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| Onward Christian Soldiers. |
| 05.31.06 (7:35 am) [edit] |
Good morning Boys and Girls!So, for those of you who haven't figured it out, I'm the worlds worst typist. Lucky for me there's this wonderful thing called "spell check" which saves my behind to the tune of seven or eight words per post, most of which are, in fact, just typos, since my vocabulary consists primarily of words I do know how to spell, and I'm too damn lazy to expand it much. The real problem for me are the words that end up mistankenly pluralized or where I use "and" when I meant to type "an" and goofs of that sort which abound in my posts till I catch them and edit, sometimes weeks after they're posted - if I catch them at all. The reason I'm writing this is because I can usually tell how the post will go typing-wise by how many times I have to make corrections in the opening line. This morning after my first attempt, I swear, it read, "goosd morning Bioys and Grils!" Grrrr. Call me Thumbsy McClumsy. So... Yesterday I was out there doing my best to get my work done like a good little boy when a nice looking old guy, a part-time employee of the place at which I was doing my thing, came out to watch me - as seems to be his habit. After the usual thirty seconds of banter, and in response to my question about whether he enjoyed his holiday weekend, he, in what felt like a real non-sequitur, said he'd become convinced that Jesus was coming back very very soon. "Really?" I said, fearing where this was going, but trying not to sound exasperated. "Real soon huh?" The he said something that really gave me pause. Instead of the usual stuff you hear from these sorts, about how you had to get ready, and "Are YOU ready?" - he sort of floored me by saying... "Yep. I'd say sometime this week, or maybe next week." "Oh?" said I, curious now. "Yep. It came to me this weekend. All the signs are pointing to it. It's time, and he won't wait any longer." "Wow." Now I was stumped. Should I ask which portions of "prophecy" have suddenly dove-tailed for this guy, thus possibly encouraging him? Or, more sanely, should I pack up my supplies and high-tail it out of there and come back and finish later when perhaps he's resting comfortably, floating on his meds at the home? I bit. Dumb. The Bible quotes started flying from his mouth like so much projectile vomit. I kept nodding politely, feigning enthrallment, and working twice as fast as I normally do, praying quality wouldn't suffer, but not caring as nearly as much as I usually would if it did. What I made sure of - what I was PROUD of myself for making sure of, was that I didn't argue the least little bit, nor did I ask even one more question regarding the goofiness of his premise, figuring that anything I said might fuel more words from him. After about fifteen minutes, Jesus answered MY prayers, when the business' phone rang, the ringer amplified over the P.A. system they use for paging and as an outdoor ringer. And, since our Mr. Older-Guy was the only employee around at the moment, and even though we're in the last couple of weeks of the world as we know it, thankfully, not many things trump a ringing phone. He HAD to go answer it. Thank you Jesus. Evidently, you're coming back to start the battle with the antichrist this week, or next week at the latest. You must be busy as hell. Thanks for taking the time to make that phone ring amid all your preparations for war. Be good to everyone. |
| Make my day. |
| 05.30.06 (7:14 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. 6:40 a.m. Back at it people. You've goofed off all weekend, and now you've only got four days to accomplish all the stuff you put off till after the holiday till another weekend hits - with it's own built-in set of excuses. I put off ordering my supplies. I worked on it for a few hours over the weekend, but I didn't send the order till five minutes ago, which is probably good enough since I'm sure the people there were being just as lazy as I was this weekend, and won't have been checking their emails or anything till they get into the office a few hours from now. Plus, since my order from them constitutes a spit in the ocean in terms of their overall volume, perhaps they'll find reason to put off processing my order even longer, meaning I won't get it in time to keep me from panicking for a day or two, which will then make me angry and give me an excuse to rant about how "the little guy" is ignored by large companies. Then I'll probably say something rude on the phone with their customer service department and upset the hourly wage order taker who will pass on my nasty remarks to his or her boss who will decide they don't need my stinking little order at all if I'm going to be such a jerk. About this time, I'll be going postal. I'll consider driving all the way to Baltimore to confront the stupid guy who decided I was too small to take abuse from. Along the way, because I'm speeding along the Pennsylvania Turnpike and get pulled over by a State Trooper, I'll be extra bitter and give the trooper a piece of my mind when he hands me what I thought was a ticket, but was really just a warning, till he heard me cursing him and went BACK to his cruiser to write out a whopper of a ticket because he, now angry himself, feels I've betrayed his attempt at benevolent largess. $300.00? Three-hundred dollars? THREE-HUNDRED BUCKS? Now I'm steamed. I get out of my car to confront the cop. His hand goes to his holster. I swagger and spit. Sneering, "You absolutely SURE you want to give me this ticket?" I say, tearing it up and letting the pieces drop from my hand and flutter into the breeze. He, trying to decide if I'm truly dangerous, says, "That's littering. That's a five-hundred dollars fine." And now the S.O.B. starts writing another ticket! Things would surely escalate from there. And since I once graduated with honors from a Chuck Norris certified one hour self-defense course and, in theory, know several ways to kill a person with my bare hands, I think we can be pretty sure how things would turn out for the poor cop, who though he stands six-six and weighs two-fifty easy, has only his police special semi-automatic - with two extra clips - some pepper spray and an eighteen inch mag-light to protect himself - along with the four other cops who've shown up "lights and sirens" to back-up the situation How could I know the cop TOO had taken the same course? How could I know that fighting fair isn't taught at the police academy? How could I know that those canine unit cruisers have big DOGS in the car? How could I know that TAZER is an acronym? By the time I got out of jail, probably the Fourth of July and Labor Day would have come and gone and I'd be a few thousand dollars poorer, and though Halloween might be looming, I'm sure I'd still be seething and lamenting the way Holidays interrupt my precious work routines. Damn. Be good to everyone. |
| Memorial Day '06 |
| 05.29.06 (8:10 am) [edit] |
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Good morning boys and girls. Woke up to watch the sun rise this morning. Gorgeous. (Applauded.) Also woke up with a twitchy back. Think I slept funny. Supposed to play golf later today, but I don't know if I should, or if I want to unless I crack the sucker loose. Mine rarely really bothers me, but I do wake up feeling like this once in an while - though usually, a little stretching eases my vertebrae back in line with a nice audible snap, crackle and pop. We'll see. Memorial Day. We are a country born of bloodshed and sacrifice - and thievery. We are a country born of selfless giving - and selfish greed. We are a land of opportunity - and one historically dotted with preying opportunists. We are a country filled with people who love the God they worship - and one filled with people who use the name of God to control others as they see fit. We are a country who has fought to help free the world of tyranny - and one who has, at times, been a tyrant to others. We are a diverse people who has welcomed the worlds hungry and poor - and one who thinks "enough is enough" and wishes to send people packing who, when legal means are not available to them, have decided to come anyway. We are a land filled with people who love this country in spite of her faults - and others who believe pointing out faults is damn near treasonous. We are a nation that cannot possibly work well - and yet does quite wonderfully. And today, we honor the men and women who, through their selfless service have helped make it all possible. We owe them. We owe them big-time. In fact, we owe them far more than to ever ask them to carry out any foolishly conceived war, or one fought for ANY reason other than to specifically protect us. It's a deal we make when we ask them to serve. And when we fail our end of THAT bargain in any way? We should be ashamed. Today? Remember those who have given their lives for us. - And to truely honor them, let's all help ensure that not one person ever gives their life for us in causes that have even the slightest whiff of the rank odor of non-specific purpose - or the slimy shimmering reflection of greasy reasoning. Be good to everyone. |
| Sitting in my home town. |
| 05.27.06 (7:42 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. At nine o'clock last night I was walking through Downtown Royal Oak, Michigan people watching and slowly making my way to the place my daughter works. Stopped in. Got a hug and a hello, and realized she was absolutely swamped. We gabbed for a minute as she whisked her way between customers, but it was a dumb time to interrupt her, so I kissed her on the cheek and left to continue my walk around the city that was my home for most of my life. It was about as nice an evening as one could hope for and I sat down on one of the benches for a few minutes with a Starbucks in hand and thought about the incredible transformation that town has gone through in the last twenty years. Even ten years into my marriage, Royal Oak was a sleepy little place, a suburb of Detroit, just two miles removed from the northern border of the city. It was simply a bedroom community with a dying - no, make that a DEAD downtown. Rent was cheap. Even the Woolworth's had long before gone out of business, and all that was left of the trolley that in the early part of the last century, brought people into and through the town, were a couple of tracks that popped through the asphalt on hot summer days. So? In the early eighties, a handful of shoestring entrepreneurs opened some fairly off-the-wall retail shops along Main and Washington. In the space of about three years, up popped a couple of interesting resale shops, a fledgeling chocolate-maker, three or four art galleries and probably most importantly, a place called Noir Leather that specialized in outrageous and revealing leather apparel for people with a sense of style and sexual flair with which I've never become totally comfortable or accustomed. Noir was run by an interesting guy who, on weekends, would use human models in the windows to attract attention - which he got, in spades. He was the first person I knew who used the old adage "any publicity is good publicity" to his advantage. He annoyed the old guard continuously, but did it good-naturedly. Slowly a few restaurants crept in, then some really great coffee shops and more and more eclectic retail places. Then? The monster that slowly grew there consumed itself and the national chains began to outbid the local retailers (who'd made the thing happen) for space and the rents just soared. From a couple of bucks a square foot in the eighties, to upwards of fifty bucks a square foot these days. These days? - you could guess half the tenants without me naming them for you. Then, over the last three or four years, entire blocks have been razed to build hundreds of half million-dollar "lofts" above the brand new first floor retail spaces, which command even higher rents. Interestingly, these lofts aren't really lofts at all in the traditional sense, but simply extravagant and - to my mind - over-priced condominium apartments marketed with slick Madison Avenue panache - but what do I know. And on most weeknights and every weekend? -the city is awash with thousands of affluent young people, strolling along between the hot spots, sampling the gelato, and enjoying the scene. It is something. Most of the small entrepreneurs who made it happen have been priced out of the city, but Noir Leather is still there, and though its owner Keith had to move it to a slightly less desirable location ten or so years ago, the windows still push all the strange fetish stuff that has kept the place in business for 24 years. Funny what can fuel a resurgence. I wonder if he gets royalties? He should. After seeing the third couple in twenty minutes walking their ferrets on leashes, for some reason I decided to drive home. Got in just after midnight. Be good to everyone. |
| The plan, revealed. |
| 05.25.06 (7:45 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls! Came home last night and sat down to read, fell asleep, then woke up around 10:00 and had some juice. After guzzling, I came in here to work a while and for the yucks of it tried to go online... And to my surprise? I had INTERNET service... Turned on the TV? - and had CABLE! Ahhhh. Cable and internet are included in the "package" here in my little apartment, but it had been off for a week or so as the landlord switched providers. Evidently a scheduling snafu caused the delay, but man was I glad to be connected again. I knew it was silly for me to feel impatient about it, but I was getting to that point. I've grown very attached to my little routines, and I didn't like having to stop by the library to check email, or to write a post for this blog. Plus, I use a couple of online resources for my other writing projects, and without them at my fingertips, I've felt naked and vulnerable - though because one of them is a decent and easy-to-use thesaurus, instead of being naked and vulnerable, I guess I've been feeling like a scared-y-cat, ya know, like I was outdoors and in public where people might see me with no clothes on, so I'd hide, sitting against a building in an alley, frowning and sucking my thumb...) God forbid I should have to pick up the REAL thesaurus sitting on the shelf here - a foot behind my shoulder. It's funny how much of a slave I've become to this wonderful technology; me, an under-educated old man. I can only imagine what it will be like for young people when the poles reverse and the batteries in the calculators all fail, and the ipods go silent, and their cell-phones stare blankly back at them. Glad that isn't scheduled till 2032, when I'll be long gone - though it will screw up my plans for surviving in the virtual world as a benign virus, working my way into the hard-drives and bubble memories of every single electronic device on the planet, spreading hope and love in the form of a single clearly audible slightly sustained musical note that sounds every time anyone hits the lower-case letter "e" on any keyboard. (In terms of tone, think the A above middle C.) Damn. Foiled again. Be good to everyone. |
| Another quickie post... |
| 05.24.06 (1:48 pm) [edit] |
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Good afternoon Boys and Girls! May is flying... The days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and as far as the months go, I assume they turn into something else as well, though I'm not capable of multiplying anything by thirty-one in my head... Earlier, during most of the morning, the sun warmed me like a slice of pizza at the gas station, but now high clouds are gathering, creating the indoor/outdoor feeling I tend to enjoy so much once in a while. My weekend plans involve a party at Daughter's (and Son's for that matter, though I believe she's the hostess this weekend) and possibly another get-together or two, so the odometer will be spinning like crazy. I'm sure I'll be bitching about gas prices come Tuesday morning along with the rest of the country. No word from Jesus since he left the other day, but I did see that he forgot one of his pairs of sandals (the red ones), so I'm assuming he's got plans to stop by here at some point. I'm gonna go see "the" movie this weekend so I can write about it half-way intelligently. I hear there's gonna be a Ron Howard/Mel Gibson no-holds-barred death match in a cage on pay-per-view next month. I'm rooting for Opie, but I hear Gibson's got Glover in his corner as his cut-man, so it ought to be a good fight. Well, it's 1:57 and I've got more to do, so?
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| When the bough breaks, baby will fall. |
| 05.23.06 (11:44 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. Ran into a new Mom at one of the places I work the other day. I hadn't seen her since she left for her maternity leave. "Is he sleeping through the night yet?" He is, evidently, little Daman. As for Mom? She looked relatively rested and no worse for the wear - more proof - showing me pictures of a real cutie showing lots of personality at just a few weeks old. Sleep. Is it not the strangest thing in nature? We shut down, but we don't shut down. We keep all the essential stuff up and running, but our conscious minds take that necessary holiday every single day for as many hours as we need, or want, or at the very least, allow ourselves. I have no background in science, but I did attend a retreat when I was about 13 years old where the primary topic was... sleep. (Which is saying even less than "I'm not a doctor, but I play one on T.V.) My Dad organized the retreat for our youth group at Church and I assume picked that weekend's topic because of a family friend who taught at the University of Michigan at the time who was doing all kinds of research into how sleep affects us and what happens when we're at rest, and who allowed himself to be railroaded by my Father's persuasive persona into dumbing down his lecture style into something we kiddies could understand. It was a great retreat, as odd as the topic was; interesting as all get out, and we learned, in a rudimentary fashion, about many subtopics having to do with the subject. We spent a lot of time talking about the various stages of sleep and got to take part in some "Mr. Wizard" style experiments to learn about R.E.M. and the like. I remember him telling us that our dreams, even those that seemed to last forever, really only lasted a few seconds or a minute; a theory that, I believe, has since been altered if not totally refuted. Nevertheless, it was a pretty cool weekend, and I remember being proud of my Dad for organizing the thing. He was an unusually creative guy. Hmmm. I was going to go into all kinds of little factoids about sleep... Another time. I'm too tired to write any.... more... ZZzzzzzzzz. Be good to everyone. |
| Smiles... |
| 05.21.06 (1:00 pm) [edit] |
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Good morning (okay,okay - afternoon, but just) Boys and Girls! Went for a lovely walk this morning. Sunday morning is my favorite time for a walk, though I tend to take four or five a week. This morning, the sun was doing it's thing in a spectacular manner, there was a cool breeze, and the aroma of spring growth wafted through air continually. Can't ask for more. Could, I suppose, but why? Been giving a lot of thought to the idea of learning to become satisfied with what life gives you. At times, it's easy, at other times, I have to work at it a bit, consciously reminding myself of the idiom and its meaning. As I write this, the clouds are gathering a bit, and Michigan's famously fickle weather looks to be changing again, but who knows? If it stays nice out? -I'll be putting on some nice greens in an hour or two - every now and again cursing my mind and body's ability to properly make use of the laws of physics. If it rains? -I'll sit and write. Neither option strikes me as even mildly unpleasant, so today, it'll be an easy thing to be satisfied; no matter what the rest the day brings. Not bad at all. Be good to everyone. just though you'd like this.... I got the following comment from Lynn Kramer... Someone explain it to me? "Some of my colleagues recommended that I write a letter about how it scares the bejeezus out of me to know that Surrogate might bowdlerize all unfavorable descriptions of her doctrines some day. This is that letter. Let's get down to business: When she says that 75 million years ago, a galactic tyrant named Xenu solved the overpopulation problem of his 76-planet federation by transporting the excess people to Earth, chaining them to volcanoes, and dropping H-bombs on them, in her mind, that's supposed to end the argument. It's like she believes she has said something very profound. One can examine this from another angle and plainly see that we should establish democracy and equality. (Goodness knows, our elected officials aren't going to.) If I had to choose the most shameless specimen from Surrogate's welter of incomprehensible gabble, it would have to be Surrogate's claim that her allegations are Right with a capital R. The vast majority of people would probably be willing to help me carry out the famous French admonition, écrasez l'infâme!, against Surrogate's adages. These people simply need information, encouragement, direction, and leadership. Are you beginning to get the picture here? Note that the really interesting thing about all this is not that I must add my voice to the chorus of those who defy the international enslavement of entire peoples. The interesting thing is that her cult followers are unified under a common goal. That goal is to destroy the natural beauty of our parks and forests. There's an important difference between me and Surrogate. Namely, I am willing to die for my cause. Surrogate, in contrast, is willing to kill for hers -- or, if not to kill, at least to bamboozle people into believing that it is lethargic to question her mottos. I oppose Surrogate's outbursts because they are Pecksniffian. I oppose them because they are footling. And I oppose them because they will hoodoo us before the year is over. The fact is, my love for people necessitates that I counteract the subtle, but pervasive, social message that says that Surrogate answers to no one. Yes, I face opposition from Surrogate. However, this is not a reason to quit but to strive harder. Let me sum up. An understanding of ethnocentrism is propaedeutic to an understanding of Silliness B. Surrogate's raving, uppity litanies." |
| Excuses, excuses.... |
| 05.20.06 (10:29 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls! Sorry for the lack of posting and for the "toss-off" posts when I HAVE written the last week or so. My Internet service at home has been interrupted as the landlord shifts accounts or services, (I'm not sure which) so I've been sneaking into libraries on my work travels to try to stay in touch. Amazing how much I've come to depend on the on-line "fix" at the beginning, AND the end of a day. I'm sitting in a tiny library branch at the north end of town right which has exactly ten small bookcases, only half of which hold books. The rest contain DVDs, VHS, Music Cd's and audio books. The bookcases are about five feet high and six feet across, and are divided into four shelves each. So, it's a tiny place right? But, it has a total of 14 public use computers! Ten offering 90 minute Internet access per session, plus four more that allow twenty minute access... Times are changin.' The problem for me is that I have a sort of ritual about how I go about working on posts and other writing projects, which simple access to these very nice computers just doesn't allow for, plus even though I'd rarely take as long as an hour to write a post, the little "minutes left" box in the upper right hand corner of the screen complete with it's slowly descending numerals, (52 minutes right now, oops, now 51) just messes with my mind. (Sits and watches it flip to "50.") I DID sneak a Mc-coffee in here with me this morning for which, thankfully, none of the librarians have chastised me, but it's just not the same... (he longingly takes out a cigarette and stares at it, fondles it.... then puts it away.) So, until next week sometime, expect some more lame posts. YIPPEE! And, sorry for not responding to comments very well, or for not reading or commenting on YOUR blog this week. Be good to everyone. |
| Oh yeah? Well ___________ __________. |
| 05.18.06 (4:10 pm) [edit] |
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Good ___________ Boys and Girls. So what's with those crazy _________? They NEVER do what you'd think they ought do, but seem instead, to be forever ___________ the whole thing up. Yesterday, ________________ and I were talking about what we think will be next on the agenda for _____________. Even though we were on the same page, we couldn't agree on anything about it except that it will be at once predictable and unexpected. After all, when _____________ put their minds to something, you KNOW it'll end up as screwed up as can be, while also being accepted by _____________. It's exasperating, isn't it? All that _____________ and ______________ wasted trying to acccomplish something that ought not be attempted by ______________, anyway. One of these days, someone's going to find out about all of this. When that happens, the ____________ is gonna' ____________ the _____________. At least, I think it will. And that day? -- I'm gonna wear _____________. Be ____________ to ______________. |
| Snore, snore, think, snore |
| 05.17.06 (6:13 pm) [edit] |
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Good afternoon Boys and Girls! Sitting, trying to keep my eyes awake. Long, the last couple of days has left me weary and not quite enthused about sitting here punching keys. Need a fourth cup of Joe, I'll bet. Hey, how about we all take a few days and contact all the folks who USED to be here at tBlog, and invite them back. Nice to see new folks, but it would be nice to have some of the old friends back too. Dumb? I swear I'll write a real post tomorrow. Just too wiped out... sorry. Be good to everyone. |
| hmmm. |
| 05.16.06 (12:28 pm) [edit] |
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Hey Boys and Girls, No post today... alas. Best thing I've written in months, huh? Be good to everyone. |
| Ouch. |
| 05.15.06 (8:10 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. On Monday, the man dragged himself in, almost limping, haggard, his arm in a sling. The doctor asked, "What happened to you?" |
| Jesus, back at it. |
| 05.14.06 (1:46 pm) [edit] |
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Hi everyone. Jesus reporting today, though surrogate wants to add a tag. I'm leaving here in about three hours. During the next two weeks I'll travel to four cities on two continents, not counting on any side trips that present themselves. Today we're going to touch on a couple of things that get in the way of people being the kind of people Dad would like us all to be. First, a blanket statement: Satan does not exist. There. Is that clear enough? We don't get to blame our bad actions and thoughts on some ousted Angel or demon. We sometimes do bad things; some more than others. You, and you alone, are responsible for whatever you do. Are there sick people with more than their share of evil thoughts running through their heads causing them to do horrible things? Are there people we need to separate out of society? Of course. But there's no Satan causing it-- unless you want to call certain mental illnesses "Satan." which I happen to think it's a dumb idea, but hey, if it makes you happy? --knock yourself out. But, please don't fall victim to anyone trying to tell you that there's this magical evil presence in the world trying to get you into "hell" (another bogus concept) by corrupting your spirit and thought processes. It's just bunk. Dangerous bunk, in fact. Why? Because by attributing to another being or spirit the responsibility for what we do, in any way shape or form, blocks us. It keeps us from being able to make use of that most important part of our psyches; that part of us that prompts us to keep examining ourselves over and over -- something with which we're born -- thus slowing or even completely stifling our inherent need to change for the better. For goodness sakes, even cats clean themselves continually -- unless we bandage their paws. Now. Hell. Quit worrying about it. Dad didn't set up a prison for sinners, whether unrepentant or not. I can't go in to what happens to us when we die, but rest assured, the down-elevators don't go any lower than the sub-basement garage. No single idea has done more to get in the way of people becoming what they can be than the idea that, if they don't swallow hook, line and sinker the "born again" myth (that's been so bastardized over the millennia), that they'll end up burning for eternity. More time and energy has been wasted by otherwise well-meaning people forwarding this nonsense than I can tolerate any longer. Hell, if there is one, is a mental state lived in by millions upon millions of people who have, as of yet, failed to understand that they alone have the power to extricate themselves from that dark place by simply working toward being a more loving person in a pro-active way. "Pro-active?" -- I hear you cry? A bit self-helpy there isn't it? Yes. But it's accurate. An AFTERLIFE Hell just doesn't exist, but the one we can find ourselves in here can be just awful. So? A tip. Every time you start feeling down, ashamed, or even bored, go do something kind and selfless for someone else, even a stranger. Expect nothing in return; no thanks, no payment, no accolades. Just do it. (My apologies to Nike, but I said it far earlier, and for a far better cause.) So, having cast hell and the devil aside? Love Dad. Love yourself and your friends. And? Love your enemies. After a while, it makes it a lot harder for them to hate you. Be good to everyone. ------------------------- ------- Hey all, surrogate here. Wanted to pass on a note: These posts, written "as Jesus" do not necessarily constitute yours truly dealing poorly with a messiah complex. Obviously, they come out of my head, but even so, I do try to think them through far more carefully than the everyday tripe, and even if they are written in a relatively relaxed tone, when writing as the big guy, I only write words that in my heart I truly believe Jesus would say if he were sitting in my living room, drinking coffee and sharing my chex-mix. This has been the semi-annual disclaimer. You may now call me crazy. |
| Hi. |
| 05.13.06 (8:23 am) [edit] |
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Hello everyone. I did keep him up late, but I just don't need as much sleep as most people do, so I've been up for an hour already, checking emails, replying to some and reading the news. There wasn't any warning to me, nor a set of specific instructions. I was crucified, then at some point I spoke with Dad for quite a long time, and then, poof, there I was standing on a street corner in Toronto dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase filled with four empty journals and a bunch of pens. I had a wallet in my pocket with quite a bit of cash (U.S. for some reason or other) and some credit cards. He ordered some coffee and the biggest chocolate-chip cookie I'd ever seen. After paying for his treat, he walked right up to me and introduced himself, commenting that I looked way-overdressed "for this dump." I laughed and he sat down. |
| Yap central. |
| 05.12.06 (9:31 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls! Short and sweet this morning. Jesus Called. Finally. No messages, no voicemails, nothin' since he said he thought he'd see me within a couple of days -- over two weeks ago. So, I'm sort of bitching to him about how it would be nice if he'd let me know what's going on in situations like that, cuz I've been worried. And where was he? -- and was he coming anytime soon? I'm just sort of mildly going off on the guy. He listens to me for a few minutes and doesn't say anything in response. Dead air on the phone. "Jesus" I say. "You still there?" "Yeah." "You weren't talking. I thought the call had dropped." "Uh huh. Got it. No. I'm here." "You seem annoyed." "Annoyed? Me?" "Yeah." "Well no. Not really. But..." "Yeah?" "Do you think you could just shut up for two seconds and open your front door?" "Uh... Sure." duh. Be good to everyone. |
| Life, laughing, and a slight fade. |
| 05.11.06 (7:03 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls! Reading (listening to) a very clever book called "Motherless Brooklyn" by Jonathan Lethem about a orphaned fellow recounting growing up with Tourette's Syndrome. Serious topic, but extremely funny stuff. Find myself laughing out loud every few minutes. Yesterday while I was working, one passage got me to the point I had to simply stop what I was doing for a minute, and I just stood there shaking with laughter, my hand covering my face. Of course this was the very instant a customer I'd been half-waiting for, doing some other work in the meantime, strolled up to me from behind and tapped me on the shoulder. I hadn't seen him walk up - or heard him because I was listening to the damn book. So there I was, laughing like crazy, seemingly in the face of this man. And, I simply couldn't stop for at least another ten or fifteen seconds. Finally, shaking my head, the laughter subsided and I apologized, embarrassed, and tried to explain. The fellow was gracious as could be and accepted the explanation -- even asking me about the book -- but I KNOW he had to think I was a lunatic. I sure would have. After work I went to the driving range for a half hour to work out a newly discovered kink in my golf swing, still listening to the damn book. So there I am, half concentrating on my finest Tiger Woods impression, still breaking out in chuckles every few moments KNOWING I'm probably getting stares from some of the other folks doing THEIR version of Tiger on either side of me along the row of Astroturf tee-boxes. I didn't care. It was fun. Be good to everyone. |
| What's for dinner? Anything? |
| 05.10.06 (7:57 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls! At the end of the day today, I'll make a simple decision. I don't like to cook for myself very often, so I tend to eat my evening meals in a restaurant. So? At the end of the day I'll decide what I "feel" like and choose a place that serves whatever type of food for which I'm in the mood. I try to keep an eye on what I eat most of the time, so I mix it up. During the week I'll eat a couple of salads, some sort of fish at least twice a week, pasta once or twice, read meat two or three times, but I'm not all that strict about any of it. I just sort of decide, and, well, eat! And then I'll come home and check my email. Once or twice a day I get email from one of the organizations trying to wipe out world-wide hunger. I get them so often, that I delete them most of the time, unread, like most solicitations, and put it out of my mind. Then I go on to whatever is next, hopefully a new joke I haven't received half-a-dozen times previously. Every now and again, I'll open one of the solicitation emails from "One" or any of the other similar groups out there. Once I start following the links and reading some of the stories or seeing some of the heart-breaking photographs of little kids so malnourished you can tell they're not long for the world, I invariably end up feeling guilty complaining about anything in my life. Ever. And I realize WHY I don't open those emails with much regularity. I'm too weak of a person to stop what I'm doing here, get off my ass and work as hard as I should to help with this ridiculous problem, so I close it up and start thinking about whatever I'm writing about that day. On rare occasions, if what I've seen has really gotten to me? I'll write a small check. In this country we fight over illegal immigration, and abortion, and gay marriage, and taxes, and scandals, the separation of Church and State, and capital punishment and... all these other things that, if we were starving, we simply wouldn't have time to worry about even a tiny little bit. Some people think that hunger in the world is inevitable. Others decry the organizations that have mishandled funds MEANT to help the hungry and thus have decided that it's no longer a problem we should bother trying to do anything about. I don't know what we should do about it, but to me, it seems like a far greater sin to allow millions of healthy children and adults to starve to death due to the lack of available food simply because we've not done whatever it takes to make sure that the situation disappears worldwide. For instance, to spend even ten seconds debating whether school uniforms are a good idea in public schools or whether a fetus ought to have the same rights as a living, breathing human being ought to be something we worry about AFTER we've made sure every living soul on the planet has had dinner. I'm not rich, or even very well off by American standards, but even I get to decide what I "feel" like eating. What the hell is wrong with us? Be good to everyone. |
| No, I can't go to the eighth-grade prom. I have to feed my baby. |
| 05.09.06 (9:20 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. She was an incredibly talented flutist and a not half-bad classical pianist. She still plays some, but that missed opportunity, and more importantly, what it might have lead to, haunts her some to this very day, and how could it not? |
| Ike in 2008? |
| 05.08.06 (6:15 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. A friend sent me these quotes yesterday. I remember receiving them a few years ago too, right after the war started. Worth reading and thinking about. ------------------------- - "When people speak to you about a preventive war, you tell THEM to go and fight it. After my experience, I have come to hate war." "I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its stupidity. War settles nothing." "Here in America we are descended in blood and in spirit from revolutionists and rebels - men and women who dare to dissent from accepted doctrine. As their heirs, may we never confuse honest dissent with disloyal subversion." "If all that Americans want is security, they can go to prison. They’ll have enough to eat, a bed and a roof over their heads. But if an American wants to preserve his dignity and his equality as a human being, he must not bow his neck to any dictatorial government." Dwight D. Eisenhower 34th President of the United States (1953-1961) ------------------------- --- Be good to everyone. |
| Same old whiners... (I've got mine... You (try to) get yours.) |
| 05.07.06 (2:49 pm) [edit] |
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Good afternoon Boys and Girls. So, now the reactionary goofs in the country are all up in arms about the fact that when (and if) the Democrats take charge next November, they'll likely address the minimum wage law, and attempt to raise it some, though as always, it'll still stay behind what it would be in a country made up of citizens who thought people were anywhere near as important as businesses. It's really this simple. If a businessperson without scruples or a conscience, (a fairly large category of people, by the way) can get away with charging full market price for whatever it is they sell while saving money on the production end by paying people as little as they possibly can? They will. Duh. This, of course creates a large class of people who can't BUY many of the items that would help fuel the economy and takes a huge toll on the safety-net systems meant for people who AREN'T working, which we all pay for. And? Usually the same folks who think there shouldn't be a minimum wage also assume everyone using any form of government assistance are a bunch of lazy do-nothings. I assure you this though, it's ALWAYS people who themselves are just fine financially, (or if they do struggle some, are looking for a scapegoat for their problems) that whine the loudest about other folks getting fair pay for their work. How is it that a business owner gets to determine what a fair day's pay is? It's absurd. Hell, I should hire lots of people to help me for five bucks a day. Bet I could find some poor folks who have nothing -- and are worried about their next meal, rent check or heating bill-- to help me... But then? -- I wouldn't be able to sleep. And really? That's the problem. Too many people CAN sleep very soundly at night after screwing the folks who work for them. Hence? a MINIMUM wage. This assumption that "economic forces will regulate wages as competition for workers increases" has two flaws. One? That people don't need to eat while (assuming it does) the economy gets better, and two? That things can improve overall to a very great degree while we're busy keeping people in the vicious cycle of living paycheck to paycheck, and falling further behind while doing so. The stated argument, (as opposed to the real argument, which is, as I said, the "I've got mine" mentality) is that, business is tough and business people are tough folks who sacrifice and risk for their livelihood and therefore deserve every nickel of profit they can squeeze from their endeavors. Goodness knows there's some truth to that, but far too often, (and I say this from having dealt with hundreds and hundreds of business owners as a consultant for eighteen years) the owners don't give a damn about anything except what they can keep for themselves -- employees, the government and even the customers, be damned. If a business can't pay their workers a living wage? They have no business being IN business -- because obviously what they make isn't worth enough money to the marketplace to continue making whatever it is, fairly. Or, if it is? -- it's time for the company to rethink things; to become profitable enough to give the employees eight or nine bucks an hour minimum while still keeping the owner(s) and/or stockholders smiling. Taking it a step further; I would rather pay a dollar more for my pair of Korean made running shoes to cover comprehensive health care for Walmart employees than to have those same employees using State services for visits to hospitals, when, (had they been able to afford one) a doctor's office appointment earlier might have kept the problem from mushrooming into a full blown emergency. I do know this. Companies that pay as little as they can tend to get as little from employees as the employees can get away with doing. Maybe not at first, and certainly there are tons of exceptions to this rule, but overall? -- it's not only true, but understandable. Frankly, creativity, brain power and working smart are all it would take to make this country rock and roll again, but I'm pretty sure the "I've got mine" crowd won't stand for it. I still like the Ben and Jerry's model. Not one person working for the company gets to make more than five times the lowest paid employee, and everyone's an owner. Seems to me those "commies" make a few bucks, don't they? Why? How is that possible? -- the socialist freaks! Better to bitch about "those damn Democrats" than try to understand what's really going on in this country. Drives me nuts. Be good to everyone. |
| Be passionate? Hell yes, I've got a passion. |
| 05.06.06 (11:07 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls! He grinned and proceeded to give me the recipe. It sounded very much like the dish I was eating which is what prompted his curiosity in the first place. He'd thought they must be similar. |
| You're already a winner! |
| 05.05.06 (7:12 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. "Insure a wrecked car?" "I would sir. Sixty-five a day can add up very quickly! "My name is PastorDave." "Mr. surro..." "Good day." (click.)
Be good to everyone. |
| Maybe the half'n'half was bad... |
| 05.03.06 (7:56 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls.
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| Coming Home. |
| 05.02.06 (8:30 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. So, imagine you've been in Iraq for five months. You've been granted two weeks leave and make the long four-flight trip home to Missouri to see your wife and kids. Your heart is jumping as you make your way up the walk to your house. You have to knock because you haven't had your keys with you. You knock on the door. And then knock again. And finally, it's opened -- by some guy -- who's obviously gotten out of bed -- YOUR bed -- to open the door. Happened a couple of days ago to the brother of a friend. I can't imagine. There's more to the story too, but it's so depressing I don't even want to go into it here, except to say that living with addiction is one lousy way to go through life, and it almost doesn't matter whether it's you or a loved one who's addicted. Remember my story about my long-ago coke involvement the other day? I'm just thankful it wasn't crack or meth I got involved with. Seems like there's often no getting away from those two once they've got you. If you pray? -- pray for this soldier and his kids. Be good to everyone. |
| Take a breath, count to ten, walk around the block. |
| 05.01.06 (8:49 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. Bear with the first few paragraphs here so I can work around to my point. Last night I watched the movie version of "Captain Corelli's Mandolin," the movie version of Louis de Bernières WWII novel from 1994. The movie was very well done but as is so often the case, in the condensing, way way too much was lost. Alas, I suppose you can't really make a ten hour movie, which it would have had to be to deal with all the sub-plots, and more importantly, the relationships, conversations between ancillary characters, and the Doctor's journal entries that made the book one of the finest pieces of literary fiction I've read in the last ten years. In fact, I just found the following quote from the author about the film adaptation: "It would be impossible for a parent to be happy about it's baby's ears being put on backwards." Clever. The book skewers all forms of totalitarianism in the most poignant of ways; by showing the way so many of them affect the simple people living on the small Greek Island of Cephalonia, where the story takes place. Along the way, the daughter of the island's doctor falls in love with an Italian Captain, a reluctant combatant and occupier who is living with them, a situation about which neither he or they are very happy. Conflicts arise even as their love blooms and at one point, during a conversation between the Doctor and his daughter, he talks about love in what felt to me to be the mirror of how I've always felt about real love between a man and a woman. This is paraphrased. Love isn't the wild explosion of passion that takes place at the beginning. That comes and fades away. Love is what's left afterward, when you discover that your roots are so entangled with each other that the idea of living without the other person is not possible. Then he says, "It doesn't sound very exciting does it? But it is." Love is a decision, even when it's not the romantic variety. Love is pro-active. Love is forgiving. Love is understanding and accepting. To take a world view, love is cheaper than war, and yet far more valuable. Sometimes I wonder how the world might be today, if after 9-11, we'd taken no action whatsoever other than to take, as has been so disparaged by some, a police action to capture the people responsible while showing love even to those who hate us. How much worse off would we be? -- would the world be? I still wonder why showing love is considered to be weakness by those people who espouse faith in God and the guy for whom this blog is named? It's really simple though, I think: Love of enemies takes far more courage than the righteous indignation it takes to wage war, and more real faith. There's a reason that marriages between people who've just met rarely work. Or why parents should never react harshly and punish a child when they've just become angry with them. Or why deciding to go to war when the country is still in shock and fear after a horrid tragedy is such an irresponsible idea. Making reactive decisions when passions are at their peak is just not rational. And when you have made a mistake? -- the loving thing to do is correct it, in any way possible, and as soon as possble. Be good to everyone. |
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American Deaths in Iraq:
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