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| Morning... |
| 11.30.05 (6:59 am) [edit] |
Sorry to any of you who were freaked out by yesterday's post... Hope you noticed the title!Listen. I'll write something late tonight, but any one of DrForbush's last four posts are worth ten of mine. Go read there. http://drforbush.tblog.com" title="http://drforbush.tblog.com" target="_blank"http://drforbush.tblog.com |
| What would it take? |
| 11.29.05 (4:34 pm) [edit] |
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Click the button to hear a podcast of this post. Good evening Boys and Girls! surrogate here from the great midwest... I was trying to remember the logic of why I decided to start up here a few months ago. I suppose it was that I wanted to be close enough to my kids that I could see them with relative ease and yet be in a metropolitan area far enough away that I wouldn't run into any conflicts with people I know in the same business I decided to get back into. And it's gone fine so far, except? What WAS I thinking? Had I gone south the same distance (Okay, so maybe I'd have had to go twice as far), I'd have avoided the one thing I really am just plain tired of! Winter. Oh I know, they get some nasty winter weather as far as five hundred miles or a thousand miles south of where I'm at, but even a few hundred miles south, it's FAR less severe and not nearly as cold this soon, or for as long - and for goodness sake, this is the SNOW belt! We've already had fifteen inches of snow, which is simply too much. GRRRRR! So. A few days ago I emailed a complaint to God. God? You know my heart. I'm working my buns off here. I've worked hard to get things up and running quickly - and I'm deeply appreciative for anything you've had to do with it. But God? Couldn't we have a little bit of a global warming thing here? I've read the reports! I believe it in the overall concept and the long term ramifications and all that, but... how about here! Now maybe? I really am finding myself hating the cold weather, plus let's face it, it really gets in the way of me being productive. Any suggestions? This was sometime last week on a day we'd gotten another few inches or so of early snow. So, I went to the Post Office earlier today and there's this package jammed into my little P.O. box. I pulled it out and the very second it came out it increased in size by a factor of at least two. It was amazing. In fact, I tried to force it back into the box, but NO WAY... so I looked at the box. It's got my first name on it but no address, plus? no return address. It was very light. Felt empty. I opened the box. It's full of yellow tissue paper in it but nothing else. I pulled out the paper and looked into the box, nothing. I set the box down, pulled the tissue paper apart looking for something inside the crush... nothing. I shook my head, threw the tissue paper away in a trash bin under the table I was standing at across from the bank of P.O. boxes. I picked up the box to examine it more carefully for an address, or something to tell me where it came from. The second I picked it up? I heard something rattling around inside it. I looked in again. Still saw nothing. I turned it over and shook it onto the table - and dozens of fortune cookies spilled out onto the tabletop. Just stood there, my hands shaking. Looked around, but the only other people in the room were busy doing their own things and hadn't seen what I was dealing with. I unwrapped and then cracked open one of the fortune cookies, unfolded the little piece of paper inside... "Do it." it said. I opened another. "Use your head." the next one said. I started opening them quickly now. "You know what you should do." "Why are you asking me?" "You have a brain, don't you?" "Are you capable of recognizing signs?" and on and on.... I wanted to show them to someone. I started to grab someone in line, but then I stopped, realizing that my explanation would sound as crazy to anyone else as it did to me.... I put all the cookies and the wrappers and little fortunes back into the box - even sweeping the crumbs off the table and back into the box. Drove back here to think. Made coffee. Sat a while. After a little while I got up and went over to the kitchen table to reread the little fortunes. I dumped the box out on the table. Quite a mess. I picked up one of the fortunes. "You will have luck in life." I picked up another one. "Confucius say, a wise man is a good friend to have." The next one said, "A bird's song is a new...." They've all completely changed. I just stood there. I picked up the box. My name isn't on it. Be good to everyone. |
| Shiny! |
| 11.28.05 (7:19 pm) [edit] |
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Click on the button to hear a podcast of this post Good evening Boys and Girls! surrogate here. Rain! Of all the books in the world, for some reason, I decided to listen to Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift circa 1726. I remember reading a take of the story in some elementary school or junior high textbook, and I know I've seen two or three movie versions over the years, (I specifically remember an animated version that deals with the first two of his journeys I saw a few times as a kid) but as is the case with most classics when they're chopped up, watered down and regurgitated for the consumption of of school kids or worse, as a Hollywood backdrop, the plot becomes all important and the thrust and purpose of the author's words are completely lost. Such is the case with Gulliver's Travels. It is not only hilarious and disturbing, it's the most sharply pointed satire on the follies of "civilized" people I've ever been exposed to; think early eighteenth century Vonnegut or Carlin. It won't seem the least bit dated. I promise. Read it. (Or, like me, be lazy and listen to it, but make sure it's unabridged.) And even if you did read it as a kid? Give it another go. So... Sometimes you're walking along, looking at the ground in front of you, and all of a sudden, you see a really cool pebble! You don't walk by do you? You at least stop to look at it more carefully. You pick it up. Hold it in your hands. Look at how unique the striations are, feel the texture, look at the color. You wonder what kind of existence it's had, where it came from. You wonder how it ended up here, of all places, and why no one else has seen it in the same light and picked it up. It was right there. So you put it in your pocket. And even if nothing else happens all day, when you empty your pockets before bed? There it is. Cool pebble. You might decide to keep it. Be good to everyone! Oh, for anyone interested, this is a cool review of my son's band's most recent album: http://www.dprp.net/reviews/2... |
| The great debate.... well, the debate. |
| 11.26.05 (9:02 am) [edit] |
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Click the button to listen to a podcast of this post... Good morning Boys and Girls... surrogate here. So, I've had an ongoing debate for the better part of a year with an extremely knowledgeable and worldly friend (who shall remain nameless, but who's initials are K.M. and is a fellow tBlogger and lives in Kentucky) over the relative merits of our involvement in Iraq. (I'm agin' it and he's a'fer it.) Of late, a third party has joined in with views similar to our beloved K.M. This third fellow (we're all men by the way as we men know best, you know - just ask us, we'll tell you) I'll refer to him (to keep his identity secret as well) as "Pastor D." Now good Pastor D. has the clout of being a bona fide man of the cloth, replete with a church of his own and an education that makes my own look like what is is, which is to say... just this side of nonexistent. Therefore, when I, (being right, of course), take on these two, I know that most of what I say, by the very nature of the fact that it's come from me, is -probably rightly - heard by them with weary shakes of the head, as though the thoughts I convey are those of a naive and dim-witted simpleton; which is so. Having said this, I'll assure everyone that these two upstanding fellows are never condescending, except in jest, and go out of their way to make sure that they make me feel that they consider my words carefully, (almost as though they have merit.) Further, they make their arguments back in language that implies that they consider themselves to be talking to a peer, which of course they are not. Their combined mental acuity is far greater than twice mine, if you get my meaning. Individually, for instance, either of them could be the manager of the Macdonald's, while I MIGHT be allowed to run the fryer - with supervision. HELPPPPP! (dum da da DAHHHH!) Now comes DrForbush, riding to my rescue, test tube held high!... Oh damn, I let his name slip. Oh well. This guy is at least District Manager material, okay? Maybe even a regional vice president! He's brilliant. He's a Physisistististsists... um... he's a scientist. And wouldn't you know it? He agrees with ME! Well, let me tell you... I'm feelin' pretty oaky-doaky about this little turn of events. I'm gonna drag his sorry quark-splitting behind into this whether he likes it or not... From now on? When these guys try telling me that the ends justify the means with regard to this war? I'm gonna say... "Hey, go read DrForbush... I think what he thinks... and he's really smart... So there! Take that you two-guys-who-are-smarter- than-me-but-probably-not- as-smart-as-DrForbush! My one Physicist can beat up your two Macdonalds Managers. What was my point? Oh yeah. Bring the troops home. Now. (All in fun guys. I'm sure you know that.) Be good to everyone! http://drforbush.tblog.com/" title="http://drforbush.tblog.com/" target="_blank"http://drforbush.tblog.com/ a link to the good Doctor... |
| MBDRSAC Inc. |
| 11.25.05 (7:04 am) [edit] |
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Click the little dot to listen to a pod-cast of this post. "Hello. Michael Brown Disaster Relief Screw-up Avoidance Consulting Incorporated, How may I help you?" "Uh-Huh. Right. Uh-Huh. Exactly. It's the same Michael Brown." "Well, we're in the business of helping companies and government agencies avoid the types of problems that occurred after hurricane Katrina with regards to the response." "Right." "Uh Huh. Mm-Hmm. Well, see, we feel that, well Mr. Brown feels that his experience in botching up the relief is indeed a valuable commodity. "Certainly." "Right." "Well, I believe that's public information." "Right." I believe his salary was in that range." "I think it was One-hundred and thirty-thousand dollars." "I see... uh huh." "Our clients? Well... did you need a referral sir?" "I see." "Well of course we'll offer our services to FEMA." "Well, no I don't have any information regarding that, but certainly I'd assume the contract will be worth quite a bit, It IS the government, after all." "No. I don't know how many millions exactly. I don't think that's been determined yet." "No.. I don't believe there's a conflict of interest there. If there was, legally we couldn't do it now could we?" Excuse me? "I do NOT!" "Sir, that sort of language is just not called for." "Excuse me?" "Now sir you know very well an Arabian Horse Will not fit up his..." "PLEASE. If the horse won't fit, how are you going to get the Superdome up th..." "I'm going to hang up now. I don't think you're a potential client at all." "Oh?" "I see." "Uh-huh. Well I understand you being... I see... then..." "Really. Well I still think your anger is a little discourteous..." "Right. Well, No one ever said Mr. Brown didn't have a well developed sense of irony!.. Hah hah.." "Okay... I'll tell him." "Right... I promise." "Okay... Goodbye Mr. Bush. Thanks for calling." Be good to everyone... |
| Never slow down....? |
| 11.24.05 (10:17 am) [edit] |
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Click on the little circle to hear a pod-cast of this post. Hello Boys and Girls and Happy Thanksgiving to those of us in the States. Time passes. Life Changes. In order to enjoy and be thankful for what we have, I guess we have to accept that just because we hope and pray for things, it doesn't mean we're ever going to get them, no matter what. So dwelling on them obviously can't be productive or healthy. I know this. It's anything but an original thought. Many people, in fact, go to extraordinary lengths to block out the past - or to arrange it in their minds in ways that help them so they "feel" better prepared to move forward and deal with each day as it comes without linking present happenings to past events. Therapy, Self-Help books, Anti-Depressants, Religious Conversion; all play their parts either singularly or in combination to become opaque black shrouds to our pasts, the only holes being small and positioned so that what can be seen is now more easily manipulated. Loves become hates, or worse, apathies. Successes are diminished or elevated depending on our needs. Failures are completely obscured because the examinations of those can cause the the one thing that the shrouds are intended to prevent. Guilt. See, if we allow ourselves to look at our pasts too clearly, we might have to expend energy rectifying things we've done that aren't right. And for goodness sake, we can't have that! So, we deaden our consciences with drugs, and rationalizations, and a constant barrage of self-talk, and eventually? We've CHANGED our memories, and thus with time and effort, and most importantly, repetition, these alterations are now "the past." Ah! Now. Now we can march forward, head held high, face contorted just a bit into a self satisfied but not quite smug expression which we gradually harden as we practice in the mirror of our mind, until, finally we've almost completely forgotten the truths we've worked so hard to push back into those vast synaptic crevices, out of our seeing back behind that same mirror, and the line of its reflection. Almost. Almost, except at night, or, more dangerously, when we allow ourselves to slow down our pace a while. Good grief, that almost invites introspection! - This is when those little facts we've not managed to alter somehow manage to creep into our thoughts and dreams, raising their hands and waving for our attention. "Think about me!" they cry, each trying to out-shout it's neighbor, "Remember?" - until we realize what's happening and, panicking now, we consciously zap them back where they belong, again safely out of sight into the black, into the corner, now behind the shroud and into our past. Standard procedure. There are very few things I claim to KNOW, but for some reason? I'm quite sure about this. And I'm thankful for it. Be good to everyone. |
| Break time |
| 11.22.05 (6:41 pm) [edit] |
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http://telcaster.com/surrogate Click on the icon below to listen to this post... Thanks Pastor Dave. Good evening Boys and Girls. surrogate here... I'm listening to some wonderful music tonight, just relaxing. I'm coming down with a cold and trying to nip it in the bud, so I'm drinking tea, eating bland food (spaghetti squash) and trying to stay warm. And I'm feeling guilty. A couple of weeks ago I think I just plain burned out on the news, Usually read most of the hard news I can find on the web, listen to the radio on line for whatever I can glean from that. I try to stay as informed as I can. I'm a news junkie in fact. I prefer to listen to the left wing stuff as far as talk radio goes, but I listen to the righties too, if for no other reason than to hear their spin on stuff and to see how they'll play whatever has jumped up and bitten the administration today. But I've snapped. I'm hoping it's temporary, it HAS happened to me before. But I just am so tired of all the stuff going down that I can't (or won't, perhaps) process it right now. It happened last week. I ran across the list somewhere - maybe on one of the progressive blog alliance members' blogs - that had itemized all the "scandals" that have befallen these jerks over the past five years. It was a long list and I remembered each of them from when they'd been in the news. As I read through it I was sickened. So many things that have never been addressed or prosecuted, or even investigated properly, that by the time I was through I just sat back in my chair and felt the anger and disappointment rise in me to the point where I wanted to do something stupid. How many of you have gotten that crazy fake-church-sign spam email lately? "Would someone please give him a blow-job so we can impeach him?" So true. So? I'm taking a break. I have to. Or I'll break something. How does this affect you, "The Reader?" How the hell should I know? Maybe during my non-political period here, I'll come up with some crazy tidbit of information from the Farmer's Almanac - just to take up space on this page - that will change your life forever! Ever think of that? Huh? Did ya? Be good to everyone! And plant soybeans early next year. |
| Jack and the Beanstalk at tBlog Camp |
| 11.21.05 (4:09 pm) [edit] |
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Good evening Boys and Girls! C'mon Kids. Let's all sit down around this fire, I have a story to tell you. Rinna? Not too close now. Bawdy? Quit poking the coals... that's right... Just sit back... No Sue. You may not make another s'more. You've had six. Okay. Now then. Once upon a time, in a big and powerful land... "Was it in Kentucky?" No Kurt, it wasn't in Kentucky. "Was Michael singing?" No MJ. Michael wasn't si... "Was it at my Church?" No PastorDave... kids, please let me just tell the story... "It was at my gym, wasn't it?" No Scubs. Geez. Would you all just SHUT UP! (silence... fire crackles.) ONCE UPon a time, there was this young boy who was asked to take his mother's cow to be sold, because the family had become so poor due to the stagnant economy caused by the outlandish policies foisted upon the populace by the incumbent administration and its outrageous penchant for.... "This story sucks!" DrForbush? You just pipe down. "Well can you work Jesus into the plot please?" Graceshaker, do I interrupt your posts? "Hey, leave him alone! I'm sorry 14u2nv2. I just want to get this done. It's time for bed. I just thought maybe a story would.... Fairmoon, what are you doing with that pot? Put that poor little bat down... NO! Not INTO the pot... "Moon's doing her witch stuff." Yes, I see that Null... PLEASE! Oh for God's sake, sexywife, would you please wait till you get to your tent? "EEEWWWW" (everyone is covering their eyes except Kurt, me and Null, who gets out a digital camera...) "Geez that even grossed me out" I'm sorry CrazyBeautiful. This doesn't seem to be working out. I just thought a nice story might relax everyone. "Not the way you tell'em. Thanks a lot onebadjen. I appreciate your honesty. (I'm a little sarcastic.) Where is everyone else anyway? I expected a lot more people. (A hand is raised back away from the fire a ways) Yes Sweetsue? Geez you didn't have to raise your hand! "I'm just that way surrogate. I think most of the people went to BacardiBreeze's slide show and lecture on those little cars she likes so much. Afterward, MissJane was going to take some questions. I'm going over there now. Anybody wanna come? No offense surrogate, but this is really kind'a lame." No... of course not. (I sort of hang my head as everyone gets up to leave. A couple of people help Alms as she's still limping. Soon, only Jane Godly is left sitting there across the fire from me. She's shaking her head.) "surrogate, me lad? You have got to find a finer wey to tell a wee story. Yer drivin' everbody bloody mad." Yeah. I know.... But I try! (She gets up and as she too is walking away, still shaking her head. I hear her mutter...) "Try harder then boy.... a hell'of'alot." Be good to everyone. |
| Gettin' made... |
| 11.20.05 (4:32 pm) [edit] |
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Good evening Boys and Girls! surrogate here. A quick note... Thanks to those who voted for me on featured blog. Ever since tBlog zapped me off the Hot Blogs list a few weeks ago for what appears to be "Clicking" by some reader, or some program I don't understand, I've been a little worried that readership might decline. Thankfully, it hasn't, but I figured it might be fun to to do what I can to promote this "thing of ours" (Kurt? Es-plain it to da people pleess.) if it doesn't take too much time. So far so good. I'll write a real post tomorrow... perhaps having to do with Jack and the Beanstalk. (Don't ask... So far it doesn't make much sense to me either, but, it's perculating!)
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| Saturday Morning Drivel |
| 11.19.05 (7:15 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls! The rising sun is shining in my window as I write this - first time I've seen actual sunshine in damn near a week. Hoping it'll stay clear for the day. Wonder what the day will bring? I have some work to do this morning, but not too much and I haven't made any big plans for the weekend. Sometimes, when I have free weekends, I end up being pleasantly surprised by what transpires... we'll see. I'm getting into that strange funk that has punctuated the holidays for me the last few years. I work hard not to sink into it, but some days it grabs me with such force that by the time I've shaken it, pulled myself out of it, I'm tired just from the effort. Maybe I'll keep it at bay more this year. This new project is taking up a lot of thought time, and that's a good thing. Anything to keep my mind and body spinning with purpose. I turn fifty in another year. I've been thinking of doing some peace corps stuff for a few years. It was suggested to me by a friend a while ago, and if this next year is good financially, I'm pretty sure I'll give it a whirl. Never served in the military, and didn't want to, but I've always felt like I owed... something. And unless I come up with another plan to do some good, I'll volunteer with them or some other good organization that decides I have skills they can make use of. Once in a while, I have to be careful not to feel like the old satirist who's ceased to see the humor in what he does and instead becomes jaded and sarcastic. It's poison. Means that not only is his material not funny any longer, but any point he tries to make becomes lost in the harshness of the tirades he spews - Lenny Bruce without the laughs; George Bush without the garbled speech. But... thankfully, it's a temporary thing, and with a little effort and good coffee? I can change my outlook. (Think Yoda. "There is no "try."") Hmmm... Just reread this. Not even sure it's worth posting. But? Maybe some of you get to feeling similarly once in a while. I'll bank on it. Be good to everyone. |
| I need a mirror that looks forward, just a day or so... |
| 11.18.05 (7:35 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls, surrogate here. Many. This is the answer to my own question. My question is a simple one, and one I ask myself perhaps too often as I get older. In fact, I've changed the parameters of the question quite a few times over the years. At first, I'd ask it in terms of my entire life. When I hit thirty or so, it changed to "in the last year," These days I can ask it in terms of a single day - and I still get the same answer. "Are there things you could have done differently and ended up with a better outcome." Pretty simple question isn't it? Nothing all that dramatic about it! Just a little check on myself. No biggie. And yet, no matter what I've done with an hour, or a day... or a year? There always seems, in retrospect, to have been far better ways to approach whatever it is I've undertaken. What's infuriating however, is that no matter how I approach something, no matter the research I do, or the good intentions I have, these "better" paths are always blocked from my view looking forward. Then, they become so glaringly obvious in hindsight that I beat myself up over it and I'm loath to understand why it is I'm unable to "see" these better moves ahead of time even this far into my life. It's unnerving and frustrating, and it might be about the only thing that blocks me from becoming the person I think I should be. What's the quote? "An unexamined life is not worth living." Isn't that it, or it's pretty close anyway. Well, let me tell you this. It's bunk. I write about this extensively in my goofy novel, and sometimes, to the extent it bothers me and based on the amount of thought time it takes, I begin to think I'm a one trick pony. Slowly, I'm coming to believe that, even though I do it for the lofty purpose of learning about myself with an eye toward becoming a better person, that examining the past is... well, pointless. Now... to figure out a way to quit doing it. Be good to everyone. |
| Cool news. |
| 11.17.05 (7:36 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls! It's snowing here. It started about noon yesterday, maybe a little earlier and it hasn't stopped since, unless it stopped for a while overnight. It's not a hard snowfall, but I'd guess we have four to six inches on the ground. Can't say I'm thrilled to see it. I like snow as much as the next person, assuming the next person is exactly like me, which is to say... Damn. I wish I could enjoy its beauty instead of seeing it as a big old traffic jam to my happy little existence. What I do simply takes far longer when the weather gets like this, and I was really hoping to get away with another couple of weeks without it. Enough! Anyway, got a call from the big guy last night. He was at an airport (as usual) and at first I thought he just wanted to shoot the breeze... "Hello?" "Hey surrogate. How are ya?" "Jesus! I'm fine. How are you?" "Great. Just attended a meeting with a few dozen preachers here in Dallas to listen to them discuss what to do about this whole intelligent design thing." "Wow. Did you speak? Did you tell...." "Nah. They didn't even know I was there. I just wanted to listen in and see how the main-stream folks are going to play this... Hey, hang on a sec. I can't seem to get the lid off this coffee. (I hear a click as he puts the receiver down somewhere and I hear a page for a flight to Chicago...) "There. Sorry." "No problem. So what's the deal? Did Robertson's name come up?" "(chuckle) Oh yeah. They have no idea what to make of him. Some people are pretty sure he's just nuts while other's think he's just a human weather balloon for the "fundies."" "Hah... "Fundies." That's hilarious. What's your take?" "I don't know. Dad finds him amusing but he scares me. Some of the stuff that comes out of his head is just plain... evil. But, what am I supposed to do about it?" "You're askin' me? ( I laugh.)" "Hey surrogate. Remember the interview series we did last January?" "Of course." "Think we could schedule another three or four days. I've got some things I'd like to talk about, and that was kind of fun." "For sure! Any time. You coming this way?" "Well, I've been invited to spend a couple of weeks with some friends in Seattle... Thanksgiving and the week after, but I don't have plans for the week between Christmas and New Years." "Wow... cool. Want to spend Christmas with me?" "That's what I was thinking - if I wouldn't be in the way." "Oh man... Christmas with you? How cool is that? "Yeah, yeah. Well let's plan on it. We can spend some time. I'll give you batteries for your recorder for Christmas so we don't run out... Like last time. (He snickers.)" "Geez. I'm sorry. What? It took me like five minutes to run to the store. Thought you were big on forgiveness... (I'm laughing.) "Great... So..." "Hey Jesus. Where are you off to now?" "Mexico City. One of my friends who lost his wife in the last big earthquake is having a crappy time of it. I'm going to spend a few days with him... see what I can do to perk him up." "Bummer. Well have a good flight." "Thanks. See you in a few weeks then?" "You got it. I'll look forward too it. You'll let me know when you're coming in? "Yeah." "Okay. Take care." "Thanks. You too. (click)" Soooo... Christmas might be fun! Be good to everyone. |
| Microsoft prom dresses... |
| 11.16.05 (8:01 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. I'm 48 years old. I came of age in the early seventies at a time when this country was trying to figure out a way to extricate itself from a war we should have never involved ourselves in, and with a president who seemed hell bent on covering up some rather stupid moves by his underlings. I really try not to notice the similarities between then and now, and I'm helped by some rather stark contrasts between the periods. I was a hippie back then. Had long hair, smoked a lot of pot as did just about everyone I knew and interacted with. I dreaded commercial radio, absolutely refused to wear any shirt or piece of clothing with any sort of advertisement printed on it, unless it promoted "cool non-profit events" or general slogans and works of art... (or, my own "for profit" tiny business.... go figure.) For a couple of years I lived with a group of guys in Kalamazoo Michigan in a house we called The Jefferson Starship. It wasn't named after the band but rather because it was on Jefferson Street, and was lit with so many black lights glowing on incredible pieces of original art by one of our housemates on just about every interior wall, that in the evenings if you happened upon the house it fairly glowed though all the windows - and, of course, in that house there was an awful lot of getting "high." What IS my point? (I hear you screaming...) Well, I'm struck by how innocent it all was; we were. We never worried about getting arrested. We did sell pot to our friends, and our friends sold it to us. We even rented a greenhouse. Now we did this for legitimate reasons, but we also hoped to grow enough pot there that we could keep ourselves and our friends in free marijuana. This plan went nowhere, mind you, as we had black thumbs and were probably starting with crappy seed to boot. I can't imagine people today doing what we did then without ending up with long prison sentences. I haven't smoked any pot in almost thirty years, and I'm glad I stopped. But geez, and this is where it gets dicey I suppose, I have absolutely wonderful memories of that time! No regrets except that I wish I'd understood how incredibly unique it all was at the time, and taken more stock in the very freeness of our lives. See, this morning I ran down to the Gas Station to grab some coffee since I'm out of half 'n half. In this Gas station were a couple of kids about the age I was back then and they were buying "Office Depot" and "Tide" pit crew jackets for $99.00 each. It prompted me to go over to look at the elaborate Nascar products display which I'd seen in there peripherally a dozen times, but had ignored. It was... well it sort of made me sick. When did we become so dead as to willingly fork over huge bucks to advertise corporate giants for them? When did we become that... that what? Somehow, at least to me, it all started when we elected Reagan. I know that's about as vague a statement as could possibly be made, but something happened to America then, that I thought was reversible at the time, but nevertheless that seemed to put a hard stop on thought by the general populace that I can neither identify specifically, or, on the other hand, of which I can ignore the significance. All I know, is that when I let my mind linger on this sort of thing too long, bile rises. Be good to everyone. |
| And the winner is? |
| 11.14.05 (8:55 pm) [edit] |
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(The commercial ends and the theme music comes back up. We here Don Pardo's voice) "The Tenth annual P.U.K.E.E. awards have been brought to you by Glade Air Fresheners - clinically proven to eliminate certain specific rancid odors better than the competition. Once again, here's your host... surrrrrrogattttte." (Fanfare! surrogate walks back onto the stage while looking back to the wings and smiles at an inside joke. He takes the hand-held mike from the model holding it for him next to the podium and then watches her a little leeringly as she walks off.) "Thanks Bubbles. Give her a hand folks. Isn't she great? I hired her after carefully auditioning 500 other gals for the job!" (he gives a thumbs-up and winks while the audience snickers, playing along.) "Anyway, welcome back to the tenth annual "Publicly Uttering Knowingly Evil Epitaphs" Awards. I know it been a long night. We're all tired. I know we've gone long like every other awards show - but when people win one of these little babies?" (surrogate holds high a brass statuette of a what looks like a mouth spewing vomit) "Well let's face it, the Pukee is only won by people who yap a lot, isn't it? So I guess we shouldn't be too surprised when they they go on... and on.... AND on. (crowd chuckles) I mean how about that acceptance speech Scott McClellan gave huh? How many times can that guy say "Ongoing investigation" in sixty seconds!? (crowd laughs as camera pans audience, showing shaking heads all over the room...) "Well. This is it. What we've all been waiting for. The Biggie. Who will get the Pukee for "sheer volume of crazy things being said this year?" "May I have the envelope please?" (Bubbles walks on from the other side of the stage in a completely different and more revealing outfit and hands the envelope to surrogate, who's all business now and simply nods to Bubbles as he accepts the envelope from her. He adjusts his tie and looks straight into the camera....) "Throughout tonight's program we've shown you video clips of the nominees making some, but surely not anywhere near all the remarks for which they've been nominated in this category... (split-screen shots shows both stills of each of the nominees made from some of their more infamous video clips alongside live shots of those same nominees sitting in the audience, some of them kissing their spouses or dates for luck... A drum roll commences....) "For Sheer Volume, the "Purely Evil Vitriolic Statements Delivered Publicly in 2005" winner is?... "(surrogate rips the envelope, blows it open and carefully removes the the folded card. Slowly, he opens it... Now, having read the paper, he smiles, leans down into the microphone, and in almost a whisper, says...) "The Pukee goes to Pat Robertson." (The band erupts into a rousing rendition of the theme from the 700 Club - which hardy anyone even recognizes - as Pat jumps up and dashes to the up the isle to the stage, shouting "God TOLD me personally I'd win! I KNEW it! I KNEW it!!!!! And every TV in America is switched off simultaneously... Be good to everyone... Hey Read DrForbush's post today... It's really good. http://www.tblog.com/template... |
| Decisions, with trees... |
| 11.12.05 (7:23 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls! It's a surprisingly warm mid-November morning here and I'm trying to figure out whether to steal the second half of the day for myself to go for a good long walk in the woods. This is a wonderful time. We haven't had snow yet, but most of the leaves are down and those that remain on the trees have lost the bright colors that made October so spectacularly beautiful. These days, you can feel the forests making preparation for winter. So many of the birds have either left or have finished the major food gathering work that there is very little sound once you get away from the roads a couple of miles, and what there is, is softly deadened. Even your own footsteps make little noise since rains have dampened everything. This time of year the woods, even at mid-day, are a sepia-toned paradise that beckon me to share the solitude. Three years ago, on a day very like this one, I sat on a fallen tree incredibly depressed and feeling lost, trying to decide what I should do with myself. My world had crashed and any plans I'd made for the rest of my life had become moot. I simply didn't have a clue about my place in the world. Finally, after remaining quiet for a long time, something occurred to me. As a high school student, I'd had a wonderful teacher in creative writing. Probably close to sixty at the time, she'd never married and lived only a few blocks from our house. I'd seen her out walking her dogs many times before but for some reason, I'd never seen her at the school before I arrived in her class as a junior. When I saw her, I knew her face from those dog-walks, but was really quite surprised to see her sitting behind the desk. She was a stern woman who didn't put up with the usual goofy antics of kids like me, and from the first day, after being told to hush after talking to the kid next to me, I felt that dread all of us have felt when confronted with a teacher we just know we're not going to like. Right from the start, she was very intimidating. On the board behind her in careful script was an extensive calendar of sorts, a syllabus, laying out the schedule for books we were to read, papers we were to write, quizzes and tests we were to take along with three or four rules she expected us to follow while in her charge. My stomach dropped. Her first instructions were for us to copy, word for word, everything that was on the board. She was tough. She was impatient. And I learned more from that woman in four months than I've ever learned from anyone. My first paper merited a "D" and had a single word written next to the grade. "Work!" it said. Ten minutes each day were reserved for writing in a journal. We could write about anything we chose, but it was graded, not so much for content, but for the clarity of our expression. "Never use three words if two will do, but never use two words when three are required!" It was her mantra. Whatever it is you need to say? Say it clearly. If you don't have anything to say? Shut up! I got a "B" in the class. About the only thing I remember about my final paper in that class is what she wrote at the top next to the "A+." "Even if you never write anything ever again, in this piece, you said what needed to be said, and did it well." I don't think I'd ever felt as good about myself as she made me feel with those words. So there I was, sitting on a fallen tree in the woods in November three years ago feeling like... nothing. And somehow, Ms. Less' words came back to me, probably because unconsciously I needed to find something to feel good about. And right then I decided that now, some twenty-five years later, that if I could find things I wanted to say, I'd write. Be good to everyone. |
| orders.... |
| 11.11.05 (6:53 am) [edit] |
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Okay... Quick post as I'm rushing out here in a sec, but I received a phone call late last night... "Hi. surrogate here." "Hey." "Wow... Jesus. How are ya? Where are you?" "I'm fine. I'm in L.A." "L.A.? You never go out there." "Sure I do. I know lot's of people out here." "Well duh. You know lots of people everywhere. What's up?" "I'm just passing through. I'm at L.A.X. Listen I need you to do something for me." "Sure anything. What." "Change the name of the blog back. I liked my name on it." "Really? You hardly ever wrote any more." "So?" "Well, why wou.." "Look, I know some people don't like it, but it's a good idea and as time goes on, people will understand what you're trying to do. I do." "Well yeah, but,..." "Look. Just do it if you think you can. I've got to go. They called my flight again. I've gotta go. Be good." "Where are you...?" But he'd clicked off. Gotta do it. Be good to everyone. |
| A little "day after the election" poem |
| 11.10.05 (5:15 pm) [edit] |
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Good evening Boys and Girls Today? A poem of sorts. From way out west In Arnold's land Where voters said no To all four of his plans To New Jersey in the east, Where Corrizine had fun Despite his being dissed By the pissed wife number one And even in Virgin'eee Tim Kaine showed he was able Bush did make that stop there, (He should'a sent a cable) So things are lookin' up As we point to next November -Maybe win the House back? It'd make a fine December The only disappointment, Was Ohio; not surprising Where someday funky counting Will stir a big uprising But? Baby steps, I guess, are fine There's still some forward movement "Just one more year," I tell myself "We'll see a HUGE improvement" Be good to everyone! |
| When I grow up.... |
| 11.09.05 (12:03 pm) [edit] |
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Good afternoon everyone. Today, on a four-lane boulevard, I was caught in a traffic jam in a construction zone for ten or twelve minutes. They must have been moving some of the equipment up ahead because we didn't move at all during the wait and once it opened up we zipped right through it. During the wait, directly to my left, a fellow was operating a back-hoe cleaning out the dirt for what looked to be a new turnaround. After a couple of minutes of idilly watching him do his thing, I began to notice the delicacy and artfulness of the way he did his job. The joints above the shovel head are articulated much like a human arm, though as far as I know, no side to side movement is possible. Regardless, the gentle dexterity with which this guy took out what dirt he needed to remove and then smoothed the area to a uniform depth was really something... especially once I became aware enough to really pay attention to his workmanship. I've seen many people operating back-hoes before, but I don't remember ever seeing anyone do it with such fluidity or speed for that matter. As traffic started to flow again I started to think about other people I've either known or seen who were so very good at whatever they did that it was a joy just to watch them. Years ago I'd run into an old sign painter while I did my rounds. He was one of those guys who worked with tempera paints and primarily did temporary or seasonal work on glass storefronts. Even when I first met him he had to be close to retirement age, and by the time I stopped doing the business that caused us to bump into each other every few months, he had to be near eighty. Herman traveled about in an old Ford pick-up with his big old Black Lab, Sam. Sam would wait at the pickup as Herman gathered together whatever supplies he needed for the job, and then they'd both make their way inside the building where Herman was to paint the windows - Sam trailing carrying a rolled up rug in his mouth which, once inside, he'd drop, carefully unroll and promptly fall asleep upon, waking only if some new passerby or admirer of Herman's work would want to pay him some attention too about which he seemed to have a doggy-style sixth sense. What I always got a kick out of was watching Herman laying out the rough lettering backwards on the window with a bar of soap so they'd be readable correctly from the outside. I remember his slow drawl and incredibly wrinkled face and jet black hair, and that, in a way that reminded me of my Dad, he'd always have a great joke or two to pass on. I'd watch him for a few minutes and we'd catch up on the latest B.S., then I'd leave and go about my work. A couple of hours later I'd stop back to see the progress and was always absolutely amazed at the detail in what he'd done with nothing more than soap, some water based tempera paints and a couple of various sized sponges, which for that sort of work he used in lieu of brushes. Fun... I like it when people are really good at what they do, no matter what it is. And, no matter what it is we do, we sure ought to do it as well as we can, if for no other reason than to pay back for our ability to do it at all. Be good to everyone. |
| Hey... Is that V-8? |
| 11.08.05 (4:30 pm) [edit] |
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Good afternoon Boys and Girls. 5:30 p.m. Tonight I've decided to get drunk. Please hold on while in a tall glass pitcher, I mix up a bottle of Bloody Mary mix, a third of a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka, (chosen on the strength of their most recent television advertising campaign), and about three tablespoons of worsteschire sauce. To this I'll add a tray of ice cubes and then I'll stir the whole thing up with three or four stalks of celery. There. 5:51 p.m. Now I'll drink my first glass and wait a little while. Mmm. Delicious. I should do this more often. Now another glass which I'll drink a little slower. 6:02 p.m. Now athird...damn this isgood stuff. Turning on the radio.... cool. 6:08 p,m, Wow, thisforth glass in ten minutesis outtasight... 610pm Anybody wan join me? cmon over. I gott a makejmore. jus asec. 6%^ p.n. maaade maor... drInked it. Know whati herdtoday? Iheard tha drinking everynowanagain can clear yer mind anbody of tocksins... youblieve that? seven7ish..erso daMN.......................................................this funnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn nn gots go.....b gud e vrybdy |
| Imagine being stinky rich! |
| 11.07.05 (12:34 pm) [edit] |
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Good afternoon Boys and Girls! An unexpected afternoon off. Finished what needed to be done far quicker than usual today. Started late and finished early. I'm leery to get too comfortable, however, because as soon as I do, I'm sure I'll get a call. If I sit here waiting on pins and needles though, expecting a call, I'll probably hear from no one and be free to relax as much as that sort of situation allows. Today, while going through my email, for the umpteenth time I asked a certain company that includes me in their daily spam-a-thon to remove me from their lists. Once again I followed all the procedures they describe to be deleted. Somehow I'm not all that convinced that if I simply pay the shipping and handling fee ($18.00) to receive their free cd and system instructions (all packaged together in a convenient shrink-wrapped binder package) that a few hours reading will prepare me to make more money per month than most people make in a year. Even the slick testimonials, (grinning color shots of people lounging next to large built-in pools replete with fountains and palm trees) fails to make me feel any more confident of the validity of the claims made by these toothy members of the nouveau riche. Why? Well, since you asked, I actually called this particular company at some point a few months ago to ask exactly what it was their sure fire plan involved because, (I lied) I was surely interested in becoming financially secure with virtually no effort and faster than has ever before been possible by any legitimate means, but that before plunking down my hard earned $18.00, would they please at least tell me what it was I was about to do? Three transfers later and after explaining my position emphatically to each of the intermediaries along the way I found out that they sell vitamins over the web and that the idea was that you set up your own web page and develop your own customer base under another existing seller, ala every other multi-level marketing scam in the history of man.... I asked this simple question. "Why doesn't the manufacturer simply set up their own web page and then do everything in their power to get people to go to it, thus eliminating all these happy faced middlemen?... Excuse me: middle-persons." "That's not the plan." "I see." I said, and hung up the phone. Ponzi Lives! (And please don't buy vitamins and supplements from the company that starts with and "h" and ends in "life.") Be good to everyone... I'm not sure this extends to lousy companies... |
| Year 2, Post 1 |
| 11.06.05 (12:23 pm) [edit] |
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Good afternoon everyone. You'll notice the name change I assume. At least till I come up with something better, I'll use this. Today is the first post in year two of this blog. Often, it's a difficult thing for me to come up with things to talk about in ways I hope will be enjoyable for people to read. I know I get a bit harsh in the way I express my opinions and even so I sometimes find myself pulling punches in the effort to make things at least half-way fun to read. I'm workin' on it. Don't consider myself a good writer yet, but it's something I want to become over time and something I feel this blog is helping me with. This year, my goal is to not only continue talking about things that I consider important (at least a couple of times a week), but to try to make my writing as easy to understand as I possibly can, which means I'll probably write a little less often while spending more time on each individual post before I rush them onto the blog. One thing I'd really like to encourage are any ideas from you readers as to topics I ought to consider writing about. I know I spend more time than I should reiterating my concerns about the war and the problems in Washington, and I'll make a concerted effort to temper that sort of thing, especially since my feelings are pretty well known by now to the folks who come here regularly, and I don't want to bore the pants off you. I've enjoyed getting to know people here this past year and I hope to get to know more of you as time goes on. I'm thinking that perhaps tBlog will make a comeback over the next few months and I'd like to encourage everyone to invite some of those who have left to at least start cross-posting here again since, of late, things seem to have started improving so much. Maybe, just maybe, over the next few months, the recent blogs list will become a list of neat things to read instead of a never ending list of advertisements for teen porn, prescription drugs and the rest of the crap that has so often monopolized it. Thanks for a fun first year. Be good to everyone. |
| De-nomi-nomi-nations (from Last year) |
| 11.04.05 (3:31 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls This is most of a post from Last November that I kind of liked. Starts out boring but it gets a little better! It was part of a three part thingy on all the various denominations with Christianity. This one was on the Protestants and was "written by Jesus" hence the first person stuff toward the end. I left off the first couple of paragraphs... ...Why, in the United States alone, there are over one hundred and fifty active denominations with at least a thousand members each. The larger ones have ten's of millions of members and thousands of churches. Over One hundred and fifty! Can you imagine? Now add to this THOUSANDS of independent Protestant Churches and you've got one on heck of a lot of ways to worship in this country... You want to play with poisonous snakes to prove you're worthy? We got'cha covered. You want full immersion baptism or specific creed reading? No problem. You feel more comfortable with folks of your own ethnic background when you worship? Tons of choices! How about Women preachers? What about denominations that ban women preachers? You want to go to a church where alcohol is forbidden? Or tolerated? You want modern music? Gospel singing? Guitars? Pipe organs? You want communion every week or once a quarter? Wine or Grape juice? Little bread cubes? Hosts? You want to break off bread from a big communal loaf? You want the preacher to wear a a clerical collar? A business suit? How about a big ole' muslin robe? How about your offering? You want to pay cash? Check? Direct debit? Visa or Master Card?... ....... Big Church? Small church? Your Church? Her Church? New Church? Old Church? Red Church? Blue Church? Granite? Marble? Alabaster? Concrete? Logs? Wood and Plaster? Stained Glass? Lucite? Pulpits? Kneelers? Bibles, Hymnals, Tracts and Feelers? Reverend Doctors, Pastors, Preachers Deacons, Elders, Gifted Teachers Committee Chairmen, Organists Choir members, Soloists All these people. All these choices. Some claim visions, Some hear voices Glad folks, Sad folks, Saints and Crooks Parse the verses in “the Book” “They think this way. We think that” “Our way’s better. You see that?” “The path to heaven's plain as day” “THEY’RE going to hell. It’s just their way” But folks, it’s not the way we do things Dad and I don’t pull your strings. You want heaven? You FEAR hell? Just love each other. It'll turn out... swell. Love God, yourselves, your friends, your foes Be vigilant. Stay on your toes. Pay attention, be kind - be gentle. This world of yours is just a rental. Am I returning soon to rule? Who knows, who cares? 'Twas just a tool. You focus on the things that matter? You'll end up fine - I'll hold the ladder. Be good to everybody! |
| Abortion...Yikes... (re-post from 11-9-04) |
| 11.02.05 (7:06 pm) [edit] |
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Hello boys and girls. This post was written about a year ago. I'm reposting in response to a question PastorDave asked in the comments from yesterday's post. When I started this blog I wrote most of the posts "as Jesus" which was extremely taxing and something I simply couldn't maintain on a daily basis, but this one was written early on, and it was something I'd been thinking an awful lot about. (And no, folks, I don't think I'm Jesus or that I speak for anyone but myself. On the other hand, there's nothing in any of these "Jesus Reporting" posts that, to my way of thinking anyway, is contrary to the main thrust of Jesus' teachings, though any sort of Biblical scholar, I certainly am not.) On Saturday, November 5th, which is the one year anniversary of this Blog (send huge checks in lieu of cake) I'll be changing the name of the Blog to "surrogate reporting" or something similar, in an effort to gain more of the potential readers that have been put off by the current title. So, for the next few days, I'll rerun a few of what, for me have been some of more meaningful posts I've written here. Jesus reporting here. I meant to get to this yesterday, but I simply had to think through what I was going to say. I'm sure I'll touch on this topic many times because it's so controversial and divisive and has become a... what? A political football? A bumper sticker bonanza? A water mark on the flood post of righteousness. Where to begin? I hate abortion. I hate the idea of it. I hate the way some people feel after having one. I hate the idea that a potential life is snuffed before it gets a chance to blossom. I hate the idea that some very unsavory characters use abortion and their feelings about it to castigate folks who feel otherwise. I hate the idea that many many young women are far more irresponsible with their bodies simply because abortion is available. I hate the idea that some people feel so strongly against it the they forget to love the folks who either perform abortions or have the procedure done that they themselves would become what they accuse those others of being. It's a lousy, rotten, awful, horrid thing and I wish they never occurred. And they should always be legal. Everywhere in the world. Here's why: #1. Abortions will always take place. Period. Not my doing, not my Father's doing. They just will. Obviously, where and when they are illegal, some folks wouldn't have them that otherwise do, but some will always occur. I am not in favor of people feeling like criminals or having to search out lawbreakers when and if they decide for whatever reason to have an abortion for all the obvious reasons. As believers in me or as least as followers of me, your job is to OFFER comfort, love and alternatives to those women who willingly accept your offer. The second you go beyond that, please don't pretend to be doing it in my name. It's as bad as terrorists doing their awful things in Fathers name. And by that I mean, no protesting outside abortion clinics, no hate mail, no "lists" of Doctors who perform abortions. None of it. No belittling. You worry about your own behavior and let others worry about theirs. See, to me, it's what's in peoples' hearts that matter. And if it even crosses your mind that somehow you are better people because you oppose legal abortion than those who favor it, you blew it. Love. I understand you worry for the fetus. Don't. We'll take care of the fetus. The fetus will be just fine and our concern... not yours. #2. I hear talk from some anti-abortion folks about how many of the early American Planned parenthood pioneers were racists and liked the idea of abortion as a means to keep the population of blacks from increasing in the U.S. It's true. And it's irrelevant to the topic. I hear you say that Hitler sterilized women and killed hundreds of thousands of unborn Jews. True. Irrelevant. It's no more relevant than me pointing out the apparent conflict between folks who are opposed to abortion tending to be pro-death penalty. That would strike most folks as a no brainer, but many of you have no trouble holding these conflicting points of view simultaneously. That fact that you can and do in many cases, leads me to believe that you should also be able to see how someone can be opposed to abortion, even every single abortion and still believe it ought to be legal, as safe as possible, and available worldwide. #3. I do not want to encourage anyone to adopt laws or amendments because you think that's what I or Father would want. No offense, and thanks for the thought, but I'd rather the country be run by men and women of good will who don't use their faith as a scapegoat for their actions. "Oh, I'm anti-abortion cuz Jesus wants me to be." Fine. I with ya there. Appreciate it. But accepting what I teach, taught... whatever, is an individual thing to be accepted because I offered it... not because you accepted it and are planning on forcing others to accept it as well and especially when you have the "stones" to force your filtered vision of what you think I'd want on others. It makes no more sense than FORCING a nation into democracy. It doesn't work. The whole idea of forcing someone to accept a gift makes it a gift no more and therefore corrupts the whole concept. Much more to say... I'm supposed to do a lecture on the true meaning of "meekness" later so I must wrap this up for now. Sorry don't have time to run spell check today... didn't spend much time in school. Be good to everybody! |
| Do the profession tango... |
| 11.01.05 (8:15 pm) [edit] |
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Good evening Boys and Girls, surrogate here. Drove back from the other side of the state today and had a rider. First stop after a quick meal? Starbucks. I got a Venti (large) Sumatra. Jesus got a Caramel Latte with an extra shot of expresso, and a Rice Crispy Bar.... and a Jones Soda. And the new Sheryl Crow CD, which he then gave me some crap about regarding allowing me to upload it into my computer when we got back here tonight. I mean, geez, I picked him up at the airport, bought lunch, all this crap at Starbucks since all he had was a bunch of Pound Notes and Euros. But he's real persnickety about copyright law and he refused to let me copy the damn CD. As it turned out, I wouldn't have had time anyway. He'd just come in from Heathrow and I was really just a taxi since within ten minutes after we arrived back here, another friend stopped to take him on to Chicago for a few days. So, at best, all I was going to get today was the two and a half hours or so between the Airport and here. I'd really wanted to pick his brain for a while, and I'd been looking forward to doing just that. Unfortunately though, he slept half the trip even after draining that coffee. But man it was good to see him, even though he looked more tired than I ever remember seeing him. At the airport I grabbed his pack and threw it in the trunk, he gave me a big hug and we hopped into the car just as the cop was walking toward the car to urge us on. I asked him how he'd been. "I'm good" he said, though his eyes didn't seem to have the usual sparkle. 'Glad to get back here for a while." "You like it here?" "Sure. I love it here. Great place. You know that." "I know." I said smiling... "I just like to hear it." "Every place has it's own charm, though I guess "charm" isn't the right word for the U.S. Call it... call it... vibrantly unique." "Vibrantly unique... Yeah. That's a good description of the U.S. No place else on the planet quite like it I'd guess." "Nope. I love it... Love the whole idea of it. Wish it was a better executed idea sometimes, but it's a wonderful thing... Imagine, a country on this planet where at least in theory, everyone has the right to do just about any damn thing they please as long as they don't mess with other people. It's a marvel really, or could be, heck, should be!" "Well you've always preached choice in just about everything. I'd think this place would make you happy. Makes sense" "Yeah, well surrogate, that's why I'm so tired right now." "You're tired because you like the U.S.?" "No. I'm tired because so many people here who claim they love Dad and me are doing things IN OUR NAMES that frankly, make me sick, and I'm feeling powerless to do anything about it. They're... unreachable." "How can they be unreachable?" "Easy. Their heads are constantly bombarded with "instructions" from their "Christian" leaders... Loud shouting voices with whom they want to agree, think they MUST agree... and they've become so enamored with the "righteous chatter" from these people who, frankly, know better and in their heart-of-hearts know perfectly well that it is NOT my plan to come back and reign and kill my enemies and all that clap-trap. I came and taught love. That's it. And I'm damned tired of them skipping that one... or acting like the "worship" of my spirit is more important than actually heeding my most important teachings. I wish I'd never said ANYTHING about the afterlife stuff... It was meant to help people understand a few things that I knew better than to think they could ever understand, and plus it's so... so... so unimportant, so miniscule! in the overall scheme of things that... man, I've got to get through to more people. (He was shaking his head.) And these preachers sell "it" as a... a prize. "Say the magic words and make a wish upon your Jesus" It's sickening. They're deliberately missing the whole point. I've got to find out a way to get people to... to just think." "You okay?" Yeah. I'm tired. I'm gonna sleep for a while" And he did. Didn't wake up till we got here. Be good to everyone. |
Cost of the War in Iraq
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American Deaths in Iraq:
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