"This is a fellow blogger who shall remain nameless for the time being."
"Uh... Okay. And you're calling me for what reason?"
"I need to set you straight on a few things."
"I see. Okay. I'll bite. Set me straight on what, exactly?"
"This whole "being liberal" thing. It's over. If you want to stay current, you've got to get with the program. Neo-Conservative is where it's at today."
"Okay. I see. And what do I have to believe?"
"Well, first, you have to understand that having sex in the oval office is the worst offense a president could ever commit this side of treason."
"Uh, and where did you get that idea?"
"It's in the constitution. Somewhere. Anyway, it's really bad."
"Okay... I'm writing this down."
"Good. Second, God hates Muslims. Nothing we can do to them will EVER be bad enough cuz Saddam was a Muslim and he made those guys fly into the World Trade Center after showing them all his WMDs."
"Wait a minute, I know Saddam's a nut job and all, but his government was secular."
"What's secular mean? It doesn't matter... Next, questioning George Bush is just like questioning God and Jesus - who both talk to him and tell him what to do. It's un-American and should be punishable by at least deportation, if not death."
"Okay, give me a second, I don't write very fast.... if... not.. death... okay... got it."
"Ready?
"Yep. Go on."
"Hollywood is full of liberal quee - uh, homosexuals who want to steal our children and turn them all gay by adopting them."
"No way. Really?"
"Yep. It's a known scientific fact. The Bible proves it."
"Wow. I was WAY off on this one."
"I know. Okay. On to the social stuff. All taxes are bad and if we tax the rich more, the poor will die of starvation cuz the rich won't invest their money to create more jobs for the poor to do."
"Oh yeah. It's the trickle down thing, right?"
"Exactly! And it really works, always, no matter what, because of free market forces, or something like that. We don't really understand it, but we believe it, so you have to too."
"Kind of a leap of faith, huh?"
"That's right. Now, just a list of stuff you can start to think about. We suggest repeating them over and over to yourself every day. I'll send you some reading material and a list of some talk shows to listen to."
"Okay."
"Liberals have no workable plans for anything, they just bitch all the time and coddle the lazy."
"Got it."
"Osama BinLaden is alive because Bill Clinton didn't do his job and finding him now is impossible."
"Okay."
"All Saddam's WMDs were secretly taken across the border to Syria the night before the war started in a couple of U-Hauls and are now in a Self-Storage facility that is invisible because of a Klingon Cloaking device sold to them by the evil Spock from episode 7 of the third season of the original series."
"No shit?"
"Yep. And, get this. Barack Obama?"
"Yeah? What about him?"
"He's the love-child of Hillary Clinton and Martin Luther King Jr."
"Wow! That explains a lot!"
"I know! In fact, Vince Foster knew about it which is why she had him killed. Plus, and this is the most important fact of all."
"I'm listening."
"Anything we decide is true? -is true."
"Uh huh. Okay."
"We just say it over and over again until it's all you can believe!"
"Wow! That's soooo cool! It's like that book by that Orwell guy."
"1984?"
"Yeah."
"Well, sort of, except he didn't write that. Not anymore.
"He didn't?"
"No. Now Ronald Reagan wrote it on a Sunday afternoon as his Doctoral thesis which then helped prepare him to be able to end the cold war single-handedly. Remember? Repeat it a few times in your head."
"Oh. Okay. Just a sec... Yeah... I, I just forgot I remembered that and yet now? -it's as if I knew it all along!"
"Right."
Be good to everyone.
Got home late... so shoot me. (Bang!) Hey, I was kidding!
My new ritual, now seemingly set in stone though always a semi-habit, seems to be to brew a pot of coffee prior to my sitting to write a post in the morning... which is to say, that of late, I CAN'T start writing without this wonderful aroma steaming up from my mug here, which sits, precariously placed, between my keyboard and monitor.
Is this OCD behavior? Hmmm. Another self-diagnosed neurosis? (This would join being a quasi-narcoleptic, and alternately, when my mood is different, an insomniac... go figure.)
I have a new mug this morning! Guess what it says on it? A hint:
Went with a friend to the Second City last night in Chicago.
What a great show, and what a marvelous sense of nostalgia the place evoked as I perused the walls and hundreds of photographs of so many performers, some of whom I've loved all my life. Though I'd never been there before, there was a certain sense of coming home to being there.
It's a small place; seats about 270. The stage is wide but not very deep and the seating for many of the patrons looked very uncomfortable as the tables were set so that the chairs were at a ninety degree angle to the stage, meaning that toward the sides, many people had to turn around almost 180 degrees to watch the show, and there wasn't room to actually turn their chairs around.
We, because we happened to be the first folks seated, didn't have that problem. It's general admission seating, but they seat you based on party size on a first come first served basis. Our seats were about twenty-five feet from the stage and along the front row of a raised area, four steps up, and facing the stage directly. My friend said we were judges behind the rail, about right I'd say. We had about the best seats in the house.
Man were they talented.
The review, "Iraq-tile Disfunction" was so tightly written and executed, it was a total joy to watch.
At one point early in the performance, one of the players came out on stage alone and in a very causal manner, interviewed, a woman who was sitting up along the stage, as part of the "How's everyone doing tonight? Where' ya from?" schtick so common to all comedy performances.
Well, let me tell ya, they worked the answers she gave (to what seemed like totally innocuous questions) into almost every bit all night long, even the tightly scripted stuff. It was hilarious.
As each bit ended, always on a punch line, the lights would go out and then come back on again, usually in less than a second - to find some of the other players in position to start a new bit. It happened so quickly, that half the time, it seemed like an optical illusion.
Couldn't help wondering if some of the folks we saw last night would be the among the members of some future cast of SNL or other shows. One gal in particular, who had a bit of Radner in her, was our initial bet, though each and every one of the six cast members was worthy of keeping an eye out for.
Evidently I represent the "lazy hippies sitting on their keesters" contingent because I, like so many other Americans, have little faith in the way our country has decided to fight the war on terror, like there's some magic connection between having a lucid and realistic outlook on the follies of our nation's actions in this effort and a less than Trump-esque desire to be fabulously wealthy.
Perhaps.
Of course, the fly in the ointment is that these same folks also make other dubious connections that are far easier to debunk, which does tend to cast doubt on other links of which they're so sure.
Let's see...
Saddam ='s 9-11 (wrong)
Attack Bagdad ='s fighting terrorism (wrong)
Saddam in power ='s Iraq six months from having nukes (wrong)
Saddam ='s huge cache of WMDs (wrong)
Iraq ='s imminent threat to U.S. and/or Israel (wrong)
Attacking Iraq ='s attacking Al Queda (really wrong and dumb!)
Capturing Saddam ='s capturing Osama Bin Laden (please.)
Opposing the WAY we've decided to fight terror ='s Not wanting to fight the war on terror. (so wrong it's laughable but perhaps too fine a point for simple minded folks to grasp.)
Yesterday his Bush-ness stated unequivocally that any country who harbors or supports terrorist is, no question, an enemy of the United States.
Let's see. Two of the 9-11 hijackers were from the UAE, fifteen were from Saudi Arabia.
None were from Iraq.
And yet "Binky" (the Saudi Ambassador) is still a super close friend of the Bushes who comes and goes at the White House with more ease and frequency than about any other foreign government representative, and now Bush wants to sell off our ports to a UAE concern...
And if anyone suggests a strange connection there, or see's a better way to fight this?
Whether it be more noble to get back in the rat race and strive hard for a few more years and see what happens, or be satisfied with my little lot in life, knowing I can get by but also knowing I've pretty much given up on the prospect of ever really accomplishing the "Dat boy done good in bid'ness" label I've half aspired to for so many years.
An opportunity has come my way and, as is the case with such things, a risk along with it.
Janis' raspy "Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose" comes to mind, as do quite a few other more esoteric lyrics. "There's a future for you in the bar-estate trade, get up to town." from "I know what I like (in your wardrobe)" or from the same ditty, "Me, I'm just a law mower, you can tell me by the way I walk."
I'm a reasonably talented person who came of age in the seventies and have some, but surely not all of the predilections of many of my true peers. Nixon resigned from office two months after I graduated from High School. I, thankfully, missed out on the draft by a matter of months. I avoided becoming caught up in the greasy disco-infused insanity of the latter part of the decade because of my friendships with a bunch of artists and artistic types who made up my world.
Not only did they shield me from the Madison Avenue images by creating better and more satisfying ones that I could see, feel and touch through my constant exposure to their work, and working lives, but perhaps because I assumed I'd pick up their fervor and talent by osmosis, I began to believe my life would be one that was bound to be filled with some type of artistic expression, though through what outlet and exactly how "it" would surface, I had no clue.
A modicum of musical talent.
Artistic ability that ensured at most a "graphic arts" career.
A love of words and wordplay but without the sufficient insight or originality of thought to say anything all that meaningful.
This lowly combination almost screams "ADVERTISING" doesn't it?
And so now, nearing 50, and starting over, again, I look at business opportunities almost as burdens, rather than with glassy-eyed Horatio Alger zeal - even when I know they are, as this one is, a good match for my abilities and experience.
If I take it on? I'll probably make money.
And?
I can use money, but I have no desire to "have" money.
...and I have to decide by Monday.
Be good to everyone.
I have no idea why I'm posting this... but I did and you have to read it. Hah!
No new snow this morning! Fourth day in a row! (Yippee!)
Coffee's brewing.
Trying to decide whether to go to Detroit to watch the kid's band play tomorrow night. Drummer's back from Thailand and it looks like they're gonna start playing out again.
Think I'm gonna break my stupid and stubborn rule and start putting links to other blogs on here after the first.
Going up to Cadillac tonight for the evening.
My thumb has an ouchie.
I only smoked one pack yesterday.
Ran into a gal who was once the best friend of my ex at a Kmart the other day... weird. She moved over here a couple of years ago for a job, and said these profound words to me the night my ex left for good:
"...You can't control the way another person's brain operates."
True? For sure.
Helpful? Nah.
Hang on... coffee's gurgling, signaling... done!
Mmmm.
Go to DrForbush and check out the post with the link to the little Encyclopedia Britannica film from 1946 on despotism. It's worth the time.
PastorDave's hog blogs are hilarious this week.
Fairmoon is really getting specific about her Wicca beliefs. It's interesting stuff but leaves me feeling the same way all religious rituals do... I've just never understood the value. My loss, I'm sure.
Taboo's got the winter blues.
Shaker's rightfully annoyed with Christian consumerism.
Scubs is posting like crazy.
Jen's horny, as usual.
Ruined is... Ruined. Consistently a good read.
Lynne too, as always.
IrishRed has tBlog antipathy, but seems to be posting again.
Kurt doesn't comment here much anymore cuz I get too combative with him... I think he's too smart to hold some of the positions he does... And I'm right, of course. (snicker)
LadyG is dealing with the guilt of separating herself from a crappy employee.
Oh oh... better stop this for now. I'll mention some of you others over the next couple of days. Maybe it's time for another trip to tBlog camp.
I miss sweetsue and Alms posting regularly.
We come and we go and we come and we go.
I'll write something later.
You know the argument I hear about tBlog that always drives me nuts?
"tBlog has zero credibility in the greater Blog world."
What the F*ck?
Which site has "credibility?" Blogger? Maybe. I guess. I have a link there, but it's so sterile. I've checked out every single site I can find, and I can't find any that have the combination of features we have available here. I think eventually, this will be a dynamite site, perhaps THE site to be at.
Time will tell!
Be good to everyone, except Freddie and Jason.
Oh beware some scammer who's targeting tblog.... here's the tmail I received... the old nigerian scam with a phillipine twist... Rocky?
From:
nenita
Subject:
RE: go away
Message:
Dear Respected one,
My name is Madam Villaran. Nenita. A complete citizen of the Philippines, widow to the late former minister of finance in Philippine who died on 15th of May 2002.
My husband fell sick and he was flown to France for treatment but later died of ulcer and he has been buried.
I inherited a total sum of 12.3 million dollars from my late husband; this money which is concealed in a metallic trunk box is deposited with a security and finance company here in Philippine. Due to the instruction I laid down before I deposited the box, that I needed maximum security/safety of my consignment and no body nor government organization can trace the where about of the box until I am ready and prepare to claim it. for this reason the security company used their diplomatic means to send the box out of Philippines to Abidjan- Cote d'Ivoire where they have t heir undergr ound secrete vault.
This deposit was coded under a secret arrangement as a family treasure. This means that the ecurity company does not know the content of this trunk box that was sent from the Philippine to Abidjan-Cote d'Ivoire under a diplomatic coverage for safe keeping.
My main purpose of sending you this mail is because of the way I found you and perhaps trustworthy to give you this priority of shipping the box of money to any address that you think is very secure and save in your country with your percentage of which we shall chat on soon.
In fact, since the death of my husband, his brothers has been seriously chasing me around ith onstant treats, trying to suppress me so that they might have the documents of his landed properties and confiscate them. They have successfully collected all his properties, yet they never stopped there, they told me to surrender all bank account of my late husband, which I did, but I ne ver disclo se to them this deposit with the security company in Abidjan-Cote d'Ivoire, because this is where my future and destiny lies upon.
The family of my late husband never aware of the secret existence of this deposit which I made with the security company and they can never be aware of it.
Out of fear of my late husbands family, and when the situation becomes uncontrollable because of pressure on me from the Government of the Philippines, I decide to look for a trustworthy person who could assist me retrieve this box of money from the security company for onward lodgement into his account for the purpose of future investment. Consider my situation as a widow and come to my rescue.
There is need for urgent action because I'm paying $50 dollars per day as a demurrage to the security company for safe keeping this consignment.
I give thanks immensely for your co-operation as I look forward to hear from you soon.
It's 4:42 and yep, I woke to answer the bladder buzzer and, as usual, the damn Girls Gone Wild infomercial was doing it's thing. So, I switched over to CNN where Lou Dobbs was grilling guest after guest - (okay grilling is WAY to strong... we're talking Lou Dobbs here) over Bush's threat to veto any bill that purports to kill the sale of six major ports to a U.A.E. Company based in Dubai.
I'm all for the sale. I say, since we don't do diddly to protect our ports anyway, hell, why not sell them off!
Plus, since I'm a liberal, it goes without saying that I have to take the opposite position to the one held by guys like Bill Frist and Dennis Hastert and Orin Hatch and Strom Thurmond - no wait, he's dead - on any issue. Unfortunately, in this case it means I'm also opposing these other senators and congressmen.
(Okay, imagine you're seeing a list of the names of virtually every senator and congressman in the country... See about 532 more names here? Good.)
My president (it feels so good to say this again, finally "My President") says, "to hell with the country, I want to sell these ports to my friends!" What a brave soul. What a loyal friend. What a (I hear you all crying) complete ass.
Okay. You caught me. I was being sarcastic. It's a really stupid idea.
I am heartened by the fact that here, finally, is an issue on which Republicans and Democrats have come together, making Bush-brain's veto threat moot.
Look, I have no idea whether this company is legit or not. They seem to be, really, and they are making all kinds of noise about how they'll cooperate with U.S. border security at every turn, and perhaps they would.
It's still a really stupid idea.
Car pulls up to a guard date outside the Port of Miami. The guard looks an awful lot like David Spade.
"May I see some I.D. sir?"
"Sure, here." (Hands ID card to the guard and flashes a badge.)
"F....B...I. FBI? I see. That's an accronym right?"
"Uh. Right."
"And you are...? (Turns head and furrow eyebrows.)
"It's right there on my card. See? Special Agent Jones?"
"Uh huh. And do you have an appointment with..?"
"Well, yes, actually. I'm meeting with your head of security. We..."
"I don't see your name on the list. What time was your appointment?"
"It's at 11:00. There's a security threat... Look..."
"Uh huh. Well now, It's only 10:30 sir. Be a little lamb and pull into that lot over there and come back in about twenty minutes, -about ten to."
"But.."
"Run along!"
"Hey. Buddy. Look... (thinks for a second) How the hell will my name get on the list between now and then? "
Have found myself being extremely tired at the end of my work days of late. So, last night I cancelled plans I'd been looking forward to and came home and vegged out, playing literati online for an hour or so, reading my son's blog and some fiction on his website I hadn't seen in years, and then, after realizing that the Daily Show, which is my single TV addiction, was a rerun, I crashed easily and slept through the night; a rarity.
I need to quit smoking.
My only true vice, but it's an awful one, and I'm ashamed of myself for not having stopped for good by now. It'll kill me sure as the skies'll be grey today.
Wish I didn't enjoy smoking. That would make it easier, but it's certainly no excuse, or a valid reason to keep lighting the damn things one after another to the tune of 30-40 a day, or one day last week when I was in an especially down mood, 60.
My Mom's best friend is a doctor. She was in med school when I was a kid and had hectic hours. Some nights, she'd come to the house and keep my folks up late shooting the breeze and smoking Winstons (if I remember correctly - something in a red pack) one after another.
She quit cold turkey after being exposed to the corpse of a heavy smoker and seeing with her own eyes the black and gooey lungs of a man who'd died too young. I asked about it years later and she just shook her head and said that it had been a real shock to her, and made her feel stupid.
My grandfather died of lung cancer at 58 in 1975. He was a three to four pack a day man who alternated between Camel and Pall Mall unfiltered(s).
My Dad smoked Salems till 1968 till he got sick with the Hong Kong flu and had a week or so where he couldn't smoke at all, and thankfully just never started up again.
Early last year, just a few months after I started this blog, I got a case of pneumonia - and quit for about two months. Why I started up again, I have no idea. Don't even remember doing it.
It is a crutch. No two ways about it. Cigarettes are dependable and comforting. They're nice and uniform, and smell great and taste good and... make your clothes stink, your lungs blacken and your heart and arteries work way too hard.
This was my son's post on his blog from February 14th. I just read it and thought it needed more exposure, though whether he'd agree remains to be seen (since I didn't request his permission to cross post it.)
................................................
posted by Ryan on Tuesday, 14 February 2006.
Sometimes being the Vice President of the United States of America just isn't enough.
Sometimes you have to shoot your friend in the face.
Now, I am a simple man. I like music, and movies, and reading a good thriller. I don't know what it's like to be second in command of the most powerful nation on Earth. Sometimes I feel like I'm not even second in command of my own life. So it takes some really focussed empathy for me to place myself in the shoes of someone who has had an eerily sucessful political life.
Let's take a look at some factoids about Dick Cheney: • Is a white, Republican male, worth "between $30 million and $100 million." • Dropped out of Yale in part due to poor grades, but eventually got straight A's from University of Wyoming, which I'm sure must be as difficult as Yale. Later voted against the creation of the U.S. Department of Education. • He voted against making Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday a national holiday in 1979, but at the re-vote 1983 changed his mind, perhaps when he realized he would get the day off to think about dead people who weren't white. • Voted against a measure to negotiate the release Nelson Mandela, the figurehead of the anti-apartheid movement, from prison. Nelson Mandela is not white. • Has advocated of the use of torture. Just against terrorists, though. Terrorists who, if you asked Dick Cheney, would probably not be white. • Thanks to a homosexual daughter, is merely wishy-washy on homosexual rights, saying that states, not the national goverment, should determine the rules. • Supporter of what has become a no-end-in-sight clusterfuck in Iraq, beginning in March, 2003 with Operation Iraqi Liberation (OIL). Most Iraqis are not white. • Served as Acting President for a few hours in 2002 while George W. Bush was getting a colonoscopy. Translation: only taste of supreme authority [was] due to his superior's butt issues. George W. Bush's ass is presumably white, at least on the outside. • Mistook a grown man for a quail, shooting him in the face, neck and upper torso. Quails are not white. *
It must be tough being a rich, not-exactly-book-smart, racist, arguably genocidal "public servant." Or maybe it's easy. Maybe once you get to the point in your life where you can value white people's embryos more than full-grown brown people, your whole sense of right-and-wrong just gets distorted to the point of arbitrariness. I am not sure, and truth be told, I hope never to be fully sure. But I dare say that he must be deeply confused and conflicted about some fundamental things. The only rule I've ever heard that rings completely true is the golden one--do unto others as you would want done unto yourself--and I dare say that Dick Cheney is not even in the realm of such a system.
So let's think like him for a moment: I am the Vice President of the United States, somehow. I have about as much power as a person can have on this planet. I could realistically do anything--I could divert money from the wasteful, harmful, innefectual war in Iraq, and use it to feed white children. I could reach out to faggots like my daughter and really make a difference in the lives of people who are coldly shut out of full participation in society. I could make people who have way more money than they will ever need pay more taxes so that people who currently have nothing could eat lunch. I could stop hunting game birds and go personally hunt Osama bin Laden: I have an array of jets waiting to take me anywhere I want to go. I'm here is Corpus Christi, which is Latin for "body of Christ," which sounds delicious; in fact I just realized how hungry I am. Wait a second! There's a quail! A dirty, brown, harmless quail with what looks like an orange-vested human behind it, but who cares because it's a FILTHY FUCKING GODDAMN QUAIL AND I MUST MURDER IT MURDER IT MURDER IT BECAUSE I NEEEEEEED MOOOOOORE!! ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!! !!!!
So that's what I can figure. I feel safe sleeping at night. The terrorists will all be caught if we just stay in Iraq a few more years. No child will be left behind if we pull funding from schools that don't meet our requirements and spend money on bullets instead of books. States will determine what's right for homosexuals, even though it took the federal goverment's support to secure the rights of former "second-class citizens" like women and non-whites. Tax refunds for the richest Americans will help the economy, because the trickle-down theory has shown amazing results, especially for the millions more Americans who have fallen below the poverty line during the Bush administrations. Abortions must be outlawed because all human life is precious unless we go to war with it.
Thank you, Dick Cheney, for reminding us how careful and considerate you are. Now we know for sure that we're in good hands. I will be just fine. As long as I become a rich, white, racist, classist, homophobic warmonger like you. And I don't stand behind a quail.
* Thank you, Wikipedia. For the facts. The bullshit commentary is all mine.
...............................................
You can check out more of his writing at ryanparmenter.com
I'd started learning a trade during high school because of working for my Dad after school and during the summers, but I didn't have any intention of going into a similar business. At the time, my future plans were fuzzy except that I was going to go to school.
After having some difficulty finding a steady job, I decided I'd try plying my trade a little to make ends meet while I was looking for work.
A few months after some surprising initial success in Kalamazoo, I got word through the family grapevine that I was stepping on my Uncle's toes by working there, as he'd supposedly been trying to "develop the area." (Utter B.S. by the way.)
I was seventeen, didn't have a car and either walked or hitchhiked everywhere I went.
I started hitchhiking up to Grand Rapids every morning to "see what I could see."
One of the first people I met was a this abrasive little jet-black-haired guy with a big mouth and a reputation for being very good at his job. He looked at my work and took me under his wing. The first thing he did after watching me work for about an hour one day was tell me I wasn't charging enough for my services. "They won't respect you if it isn't a fair price. Hell, I wont respect you if you don't charge enough. Raise your prices 25% and then see where you're at after a year."
I'd been happy just to make enough to get by.
He called people all over town, bragged about the quality of my work to his friends and competitors and really helped me get established extremely quickly. Soon I was so busy I was working constantly.
A couple of years later, now with a damn fine business going, I received a call. Supposedly this same Uncle was "really hurt" I was working in Grand Rapids too.... Grrr. Another story for another time.
I left Grand Rapids and went back to the Detroit area, got married, raised two great kids, yada, yada, yada.... fast forward 30 years.
surrogate is divorced and for a bunch of reasons finds himself getting back into the "old trade" again. I decided to come back to Grand Rapids to avoid more of the very strange (absurd, in fact) family politics related to this trade. Lo and behold, one of the first people I run into is this little grey-haired guy with a big mouth and a 35 year reputation for being very good at his job.
"Where's your black hair?" I asked him.
"Where's your ponytail, hell, where's your hair?" He asked me.
Like we hadn't seen each other for two weeks instead of 30 years. Guess what? He helped me get started very quickly this time too, though he teased me that I charge too much!
Two Fridays ago, he came out to watch me work and we were shooting the bull. Always watching me work, though I don't know why. We got to talking about the way people in our respective families tended to die, well he did, mostly. How his brother had died, his Mom and Dad. I teased him that he was thinking about it too much. "Is your health good?"
"Doc say's I have the heart of a thirty-year-old." he said, standing straight up to his full five foot three.
"A thirty-year-old what?" I asked, laughing.
For the most part, his kids have taken over the day to day running of his business the last few years, and they're both really fine people, far less abrasive and brusk than Mike, but my oh my they get a kick out of him. Lot's of love and laughing around that place, a rarity in the business.
Yesterday was my scheduled day to stop by to see him and take care of any work they might have.
When I walked in, it was really quiet. I walked back to Mike's office. His desk wasn't cluttered.
It wasn't really, but the room looked empty. "Where's Mike?" I asked his secretary as she came back to her desk, arms full of paper.
Her face looked stricken. She looked down a sec and shook her head. "Tuesday night. Around midnight, they said. Heart attack."
Went to sleep to rain falling and thunder rattling.
Now? It's eight degrees.
Just "ran" out to my car to grab an invoice book.
Nada.
My car has a nice "just waxed look"... Except it's about a quarter inch of ice. Locks are as frozen as the block of pasta sauce in my freezer.
Can I get the car into the microwave?
I live in a little top floor apartment with a really cool external stairway built to compliment the pool's fence and a couple of awnings. This morning I was wishing the awnings extended far enough to cover the stairs.
Might be a pretty design, but with this morning's ice carpet, about did my own luge run trying to get downstairs. So, I just carefully worked my way down the stairs again (fingers gripping the hand-rail like I was about to slip off a moving train) spreading a third of a gallon of those little blue Calcium Chloride pellets amongst 17 steps and two landings.
The whole job took only 45 seconds or so and yet, by the time I was climbing back upstairs, there was a symphony of cracking and breaking as the stuff worked it's way through the ice. Really a cool sound.
It is cold!
Let's see. Any snippets of wisdom this morning? Any universal truths masked as "my opinion?" Any edicts from on high cleverly weaved into my ninth-grade prose about some completely unrelated subject?
Any deep personal revelations or soul exposing "shockers?"
Hmmm.
Yeah!
If you're damn near 50 and you fall asleep watching the Daily Show, you're bound to be woken by your bladder during the nightly infomercial marathon for "Girls Gone Wild" on Comedy Central.
Do they really sell enough of those bouncing boob "Free" videos to pay for all those infomercials? They must, I guess.
Are there really that many male college freshmen out there?
There's a snippet that gets me every time. This girl is calling her dad to brag that she's about to be part of the production...
Well, not very many folks seem to be reading this the last couple of weeks, or at least people I can identify on the little account thingy.
Tons of "unavailable" clicks.
Oh well.
It IS supposed to be more about my writing it than people reading it, but feedback is fun. I notice the unavailables almost never comment.
Wonder why?
Winter storm here overnight. Eh. Not much of one. Slushy snow.
If the temp stays up, most of it'll be gone later in the day I'd guess.
Had Al Gore shot someone, would he have survived the "liberal media" taking him apart at the seams?
I've heard more "It could happen to anybody"(s) the last few days flipping around the talk radio shows (around here, they're just about all conservative) than you could shake a stick at. I heard one guy calling it "a tragedy for Cheney."
I guess Kennedy's assassination was "a tragedy for Oswald."
...or 9-11 was a tragedy for Osama binLaden and al qaeda.
Circle them wagons boys! One of our own is in trouble! "Was Bill Clinton anywhere within a thousand miles of the, uh, incident?"
"See if Clinton took a campaign contribution from either the shotgun manufacturer or the company that made the shell!"
"I'm on it sir."
"We can make this work for us."
"Yes sir. Of course sir."
Has anyone contacted the "air" force? Limbaugh? Reagan? Armstrong? Bortz? Hannity?
"Yes sir, I did that first thing. I anticipated you'd want to spin this as Cheney showing why gun safety courses are so important."
"Will that fly?"
"If they say it often enough, and they will."
"Should he be interviewed, or make a statement of some kind?"
"I was thinking Fox News. Brit's already agreed. I also took the liberty of covering the God angle."
"You did?"
"Yes sir. If the guy lives? it's God's mercy, if he dies, God's plan. It works for us the same either way sir."
First thing I did was check the clock after my episode last week.
6:17 a.m. Hmmm.
"Hello?"
"Morning surr. Happy Valentines Day!"
"(chuckle) Well hi Jesus. Um. Happy Valentines to you. Where are you?"
"Torino! I've got tickets to a bunch of events!"
"Oh! Wow. Cool."
"Yeah. I love the Olympics, especially the Winter Games. This is a really nice venue."
"You've never mentioned that. That's really... interesting!"
"Know what?"
"What?"
"I got to go down the bobsled run the day before the games started."
"No way!"
"Yep. I'm friends with the guy who's in charge of the luge event and he pulled some strings. I was the second man in a four man practice run."
"Wow. What was it..."
"Listen, surrogate, I'm calling because... Hey what time is it? 7:30 right?"
"6:30" (it was about 6:20)
"Oh sorry. I figured the time difference wrong. Anyway, I read your post from yesterday just now. You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. Just more of the same crap. You know how I get."
"Yes I do."
"I just get tired of it. Then I end up feeling guilty because so many folks are living with far more difficult circumstances."
"Well, that's true, but you live in your own skin. Have you done anything for someone else in the last few days?"
"No. I thought about that last night. That does seem to be the cure, at least temporarily."
"It can help. Go do something nice for someone today. Preferably someone you don't know."
"Okay. I know just what I'll do."
"Don't accept any thanks for it. That's key."
"I know. You've explained that to me a number of times. You'd think I'd remember to just do it before I get to feeling crappy."
"Nah. Life gets us spinning and sometimes we don't even realize we're getting into it. You know I deal with the same thing. I always have."
"I know. I can't imagine. You, of all people."
"Just remember, feelings are temporary. Remember when I was feeling let down by Dad?"
"Yeah. Of course."
"He hadn't let me down, had he?"
"No. Of course not."
"Feelings can be based on real things, certainly, but they can just as easily be based on our completely misunderstanding something, or, as you mentioned, the realization that we don't have a whole lot of control of ourselves, let alone the rest of the world."
"I know. There's always the antidepressants route!"
"Don't you do it."
"(chuckle) Never. I know how you feel about those things."
"They have their place, I guess, but I don't like-'em."
"Why though? You never get into it much. You just shake your head when I've brought-'em up."
"Too easily prescribed, generally taken for the wrong reasons and for too long - people switching from one to another for years... surrogate, if you only knew..."
"Well, tell me!"
"I'll call you tonight or tomorrow. I'm on my way to watch the women's' luge."
"Okay. You having a good time?"
"Yeah. I've got lots of friends here. It's made for a really enjoyable time"
"Well, thanks for calling."
"You're welcome surr. And remember, you're loved."
Probably by now I should understand it more clearly, but I don't.
Probably should have made more of an effort to change it, but I haven't.
Probably should at least take it into consideration before I sit here to write, but probably, I never will.
I don't know if it's biorhythms, or the phases of the moon, or my blood sugar taking a ride through mountains and valleys, or if I'm going slowly insane. I'm hoping the fact that I'm aware of it means it can't be that last one.
Mood Cycles.
Usually they last for five or six days at a whack before evolving over the course of a few days into a new one.
These states of being come and go, rarely overlapping each other except in the transition period, and in what, to me anyway, seems to be completely random order.
Last night I felt a little panicky - which is what set me down this path today in the first place.
I had a panic attack a few years ago when the pressure of what was going on around me became too much for me to bear, and I just let go, after coming to the shocking realization that I wasn't in control of things even with regard to my own life, and that my plans for the future were shattered.
It wasn't too long after that, looking back on it, that I started recognizing these week-ish long episodic periods for what they were. Soon after that, I began being able to identify "this week's special".
Don't beat myself up over this stuff, or at least I don't any more.
For a long time I felt I was "less me" than I used to be, which is somewhat true, but I've started looking at it in a different light the last couple of years. I've come to accept that I'm simply a different person. Perhaps I'm not as strong, but I think I'm more honest with myself these days, or I work hard at it.
Still, if there's a back-drop to my life against which everything else plays out? - it's whatever color loss is, and so far, I can't find a paint that will cover it opaquely. Do what I might, it shows through, and, under some lights, looks remarkably like resentment.
So? I pray.
Does it do any good?
Ask me some other day.
Be good to everyone.
I'd rather have a bottle in front ta' me... (you know the rest)
Okay. Back to work. Now, new procedures around here.
1. I won't write anything controversial. If I believe something is wrong? I'll ignore it and keep my mouth shut.
2. I will tow the line. If people say all kinds of crazy stuff? as long as they attribute it to their faith? I won't get involved in the least.
3. I will work hard to be a good "Christian" man and support the religious right at all times and never question their attacks on groups they fear out of a sense of their own spiritual weakness and doubt, especially if they use the Bible for their justification for judging.
4. I will try to give a rat's a** about whether Jesus was born of a virgin, performed miracles and literally rose from the dead, realizing my own error in thinking that these living metaphorical allegories were added to the record in order to give "oomph" to the main thrust of his teachings, as he did so many times himself by way of his parables.
5. I will try to remember that all non-Americans are somehow less valuable to God, and therefore unworthy of us worrying too much about how they live and die, and whether we have anything to do with it.
6. I will place far more value on the lives of the unborn than the "born."
7. I will equate stem cell research with the work of Joseph Mengele.
8. I will support the President and his administration blindly and castigate people who question his actions as un-American.
9. I will blame Hollywood, Gays, Liberal thinking and Bill Clinton for most of what is wrong with America and will try to learn about how great it was back in the good old days back when Blacks knew their place, you learned to read using the Bible and women did what the f*ck they were told.
10. I will no longer use logical reasoning to form my opinions but only the Bible as interpreted by those who believe most of what is listed above.
I expect I'll really enjoy life now. No more of that pesky "thinking."
Ahhhhh.
Be sure to read tomorrow's post, "Why Gays don't understand their sinfulness." I'll quote a few passages from the Bible and try to sound empathetic and caring, sort of a sad "shaking of the head" - but in prose.
Be good to everyone.
grrrr.
Perhaps other's have made this strange connection, but I wonder if the A.F.A. support the Muslims who are upset with the Danes? Oh, they didn't burn any buidings in the letter writing and email campaign to force NBC's hand in the cancellation of "The Book of Daniel" but I'm sure they all empathized with the offended Muslims, don't you think? No? But? But...
telcaster (dot) com/surrogate (the little buttons just aren't working right now)
Good morning Boys and Girls.
When I started this blog, I knew the premise was audacious.
Figured people with at least half-a-brain would understand that I didn't have a Jesus complex within a column or two and was writing "as Jesus" in order to make people think about what was being said in a slightly different way. I knew I had to be careful. If I went over the top, if I attributed a thought or statement to Jesus that I wasn't sure in my heart he'd probably make about a situation if asked, or if I ever did anything that deliberately belittled his life or value, I'd lose those folks I thought might enjoy the premise.
These were my rules, which I scrupulously followed.
(1) Since Jesus preached about love and loving each other and God more than any other thing, that would be the focus of everything he said. It would "trump" any other argument.
(2) He was a human. To me, rightly or wrongly, as soon as you ascribe supernatural characteristics to Jesus, you minimize the incredibly difficult ballet that was the last three years of his life - you don't add to it, no matter if offends people who feel otherwise. Was (is) Jesus the son (daughter) of God? Of course. Am I, are you? Same answer. Is he the Jesus of Revelations? No.
Soon, after deciding I was unable to write a column every day "as Jesus" I decided that, for the purposes of my blog, he would be my friend. He'd be like no other friend in the world. He'd have a few quirks like anyone else, but he'd never "sin" and more importantly, he'd always be on the move, doing what he could to help individuals, enjoying those relationships, comforting real people.
I am a man of faith.
If you asked me to define it, I couldn't.
I believe in God.
Ask me to define God? I can't.
Ask me if I love Jesus?
I do.
Ask me what will happen in the afterlife?
I don't care. That's God's domain and anyone who thinks they know for sure is someone with whom discussing the topic is useless, as is unfortunately, most of everything else they say, because if their mind is closed on that one? It's closed on just about everything else too.
Ask me if we have the power to change this world into a place of peace and love?
We do. It will happen if and when religions and dogmas are replaced with a gentle, if questioning, (and thrilling, frankly) faith in the God who made this world, however he did it.
If it isn't? Those people praying for an eventual Armageddon will surely get it, though it won't be close to what they're hoping for, and the years between now and whenever it finally comes, will be hell on earth.
Jesus isn't coming back. Jesus has been here all along. And instead of kneeling to him, which he never asked for, heed his most important precepts.
Love God. Love each other. Don't judge. Turn the other cheek.
Am I a Christian?
No. Guess not.
I'm a believer in Jesus.
Anything (even if it's in the Bible) that encourages living life in contradiction to the precepts above is simply hogwash, and if not despised, ought to at least be ignored as anything but a quasi-historical record of the way folks have tried to explain God to themselves.
My cell phone is usually on my charger over night.
I keep the charger over here by the computer so that when the alarm goes off, I HAVE to get up to turn it off, otherwise I'd be doing the snooze thing for an hour.
I've gotten to the age where I know myself pretty damn well.
This morning my alarm went off, I got up, shut it off, walked over, started a pot of coffee, used the bathroom, came back, sat down, woke up the computer, checked email to see if there were any overnight developments having to do with anyone I care about that might have caused an overnight email to me, and then realized, suddenly, that wasn't my alarm!
It was the phone RINGing. Shit!
I look at the clock. It's 3:57 a.m.
Oh no. No one would call me overnight unless it was an emergency.
("Let's see, Ryan's in Florida, Do I know where Andi is?" Etc....)
I start playing with the phone.
Would it be in missed calls or incoming?
Incoming.
Weird, it's an 800 number. Time of call 3:47 a.m.
I dial. No ring, but a message telling me that this number does not accept incoming calls.
I'm a little less worried than if it had been a number I recognize, but not yet so relived as to let it go.
Time to use the web. (Ya know, the in-ter-nets...)
Five minutes and forty windows later I've got it.
It's a telemarketing firm in Delray Beach, Florida.
Un-friggen-believable.
My alarm went off at 6:30, as usual, and I'm warming up the coffee as I type.
I'm trying to decide whether to get vindictive after business hours get here, or just accept that at least I got today's post out of it and let it go.
Watched the Super Bowl last night. At least I watched the first half and the last two minutes of the second half (between which I slept very soundly, thank you very much.)
Oh, sorry rcurry.
Ford Field is exactly ten miles south of where I grew up.
More sports news, sorta.
I noticed that Tiger Woods won the Dubai Desert Classic yesterday in a playoff over Ernie Els.
I don't know much about Dubai, but those folks know how to spend money, that I can tell you. Zowie!
After the success of the two "Palms" developments:
A third huge development is well on it's way to becoming a reality. "The World" is a series of 250 to 300 man-made islands created to look like a map of the world.
Want your own cute little private island off the coast of Dubai? Prices start at about $25 mil.
I suppose if the price of the real-estate isn't a stumbling block, or even if it is, you may find yourself needing to cool off once in a while since the average temperature over there is over 90 degrees.
Yep. With a Jan 28th opening date, a huge indoor snow skiing venue (500 yards long) complete with chair lifts, additional toboggan runs and a half pipe for snow boarding has been built behind an upscale mall near downtown Dubai.
No word on the cost of lift tickets.
I suppose the "if you have to ask?...." rule applies.
I think it's nice to know that western dependence on oil is doing some folks good.
"I'm fine. What about you? Better than yesterday?"
"Yeah."
"Pretty harsh stuff you've been saying. You know what you're doing?"
"I have no idea. I'm talking from the heart. Now, evidently, I think I'm you."
"You do? That's not likely. You having a tough time separating realilty from your imagination?"
"No, not in the least. Just bitching. I'm sick of all these high and mighty people claiming they have a corner on Christianity."
(chuckle) "So what's new? People have been doing that since I died. Nothing you can do about it. They don't listen to me, so what makes you think they're going to listen to you?"
"I've started calling them on it. Calling them fake Christians when I see the behavior."
"OH man! Bet that pisses them off! Hah! You think you can handle the repurcussions?"
"I don''t know. Probably. I think these people would kill you if you started preaching again. You'd rock the way they look at their faith."
"No question. We've talked about this before. I've thought about just starting to show up at some of the mega churches, maybe start with Liberty. Fallwell's place. Just walk right up and interupt one of his hate spews and start setting people staright, but I really don't think very many of them would listen. There'd be a riot. That I know...
"What should I do?"
"Is your conscience clear?"
"Yeah. I think so."
"Is this about you? - or your love of of my teachings?"
"It's not about me. I don't need the grief."
"Then don't worry about it. If people claim Biblical authority for judging others, just go for it. Are you deliberately mean?"
"No. But I know it pushes their buttons."
"So? They push Dad's and mine when they use our names to push people down in order to make themselves feel superior. Usually they don't even see it, and like I said, they won't listen to me. Get in your licks! What the heck."
Morning? Well it's 1:15 a.m. and I can't sleep after falling asleep right after work AT the computer earlier. I'd been in the middle of commenting on a blog and I woke up to find I'd typed the following for quite a few pages:
surrogate's rule #1. Never fall asleep with your hands actually on the keyboard.
Luckily, I didn't accidentally hit "post comment" or preceptlady would have thought I'm crazier than she probably already thinks I am.
Met a friend at Panera Bread earlier tonight and ended up trying to explain blogging a bit and this (my) blog in particular.
"Well, see I have this very strong idea about who Jesus is and, what he means to me and I pretend to have these conversations with him where he says things that always reflect the priorities he stressed himself about how the most important thing is for us to love one another, ya know? And how we should even love our enemies (and soon I felt like my words were running together) because if welovedourenemiesmaybewew ouldn'tgotowarsodamnfast.....etc."
And I'm thinking, "Well this person must certainly think I'm nuts." But no, evidently my explanation was accepted, as least to the extent that the conversation remained polite and I didn't see any obvious signs of distress in the form of blatantly rolled eyes or exaggerated sighs.
And so, after getting a final refill on my coffee, saying goodbye and coming home, I tried to think of what I would write about in the morning.
I remembered that I could give a link to my son's bands myspace page where they've put up a few of their shorter songs you can listen to for free. ( http://myspace.com/eyestrings... ) though whatever format they used makes the sound quality less than perfect. Two are from the first album and two are from the new one. I've always liked Dead Supermen, though it's really just a slow ballad. One nice thing is that you can click on little "lyrics" buttons and read along.
But then I thought, well that's not much of a post. So then I thought "Well, you could take a day off, couldn't you?"
Click on the button below (if it shows up) or simply go to telcaster.com and click on "Jesus Reporting by surrogate" to hear a podcast of this post.
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Good morning Boys and Girls!
My apologies to those who have commented the last couple of days to whom I haven't yet responded.
I'm starting to believe that our country will indeed end up spitting at some point in the not too distant future.
Looking to me like it'll be over what it means to be an American.
I received this "funny" (haha) email this morning.
Illegal Immigrants Poem
I cross ocean, poor and broke, Take bus, see employment folk.
Nice man treat me good in there, Say I need to see welfare.
Welfare say, "You come no more, We send cash right to your door."
Welfare checks, they make you wealthy, Medicaid it keep you healthy!
By and by, I got plenty money, Thanks to you, American dummy.
Write to friends in motherland, Tell them 'come fast as you can.'
They come in turbans and Ford trucks, I buy big house with welfare bucks
They come here, we live together, More welfare checks, it gets better!
Fourteen families, they moving in, But neighbor's patience wearing thin.
Finally, neighbor guy moves away, Now I buy his house, and then I say,
"Find more aliens for house to rent." And in the yard I put a tent.
Send for family they just trash, But they, too, draw the welfare cash!
Everything is very good, And soon we own the neighborhood. We have hobby it's called breeding, Welfare pay for baby feeding.
Kids need dentist? Wife need pills? We get free! We got no bills!
American crazy! He pay all year, To keep welfare running here.
We think America darn good place! Too darn good for Americans.
If they no like us, they can scram, Got lots of room in Pakistan.
SEND THIS TO EVERY AMERICAN TAXPAYER
After reading this, and thinking about it for a few minutes, it dawned on me that there are many Americans who think this little ditty is very close to true. And then I thought, how could the person who sent this to me not realize how offensive I'd find this?
I'm so sick of bigotry.
We've got narrow minded fools out there talking loudly about "the Gay Agenda" as though gay folks have secret meetings trying to figure out how to turn the whole country Gay.
We've got narrow minded little fake Christians out there screaming about "the Hollywood Agenda" as though hollywood itself has any agenda other than making movies that entertain and make money.
We've got narrow minded little fools out there cloaking their racial and ethnic stereotyping whenever they can - but letting it out in terms of "funny" little "truisms" like the example above that show's their true colors.
We've got narrow minded little fools out there who think that since THEY think abortions are always wrong, they ought to be criminalized.
We've got narrow minded little fools who think that Americans are "more valuable" than other people and therefore justify the killing of just about anyone else if someone comes up with even a quasi plausible reason - the current one being "We've got to kill all of them over there in case some of them wants to kill some of us" never realizing that terrorism only stops when you decide to stop being terrorized, and only then... (see "cheek turning as a superior foreign policy.")
And then I realized.... they're pretty much all the same people!
Oh, they may claim that one or more of the above descriptions could NEVER describe THEM... (and probably self-righteously and indignantly so.)
Perhaps.
And it's a LOT OF PEOPLE.
I don't want to share a country with them any more. In fact I want to share with them less than they do with the immigrants they claim are "getting rich" from welfare.
I know I end my posts with the thought (which is a reminder to myself as much as to any reader) but some days I have a hard time feeling like we should...
"I got a ticket to the State of the Union speech."
"No way!"
"(chuckle) Yep. And, I ended up sitting in the Congressmen's' seats on the Republican side of the isle!"
"Hah! Perfect. Too Funny. I didn't see you on T.V. but I only watched a couple of minutes of it. It was on in the background, but when the first words out of his mouth was the little toss off homage to Mrs. King, I knew I'd be sick if I actually sat and watched it. I had it on, but I came back in here to work. Was it fun?"
"I don't know if I'd call it fun, but it was interesting. He's really a charmer, I'll give him that."
"Yeah. He is. So did I miss anything by not watching it? You see my post yesterday?"
"Yeah. Smart ass. No. You didn't miss anything. It was... it was... Bush. No more, no less."
"I'll glance at a transcript on line here in a while. So what's up?"
"Remember that show, "The Book of Daniel" on NBC?"
"Yeah. I haven't watched it. Didn't want the way they portrayed you to affect how I do."
"Yeah. Well. It got cancelled already."
"Really? I heard it was a good show."
"It was. It is."
"So why..."
"Dobson."
"Focus on the way I say your family should be, Dobson?"
"Yep."
"No shi..."
"He pressured N.B.C. They blinked."
"Was it an offensive portrayal of you?"
"No. I didn't think so."
"Geez. I know you tell me not to, but I really hate that guy. Him and all his... peers."
"I know you do. Can't say I'm too thrilled about him right now. I know that the way you portray me and that show did is a lot less offensive that some of the crap these people do in my name. Heck, I'm closer to South Park's Jesus than Dobson's.
"Hah! I don't know about that!"
"I'm calling to ask you for some ideas. We've got to... well, I've got to put a stop to this bullying in my name. It's evil and I've had it."
"Don't know how I can help. I'll think about it."
"Yeah. Please. Do that. Can you put this out as your post for tomorrow?"
"Sure. Of course."
"Thanks. And ask for feedback. I have a feeling we're gonna have to fight these people on their own terms."
"On their terms? What..."
"I have to go. Sorry. I'll call you sometime in the next couple of days."
Good morning Boys and Girls.