I don't which is stranger...the fact a man in a wheelchair thought he could and should take people hostage, or the reality that he actually did it.
How is this possible?
So, as a form of public service, I am going to offer some tips on how to avoid being kidnapped by a wheelchair confined assailant.
1) Tip him over.
Unless the chair is made of lead or has a granite seat, it shouldn't be too hard to give the dude a quick shove.
Timmmmber!!! Problem solved.
What is he going to do? Ask for help getting back in the thing? No, he will just worm around on the ground until the cops arrive.
2)Run behind him.
If the guy is half owl and can spin all the way around from the waste up, this may not work. However, outside of the Weekly World News I have not seen many Owl-Men around for awhile.
Just like you would with the scruff of a cat, grab the little handles on the back of his chair and wheel his happy ass to the police station, give him a "time out" by parking him in a corner, or just roll him out into the street.
Again, problem solved.
3)Walk behind a counter and out the back door...then lock him in.
You don't even have to run to do this one. While I understand most everywhere in the country is now wheelchair accessible, wheelchairs are not known for being exceptionally maneuverable around tight corners. On top of that, he can't very well hold a gun on you and wheel you down at the same time.
4)Trot up a flight of stairs.
What is he going to do? Use the elevator to catch you? Send his partner in crime, sporting a walker, to come after you?
5)Throw a broom or stick into one of the spokes of his chair.
He'll spin himself to death or tip over trying to remove it...either way, the situation is resolved.
6)Batter him with objects.
This guy was in a Post Office. At this time of year, you know the place is filled with packages of 10 pound fruit cakes and baseballs on their way to little Timmy.
The guy is in a wheelchair...it's not like he can duck out of the way. We all played Dodge-Ball in school...ever remember seeing any all-star D-Ball players in wheelchairs? No? Why do you think that is?...because they are in wheelchairs!!!
You could even use the whole GW method...throw a shoe at the guy.
This reminds me of when I lived in FL and worked at a 7-11. There was some guy going around robbing stores using..........a screwdriver. Know how he was stopped? One night, when he pulled his utensil, the cashier laughed...and slapped him. The robber ran out of the store and was never heard from again.
This has been a public service announcement by http://www.rantingsfromutah.blogspot.com/ , the Coalition for Stopping Wheelchair Criminals, and John Newberry.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Let's have a smoke...
My friend Adam and I were going back and forth a little about the 8th Deadly Sin...Smoking.
It got me thinking about an encounter I had with a woman when Casey and I lived in Ogden. At the time, I didn't own a car. I was relegated to riding the bus to get from place to place...which is always fun. Nothing like those yummy Bus People* to brighten your day.
So, here I was, just standing at the bus stop and minding my own business...like the good boy I am. I was having a peaceful smoke and planning out my day.
Out of nowhere I heard dragging footsteps. I spied the source and recognized it was a bitter and mean hag of a woman I'd seen before. She was a bus regular...a.k.a. a bus person...and a quite rude one at that. After a few seconds she started fake coughing. You know the kind of sound I am talking about...that sooooooo annoying guff people make when they "quietly" try to say your smoke is bothering them...
When I turned to her, I saw she had pulled the top of her collar over her nose and mouth....I suppose I had forgotten I was smoking sticks of tear gas and not cigarettes.
I looked away, 20% aggravated by the "subtle" hints my smoke was bothering her, 80% gleeful it REALLY was. It took her a few minutes, but when I lit up another cigarette (I only did this for the extra "pissing off" value of it), she said, "Sir, you could not smoke that here?"
Her tone was not as nice as the question seems.
I ignored Cruella and took a huge drag. I let the exhale create a small layer of smog around me...she was not pleased.
"Sir!"
I faced her, with the cigarette hanging from my mouth.
"Can you move over there and smoke that?" Her gnarled hand was pointing to some obscure patch of grass.
I smiled and nodded my head. Indeed, that was possible.
I said, "Yes, I can," then took another drag as I looked at her. "I can, but I won't."
Hahaha...how ya like them apples? I topped it off with a quick little wink.
The expression on her face was priceless. If I had snapped her bra, I don't think she would have been more shocked.
I finished my cigarette just as bus arrived and, like the gentleman I am, let her board first.
I think more smokers need to stand up for themselves like this...be proud of our addiction. In Utah, and many other states, you can no longer smoke in restaurants, bars and smoke shops...what?! You can't smoke in a place dedicated to smokers?! Isn't that like saying it's illegal to eat your burger until you get outside of Burger King? What am I missing?
Everyone needs to relax a little. Calm down, it's not as though this is a new invention. Man has been smoking since the dawn of time.
I will pay my $3.00 in taxes, per pack, and smile as I do so...but can you cut us smokers some slack?
Why can't we all just get along?
*Bus People are the folks who pretty much live on the bus. They think that everyone on the bus is their nemesis or a buddy interested in how their day is going or where they are going. They also tend to smell VERY bad.
It got me thinking about an encounter I had with a woman when Casey and I lived in Ogden. At the time, I didn't own a car. I was relegated to riding the bus to get from place to place...which is always fun. Nothing like those yummy Bus People* to brighten your day.
So, here I was, just standing at the bus stop and minding my own business...like the good boy I am. I was having a peaceful smoke and planning out my day.
Out of nowhere I heard dragging footsteps. I spied the source and recognized it was a bitter and mean hag of a woman I'd seen before. She was a bus regular...a.k.a. a bus person...and a quite rude one at that. After a few seconds she started fake coughing. You know the kind of sound I am talking about...that sooooooo annoying guff people make when they "quietly" try to say your smoke is bothering them...
When I turned to her, I saw she had pulled the top of her collar over her nose and mouth....I suppose I had forgotten I was smoking sticks of tear gas and not cigarettes.
I looked away, 20% aggravated by the "subtle" hints my smoke was bothering her, 80% gleeful it REALLY was. It took her a few minutes, but when I lit up another cigarette (I only did this for the extra "pissing off" value of it), she said, "Sir, you could not smoke that here?"
Her tone was not as nice as the question seems.
I ignored Cruella and took a huge drag. I let the exhale create a small layer of smog around me...she was not pleased.
"Sir!"
I faced her, with the cigarette hanging from my mouth.
"Can you move over there and smoke that?" Her gnarled hand was pointing to some obscure patch of grass.
I smiled and nodded my head. Indeed, that was possible.
I said, "Yes, I can," then took another drag as I looked at her. "I can, but I won't."
Hahaha...how ya like them apples? I topped it off with a quick little wink.
The expression on her face was priceless. If I had snapped her bra, I don't think she would have been more shocked.
I finished my cigarette just as bus arrived and, like the gentleman I am, let her board first.
I think more smokers need to stand up for themselves like this...be proud of our addiction. In Utah, and many other states, you can no longer smoke in restaurants, bars and smoke shops...what?! You can't smoke in a place dedicated to smokers?! Isn't that like saying it's illegal to eat your burger until you get outside of Burger King? What am I missing?
Everyone needs to relax a little. Calm down, it's not as though this is a new invention. Man has been smoking since the dawn of time.
I will pay my $3.00 in taxes, per pack, and smile as I do so...but can you cut us smokers some slack?
Why can't we all just get along?
*Bus People are the folks who pretty much live on the bus. They think that everyone on the bus is their nemesis or a buddy interested in how their day is going or where they are going. They also tend to smell VERY bad.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
I tried as best I could...go ahead, Beth, say you told me so.
I have had an ugly day, and it is only noonish.
As some know, I have been going to help out at the Soup Kitchen in downtown SLC. It has been, in many ways, quite rewarding.
BUT TODAY...was different...oh, the rewards I was given!!!
First, there were rotating shifts of mini mormons running through the kitchen. That alone is enough to drive anyone mad or start banging their head with a pot, but each group had two or three cameras with them to snap shots or take videos...I'm guessing it's in case some Joseph Smith loyalty group comes along and doubts their mormanness. This way, they would have proof of their kindness and a sure ticket to one of their 300 heavens...even if they weren't wearing the holy mormon underwear ( they really have that, you know).
Okay, that was bad, but when they started singing Frosty the Snowman...(sigh)...shall we say I was, uh, bothered by that?
Next, while I was cooking, I had my sweatshirt stolen. If someone had said, "Hey, it sure is cold today. Can I have that?" I would have given it away in a second...no doubt about it. I have several others and wouldn't miss it.... But, noooooooo, they figured they would head on down to John's Thrift Store, use their Homeless Person Discount, and take what they wanted. It's not like it was 20 degrees outside or anything...as much as I enjoy being cold and shivering like a dying fish, I wasn't into it so much, today.
Before I knew my sweatshirt was gone, though, I stepped outside to have a smoke. While I was there, I looked up and saw a guy sitting on the hood of my car...scratching his crotch. He was just digging way down deep as if it was the most natural thing in the world...like I had parked it there for the sole purpose of letting his dirty ass rest on it.
I told him to get off it...and he did...giving me quite the look. Clearly, I was putting him out.
You know, if I wanted a homeless hood ornament, I would have plowed through the crowd of them on my way in...I would have shouted, "Hey, Itchy! You want a spot on here?"
Silly me for thinking the hood of my car was...a hood...and not Rip Van Winkle's ass cushion.!!!
Then, as I go to leave (by this time I knew my sweatshirt was gone) there is some other guy peeking in the windows of my car.
I started wondering if this happens all day long while I am cooking. Do they peer into the glass like a pervert at a boobie show? Was someone trapped inside and needed help? Did I kill a mormon and throw them in the back seat? What was he looking at?!
So, I asked the guy, "Is there something of yours in there, Buddy?"
Ummm...he pulled out a steak knife and said he was going to kill me...
You know how they say, one bad apple can spoil the whole bunch? Well, I came across nothing but spoiled, smelly, and itchy mormon apples, today.
Now I remember why I don't like people, in general, and want to become a hermit.
As some know, I have been going to help out at the Soup Kitchen in downtown SLC. It has been, in many ways, quite rewarding.
BUT TODAY...was different...oh, the rewards I was given!!!
First, there were rotating shifts of mini mormons running through the kitchen. That alone is enough to drive anyone mad or start banging their head with a pot, but each group had two or three cameras with them to snap shots or take videos...I'm guessing it's in case some Joseph Smith loyalty group comes along and doubts their mormanness. This way, they would have proof of their kindness and a sure ticket to one of their 300 heavens...even if they weren't wearing the holy mormon underwear ( they really have that, you know).
Okay, that was bad, but when they started singing Frosty the Snowman...(sigh)...shall we say I was, uh, bothered by that?
Next, while I was cooking, I had my sweatshirt stolen. If someone had said, "Hey, it sure is cold today. Can I have that?" I would have given it away in a second...no doubt about it. I have several others and wouldn't miss it.... But, noooooooo, they figured they would head on down to John's Thrift Store, use their Homeless Person Discount, and take what they wanted. It's not like it was 20 degrees outside or anything...as much as I enjoy being cold and shivering like a dying fish, I wasn't into it so much, today.
Before I knew my sweatshirt was gone, though, I stepped outside to have a smoke. While I was there, I looked up and saw a guy sitting on the hood of my car...scratching his crotch. He was just digging way down deep as if it was the most natural thing in the world...like I had parked it there for the sole purpose of letting his dirty ass rest on it.
I told him to get off it...and he did...giving me quite the look. Clearly, I was putting him out.
You know, if I wanted a homeless hood ornament, I would have plowed through the crowd of them on my way in...I would have shouted, "Hey, Itchy! You want a spot on here?"
Silly me for thinking the hood of my car was...a hood...and not Rip Van Winkle's ass cushion.!!!
Then, as I go to leave (by this time I knew my sweatshirt was gone) there is some other guy peeking in the windows of my car.
I started wondering if this happens all day long while I am cooking. Do they peer into the glass like a pervert at a boobie show? Was someone trapped inside and needed help? Did I kill a mormon and throw them in the back seat? What was he looking at?!
So, I asked the guy, "Is there something of yours in there, Buddy?"
Ummm...he pulled out a steak knife and said he was going to kill me...
You know how they say, one bad apple can spoil the whole bunch? Well, I came across nothing but spoiled, smelly, and itchy mormon apples, today.
Now I remember why I don't like people, in general, and want to become a hermit.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
The GOP must LOVE Kanye West...
We all remember the emotional mugging of Taylor Swift.
The doll-girl, pure as driven snow and wholesome young princess, accosted by the vile R&B thug named Kanye...and the whole world just watched it happen...the poor, poor dear...would she live? It was pop music's version of a purse-snatching.
Okay, I went a little overboard, but the point of what he did stays the same...he wanted to strip Taylor of recognition, of award. Why do I bring this up?
The GOP is doing the same thing with President Obama.
Somehow, getting the Nobel Peace Prize is a horrible thing. It is a falsity to be gifted only in insult. Rush Limbaugh (the mouthpiece for the GOP), his mindless parrot (Sean Hannity), and Glenn Beck (the crying lunatic) are to the President, what Kanye was to Taylor.
They just want to be mean. They want to cheapen and lessen acknowledgement. Rush said on Friday, "Our President is a joke."
No, Rush, the GOP is the joke.
They are playing some political game of Jenga, removing (instead of wooden blocks) huge sections of decency and credibility. They are after the man and not the what the man stands for...EXACTLY what they decried about Bush's critics.
Like Kanye with President Bush, they say Obama is a racist.
They think, again like Kanye, that a woman (Rep. Pelosi) needs to be put in her place by a man (Gen. McChrystal).
In the eyes of Kanye, the horrors of 9-11 and of Katrina were plots and evil schemes known to President Bush...if not set into motion personally. The GOP sees non-existent layers of Fascist strata, set out with great plan...treachery.
Kanye took the spotlight away from Taylor because he was the one yelling the loudest...making the most noise. Is that not what the GOP is doing? Making noise? Is Michelle Bachmann not doing such when she reads fake letters? Isn't she, with the use of distorted absurdities about "sex clinics" and parental deception, shouting from the stage...or rather, floor of the Senate?
Come on now...at some point people have to understand what is happening.
Even in Jenga, the most novice of players begins to understand there is less and less holding their tower...that at some point it is going to fall.
So, GOP'ers, cheer that we didn't get the Olympics, rage over the fact OUR President was awarded the Peace Prize, and pat yourselves on the back for being so righteous...because...there is, without question, less and less holding up the GOP tower.
The doll-girl, pure as driven snow and wholesome young princess, accosted by the vile R&B thug named Kanye...and the whole world just watched it happen...the poor, poor dear...would she live? It was pop music's version of a purse-snatching.
Okay, I went a little overboard, but the point of what he did stays the same...he wanted to strip Taylor of recognition, of award. Why do I bring this up?
The GOP is doing the same thing with President Obama.
Somehow, getting the Nobel Peace Prize is a horrible thing. It is a falsity to be gifted only in insult. Rush Limbaugh (the mouthpiece for the GOP), his mindless parrot (Sean Hannity), and Glenn Beck (the crying lunatic) are to the President, what Kanye was to Taylor.
They just want to be mean. They want to cheapen and lessen acknowledgement. Rush said on Friday, "Our President is a joke."
No, Rush, the GOP is the joke.
They are playing some political game of Jenga, removing (instead of wooden blocks) huge sections of decency and credibility. They are after the man and not the what the man stands for...EXACTLY what they decried about Bush's critics.
Like Kanye with President Bush, they say Obama is a racist.
They think, again like Kanye, that a woman (Rep. Pelosi) needs to be put in her place by a man (Gen. McChrystal).
In the eyes of Kanye, the horrors of 9-11 and of Katrina were plots and evil schemes known to President Bush...if not set into motion personally. The GOP sees non-existent layers of Fascist strata, set out with great plan...treachery.
Kanye took the spotlight away from Taylor because he was the one yelling the loudest...making the most noise. Is that not what the GOP is doing? Making noise? Is Michelle Bachmann not doing such when she reads fake letters? Isn't she, with the use of distorted absurdities about "sex clinics" and parental deception, shouting from the stage...or rather, floor of the Senate?
Come on now...at some point people have to understand what is happening.
Even in Jenga, the most novice of players begins to understand there is less and less holding their tower...that at some point it is going to fall.
So, GOP'ers, cheer that we didn't get the Olympics, rage over the fact OUR President was awarded the Peace Prize, and pat yourselves on the back for being so righteous...because...there is, without question, less and less holding up the GOP tower.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Maybe we should "Cut and Run."
I am at loss.
The war in Afghanistan is starting to seem pointless.
How does that song go? "One, two, three...what are we fighting for? Don't ask me, I don't give a damn. Next stop is Vietnam..."
Don't get me wrong at all here. September 11th required an answer. It demanded a response which would be felt around the world. The Earth needed to shake at our wrath...without a doubt. If ever there was a just reason for a military strike, it was then.
But...
Haven't we done that? Hasn't enough blood been shed...on both sides?
Are we fighting a war to kill one man...Bin Laden?
From all the reports we see, he isn't in Afghanistan...he's in Pakistan...if he is even alive still.
Here is my fear.
We are now creating generations of children who will have no other goal but to kill Americans. Young people are growing up to know nothing about the US other than we are a country killing their friends and family. Soon, no child will have known any other state of their world than war. Imagine that...your life is nothing but a continuous stream of death...from parents, to uncles, to brothers...They have no perspective of what happened in 2001. It's not as if the Taliban is going to make sure both sides of story are presented.
Think about this for a second...
What if America did some horrible thing...something awful...and we were invaded.
Would we stand back and say, "Yep, we deserve that. Kill whoever you think you need to. We will even hand them over to you."
No, of course not...every man, woman, and child would be doing everything they could to fight back. We would stand up to whatever force it was. We would forget any evil we did and unite to defend our homeland...our homes...our families.
Is that what is happening now in Afghanistan? Are there people who WERE friendly to us, but are now sick of all the fighting...so they join their countrymen? Could that be a reason why things don't seem to be going so swimmingly at the moment?
From before the Romans until now, man has had one thing in common...we are a social creature. We have evolved to be one because it is better for the survival of the species for us to group together...so when a social group/country is being torn apart...what is the natural and human reaction?
...to fight to the death to keep it.
This story will not end well.
The war in Afghanistan is starting to seem pointless.
How does that song go? "One, two, three...what are we fighting for? Don't ask me, I don't give a damn. Next stop is Vietnam..."
Don't get me wrong at all here. September 11th required an answer. It demanded a response which would be felt around the world. The Earth needed to shake at our wrath...without a doubt. If ever there was a just reason for a military strike, it was then.
But...
Haven't we done that? Hasn't enough blood been shed...on both sides?
Are we fighting a war to kill one man...Bin Laden?
From all the reports we see, he isn't in Afghanistan...he's in Pakistan...if he is even alive still.
Here is my fear.
We are now creating generations of children who will have no other goal but to kill Americans. Young people are growing up to know nothing about the US other than we are a country killing their friends and family. Soon, no child will have known any other state of their world than war. Imagine that...your life is nothing but a continuous stream of death...from parents, to uncles, to brothers...They have no perspective of what happened in 2001. It's not as if the Taliban is going to make sure both sides of story are presented.
Think about this for a second...
What if America did some horrible thing...something awful...and we were invaded.
Would we stand back and say, "Yep, we deserve that. Kill whoever you think you need to. We will even hand them over to you."
No, of course not...every man, woman, and child would be doing everything they could to fight back. We would stand up to whatever force it was. We would forget any evil we did and unite to defend our homeland...our homes...our families.
Is that what is happening now in Afghanistan? Are there people who WERE friendly to us, but are now sick of all the fighting...so they join their countrymen? Could that be a reason why things don't seem to be going so swimmingly at the moment?
From before the Romans until now, man has had one thing in common...we are a social creature. We have evolved to be one because it is better for the survival of the species for us to group together...so when a social group/country is being torn apart...what is the natural and human reaction?
...to fight to the death to keep it.
This story will not end well.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Could PETA be what is standing in the way of "Peace in the Middle East?"
I have had a little unwanted, extra time on my hands this week. So, as a way to deal with it, I have been going to the Soup Kitchen a little more (no, I have not seen Rashawn since that one time).
I have, however, been able to speak with some other guys.
Yesterday, I had a little chat with a Vietnam Vet who works at the Kitchen.
Picture an old Tom Hanks in Castaway. See him with almost pure gray hair, grown to its maximum length. Add a beard which puffs out in a waterfall of white and drapes down to the middle of his chest. Make him have a gruff, Wolfman Jack, type voice...and you will have the guy I am talking about.
He told me he had an idea on how to end all conflicts with Muslims and not shed on drop of human blood.
Here is his plan...
Muslims believe pigs, in all the various stages from living, to butchered, to cooked...are things so unclean that a human should never touch, let alone consume. Why? I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with it being an animal which feeds on human garbage...but, I could be wrong.
It is so horrible, this pork, that even sliding a grime-covered finger over it...can result in eternal damnation. ..some sects are more forgiving than others, though, I must add. However, the more forgiving of the branches are usually not the people we have issues with.
Take some crop dusting equipment or fill big AC-130's with tanks that can hold liquid...do you see where he's going with this?
Fly over one of the most fanatical of these nations and spray away...with pig's blood. Coat an entire city...paint the town red with the stuff.
Others will fall in line pretty quickly. The wackos would see this as a horrible outrage, but wouldn't want this done to them, because there is no coming back from it. There aren't enough infidels to kill to erase having your eyes and mouth filled with pigs' blood.
For what it's worth, I think it is interesting.
I say you could take it a step further...
You could drop pig bombs. Kick a few really fat suckers out the back door and watch 'em splat around some boys planting IED's....instead of that cool whistling noise from a dropping bomb, they'd hear some porker squealing as it fell...oh, yeah, that would make 'em think twice.
We could have our guys carry raw chicken and pork when they go into a town. Grab Abdul gently by the hand and take him to some "quiet place." Then, slap him with a chicken breast for a few minutes...just long enough so his face gets all sticky and smelly with that white chicken goo...then...pull out a pork chop. Wave it in front of him and tell him, "This one is going to be dropped down your pants unless you spill the beans, bub"...bye-bye to all those virgins...
We could go a step even further, and use cloned pigs. Most religions believe, for some odd reason, that cloning is evil. Tell Mr. Mohammad we cloned Sally to Sow and he is going to be doused with an even more "evil" cloned pigs' blood from her. Tell him we have 4,ooo Wilber's and we are going to cut their throats and drain them into the city's well, or puddle, or whatever water supply they have...he'd talk.
It's mean...maybe even cruel...but I don't think it is torture. We would be using a culture's superstitions to work against them. It would be no different than a country eating rabbit on Easter.
But...
This would never happen and the reason used for not doing it would indeed be cruelty...to pigs. PETA would bomb research centers and kill scores of scientists...to save some pigs.
Here is a quote from Penn Jillette, "You want passion and truth? Okay...Teller and I would personally kill every chimp in the world, with our bare hands...if it would save one street junkie with AIDS."
While understand the Vet's idea may be naive, it does prove a point and highlight where our values are...or are not.
Hey, PETA, Man comes first.
I have, however, been able to speak with some other guys.
Yesterday, I had a little chat with a Vietnam Vet who works at the Kitchen.
Picture an old Tom Hanks in Castaway. See him with almost pure gray hair, grown to its maximum length. Add a beard which puffs out in a waterfall of white and drapes down to the middle of his chest. Make him have a gruff, Wolfman Jack, type voice...and you will have the guy I am talking about.
He told me he had an idea on how to end all conflicts with Muslims and not shed on drop of human blood.
Here is his plan...
Muslims believe pigs, in all the various stages from living, to butchered, to cooked...are things so unclean that a human should never touch, let alone consume. Why? I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with it being an animal which feeds on human garbage...but, I could be wrong.
It is so horrible, this pork, that even sliding a grime-covered finger over it...can result in eternal damnation. ..some sects are more forgiving than others, though, I must add. However, the more forgiving of the branches are usually not the people we have issues with.
Take some crop dusting equipment or fill big AC-130's with tanks that can hold liquid...do you see where he's going with this?
Fly over one of the most fanatical of these nations and spray away...with pig's blood. Coat an entire city...paint the town red with the stuff.
Others will fall in line pretty quickly. The wackos would see this as a horrible outrage, but wouldn't want this done to them, because there is no coming back from it. There aren't enough infidels to kill to erase having your eyes and mouth filled with pigs' blood.
For what it's worth, I think it is interesting.
I say you could take it a step further...
You could drop pig bombs. Kick a few really fat suckers out the back door and watch 'em splat around some boys planting IED's....instead of that cool whistling noise from a dropping bomb, they'd hear some porker squealing as it fell...oh, yeah, that would make 'em think twice.
We could have our guys carry raw chicken and pork when they go into a town. Grab Abdul gently by the hand and take him to some "quiet place." Then, slap him with a chicken breast for a few minutes...just long enough so his face gets all sticky and smelly with that white chicken goo...then...pull out a pork chop. Wave it in front of him and tell him, "This one is going to be dropped down your pants unless you spill the beans, bub"...bye-bye to all those virgins...
We could go a step even further, and use cloned pigs. Most religions believe, for some odd reason, that cloning is evil. Tell Mr. Mohammad we cloned Sally to Sow and he is going to be doused with an even more "evil" cloned pigs' blood from her. Tell him we have 4,ooo Wilber's and we are going to cut their throats and drain them into the city's well, or puddle, or whatever water supply they have...he'd talk.
It's mean...maybe even cruel...but I don't think it is torture. We would be using a culture's superstitions to work against them. It would be no different than a country eating rabbit on Easter.
But...
This would never happen and the reason used for not doing it would indeed be cruelty...to pigs. PETA would bomb research centers and kill scores of scientists...to save some pigs.
Here is a quote from Penn Jillette, "You want passion and truth? Okay...Teller and I would personally kill every chimp in the world, with our bare hands...if it would save one street junkie with AIDS."
While understand the Vet's idea may be naive, it does prove a point and highlight where our values are...or are not.
Hey, PETA, Man comes first.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Van Jones was not Jim Jones...
I guess America is a little safer today. The sun will shine just right, so no one gets burned, and raindrops will ask permission before they fall on someone. Mice and rabbits can run and play in the open grass without fear hawks will devour them. Dogs will take the day off and not chase cats.
All because...Van Jones is no longer in office.
I feel so much more secure...
Or should I?
Maybe I should be worried.. Maybe I should dread the fact that a person was run out of office because he signed a petition...Maybe I should be afraid that if I think someone is a racist, I will lose my job...
Van Jones thought Glenn Beck went over the top when he said the President doesn't like white people...a fact numerous advertisers agreed with, since they pulled their adds from his show.(How many minorities does Mr. Beck have working for him? Maybe he is racist?)
Van Jones thought there should be further investigations into the 9-11 terror attacks and was then labeled a "9-11 truther." Never mind some polls suggest as many as 30% of the country thinks the same way.
Van Jones, to many, was clearly an extremist because he belonged to a group which supported black activism...how dare a black man do such a thing? The horror!!! It's almost as bad as an anti-abortion person belonging to Focus on the Family...
While I think the 9-11 conspiracy theories (plural--because there are quite a few) are groundless and have been debunked thoroughly, I don't believe the same way Congressman Mike Pence does...
He said, talking about Jones, "His extremist views and coarse rhetoric have no place in this administration or the public debate."
Really? No place in the public debate?
I dare say Mike Pence has no place in Congress.
How many people believe the Earth is only 6,000 yrs old, the Face on Mars is real, watched Oliver Stone's movie and think the Kennedy assassination was government plot, the Branch Davidians were burned alive by federal agents, FEMA camps are being set up, the media's details of the Columbine shootings, the Moon Landing Hoax, aliens crashed at Roswell and are being stored at Area 51...should I go on?
All of those are absurd and have been debunked...yet, people believe and speak about them on a daily basis. However, they are no more absurd than what Van Jones was said to believe....we shall pretend he never came out against the 9-11 truther movement when asked.
I don't know which is more crazy, thinking the government had something to do with 9-11 or waterboarding a single prisoner 183 times...they both seem out there, but only one of them really happened.
No matter what Glenn Beck's chalkboard shows, Van Jones is not evil. His ideas may be odd, but it doesn't mean he uses a Ouija board or consults the dead to make sure the country in more "green."
What did Voltaire say? "I disagree with every word you say, but I will fight to the death your right to say it."
I guess Rep. Pence found the rest of the quote...
"...unless you use coarse rhetoric and have extremist beliefs."
Mike Pence is a disgrace to the Congress, to his voters...and to America.
All because...Van Jones is no longer in office.
I feel so much more secure...
Or should I?
Maybe I should be worried.. Maybe I should dread the fact that a person was run out of office because he signed a petition...Maybe I should be afraid that if I think someone is a racist, I will lose my job...
Van Jones thought Glenn Beck went over the top when he said the President doesn't like white people...a fact numerous advertisers agreed with, since they pulled their adds from his show.(How many minorities does Mr. Beck have working for him? Maybe he is racist?)
Van Jones thought there should be further investigations into the 9-11 terror attacks and was then labeled a "9-11 truther." Never mind some polls suggest as many as 30% of the country thinks the same way.
Van Jones, to many, was clearly an extremist because he belonged to a group which supported black activism...how dare a black man do such a thing? The horror!!! It's almost as bad as an anti-abortion person belonging to Focus on the Family...
While I think the 9-11 conspiracy theories (plural--because there are quite a few) are groundless and have been debunked thoroughly, I don't believe the same way Congressman Mike Pence does...
He said, talking about Jones, "His extremist views and coarse rhetoric have no place in this administration or the public debate."
Really? No place in the public debate?
I dare say Mike Pence has no place in Congress.
How many people believe the Earth is only 6,000 yrs old, the Face on Mars is real, watched Oliver Stone's movie and think the Kennedy assassination was government plot, the Branch Davidians were burned alive by federal agents, FEMA camps are being set up, the media's details of the Columbine shootings, the Moon Landing Hoax, aliens crashed at Roswell and are being stored at Area 51...should I go on?
All of those are absurd and have been debunked...yet, people believe and speak about them on a daily basis. However, they are no more absurd than what Van Jones was said to believe....we shall pretend he never came out against the 9-11 truther movement when asked.
I don't know which is more crazy, thinking the government had something to do with 9-11 or waterboarding a single prisoner 183 times...they both seem out there, but only one of them really happened.
No matter what Glenn Beck's chalkboard shows, Van Jones is not evil. His ideas may be odd, but it doesn't mean he uses a Ouija board or consults the dead to make sure the country in more "green."
What did Voltaire say? "I disagree with every word you say, but I will fight to the death your right to say it."
I guess Rep. Pence found the rest of the quote...
"...unless you use coarse rhetoric and have extremist beliefs."
Mike Pence is a disgrace to the Congress, to his voters...and to America.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
A cold day...
Walking out the door this morning, I was greeted by a chilly breeze and thin icy raindrops. I was on my way to do some early morning community service. I chose to go to St. Vincent's, a homeless shelter/soup kitchen, in downtown SLC.
Shutting the car door, I turned up the heater and lit a smoke. I couldn't believe how cool it was...
Little did I know, Reality was about to swiftly and smartly kick me between the legs.
I had been to this place before to help out and so it wasn't a shock to see the scores of people huddled in doorways or leaning against the building to keep dry.
It is what people do when they don't want to get rained on, right?
After I had been there a couple hours and breakfast was almost ready to be served, I went around back to grab a few quick puffs.
That is when I met Rashawn.
Rashawn came over to me and asked if he could buy 2 cigarettes (the bus stop and day labor going rate is 25 cents each). By the looks of him, I was quite sure he didn't have the half buck and if he did...he needed it worse than me.
I just gave him two.
He's a handsome guy and close to my height. He is white, but his face held a leathered and tanned quality. He looked like, at one time, he had been very fit, athletic. Maybe tennis had been his game...
But that was in the past...not now.
Even with the soaked sweatshirt he was wearing, I could tell he only weighed about 130lbs.
He wasn't much more than a frame of a man.
I asked him how he got this place...to this point in his life...
...it broke my heart...
Rashawn was an out-of-state college student living in Utah. He had a major in computer science and, as he said, a reasonably good GPA (by the way he spoke, I believe him). He was working at a fine dining restaurant and it paid just well enough for him to afford a place of his own.
Life was clicking along quite fine. He had his future set, he had plans, goals...
One day, the restaurant closed down and he was without work.
The little money he had quickly ran out and he couldn't pay his rent. Soon, he was evicted. He had nowhere to go and in the embarrassing rush to get out, he forgot to grab a folder which had his ID, Social Security Card, and Birth Certificate...by the time he remembered and came back to get them, they were in trash bag headed for the city dump.
That was two years ago.
Sitting there, listening to his story and fighting back tears, I felt ashamed of myself.
I was cold.
How dare I be cold? How can I even think such a thing? Rashawn's life is cold...and it isn't even winter yet. This guy has no family, no home...and I'm cold.
I felt like such an ass.
I needed to get back to help finish breakfast, but before I went in, I handed him two more smokes...I didn't know what else I could do...what do you offer a person with nothing?
Before I walked inside, he looked at me with huge forlorn tears in his eyes and said, "You know, I can work almost any job. I want to work. I just can't, because I don't have anything to prove who I am. No one will hire me."
I shut the door and walked inside, warming instantly...and hated myself for it.
Shutting the car door, I turned up the heater and lit a smoke. I couldn't believe how cool it was...
Little did I know, Reality was about to swiftly and smartly kick me between the legs.
I had been to this place before to help out and so it wasn't a shock to see the scores of people huddled in doorways or leaning against the building to keep dry.
It is what people do when they don't want to get rained on, right?
After I had been there a couple hours and breakfast was almost ready to be served, I went around back to grab a few quick puffs.
That is when I met Rashawn.
Rashawn came over to me and asked if he could buy 2 cigarettes (the bus stop and day labor going rate is 25 cents each). By the looks of him, I was quite sure he didn't have the half buck and if he did...he needed it worse than me.
I just gave him two.
He's a handsome guy and close to my height. He is white, but his face held a leathered and tanned quality. He looked like, at one time, he had been very fit, athletic. Maybe tennis had been his game...
But that was in the past...not now.
Even with the soaked sweatshirt he was wearing, I could tell he only weighed about 130lbs.
He wasn't much more than a frame of a man.
I asked him how he got this place...to this point in his life...
...it broke my heart...
Rashawn was an out-of-state college student living in Utah. He had a major in computer science and, as he said, a reasonably good GPA (by the way he spoke, I believe him). He was working at a fine dining restaurant and it paid just well enough for him to afford a place of his own.
Life was clicking along quite fine. He had his future set, he had plans, goals...
One day, the restaurant closed down and he was without work.
The little money he had quickly ran out and he couldn't pay his rent. Soon, he was evicted. He had nowhere to go and in the embarrassing rush to get out, he forgot to grab a folder which had his ID, Social Security Card, and Birth Certificate...by the time he remembered and came back to get them, they were in trash bag headed for the city dump.
That was two years ago.
Sitting there, listening to his story and fighting back tears, I felt ashamed of myself.
I was cold.
How dare I be cold? How can I even think such a thing? Rashawn's life is cold...and it isn't even winter yet. This guy has no family, no home...and I'm cold.
I felt like such an ass.
I needed to get back to help finish breakfast, but before I went in, I handed him two more smokes...I didn't know what else I could do...what do you offer a person with nothing?
Before I walked inside, he looked at me with huge forlorn tears in his eyes and said, "You know, I can work almost any job. I want to work. I just can't, because I don't have anything to prove who I am. No one will hire me."
I shut the door and walked inside, warming instantly...and hated myself for it.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Fluorescent Light Tuna
Okay, now I'm all for doing things safely.
I make sure I don't play Marco Polo on the interstate. I try not to blow dry my hair or toast some bread while in the shower. I even try (notice "try") to chew my food before swallowing...it just depends on how hungry I am. Hell, I even gave up my dreams of having a juggling chainsaw routine, all in the name of being safe....that's how safe I am.
But really now...
The new light bulb hysteria is just stupid.
There are people out there who seem to think there is this GIGANTIC hazard when a compact fluorescent light bulb (I'm going with CFL from now on) falls to the floor and breaks...because...they contain....are you ready for this....brace yourself....MERCURY!
(dramatic music crescendos and a track of people gasping should be inserted here)
Yes, it's not happiest of elements and in 7th grade it probably wasn't the smartest thing in world for me and Mike Charles to break an old thermometer so we could goo the stuff around like a big silver booger...no matter how cool it was (but, let me tell you, it was really cool).
It goes back to common sense...again.
How bad can these things really be, honestly? Think about it for a minute.
Are CFL's the only product on Earth which don't break from time to time during shipping?
What happens when Walmart's Joe Truck Driver hits a bump and a case goes crashing to the floor? Is HAZMAT called to rush Joe into quarantine and hose down the rig by guys in super-size space suits? I would think that might make the local news if it happened.
What does a store do when some little cowboy goes woo-hooing and yee-hawing through Home Depot and crashes his younger brother into a display case full of these bad boys? Does the store get shut down and terror alert level goes to a flashing neon red?
Of course not.
The mess is swept up and the world turns...with some little cowboy getting an ass-whipping when he gets home.
So, I am going to do an experiment. I am going to prove CFL's are not mini-Chernobyls, rather light bulbs.
I am going to break one (maybe two or three) of these CFL's...but....to make it better and before you call the SLC PD on me, I am going to get REALLY dangerous. After it breaks I am going to stand in the middle of this fuming toxic pile while eating a can of tuna (that should be enough mercury to kill me for sure, right? Or least give me a big metallic blister, huh?). I may even put my head against a running microwave, talk on my cell phone, all with my laptop running...has anyone done anything so daring?
I am quite sure all that will happen is, I will get yelled at for making a mess.
However, if I die or grown an extra thumb, I will give everyone who reads this $1000.
I make sure I don't play Marco Polo on the interstate. I try not to blow dry my hair or toast some bread while in the shower. I even try (notice "try") to chew my food before swallowing...it just depends on how hungry I am. Hell, I even gave up my dreams of having a juggling chainsaw routine, all in the name of being safe....that's how safe I am.
But really now...
The new light bulb hysteria is just stupid.
There are people out there who seem to think there is this GIGANTIC hazard when a compact fluorescent light bulb (I'm going with CFL from now on) falls to the floor and breaks...because...they contain....are you ready for this....brace yourself....MERCURY!
(dramatic music crescendos and a track of people gasping should be inserted here)
Yes, it's not happiest of elements and in 7th grade it probably wasn't the smartest thing in world for me and Mike Charles to break an old thermometer so we could goo the stuff around like a big silver booger...no matter how cool it was (but, let me tell you, it was really cool).
It goes back to common sense...again.
How bad can these things really be, honestly? Think about it for a minute.
Are CFL's the only product on Earth which don't break from time to time during shipping?
What happens when Walmart's Joe Truck Driver hits a bump and a case goes crashing to the floor? Is HAZMAT called to rush Joe into quarantine and hose down the rig by guys in super-size space suits? I would think that might make the local news if it happened.
What does a store do when some little cowboy goes woo-hooing and yee-hawing through Home Depot and crashes his younger brother into a display case full of these bad boys? Does the store get shut down and terror alert level goes to a flashing neon red?
Of course not.
The mess is swept up and the world turns...with some little cowboy getting an ass-whipping when he gets home.
So, I am going to do an experiment. I am going to prove CFL's are not mini-Chernobyls, rather light bulbs.
I am going to break one (maybe two or three) of these CFL's...but....to make it better and before you call the SLC PD on me, I am going to get REALLY dangerous. After it breaks I am going to stand in the middle of this fuming toxic pile while eating a can of tuna (that should be enough mercury to kill me for sure, right? Or least give me a big metallic blister, huh?). I may even put my head against a running microwave, talk on my cell phone, all with my laptop running...has anyone done anything so daring?
I am quite sure all that will happen is, I will get yelled at for making a mess.
However, if I die or grown an extra thumb, I will give everyone who reads this $1000.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Never can say goodbye...
Even on my days off, I tend to get up quite early. It is in these still dark and silent world moments, I have found it is often the best time to write...to express true thoughts. The day has not clouded my mind with tedious remembrances or forced me to realize I am getting another day older...that I have wasted another chance at being a better man.
But when I woke up this morning, something was off and I couldn't tell what it was...
Did I miss work? Did I say something to somebody I shouldn't have? Did I forget something?
That was it...I forgot...
I forgot a true legend of my generation died. For a moment, I lost track that a man who consumed so many people during my childhood, was no more.
I never thought I would be upset or near tears over the death of a celebrity (other than Ronald Reagan), but I find myself more bothered by his death today than only a few hours ago. I wouldn't go so far as to say I am heart stricken, but what I am feeling is something of a first cousin to it. But why? What did I really lose?
I am glad (very selfishly) to see my dear friend Beth feels the same way I do, and it is only because of her warm-hearted and endearing posts I feel free to write this. She may be the most honest person I have ever known...
My father told me that when Elvis died, he was in grief for weeks. He was truly torn-up by the loss. Elvis was someone he listened to growing up and it was like he had lost a friend...
Could it be the same with me? Was MJ my version of Elvis only I didn't realize it?
Maybe it is a "guy thing" or another stupid idea of the sort, but it seems almost silly to cry for him...why should I? I am not a child any longer and I should, by now, understand loss is something which happens. I didn't know him. I didn't go to single concert. And I wasn't a big collector of his albums (even back when they really were albums). Yet at the same time, I feel, for me to NOT shed some tears for MJ is dishonoring what he meant to me.
He, or rather his music, was there when I was down. He was someone I could turn to, like an ever faithful friend... He was able to express loss, love, and affection to or for someone when I didn't have the words...only emotion. Just watching the man dance was enough to make me smile...if even for a little bit.
I'd put on some of those big muffy headphones, holding them tight to my ears. I could practice my moonwalking in socks over a tile floor and vain myself into thinking I was getting pretty good at it. All the while he'd sing a private concert for as long as I wanted, chiming out the same song over and over, each time with just as much energy and strength in voice...never tiring...for me...until I had my fill. I would listen and feel better or braver, then put it away...able to come back to it when I chose. But when I did, maybe even months later, he would be there again...for me. Isn't that friendship? Loyalty?
I am quite sure it is.
So, today, I no longer grieve over the death of the King of Pop, rather my friend, Michael.
R.I.P.
But when I woke up this morning, something was off and I couldn't tell what it was...
Did I miss work? Did I say something to somebody I shouldn't have? Did I forget something?
That was it...I forgot...
I forgot a true legend of my generation died. For a moment, I lost track that a man who consumed so many people during my childhood, was no more.
I never thought I would be upset or near tears over the death of a celebrity (other than Ronald Reagan), but I find myself more bothered by his death today than only a few hours ago. I wouldn't go so far as to say I am heart stricken, but what I am feeling is something of a first cousin to it. But why? What did I really lose?
I am glad (very selfishly) to see my dear friend Beth feels the same way I do, and it is only because of her warm-hearted and endearing posts I feel free to write this. She may be the most honest person I have ever known...
My father told me that when Elvis died, he was in grief for weeks. He was truly torn-up by the loss. Elvis was someone he listened to growing up and it was like he had lost a friend...
Could it be the same with me? Was MJ my version of Elvis only I didn't realize it?
Maybe it is a "guy thing" or another stupid idea of the sort, but it seems almost silly to cry for him...why should I? I am not a child any longer and I should, by now, understand loss is something which happens. I didn't know him. I didn't go to single concert. And I wasn't a big collector of his albums (even back when they really were albums). Yet at the same time, I feel, for me to NOT shed some tears for MJ is dishonoring what he meant to me.
He, or rather his music, was there when I was down. He was someone I could turn to, like an ever faithful friend... He was able to express loss, love, and affection to or for someone when I didn't have the words...only emotion. Just watching the man dance was enough to make me smile...if even for a little bit.
I'd put on some of those big muffy headphones, holding them tight to my ears. I could practice my moonwalking in socks over a tile floor and vain myself into thinking I was getting pretty good at it. All the while he'd sing a private concert for as long as I wanted, chiming out the same song over and over, each time with just as much energy and strength in voice...never tiring...for me...until I had my fill. I would listen and feel better or braver, then put it away...able to come back to it when I chose. But when I did, maybe even months later, he would be there again...for me. Isn't that friendship? Loyalty?
I am quite sure it is.
So, today, I no longer grieve over the death of the King of Pop, rather my friend, Michael.
R.I.P.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Michael Jackson suffers no more...
Time to vent...
I am sad Michael Jackson died. I really am...but what I am more saddened by, is the soon to come and simple-minded, ever so shallow, comments about his personal life.
Without question, we all know he was strange...a bizarre personality...but aren't we all? What would the world think of us, if we had all the money in the world and could spend it on every desire? What would our homes look like and how big would they be if we could make them into our only place of solace and peace?
The guy built a Ferris Wheel in his back yard and had a petting zoo...so?
Hell, I'd probably have a wax museum and fish tank the size of the Red Sea if I could.
So the guy had a lot of surgery on his face...and?
He wanted to look a certain way and had the money to do it. We say nothing when a woman gets a chest full of saline bags so she feels better about herself. We don't mind it when Jabba the Hut gets Richard Simmons to help him out...
OUR desires and, more importantly, actions are governed and monitored by the money we have to spend not our self control...
I also tire, bore, with the endless and pathetic one-liners on his trial and.........DROPPED CHARGES and ACQUITTAL.
Oh, yeah, we almost forget he was found "not-guilty." Or do we? It is much more fun, much easier, to just think he was "toucher," isn't it?
What I love (not really) is the double standard many "Christians" have when it comes to Michael Jackson. What happened to the line some famous guy named Jesus...and pretty important, if I remember correctly....said? Wasn't the quote," Give unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's?"
Something tells me Jesus wasn't just talking about paying the extra 2 cents in tax on a bottle of Mountain Dew. It has a much deeper call that we often forget...
Michael Jackson faced Caesar (the State of California) and was found not to be guilty of the crimes....according to Jesus...that should be the end of it. If there is something else to answer for...I'm pretty sure God can handle the rest.
What happened to the Christian principle of "Love thy neighbor?"
Did Jesus add a footnote to that and I missed it in Sunday School? Did he say, "Love thy neighbor...unless it is Michael Jackson. Then you can bust on him all day long?"
Which virtue does stigmatizing falling into...I don't know if Paul was real clear on that?
Michael Jackson sought to change the world (how many of us have even thought of doing something so large?) and in many ways did. I am not saying he was altruistic, because I would never say such a thing. However, I do think he had a good heart....and a broken one.
The King should be remembered for his actions, deeds, and music...not what he didn't do, not what people want to believe he did.
I would hate to go through life, through history, being remembered for things I was only accused of...it is a wrong no one should have to face or bare...even in death.
R.I.P. MJ
I am sad Michael Jackson died. I really am...but what I am more saddened by, is the soon to come and simple-minded, ever so shallow, comments about his personal life.
Without question, we all know he was strange...a bizarre personality...but aren't we all? What would the world think of us, if we had all the money in the world and could spend it on every desire? What would our homes look like and how big would they be if we could make them into our only place of solace and peace?
The guy built a Ferris Wheel in his back yard and had a petting zoo...so?
Hell, I'd probably have a wax museum and fish tank the size of the Red Sea if I could.
So the guy had a lot of surgery on his face...and?
He wanted to look a certain way and had the money to do it. We say nothing when a woman gets a chest full of saline bags so she feels better about herself. We don't mind it when Jabba the Hut gets Richard Simmons to help him out...
OUR desires and, more importantly, actions are governed and monitored by the money we have to spend not our self control...
I also tire, bore, with the endless and pathetic one-liners on his trial and.........DROPPED CHARGES and ACQUITTAL.
Oh, yeah, we almost forget he was found "not-guilty." Or do we? It is much more fun, much easier, to just think he was "toucher," isn't it?
What I love (not really) is the double standard many "Christians" have when it comes to Michael Jackson. What happened to the line some famous guy named Jesus...and pretty important, if I remember correctly....said? Wasn't the quote," Give unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's?"
Something tells me Jesus wasn't just talking about paying the extra 2 cents in tax on a bottle of Mountain Dew. It has a much deeper call that we often forget...
Michael Jackson faced Caesar (the State of California) and was found not to be guilty of the crimes....according to Jesus...that should be the end of it. If there is something else to answer for...I'm pretty sure God can handle the rest.
What happened to the Christian principle of "Love thy neighbor?"
Did Jesus add a footnote to that and I missed it in Sunday School? Did he say, "Love thy neighbor...unless it is Michael Jackson. Then you can bust on him all day long?"
Which virtue does stigmatizing falling into...I don't know if Paul was real clear on that?
Michael Jackson sought to change the world (how many of us have even thought of doing something so large?) and in many ways did. I am not saying he was altruistic, because I would never say such a thing. However, I do think he had a good heart....and a broken one.
The King should be remembered for his actions, deeds, and music...not what he didn't do, not what people want to believe he did.
I would hate to go through life, through history, being remembered for things I was only accused of...it is a wrong no one should have to face or bare...even in death.
R.I.P. MJ
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
This afternoon at Walmart...
I had the truest of joys in meeting Henry and Sandra today.
Henry was training Sandra on how to run the cash register...the "20 items or less, express lane"...and the only lane which sold cigarettes.
I am guessing one of two things (both may be true, honestly). Only people who don't know how to count use this lane...or...they only hire people who don't know how to count to work this lane.
So, after watching 4 people unload their carts full of animal dotted underwear and scented trash bin liners...and not buying any cigarettes... I stepped up to the counter.
I said, "A pack of Camel Filters, please."
Sandra stutter-stepped, as she realized she would have to move two feet from the safety of the register and go fetch my smokes.
Henry followed her, being the dutiful "customer service TRAINER."
She asked, looking at Henry, "What kind did you want, again? Camels?"
"Camel Filters." I said, talking to her back.
Okay, now I understand the whole world doesn't have the same great taste I do and may smoke something else, or even (gasp) not smoke at all...but still.
You would have thought these two were looking for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I watched them go past the Camels, maybe, six times before I had to help them out. Really, how hard was this treasure hunt?
"By your right hand. There they are." I was really quite nice with my tone.
Sandra moved to her left...
I sighed. Very quickly, I was no longer happy with her...it's those little things, you know?
"No, the other way. That is your right."
Sandra turned, scowling at me like I slapped her ass. But what was I supposed to say? She was moving the wrong way. If she kept going much further she would have been in the pharmacy.
I said nothing, only pointed to my cigarettes with my eyes, hinting the best course of action would be to turn back to hunt for my smokes.
In a very dry tone, I said, "They are the pack with the big camel on the front of them. It also has CAMEL written in blue."
Finally, after conferencing with Henry (not me) if those were indeed the right pack, she brought them back to the register.
As she scanned them, it beeped for my ID and I handed it over(want to make sure I am not some really mature 15 yr old, I guess).
This is where Henry and I no longer became friends.
He went on to explain to Sandy (I can call her that, can't I?) how important it was to check every person's ID. It didn't matter if they were 90 (yes, he said this). Even if it is your granny, check her ID every time (yes, he said this too).
Before I knew it, I said, "That's just absurd."
Henry was shocked, but before he could list statutes or codified Walmart policy...I put up my hand. Just give me my smokes.
The fat guy behind me wasn't speeding the process up, either. He kept reassuring Sandra (I like that better) how he was almost busted once too and how I may be part of some sting...hahaha...yeah, that's me alright...Officer John.
Here is the thing. Sandy will go by this as though God or, in her case, Joseph Smith wrote it as the 11th commandment.
I know she has to be careful to mind who she sells what to...but there has to be a limit. I understand, if little Timmy comes along with a Sharpie beard scribbled across his face, that is one thing. Or even the construction worker with some gray in his beard...I can live with that (sort of)...but, let's say Barbara Bush walked in...Henry would think he should card her...and, now, so does Sandra.
Do they get an "I card old ladies" sticker for their name tag?
What happened to common sense? Where did it go?
...certainly not to Walmart.
Henry was training Sandra on how to run the cash register...the "20 items or less, express lane"...and the only lane which sold cigarettes.
I am guessing one of two things (both may be true, honestly). Only people who don't know how to count use this lane...or...they only hire people who don't know how to count to work this lane.
So, after watching 4 people unload their carts full of animal dotted underwear and scented trash bin liners...and not buying any cigarettes... I stepped up to the counter.
I said, "A pack of Camel Filters, please."
Sandra stutter-stepped, as she realized she would have to move two feet from the safety of the register and go fetch my smokes.
Henry followed her, being the dutiful "customer service TRAINER."
She asked, looking at Henry, "What kind did you want, again? Camels?"
"Camel Filters." I said, talking to her back.
Okay, now I understand the whole world doesn't have the same great taste I do and may smoke something else, or even (gasp) not smoke at all...but still.
You would have thought these two were looking for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I watched them go past the Camels, maybe, six times before I had to help them out. Really, how hard was this treasure hunt?
"By your right hand. There they are." I was really quite nice with my tone.
Sandra moved to her left...
I sighed. Very quickly, I was no longer happy with her...it's those little things, you know?
"No, the other way. That is your right."
Sandra turned, scowling at me like I slapped her ass. But what was I supposed to say? She was moving the wrong way. If she kept going much further she would have been in the pharmacy.
I said nothing, only pointed to my cigarettes with my eyes, hinting the best course of action would be to turn back to hunt for my smokes.
In a very dry tone, I said, "They are the pack with the big camel on the front of them. It also has CAMEL written in blue."
Finally, after conferencing with Henry (not me) if those were indeed the right pack, she brought them back to the register.
As she scanned them, it beeped for my ID and I handed it over(want to make sure I am not some really mature 15 yr old, I guess).
This is where Henry and I no longer became friends.
He went on to explain to Sandy (I can call her that, can't I?) how important it was to check every person's ID. It didn't matter if they were 90 (yes, he said this). Even if it is your granny, check her ID every time (yes, he said this too).
Before I knew it, I said, "That's just absurd."
Henry was shocked, but before he could list statutes or codified Walmart policy...I put up my hand. Just give me my smokes.
The fat guy behind me wasn't speeding the process up, either. He kept reassuring Sandra (I like that better) how he was almost busted once too and how I may be part of some sting...hahaha...yeah, that's me alright...Officer John.
Here is the thing. Sandy will go by this as though God or, in her case, Joseph Smith wrote it as the 11th commandment.
I know she has to be careful to mind who she sells what to...but there has to be a limit. I understand, if little Timmy comes along with a Sharpie beard scribbled across his face, that is one thing. Or even the construction worker with some gray in his beard...I can live with that (sort of)...but, let's say Barbara Bush walked in...Henry would think he should card her...and, now, so does Sandra.
Do they get an "I card old ladies" sticker for their name tag?
What happened to common sense? Where did it go?
...certainly not to Walmart.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
My ex-wife made Youtube...
If Al Gore invented the Internet, then I am quite sure my ex-wife created or had something to do with the creation of YouTube.
Only my ex-wife could create a place where the strangest of ideas could be set out for everyone to see and where I am always wrong or mean when offering contradictions.
For instance...
I have learned that "Reptilian" aliens not only exist, but they come in the form of a red-headed androgynous person (woman? I really have no idea).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XH1saCG7ZT4
They also come in more common yet notable forms...like Bill Clinton, George H. W. Bush, and the Queen of England.
I see that there are "Grey" or "Gray" (not sure which way that is spelled) aliens who have nothing better to do than peek through windows in the middle of the night or stand in the background as George W. gives speeches.
I have learned there is a face on Mars, the Moon, Venus, and me.
I now know we should worry about the Illuminati, a secret group of people who sit around in pentangular offices, consulting Ouija boards, and plotting the demise of mankind...and have been doing so for hundreds of years (should we really worry too much if it has taken them this long? And we thought the US government worked slowly)
I discovered that the Matrix is real.
I have also learned that if I step on my pet lion's foot...he will bite me. (really funny)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUnJNxZWE1M
I know I can surf behind a Great White shark.
I was shocked to find out the Earth is hollow and has giant holes at the north and south poles.
I found out everything the Bible taught me was wrong (or right, depending on which video you watch).
I saw people will happily sign a petition to ban dihydrogen monoxide....(H2O).
I have learned David Icke is Jesus...then, he isn't.
I saw "evidence" that Tupac is still alive and the world will end in 2004....no, 2007....no, now it is 2012.
Only my ex-wife could come up with ideas like these...right?
There can't be that many nut cases out there, can there?
You see, we worry about the "Big Stuff" all the time, like taxes and the war...but, unless it is just one psycho tramp (my ex-wife) making all of this stuff up...we have a much bigger issue.
People say, "Don't sweat the small stuff."
I don't think that statement could be more wrong.
I say, sweat the small stuff. The small stuff is what makes ideas turn into movements and movements into crusades.
There is not only an assault on Science going on, now, there is an assault on Reason.
It is tiny grains of sand which will one day weather the Sphinx away...and it is little crazy ideas which will do the same to us if they are not shown to be foolish.
Only my ex-wife could create a place where the strangest of ideas could be set out for everyone to see and where I am always wrong or mean when offering contradictions.
For instance...
I have learned that "Reptilian" aliens not only exist, but they come in the form of a red-headed androgynous person (woman? I really have no idea).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XH1saCG7ZT4
They also come in more common yet notable forms...like Bill Clinton, George H. W. Bush, and the Queen of England.
I see that there are "Grey" or "Gray" (not sure which way that is spelled) aliens who have nothing better to do than peek through windows in the middle of the night or stand in the background as George W. gives speeches.
I have learned there is a face on Mars, the Moon, Venus, and me.
I now know we should worry about the Illuminati, a secret group of people who sit around in pentangular offices, consulting Ouija boards, and plotting the demise of mankind...and have been doing so for hundreds of years (should we really worry too much if it has taken them this long? And we thought the US government worked slowly)
I discovered that the Matrix is real.
I have also learned that if I step on my pet lion's foot...he will bite me. (really funny)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUnJNxZWE1M
I know I can surf behind a Great White shark.
I was shocked to find out the Earth is hollow and has giant holes at the north and south poles.
I found out everything the Bible taught me was wrong (or right, depending on which video you watch).
I saw people will happily sign a petition to ban dihydrogen monoxide....(H2O).
I have learned David Icke is Jesus...then, he isn't.
I saw "evidence" that Tupac is still alive and the world will end in 2004....no, 2007....no, now it is 2012.
Only my ex-wife could come up with ideas like these...right?
There can't be that many nut cases out there, can there?
You see, we worry about the "Big Stuff" all the time, like taxes and the war...but, unless it is just one psycho tramp (my ex-wife) making all of this stuff up...we have a much bigger issue.
People say, "Don't sweat the small stuff."
I don't think that statement could be more wrong.
I say, sweat the small stuff. The small stuff is what makes ideas turn into movements and movements into crusades.
There is not only an assault on Science going on, now, there is an assault on Reason.
It is tiny grains of sand which will one day weather the Sphinx away...and it is little crazy ideas which will do the same to us if they are not shown to be foolish.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
I litter for the sake of history...
We need to be more like those Indians (sorry, native americans), don't we?
Those fellas were so good to the earth and at one with nature (whatever that means).
Were they?
Tell me this.
If these guys were soooooooo freakin' good about making sure Mother Earth was left the same way as they found it, then why do we keep finding all their broken and used crap everywhere we dig?
Something tells me there was no Chief Keepurpantson following them everywhere they went to make sure everything was picked up. I find it hard to believe the Indians (native americans, sorry...again) had the time to worry about whether their broken pot was biodegradable or whether the scented papoose paper they used on their little ones would float down stream and choke some dog drinking from the river.
Nope, the Indians (native americans, Sorry!) were very practical.
If they had to pee, they walked behind a tree and peed. If they had to take a dump, they squatted where they were and dropped a load...maybe kicking some dirt over it.
If a pot was broken...it was broken. They tossed it into a bush or just left it where it was.
If I do what they did...following by example...I'm a litter bug.
What were they?!
Over the hundreds of years since Brave One Feather tossed his first broken pot down a hillside unto today, their junk has become our treasure. Had they not done things like that, people like Indiana Jones would not have jobs.
So, this is my reasoning...
I will continue to litter...but...I am now doing so with a purpose.
I am making an investment into some future soul's profession. Hundreds of years from now, some cyborg archaeologist will find my junk, my litter...and it will make him rich.
You are welcome Mr. Cyborg Archaeologist...I got your back!
Those fellas were so good to the earth and at one with nature (whatever that means).
Were they?
Tell me this.
If these guys were soooooooo freakin' good about making sure Mother Earth was left the same way as they found it, then why do we keep finding all their broken and used crap everywhere we dig?
Something tells me there was no Chief Keepurpantson following them everywhere they went to make sure everything was picked up. I find it hard to believe the Indians (native americans, sorry...again) had the time to worry about whether their broken pot was biodegradable or whether the scented papoose paper they used on their little ones would float down stream and choke some dog drinking from the river.
Nope, the Indians (native americans, Sorry!) were very practical.
If they had to pee, they walked behind a tree and peed. If they had to take a dump, they squatted where they were and dropped a load...maybe kicking some dirt over it.
If a pot was broken...it was broken. They tossed it into a bush or just left it where it was.
If I do what they did...following by example...I'm a litter bug.
What were they?!
Over the hundreds of years since Brave One Feather tossed his first broken pot down a hillside unto today, their junk has become our treasure. Had they not done things like that, people like Indiana Jones would not have jobs.
So, this is my reasoning...
I will continue to litter...but...I am now doing so with a purpose.
I am making an investment into some future soul's profession. Hundreds of years from now, some cyborg archaeologist will find my junk, my litter...and it will make him rich.
You are welcome Mr. Cyborg Archaeologist...I got your back!
Shouldn't we be rude at times?
Maybe it is just me and the curtish way I tend to go about things, but I think being rude is necessary at times.
Yes, I have an example.
Maybe a year or so ago, I went to pay my cell phone bill. For whatever reason, I chose to pay it in the local office.
People think the Post Office is an awful place to wait in line...no, no...try waiting to pay your bill in a room full of people pretending to be interested in buying the latest phone, knowing they only have $25 bucks to spend...it's a hell dreamed up by Spanish Inquisitors.
So, there I was, just off work and not wanting to be bothered. When I walk in, what do I see?
There is this beast of a man ( clearly a customer) sitting at the counter yapping away to the clerk who is trying help some non-English speaking couple understand why their 32 crumpled dollars isn't enough to pay the $75 bill they have.
Beast Man has, spread out in front of him, his Subway paper "plate" which is erupting lettuce and olives and only Lord knows what else onto the counter. He has a stool pulled up to the small customer service area and has not a single care in the world.
He was having such a good time...
Apparently, he seemed to think the clerk (certified customer service specialist) was really listening to him. At first, I was somewhat amused. Then, I realized I would soon...if God is good...move up in line and pay my bill...but, I would have to pass Beast Man.
As I aged slowly and the couple left, not sure why the man wouldn't take their money, I eventually moved closer.
Beast Man turned and looked at me.
"Just get off work?" He asked, quite innocently.
I nodded. (For reference, my job is not the cleanest of occupations. This day was one where I had been soaked from a broken water pipe and I was covered in mud...on top of that, I was still wearing my hard hat and vest)...I knew at once, this guy was a real sharp one.
"Long day?" He asked.
"Yep," I said. "And it seems to be getting even longer."
Beasty had no idea I was referring to him and laughed heavily. The crumbs resting on his breasts puffed in the air like dandruff. I knew, without looking, mayo or oil or goo would be slather all over his chin and poking out the corners of his mouth...I was right.
"So what do you do?"
I sighed, "I wait in line at stores for a living." What do I do? I am covered in mud and soaked...what kind of question is that?
As I moved ahead in line and finally got to the counter, he had asked if I was married, what city I lived in, and several other "how's the weather" type questions.
In a moment of timing military sharp-shooters lust for, a surplus (it seemed like half a head) of lettuce fell from his dining area and onto my boot...just as I stepped to the counter. I said nothing, only looked down at the handful.
"Oops!" He laughed and explained how much he hated the amount of lettuce Subway put on their sandwiches. (did he not realize you can say "hey, easy on the lettuce" to the sandwich maker guy?)
Oops? What is "oops?" It is something you say to a person you bump or after you fart in public...not when you are a slob and drop lettuce on someone...oops...please.
By this time, I had had enough.
I turned to him and was...rude.
I said, "Do you know me? Are we friends?"
Beast Man was taken aback. "No, I don't think so."
"I didn't think so either, because only my friends can spill lettuce on my shoe and think it is funny. I don't know you. I don't want to ever know you. I just want to pay my bill. Is that okay with you?"
The clerk at the counter smiled (I could tell he was very glad someone said something, because he either lacked the skill or courage to say it himself). I turned away from Beast Man and gave the clerk my phone number. As I was doing so, Big Boy gathered the parts of his dismembered sandwich and left...not bothering to pick the lettuce off my boot.
My point in telling this story is....
At some point we all do stupid and annoying shit. Sometimes we go overboard and it bugs the hell out others. It is only when someone is rude...blunt...do we begin to realize how awful our actions or non-actions are. We realize how foolish we were.
In reality, we should thank rude people. If it wasn't for them...we would end up just like Beast Man. When our mother chided us on how rude is was to talk with a mouth full of food or chew with your mouth closed....was she rude...or right?
As comfortable as he was, chomping away and passing the time with strangers, it was clearly not the first time he had done this...but I bet he won't do it again.
I did Beast Man a favor and if you ever come into a place and see me sitting at a counter eating my supper...please, be rude to me too.
Yes, I have an example.
Maybe a year or so ago, I went to pay my cell phone bill. For whatever reason, I chose to pay it in the local office.
People think the Post Office is an awful place to wait in line...no, no...try waiting to pay your bill in a room full of people pretending to be interested in buying the latest phone, knowing they only have $25 bucks to spend...it's a hell dreamed up by Spanish Inquisitors.
So, there I was, just off work and not wanting to be bothered. When I walk in, what do I see?
There is this beast of a man ( clearly a customer) sitting at the counter yapping away to the clerk who is trying help some non-English speaking couple understand why their 32 crumpled dollars isn't enough to pay the $75 bill they have.
Beast Man has, spread out in front of him, his Subway paper "plate" which is erupting lettuce and olives and only Lord knows what else onto the counter. He has a stool pulled up to the small customer service area and has not a single care in the world.
He was having such a good time...
Apparently, he seemed to think the clerk (certified customer service specialist) was really listening to him. At first, I was somewhat amused. Then, I realized I would soon...if God is good...move up in line and pay my bill...but, I would have to pass Beast Man.
As I aged slowly and the couple left, not sure why the man wouldn't take their money, I eventually moved closer.
Beast Man turned and looked at me.
"Just get off work?" He asked, quite innocently.
I nodded. (For reference, my job is not the cleanest of occupations. This day was one where I had been soaked from a broken water pipe and I was covered in mud...on top of that, I was still wearing my hard hat and vest)...I knew at once, this guy was a real sharp one.
"Long day?" He asked.
"Yep," I said. "And it seems to be getting even longer."
Beasty had no idea I was referring to him and laughed heavily. The crumbs resting on his breasts puffed in the air like dandruff. I knew, without looking, mayo or oil or goo would be slather all over his chin and poking out the corners of his mouth...I was right.
"So what do you do?"
I sighed, "I wait in line at stores for a living." What do I do? I am covered in mud and soaked...what kind of question is that?
As I moved ahead in line and finally got to the counter, he had asked if I was married, what city I lived in, and several other "how's the weather" type questions.
In a moment of timing military sharp-shooters lust for, a surplus (it seemed like half a head) of lettuce fell from his dining area and onto my boot...just as I stepped to the counter. I said nothing, only looked down at the handful.
"Oops!" He laughed and explained how much he hated the amount of lettuce Subway put on their sandwiches. (did he not realize you can say "hey, easy on the lettuce" to the sandwich maker guy?)
Oops? What is "oops?" It is something you say to a person you bump or after you fart in public...not when you are a slob and drop lettuce on someone...oops...please.
By this time, I had had enough.
I turned to him and was...rude.
I said, "Do you know me? Are we friends?"
Beast Man was taken aback. "No, I don't think so."
"I didn't think so either, because only my friends can spill lettuce on my shoe and think it is funny. I don't know you. I don't want to ever know you. I just want to pay my bill. Is that okay with you?"
The clerk at the counter smiled (I could tell he was very glad someone said something, because he either lacked the skill or courage to say it himself). I turned away from Beast Man and gave the clerk my phone number. As I was doing so, Big Boy gathered the parts of his dismembered sandwich and left...not bothering to pick the lettuce off my boot.
My point in telling this story is....
At some point we all do stupid and annoying shit. Sometimes we go overboard and it bugs the hell out others. It is only when someone is rude...blunt...do we begin to realize how awful our actions or non-actions are. We realize how foolish we were.
In reality, we should thank rude people. If it wasn't for them...we would end up just like Beast Man. When our mother chided us on how rude is was to talk with a mouth full of food or chew with your mouth closed....was she rude...or right?
As comfortable as he was, chomping away and passing the time with strangers, it was clearly not the first time he had done this...but I bet he won't do it again.
I did Beast Man a favor and if you ever come into a place and see me sitting at a counter eating my supper...please, be rude to me too.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Getting your hands dirty
"I wash my hands of this."
What does that mean?
Generally, I suppose, it means getting rid of some situation or removing ourselves from an environment we no longer want to look back on.
How realistic is that, really?
It's sort of sociopathic if you ask me. We just turn off all emotion to the subject in hand ( nice pun, huh?). We make a conscious choice to no longer empathize with a person or a cause. That, or it is a way we justify not taking action or expending further thought on a matter we find too troublesome or too taxing. We want to think we are good people. So, in order to assure ourselves of such, we say we "wash" all of the troubles away. We can remind ourselves (others) how hard we really did try...how much of a burden it was for us to even offer our help or input to begin with. The "dirt" on our hands changes into a monument of our efforts and one made for all to see.
After we wash, we end up looking pretty good in the end...even pious. Nice move.
We can then say, "Nope, I quit," or "This is too tough," or "This has gotten boring," without actually verbalizing it.
Think about it, though. Is that how descent people act? If there is a wrong committed or an untruth being pronounced (in word or action), shouldn't we continue to do something? Shouldn't we continue to try? Untruth equates (in most cases) to injustice. By its nature, Injustice is always wrong and should always be confronted.
What if the civil rights leaders (black and white) said, "Boy, this whole equality thing is just too tough a road to travel."
How different would the world be now?
What if America washed our collective hands and said, "That Hitler guy is going to put up quite a fight. Let him do whatever he wants in Europe, we'll deal with him later."
It's unthinkable.
The truth gets frustrating at times, either because people don't want to hear it or they think the cost will be to high.
This is what I say...if you are going to wash your hands of a situation anyway, why not put a little more dirt on them before you go to scrub? Why not make sure there really is dirt on them?
If a mechanic works on a car, his hands get dirty. He may stop to go wash his hands, but he doesn't just leave the car there to fix itself. At some point (if he is a good mechanic) he goes back to it. He gets his hands dirty again...and again...until it is working properly.
We should look at Injustice the same way he does the car...keep going until it is righted.
Americans are washing their hands of each other. We are becoming more and more galvanized (polarized) to ideas, yet at the same time, losing empathy for our brothers. We are saying it is too tough to envision what another is thinking or refusing to even try to understand. Resentment is not only brewing, it is boiling over.
Many think we should find a way to "all get along."
While the idea may seem noble, it is absurd.
It doesn't seem humans were made for such a fate. We were created for confrontation in some form or another. We were designed to disagree...hence Free Will.
But...
What we can do, is keep getting our hands dirty, continue to interact with others, continue to fight Injustice (however we see it). In the process and through exchanges, we will all be fighting for Truth no matter how we approach it.
What does that mean?
Generally, I suppose, it means getting rid of some situation or removing ourselves from an environment we no longer want to look back on.
How realistic is that, really?
It's sort of sociopathic if you ask me. We just turn off all emotion to the subject in hand ( nice pun, huh?). We make a conscious choice to no longer empathize with a person or a cause. That, or it is a way we justify not taking action or expending further thought on a matter we find too troublesome or too taxing. We want to think we are good people. So, in order to assure ourselves of such, we say we "wash" all of the troubles away. We can remind ourselves (others) how hard we really did try...how much of a burden it was for us to even offer our help or input to begin with. The "dirt" on our hands changes into a monument of our efforts and one made for all to see.
After we wash, we end up looking pretty good in the end...even pious. Nice move.
We can then say, "Nope, I quit," or "This is too tough," or "This has gotten boring," without actually verbalizing it.
Think about it, though. Is that how descent people act? If there is a wrong committed or an untruth being pronounced (in word or action), shouldn't we continue to do something? Shouldn't we continue to try? Untruth equates (in most cases) to injustice. By its nature, Injustice is always wrong and should always be confronted.
What if the civil rights leaders (black and white) said, "Boy, this whole equality thing is just too tough a road to travel."
How different would the world be now?
What if America washed our collective hands and said, "That Hitler guy is going to put up quite a fight. Let him do whatever he wants in Europe, we'll deal with him later."
It's unthinkable.
The truth gets frustrating at times, either because people don't want to hear it or they think the cost will be to high.
This is what I say...if you are going to wash your hands of a situation anyway, why not put a little more dirt on them before you go to scrub? Why not make sure there really is dirt on them?
If a mechanic works on a car, his hands get dirty. He may stop to go wash his hands, but he doesn't just leave the car there to fix itself. At some point (if he is a good mechanic) he goes back to it. He gets his hands dirty again...and again...until it is working properly.
We should look at Injustice the same way he does the car...keep going until it is righted.
Americans are washing their hands of each other. We are becoming more and more galvanized (polarized) to ideas, yet at the same time, losing empathy for our brothers. We are saying it is too tough to envision what another is thinking or refusing to even try to understand. Resentment is not only brewing, it is boiling over.
Many think we should find a way to "all get along."
While the idea may seem noble, it is absurd.
It doesn't seem humans were made for such a fate. We were created for confrontation in some form or another. We were designed to disagree...hence Free Will.
But...
What we can do, is keep getting our hands dirty, continue to interact with others, continue to fight Injustice (however we see it). In the process and through exchanges, we will all be fighting for Truth no matter how we approach it.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Okay, really now...Glenn Beck has gone too far.
I'm having a little deja vu.
I know I have seen this before...tears...cameras...a hand brushing under the eyes to wipe away those same invisible tears...millions of people watching...
WAIT! I know what it is!
If I am not mistaken, I remember the entire conservative base (I was part of them at the time) going into convulsive fits when Bill Clinton cried in front of a camera at Ron Brown's funeral...oh, the outrage! Everyone knew it was done for sake of media coverage. Looking back I don't know if it was that big of a deal. But for sake of argument, let's say it was evil...the sign of a sociopath in the office (a claim Rush has made)...that will be our starting point.
Let's jump 13 years into the future.
I see Glenn Beck...crying, nearly weeping.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rM4xqnukQrM
Was that Days of Our Lives?
Anyone looking for a fifth of Melodrama? The bar is open!
Good Lord...he either needs to be taken ASIDE and given a hug, or dragged OUTSIDE and have his ass kicked.
There is no honest person on the planet who can say Beck's tears and quivering voice were genuine.
Forgive me, I will offer a little "strawman argument" for minute but it is one I have heard often. Many people shrug off his tears and say, "Oh, that's just Glenn. He loves theatrics."
So, that makes it okay?
If Bill Clinton was so wrong for forcing tears at the funeral of one man, then what is Glenn Beck? Beck forced tears for the nation's worst terrorist attack...the world's worst....in the ENTIRE OF MODERN HISTORY!!!!!
Hey, but it is on FOXNEWS, right? They are "Fair and Balanced." I want someone...ANYONE...to show me how it is possible to "Balance" what Beck did. How could there be? The only way ( I see) for there to be some sort of balance, is for FOX to have some Saudi national on cheering about how glad he was the attacks worked...and even then I don't know if that would be balanced.
Here is the thing. I understand Glenn Beck is not a reporter giving the news. I understand he is purely a commentator. But still...please! Even he knew he was going over the top. that is why he said he was looking like a televangelist. He had to cover up somehow.
While Glenn Beck is not reporting the news, many conservatives BELIEVE he is. His view of the nation is one of a crumbling and failing empire. He says FEMA concentration camps are being constructed and soon the 2nd Amendment will be scratched over like some mistake on a term paper.
I'm sorry, I have more faith in the American people than he does, I suppose. This is the nation which fought two wars on different sides of the planet...and WON!!! This is a nation that not only saw the end of slavery (through war), saw civil rights struggles for all men and women no matter what color their skin, then elected a black man for President. "We the People" will make through this turmoil.
But back to Bill Clinton for second. What Clinton did was wrong, but it was done for nothing more than to gain a little coverage from the media by showing how empathetic he was. It was a form of soft-marketing. Every President, Senator, and Mayor has done something similar at one time or another. It just looked terrible because he was the President and got caught so openly with it.
With Beck, it was not soft-marketing. It was pure marketing. It was a way for him to show how in touch he was with the American people, the "regular guys like you," as he calls us. (How condescending is that remark? Clearly, he isn't a regular guy...by making such a statement he points that out.)
My problem is not how he portrays his "emotions," but why he is. He has started a new website. The invisible tears slithering down his cheek were the first hits on his site.
Didn't Beck also scorn the followers of Barack Obama for acting like he was a savior? What does Beck do? As though he were Moses strolling down from a long chat with God, he presents 9 founding principles and 12 ETERNAL values as though they were the new commandments. Eternal? Only a god can make things eternal...is Beck our new savior? Should we look to him in our hour of need? Will Glenn Beck be our guide, our pillar of fire in this darkness?
I abhor him. While his clownish antics used to mildly entertain me, now they disgust me.
Glenn Beck has used to deaths of thousand of "regular guys" to bolster his ratings and widen his grasp on the market.
Make no mistake about it. His sorrow-stricken act was done for attention...ratings...and money...nothing more.
It had ZERO to do with the poor souls who lost their lives on 9-11.
How pathetic and vile is that? Even Shep Smith made fun of him!
Glenn Beck is a disgrace...an infected pustule on soles of America's feet.
I think I shall now go vomit.
I know I have seen this before...tears...cameras...a hand brushing under the eyes to wipe away those same invisible tears...millions of people watching...
WAIT! I know what it is!
If I am not mistaken, I remember the entire conservative base (I was part of them at the time) going into convulsive fits when Bill Clinton cried in front of a camera at Ron Brown's funeral...oh, the outrage! Everyone knew it was done for sake of media coverage. Looking back I don't know if it was that big of a deal. But for sake of argument, let's say it was evil...the sign of a sociopath in the office (a claim Rush has made)...that will be our starting point.
Let's jump 13 years into the future.
I see Glenn Beck...crying, nearly weeping.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rM4xqnukQrM
Was that Days of Our Lives?
Anyone looking for a fifth of Melodrama? The bar is open!
Good Lord...he either needs to be taken ASIDE and given a hug, or dragged OUTSIDE and have his ass kicked.
There is no honest person on the planet who can say Beck's tears and quivering voice were genuine.
Forgive me, I will offer a little "strawman argument" for minute but it is one I have heard often. Many people shrug off his tears and say, "Oh, that's just Glenn. He loves theatrics."
So, that makes it okay?
If Bill Clinton was so wrong for forcing tears at the funeral of one man, then what is Glenn Beck? Beck forced tears for the nation's worst terrorist attack...the world's worst....in the ENTIRE OF MODERN HISTORY!!!!!
Hey, but it is on FOXNEWS, right? They are "Fair and Balanced." I want someone...ANYONE...to show me how it is possible to "Balance" what Beck did. How could there be? The only way ( I see) for there to be some sort of balance, is for FOX to have some Saudi national on cheering about how glad he was the attacks worked...and even then I don't know if that would be balanced.
Here is the thing. I understand Glenn Beck is not a reporter giving the news. I understand he is purely a commentator. But still...please! Even he knew he was going over the top. that is why he said he was looking like a televangelist. He had to cover up somehow.
While Glenn Beck is not reporting the news, many conservatives BELIEVE he is. His view of the nation is one of a crumbling and failing empire. He says FEMA concentration camps are being constructed and soon the 2nd Amendment will be scratched over like some mistake on a term paper.
I'm sorry, I have more faith in the American people than he does, I suppose. This is the nation which fought two wars on different sides of the planet...and WON!!! This is a nation that not only saw the end of slavery (through war), saw civil rights struggles for all men and women no matter what color their skin, then elected a black man for President. "We the People" will make through this turmoil.
But back to Bill Clinton for second. What Clinton did was wrong, but it was done for nothing more than to gain a little coverage from the media by showing how empathetic he was. It was a form of soft-marketing. Every President, Senator, and Mayor has done something similar at one time or another. It just looked terrible because he was the President and got caught so openly with it.
With Beck, it was not soft-marketing. It was pure marketing. It was a way for him to show how in touch he was with the American people, the "regular guys like you," as he calls us. (How condescending is that remark? Clearly, he isn't a regular guy...by making such a statement he points that out.)
My problem is not how he portrays his "emotions," but why he is. He has started a new website. The invisible tears slithering down his cheek were the first hits on his site.
Didn't Beck also scorn the followers of Barack Obama for acting like he was a savior? What does Beck do? As though he were Moses strolling down from a long chat with God, he presents 9 founding principles and 12 ETERNAL values as though they were the new commandments. Eternal? Only a god can make things eternal...is Beck our new savior? Should we look to him in our hour of need? Will Glenn Beck be our guide, our pillar of fire in this darkness?
I abhor him. While his clownish antics used to mildly entertain me, now they disgust me.
Glenn Beck has used to deaths of thousand of "regular guys" to bolster his ratings and widen his grasp on the market.
Make no mistake about it. His sorrow-stricken act was done for attention...ratings...and money...nothing more.
It had ZERO to do with the poor souls who lost their lives on 9-11.
How pathetic and vile is that? Even Shep Smith made fun of him!
Glenn Beck is a disgrace...an infected pustule on soles of America's feet.
I think I shall now go vomit.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Laws required to be followed by those who choose to speak.
On heels of my last post and maybe as an addendum of sorts to my brother's post (http://irish-salsa.blogspot.com/2009/04/english-butchery-102.html), I have created a list of new laws (and the required punishments) which Americans must follow in order to speak or communicate to another person (via computer, text, or yet to be designed technological devices).
Law:
No person will be allowed to use a flat or unqualified hyperbolic expression in reference, but not limited, to any event, person, or thing.
Punishment:
The punishment will be reflective of the crime.
For instance:
If a person says, "That is the greatest show ever!" they shall be banned from watching anything other than that particular show for the remainder of their natural life.
If a person says, "That is the best song ever!" they will only be allowed to listen to that song for the rest of their life.
Since this criminal has found the greatest show or movie or song, there is no point to them listening to anything else, NOTHING will ever be better.
Law:
No one (unless they are 14 yrs old or younger) shall use abbreviations similar, but not limited, to "LOL," "OMG," "WTF," or "B4."
Punishment:
Such person will be sentenced to 6 continuous hours of listening to a phone ring for each letter missing from the actual expression.
Law:
No person shall offer or pretend to have an opinion on a topic (any topic) if they follow it or precede it with "Hannity says," or "Rush believes," or "Oprah thinks."
Punishment:
Such a person will be sentenced to watching the testing color bars on a television set, with tone, until they are hearing the Voice of God.
Law:
No individual shall ever force another to listen to them sing.
Punishment:
The person committing such a crime shall be beaten with a club of the victim's choosing (even clubbed by the victim if they so choose), allowed to nearly heal, then beaten again.
Law:
No person will ever ask, "So, what's good here?" when going to a restaurant.
Punishment:
The criminal will be forced to eat from the establishment's dumpster until the empolyee's (victim) shift has ended.
Punishment:
The victim (or person who hears such remarks) is allowed to smite the criminal.
Law:
No person will ever be allowed to ask, "Who is this?" when they call another human.
Punishment:
The criminal must call 14 pages worth of people from the phone book, ask for the person BY NAME, and explain what they did/ apologize for being such a dolt. Until the required amount of people have been called, the criminal will only be able to communicate to others in person, by mail (real mail), or through two tin cans and a string of yarn.
If a person doesn't know who they called, they don't even deserve fingers.
Law:
An individual is only allowed to call a wrong number twice.
Punishment:
The criminal shall be flogged in the nearest mall.
Law:
A person shall never utter the specific non-word: "ir-regardless"
Punishment:
Loss of tongue.
If the word is written...loss of finger tips.
Law:
No human will ever ask a question they already know the answer to, request an explanation for something they do not care about, or ask for advice if they have no intentions of listening to it.
Punishment:
The criminal becomes a servant of the victim and is forced to do the victim's bidding for 3 years.
Law:
A person shall never say they "gave it their all."
Punishment:
Since clearly the criminal did not give it their all (since they are still alive), they will be drained of ALL their bodily fluids.
They shall be totally dehydrated like a fruit for astronauts.
LAW (the most important):
No one will ever ask another person to repeat a question or statement they already heard.
Example:
VICTIM: "So, where did you and your wife go to eat last night?"
CRIMINAL: "What?"
VICTIM: "I said, ' where did you--.'"
CRIMINAL: "Oh, we went to Red Lobster."
Clearly, the criminal heard the question yet made the victim ask it again.
PUNISHMENT:
The criminal shall forfeit the right to communicate with another human for the remainder of his/her natural life.
In addition, to ensure this is done, the criminal will be marooned on an island and forced to listen to "It's a Small World" until they are dead.
Just a few ideas...take 'em or leave 'em.
Law:
No person will be allowed to use a flat or unqualified hyperbolic expression in reference, but not limited, to any event, person, or thing.
Punishment:
The punishment will be reflective of the crime.
For instance:
If a person says, "That is the greatest show ever!" they shall be banned from watching anything other than that particular show for the remainder of their natural life.
If a person says, "That is the best song ever!" they will only be allowed to listen to that song for the rest of their life.
Since this criminal has found the greatest show or movie or song, there is no point to them listening to anything else, NOTHING will ever be better.
Law:
No one (unless they are 14 yrs old or younger) shall use abbreviations similar, but not limited, to "LOL," "OMG," "WTF," or "B4."
Punishment:
Such person will be sentenced to 6 continuous hours of listening to a phone ring for each letter missing from the actual expression.
Law:
No person shall offer or pretend to have an opinion on a topic (any topic) if they follow it or precede it with "Hannity says," or "Rush believes," or "Oprah thinks."
Punishment:
Such a person will be sentenced to watching the testing color bars on a television set, with tone, until they are hearing the Voice of God.
Law:
No individual shall ever force another to listen to them sing.
Punishment:
The person committing such a crime shall be beaten with a club of the victim's choosing (even clubbed by the victim if they so choose), allowed to nearly heal, then beaten again.
Law:
No person will ever ask, "So, what's good here?" when going to a restaurant.
Punishment:
The criminal will be forced to eat from the establishment's dumpster until the empolyee's (victim) shift has ended.
Law:
No person will use the expression "You know" or "I mean" more than twice every ten minutes.Punishment:
The victim (or person who hears such remarks) is allowed to smite the criminal.
Law:
No person will ever be allowed to ask, "Who is this?" when they call another human.
Punishment:
The criminal must call 14 pages worth of people from the phone book, ask for the person BY NAME, and explain what they did/ apologize for being such a dolt. Until the required amount of people have been called, the criminal will only be able to communicate to others in person, by mail (real mail), or through two tin cans and a string of yarn.
If a person doesn't know who they called, they don't even deserve fingers.
Law:
An individual is only allowed to call a wrong number twice.
Punishment:
The criminal shall be flogged in the nearest mall.
Law:
A person shall never utter the specific non-word: "ir-regardless"
Punishment:
Loss of tongue.
If the word is written...loss of finger tips.
Law:
No human will ever ask a question they already know the answer to, request an explanation for something they do not care about, or ask for advice if they have no intentions of listening to it.
Punishment:
The criminal becomes a servant of the victim and is forced to do the victim's bidding for 3 years.
Law:
A person shall never say they "gave it their all."
Punishment:
Since clearly the criminal did not give it their all (since they are still alive), they will be drained of ALL their bodily fluids.
They shall be totally dehydrated like a fruit for astronauts.
LAW (the most important):
No one will ever ask another person to repeat a question or statement they already heard.
Example:
VICTIM: "So, where did you and your wife go to eat last night?"
CRIMINAL: "What?"
VICTIM: "I said, ' where did you--.'"
CRIMINAL: "Oh, we went to Red Lobster."
Clearly, the criminal heard the question yet made the victim ask it again.
PUNISHMENT:
The criminal shall forfeit the right to communicate with another human for the remainder of his/her natural life.
In addition, to ensure this is done, the criminal will be marooned on an island and forced to listen to "It's a Small World" until they are dead.
Just a few ideas...take 'em or leave 'em.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Call me a traitor...I don't care.
I may say something which will really piss some people off ( go figure, right?), but I don't care.
First off, I must say, I love my country and the ideals it was founded upon. More specifically, I love the Constitution. Anyone who knows me, knows this.
However, I am also a skeptic.
I need to take issue with a couple things.
One, the idea of calling every, or nearly every, person who has served in the military a "hero." It seems to me people say such things to make themselves feel better, yet at the same time almost challenge others to do the same. It is a passive form of waving a flag or pledging allegiance. It silently shouts "Hey, I'm a good person! I back the military! I'm a REAL American! Go team!"
It is nothing more than laziness. People who say all soldiers are heroes render the word meaningless. They degrade the true heroes.
A hero is defined: "A person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose" among other things.
Does everyone who severs in the military fit this?
The answer is a resounding "No!"
Joining the military makes a man no more a hero than putting an idiotic and Chinese-made "Power of Pride" bumper sticker on your car makes you a patriot. Power of Pride....what the hell does that mean anyway?
So why say it?
I think it is some new psychosis people (at least in America) have developed. It is a compulsion to modify or describe EVERYTHING (yes, that was on purpose) with the use of hyperbole. I call it Hyperbolism, or Hyperbolia....
For people who may not know, a "hyperbole" is an extremely exaggerated expression...such as, "I would rather die than listen to him sing." Really? You would rather die?
That is hyperbole.
Due to a lacking vocabulary or laziness (maybe both) people project their emotions in extremes to make a point. They vomit words at another person, not realizing or understanding the true idea behind what they said.
"That was the greatest movie EVER!"
This is what they do when they call ALL soldiers heroes. Soldiers can be valiant. Soldiers can be steadfast. They can be any number of complimentary and positive descriptions....however, they are not ALL heroes.
Ah, what is the harm, right? You know what I mean.
There is great harm. It not only harms the meaning of words, it depletes them...drains them of value. When a fantastic event or person comes around, they are left in the same category with lessers.
The way bacteria become resistant to antibiotics, mankind becomes resistant to words and their importance.
My second issue:
Here is a quick story. A man walks outside and sees a group of young men shoot his dog. He is outrage (and justly so). He shouts at the men who then run to their car and take off. The man grabs two guns, jumps in his truck, and follows the men. He chases them across four counties waving his firearms and finally runs them off the road. He holds them at gunpoint until the police arrive.
Now, most reasonable people would say this man went over the edge a tad bit (hyperbole). Actually, most sane people would say he went way too far, nearly deranged. Yes, his "best friend" was killed and he should be angry. And yes, the men who did it should be punished. Being a dog-lover myself and having had someone kill one of my dogs, I understand his pain. However, pursuing the men over the countryside with his weapons in hand (how many innocent people did he endanger with his high speed chase?) and running them off the road....too far.
Was he willing to get into a shoot-out four counties away from his home over a dog? Talk about extreme!
Hunting down dog-killers is not his job.
That is job of the police.
These men were not the James Gang. They killed a dog. While the act is horrible, it was just a dog.
Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut, if you name is Marcus Luttrell and you were a Navy SEAL, it's just fine.
It seems Hyperbolia is manifesting itself. It's acceptable to say things which are sooooooooo extreme and now, even the actions of our "heroes" which are sooooooooo extreme, are fine too.
Hyperbolia.
First off, I must say, I love my country and the ideals it was founded upon. More specifically, I love the Constitution. Anyone who knows me, knows this.
However, I am also a skeptic.
I need to take issue with a couple things.
One, the idea of calling every, or nearly every, person who has served in the military a "hero." It seems to me people say such things to make themselves feel better, yet at the same time almost challenge others to do the same. It is a passive form of waving a flag or pledging allegiance. It silently shouts "Hey, I'm a good person! I back the military! I'm a REAL American! Go team!"
It is nothing more than laziness. People who say all soldiers are heroes render the word meaningless. They degrade the true heroes.
A hero is defined: "A person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose" among other things.
Does everyone who severs in the military fit this?
The answer is a resounding "No!"
Joining the military makes a man no more a hero than putting an idiotic and Chinese-made "Power of Pride" bumper sticker on your car makes you a patriot. Power of Pride....what the hell does that mean anyway?
So why say it?
I think it is some new psychosis people (at least in America) have developed. It is a compulsion to modify or describe EVERYTHING (yes, that was on purpose) with the use of hyperbole. I call it Hyperbolism, or Hyperbolia....
For people who may not know, a "hyperbole" is an extremely exaggerated expression...such as, "I would rather die than listen to him sing." Really? You would rather die?
That is hyperbole.
Due to a lacking vocabulary or laziness (maybe both) people project their emotions in extremes to make a point. They vomit words at another person, not realizing or understanding the true idea behind what they said.
"That was the greatest movie EVER!"
This is what they do when they call ALL soldiers heroes. Soldiers can be valiant. Soldiers can be steadfast. They can be any number of complimentary and positive descriptions....however, they are not ALL heroes.
Ah, what is the harm, right? You know what I mean.
There is great harm. It not only harms the meaning of words, it depletes them...drains them of value. When a fantastic event or person comes around, they are left in the same category with lessers.
The way bacteria become resistant to antibiotics, mankind becomes resistant to words and their importance.
My second issue:
Here is a quick story. A man walks outside and sees a group of young men shoot his dog. He is outrage (and justly so). He shouts at the men who then run to their car and take off. The man grabs two guns, jumps in his truck, and follows the men. He chases them across four counties waving his firearms and finally runs them off the road. He holds them at gunpoint until the police arrive.
Now, most reasonable people would say this man went over the edge a tad bit (hyperbole). Actually, most sane people would say he went way too far, nearly deranged. Yes, his "best friend" was killed and he should be angry. And yes, the men who did it should be punished. Being a dog-lover myself and having had someone kill one of my dogs, I understand his pain. However, pursuing the men over the countryside with his weapons in hand (how many innocent people did he endanger with his high speed chase?) and running them off the road....too far.
Was he willing to get into a shoot-out four counties away from his home over a dog? Talk about extreme!
Hunting down dog-killers is not his job.
That is job of the police.
These men were not the James Gang. They killed a dog. While the act is horrible, it was just a dog.
Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut, if you name is Marcus Luttrell and you were a Navy SEAL, it's just fine.
It seems Hyperbolia is manifesting itself. It's acceptable to say things which are sooooooooo extreme and now, even the actions of our "heroes" which are sooooooooo extreme, are fine too.
Hyperbolia.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Remembering Kansas
I think I am turning into an old lady.
I can come up with no other reason, because I have become this sentimental glob of goo.
My high school days were some of the best times and filled with some of the most memorable people.
However, when I think back to my youth (I am 35...I can say "youth" now, can't I? How old does a person have to be before they can say that with a straigh face?), I am not drawn to the dances with future ex-girlfriends (and future ex-wife) or plays I held minor roles in. I don't recall (at least instantly) the pen fights in the hall or the way we all felt so old and mature when we became seniors.
My mind, at first, goes back to Kansas.
It is the place I call "Home."
With the help of Facebook, I have had the great honor of finding some very dear friends I had when I lived in Topeka.
I have been able to chat (sometimes for hours) with people who I thought were gone from my life forever. While I can see the new and grown up faces of the people I went to school with, I lose sight of them and become a child again. In my mind, they do too.
I am no longer talking to the Heather Denman, it is Heather Koster...the girl I would spend hours on the phone with, talking about the most obscure and irrelevant of things (which were sooooooo very important back then). I can almost see, in her typing, the curved and bubble script she used to write notes to me in.
I am shooting the shit with Matt, my bench-warming buddy. He is the young boy who was my friend, my pal, many years away from becoming the good man he is now or the loving father of two beautiful little girls.
I picture Misty as the curious yet stubborn girl, not the nurse, I used to joke around with and who also wrote me when I lived in Florida. Although younger than me, we became very close.
I see Mr. V...sitting at the front of the class, humming the tune to the hymn we would sing. He wanted to make sure we got it just right. I hear the stern way he called to us from the sidelines of the soccer field (I was a starter in Soccer, thank you very much.), only doing so to make sure we did our best...knowing we could do better. He was such a good man and I fear, mourn, that I only gave him grief.
I only mention these four, because I have had the most contact with them. I do not leave anyone out because i am over-looking them or do not value having them as friends. I am so amazingly greatful for all of them.
I say all of this to make a point.
I think we often forget the years before high school. High school is where we see the sproutings of the adults we will become, but those seeds are planted much further back. As any gardener knows, it takes just the right environment for a flowers and plants of all types to grow.
I was given that environment in Topeka Lutheran School. It was the perfect micro-ecosystem. I would not change a thing.
Although, they may never read this (which is fine), I needed to thank all of my friends for remembering me and still wanting to talk. It means more than you will ever know. The greatest fear I have, maybe the only, is that I will be forgotten.
I am sure some of my childhood friends are gone for good.
Such is life.
It changes nothing.
Thank you, to all of you.
"May God bless you and keep you and may His face shine upon you...and give you peace."
It is just something I had to say...
I can come up with no other reason, because I have become this sentimental glob of goo.
My high school days were some of the best times and filled with some of the most memorable people.
However, when I think back to my youth (I am 35...I can say "youth" now, can't I? How old does a person have to be before they can say that with a straigh face?), I am not drawn to the dances with future ex-girlfriends (and future ex-wife) or plays I held minor roles in. I don't recall (at least instantly) the pen fights in the hall or the way we all felt so old and mature when we became seniors.
My mind, at first, goes back to Kansas.
It is the place I call "Home."
With the help of Facebook, I have had the great honor of finding some very dear friends I had when I lived in Topeka.
I have been able to chat (sometimes for hours) with people who I thought were gone from my life forever. While I can see the new and grown up faces of the people I went to school with, I lose sight of them and become a child again. In my mind, they do too.
I am no longer talking to the Heather Denman, it is Heather Koster...the girl I would spend hours on the phone with, talking about the most obscure and irrelevant of things (which were sooooooo very important back then). I can almost see, in her typing, the curved and bubble script she used to write notes to me in.
I am shooting the shit with Matt, my bench-warming buddy. He is the young boy who was my friend, my pal, many years away from becoming the good man he is now or the loving father of two beautiful little girls.
I picture Misty as the curious yet stubborn girl, not the nurse, I used to joke around with and who also wrote me when I lived in Florida. Although younger than me, we became very close.
I see Mr. V...sitting at the front of the class, humming the tune to the hymn we would sing. He wanted to make sure we got it just right. I hear the stern way he called to us from the sidelines of the soccer field (I was a starter in Soccer, thank you very much.), only doing so to make sure we did our best...knowing we could do better. He was such a good man and I fear, mourn, that I only gave him grief.
I only mention these four, because I have had the most contact with them. I do not leave anyone out because i am over-looking them or do not value having them as friends. I am so amazingly greatful for all of them.
I say all of this to make a point.
I think we often forget the years before high school. High school is where we see the sproutings of the adults we will become, but those seeds are planted much further back. As any gardener knows, it takes just the right environment for a flowers and plants of all types to grow.
I was given that environment in Topeka Lutheran School. It was the perfect micro-ecosystem. I would not change a thing.
Although, they may never read this (which is fine), I needed to thank all of my friends for remembering me and still wanting to talk. It means more than you will ever know. The greatest fear I have, maybe the only, is that I will be forgotten.
I am sure some of my childhood friends are gone for good.
Such is life.
It changes nothing.
Thank you, to all of you.
"May God bless you and keep you and may His face shine upon you...and give you peace."
It is just something I had to say...
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