shuffling his feet and sniffing and snuffling and saying "I dunno" with a shrug of his shoulders.

I don't ask for much from my peers, just that they link to a valid resource rather than yet another stupid SEO tutorial. There are some very good, comprehensive introductions to SEO out there. They all get something wrong. Big deal. You could line up all my know-it-all windbag posts and find errors and outdated data, too. But if you're going to get into the meat of search engine theory, SEO tutorials won't cut deep enough -- especially not the ones that discuss hard-core technical stuff like PageRank.

I've never seen a PageRank tutorial I could agree with completely. I've never been able to write one where I felt like, "yeah, that nails it". There are so many side-issues with PageRank it's just really not worth writing about.

But the sole distinguishing difference between a quality resource and a faux resource is accountability. If they don't show you exactly where they get what they say, they are blowing smoke.

Of course, some of the smoke-blowers do provide source information. They just tend to ignore huge glaring sections of technical papers that clearly demonstrate contrary points to what they are saying. I've met a couple of Tolkien enthusiasts who do that, too. You'd think that after the 3rd or 4th time of having their nonsense undermined by a complete (as opposed to their partial) citation they'd get the message that being deliberately misleading is not appreciated by everyone. I may be the lone voice in the wilderness asking, "Where's the beef?" but I calls 'em like I sees 'em.

I don't often write SEO tutorials. I'm one of those people who feels SEO tutorials are outdated before they are published. I did send my agent a book manuscript last year. She asked for some references to similar books. Well, there weren't any, so I was kind of stuck. And then by the fall four books from well-known sources came out and covered similar material. That is probably the last time I'll write a book about search engine optimization. It's just not worth the hassle.

Search engine optimization is not really that complicated. You create some Web pages with indexable text content and then you get some links to those pages. You organize the content on the pages to show people what is most important. The search engines actually do a pretty good job with just that much effort.

But people will continue to read those stupid, ill-informed tutorials and they'll continue to follow bad advice, and they'll continue to come into SEO forums and say, "I have read everything here and cannot find the answer to my question, so...."

And you know what? I won't waste my time telling them how rude they are to so obviously lie about reading the discussions. Oftentimes, I'll pipe in along with a few other tired old hands and give them some free advice and opinions.

Free advice and opinions come without any guarantees or warranties. I cannot do anything about the facts.

Ballroom dancing for beginners; Salsa dancing for survivors

I can barely move across the floor in a Waltz. So why do I go to these ballroom dance thingees? Because my friend Maggie invites me, and this weekend I went because I was tired of being sick and not being able to dance.

The Sweet Melody Dance Club in Houston celebrated their 10th anniversary this weekend. As I understand it, they are a group of ten couples who form an exhibition dance team. I only seem them perform once or twice a year at the Chinese Cultural Center in Houston when Maggie invites a few friends for ballroom.

With ballroom dancing, I don't have to worry about being worn ragged by ladies asking to dance with me. Sure, my friends will ask occasionally, but I'm still learning the basic moves. So I was able to sit on the sidelines and rest in between Cha Cha dances Saturday evening. Many people do actually go to these dance events and just watch (the floor show is worth the price of the ticket, for sure).

They played 1 Salsa song, a few Cha Cha songs, and a lot of Waltz and Tango that evening. Maggie insisted I do a Tango with her. Well, I surprised her by actually staying in time (mostly) but it got boring quickly because I know the basic, a twinkle (or maybe something like a twinkle), and how to turn. That's it. It takes years to become a good Tango dancer, but once you get there, people come across the room to dance with you.

The Waltz I've been learning is very basic. The ballroom folks like to dance a lot of Viennese Waltz, which is not very basic. Maggie and I got out there and tried to do some steps. At first, she switched styles on me, and then settled on a simple Waltz. But I was doing it as learned in class (to much slower music) and Maggie was trying to fit in with the crowd. I finally gave up and just started three-stepping my way around the floor as gracefully as possible. Have no idea what it looked like, but it's better to move than to argue with your partner over whether you should do this or that. Besides, if she had wanted a perfect dance partner, she could have grabbed one of the teachers.

We also did a Jitterbug. I can dance about three moves in Jitterbug, too. But I didn't feel so bad about that because there were a couple of songs where I couldn't tell what anyone was dancing. "What are they doing out there?" I asked Maggie at one point. "Is that the bunny hop?"

People were bobbing up and down, jiggling from side to side, and pretty much looking like ... I don't know what they looked like, but it was obvious that a couple hundred people with 5-10 years' dance experience were having trouble with one song. I'm sure the DJ heard some interesting comments right about then....

He played a Twist melody. I used to like those back in college, when I didn't really know how to partner dance. I'm not fond of the disco-style freeform dances now, although I can cut up on the dance floor like any fool if I feel like it. The thing about the freeform dance steps is that you and whomever you're dancing with have a hard time developing rapport. There is literally no connection. I just don't like that. Give me a connection with a partner.

Of course, some connections are a little too close. During the Advanced Salsa class Saturday morning, I was learning the first part of this month's routine when one of my partners decided to lead herself. The ladies do that a lot because it takes men a little longer to pick up the moves. We not only have to learn how to do the steps, we have to learn how to give the lead and how to adjust in the middle of the move if something doesn't go right. And the ladies just get so impatient waiting on us to catch up.

So they lead themselves.

I've learned to break up the routine a little just so they have no idea of what comes next. Some of the ladies have picked up on this and they start to hold back with me. Lan, one of the best dancers in the class, rolled her eyes during one rotation. "I know that look," she said. "You're planning to surprise me." She usually follows when I throw in an extra move, and that helps me set up the step we're learning so that I can actually lead her through it.

Unfortunately, one of the other ladies in the class has gotten so used to leading herself I couldn't do anything with her. She anticipated a spin so quickly she slammed her very long, sharp fingernail into my forehead just above my eye. Had she aimed about half and inch lower, I'd probably be seeing out of one eye today. And she drew blood (which I didn't realize until I got home). I told her to keep dancing but she freaked out. I guess the site of blood does that to some people.

It's easier to dance with beginner and intermediate students. While they do tend to lead themselves through the steps, I already know the steps and don't have to slow myself down to concentrate on the details. The expressions on the ladies' faces when they realize they are partnered with someone who knows the moves better than they do are priceless. I've almost had a marriage proposal come out of that kind of experience.

As I get over the cold and flu season (God willing and the river don't rise, as John Wayne would say), I'll get back into the regular dance routine again. BTW -- Gloria Jones is now offering Two Step classes, so if anyone in Houston wants to learn Two Step, check out her Web site at Dance Passion. Classes start tonight (timing is everything).