Woody Cavenaugh

I just rode in an airplane for the first time in my life. Three planes in four hops actually. Most people who find out I had never ridden in a plane before assumed I was afraid of flying. I never was, and I'm not now having done it. I've always believed that how you get there is the worthier part.

To that end I've seen most of the United States, and a little of Canada through the windshield of a ground vehicle. Sure, I could get into a plane and go from here to there in hours what would take me days by car. I suppose some would see the days in the car as days wasted. I have never wasted a second on a road trip. Every mile is something new to see. Every stop is someone new to meet. I like to listen to conversations had at restaurants and gas stations on road trips. What do they sound like? I like to hear how to they pronounce "tomato", "pecan", "house" and "about". I want to know if the weather is normal or unusual. I want to see if what they call cold or hot is just cool or warm to me.

Even clothing choices can vary by where you are. Its raining, do most people wear raincoats, or ponchos or do they use umbrellas? I find all this interesting.

Plane rides give you a chance to listen to and perhaps interact with the people around you, but for however many hours it is more of the same. Do I want to spend two hours talking with someone I'll never see again? Maybe I do, but wouldn't it be more interesting to spend 10 minutes with a person, knowing that you are going to meet someone completely different just over the next hill for 10 minutes later on?

In a plane you can only see a sunrise from one place, up. It is the same for a sunset. I'm not knocking it, a sunrise or a sunset over the clouds is something to see, but I like being on the road knowing that the next sunset or sunrise I see will be in a completely new place, and one I will likely never see again.

In a plane you can occasionally see another plane, in a vehicle on the highway there is no telling what you'll see. I like variety, I like not knowing what's over the next hill, I like the undiscovered country.

That and planes are kinda loud.

Posted by at 3:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

First they came after the dogs and I said something but was shouted down and or ignored. The vicious puppy showed his teeth from 20 feet away (out of pepper spray range) and the poor threatened officer was allowed to use a shotgun to even the score.

Then they went after the war veterans. The hockey stick with a range of about five feet was substituted later with the much more dangerous machete with a range of about three feet. My guess is the truth is the man showed his teeth, the officer felt he was threatened and since the guy was out of the range of taser or pepper spray, was free to open fire. "He's comin' right for us!"

I now have a greater understanding of the problem. Originally I believed that the police were taking a shoot first ask questions later philosophy. But now I believe it is a gross lack of training. The police clearly don't understand attack distance. I can help with that.

I invite all police to take a fencing class where they will learn in a clear and systematic way at what distance they are actually threatened. Once they have had some proper training and perhaps compete in a tournament or two, they will be better prepared to deal with situations where they may or may not be threatened and act appropriately.

Once they master this simple fencing concept, they will cut down on bad PR, eliminate extra paperwork and SBI investigations. They will spend less time on administrative leave, and best of all myself and people like me won't have to rant and roar every time they screw up, and hide behind the extremely weak "standard procedure" excuse that sounds so dumb when they say it on TV.

For more information on important training opportunities please visit this link.

Posted by at 9:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Read this first

Then she noticed the shotgun in one of the officer's hands, aimed at her neighbor's 45-pound Labrador retriever.

"I said, 'Why did you have to do that? You didn't have to do that,'" Mrs. Kulers said. "He said, 'It showed its teeth.' He said, 'We have a right to do this.'"

Police shoot your dog in a similar manor you may shoot the officer's dog. If the officer has no dog, you may shoot his child, but care must be taken that it is only a flesh wound.

Thank you,
The Management

Posted by at 5:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I remember it well, just a few months ago we had two intelligent qualified guys running for president. It was going to be a tough choice. Back then it was about the issues. They didn't attack the other, that would be low and a waste of words, "Let me tell you about what I believe!" Good times.

But those times are gone now. Now we've reached the stupid season. It happened when the presidential candidates chose their vice presidents. The criteria for choosing a VP is different from that of choosing the president. The VP's job is to fill in the gaps in the president's armor, and hopefully at the same time help balance any niches the other team have. Obama is a minority, so the McCain camp chose a woman. No harm in that women can be Vice Presidents too.

So, did you flinch when I referred to a woman as a minority? Probably not. Should you have? Most definitely. In the 2000 census women made up 50.9% of the US population. Just saying. You can talk about the glass ceiling, but you can't compare a minority to a woman. Its apples and oranges, both are fruity arguments.

They've made a big deal in the news about "The Bridge to nowhere". The facts say that Palin supported this bridge, then the popular tide of opinion changed and so did her opinion. There is no harm in this. However, you can't really say that she was against it. That would be a half truth, which is a lie in sheep's clothing.

For most of my life I said over and over again that I didn't care for blond girls. My preference was for brunets or red heads (a man can dream). If you look at the facts of my dating record you will see that I tended to prefer small, brown haired girls who were looking for a knight in shining armor to protect them from the evils of the world. Then I married a tall powerful, intelligent, capable of killing me with her pinky blond. Can I really honestly say, "I have always preferred blonds"? Nope. I CAN say, I didn't used to like blonds but I saw the error in my ways and I now prefer them. So logically, Palin could say, "At one time I supported the bridge to nowhere, but after careful study of the facts I turned against the idea entirely." She could, but she won't.

Politicians are not allowed to learn, or grow, or change their minds for any reason. If they do, it summons the clown parade with their clown cars, and honking horns, chanting "Waffle! Waffle! Waffle!" while making horses asses out of twisted balloons.

That's why we've had eight years of an idiot president. He's not allowed to say, "Whoopsie daisy, I sure blew that call." Not only can he not apologize for screwing up, he's not allowed to fix his mistakes either because that would imply that he's realized he's wrong, learned from his mistake, summoned the clown parade.

Meanwhile, EXTREMELY well paid political wolves are going over every speech with a microscope looking for clips and phrases they can rearrange, and spin out to say something to damage the candidate. Or, to put it in a less politically correct way, "lie and slander". Here's one that John McCain approved of (or there is a sound bite at the end that says he did) where they accuse of Obama of passing legislation that teaches comprehensive sex education to kindergartners. Lets for a minute assume that it is the truth from the mouth of the all mighty himself. Guess what! You've just agreed that McCain supports pedophiles! If you don't want to teach kindergartners where your "no-zones" are and teach them to tell a parent, teacher, or police officer anytime someone tries to touch them there, than you are supporting the people who are out there (RIGHT BEHIND YOU) groping your babies for sexual gratification.

But that's crazy talk. Obama didn't pass legislation teaching little kids how to do the horizontal mombo. For one, the legislation states that the comprehensive material had to be age and developmentally appropriate. They wouldn't be teaching the little ones to use a condom, they would have been teaching little ones to protect their no-zones. Not that this matters at all, the legislation didn't actually pass. Those poor little tykes have no idea what is happening to them and don't know what to do about it.

But I digress...

These idiotic and false messages are getting front page headlines for two reasons, first the mainstream media is playing to the lowest common denominator. Second, anyone who is dumb enough to believe the lie, is going to click on the ad on the page asking the question, "Who was a better leader of the world: Britney Spears or Cookie Monster? Click here to vote!" If you actually clicked that link I've lost a lot of respect for you. You should be ashamed!

Do you want to know who I think is to blame for all this mess? Ralph Nader. You want to know why? Seat belt laws. First Nadar helped make the seat belt mandatory in all cars. Then the laws were created forcing everyone to wear them. This very small thing was a death knell of the human race.

If seatbelts were optional, people when they bought a car would have the choice. "Hmmm...seat belts for $50 dollars or a front drivers side DVD player for $200. Duh! Give me the DVD player!" Some weeks later this guy watching is Epic Movie while driving 80 miles per hour down the highway veers across the median and slams head first into the car which has no DVD player but did come with seat belts because it is an obvious choice for safety. The Epic Movie fan and his family are launched out of the windshield where he splats into a tree in a cow pasture, a Mack Truck, and a guy on a moped. The family with the seat belts are hurt bad but survive. Darwinism is at play. The idiot has removed himself and his family from the gene pool, making the world a smarter place. The car filled with those who chose of their own free will to buckle up survive, also improving the gene pool. Its a win-win.

You think I'm making this up? You think the world isn't a dumber place. Feel free to examine the evidence.

No child left behind. Lowering the bar, one school at a time.
Search youtube for "painful and stupid" I got 41 THOUSAND hits and most of them also included the term "funny".
Hole in the wall. If I even have to say why...
Protectionism in general

My absolute earliest memory: I had been put into my crib for the night and my parents were getting ready to go to bed themselves. I pull the pair of tweezers I had hidden in my PJ's out, climb out of the crib and find out for myself exactly what it was in those little slots in the wall. (Which I learned later were called electrical sockets.) I learned a valuable lesson that night that has stuck with me my whole life. Do you doubt this was a valuable lesson?

As long as there are people out there stupid enough to spend money on internet enhancement drugs there will be a market for the idiocy that defines today's politics.

Posted by at 10:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

My taste in music typically runs between the 80's, Celtic rock, and ska. The variety is good, but it has the potential to get you into trouble if you are the type who find yourself singing along without realizing it.

I can only imagine what someone would say if they walked into my cube after having heard me quietly crooning along with The Booze Brothers:
"The rest of us don't really feel it our business to know that you are both 'in the mood' and interested in sex outdoors."

Or Great Big Sea: "Clearly Mari Mac is the bell of the ball back in Benifee, but you're here, your wife's name is Sara and I know for a fact she can and will kick your ass for this kind of talk."

Or Winger: "You're one sick puppy. You know, the government keeps websites about people like you. Name, address, the whole deal. Do you need to register?

Or Van Halen Well, you've ruined baked goods forever with that talk

OR The Outfield* Yeah, I'm calling your wife. See you in hell.

Or Reel Big Fish While the tube top is not the sort of clothing a freshman should be wearing, I feel I need to remind you AGAIN that seventeen is illegal, immoral, actionable, and butt kickable. But don't take my word for it, lets go ask your wife.

Or The Red Elvises Look, I've been on the phone with HR and they say that perhaps you should go to health services and talk to a councilor. Now. They said that if necessary I could call security.

Fortunately a friend turned me on to a genre I will forever know as "work music". I don't know what genre it is and Pandora Internet Radio refers to it as electronics roots, trip hop roots, use of modal harmonies, acoustic drum samples and a tight kick sound . Umm...yeah. Anyway here's a sample.

All I know is, there's no singing with it, therefore I can listen without inviting wifely wrath, criminal charges, or a 24 hour involuntary commitment to an asylum. Its job security in my headphones.

Continue reading "Work Music" »

Posted by at 12:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've not posted as much as I have in the past. I truly miss the five day a week posts, but I have unfortunateness in every quarter of my life now and really feel the need to get lost in the woods. Sometimes, that's the only way to find a clear path.

That out of the way, let's let paragraph two be a warning: The rest of this post not only contains foul language, it is ABOUT foul language. I don't typically use foul language in my posts. I find that the foul language on my blog is in the comments section, where the unwashed masses tell me how much I suck. I may suck, but you still read it. Thank you for your post. I find foul language to be a shortcut to emotional meaning, and on my blog I tend to like to get their the long way around. I'm like that with a lot of things. I have never flown. I have no fear of flying, but when I go somewhere I want to experience the journey fully. Flying like cursing is a shortcut to a destination. I'm using foul language in this one. You have been warned.

One of the things I learned in my six years of failing French in college is that Romance languages have gendered nouns. Car is masculine in French, "Le Car". That's a joke by the way "la voiture" is feminine. Le Car is crap in any language. Car is feminine in all languages. In English where there is no gendered noun convention, all forms of mechanized transportation tend to be referred to as "She", usually as a term of endearment. Book is masculine in French, "le livre". But I digress.

They say that English isn't a gendered language. I think they are fucking morons. All curse words fall into three genders; masculine, feminine, and neutral. In the above sentence "I think they are fucking morons." "Fucking" is a neutral adjective used to describe the plural morons- which they are.

I can say "he's an asshole", but I can't really call her an asshole because asshole is masculine. I would have to use "bitch" which is the feminine term for the shortcut that caused you to use the curse word in the first place. The interesting thing is that, if I call a guy an asshole its OK, if I call a woman an asshole I'm a fucking moron. If I say she's a bitch its fine, but if I call a guy a bitch its probably a term of endearment. Unless I call him a "little bitch" which instead of being endearing is me saying that not only is he an an asshole he's a woman. Calling a woman a woman isn't necessarily a bad thing. Calling a man a woman is most definitely a bad thing. This is doubly true if they aren't trying to look and act like a woman. Calling a woman a man is like calling a dog an aardvark, it is a non-sequitur, it doesn't work. In order to be derogatorily about a woman's femininity you have to call her a dyke which is odd. I was going to make a joke here about my confusion about comparing a masculine woman to a wall designed to hold back water, but instead I went to wikipedia and became even more confused. I'm backing away slowly.

Masculine: dick, dickhead, fuck, fucker, fuckhead, ass, asshole, asshat, shit, shithead, shit for brains, the list goes on and on and on. There is a HUGE list of masculine predicates for the purposes of showing disrespect. Many of them have to do with bodily functions and sexual organs.

The list of feminine predicates is much shorter and on the whole I think the words tend to be more taboo. Bitch is about the nicest of the damned here. There are words on this list I won't use in conversation among close trusted friends, and I certainly won't use it in writing, even on a blog.

Slang of the penis is always masculine. Interestingly, slang for female sexual organs is almost but not entirely always masculine also. He is a boob. He is a pussy. Any slang for feminine organs used as a feminine predicate that I can think of are taboo, at least to me. George Carlin said one, but you can't repeat it on television- unless it is cable.

Douche, douche bag, masculine. Try it think about some guy that you dislike and think to yourself, "He's such a douche bag." It works! Now try it with some woman you dislike, "She's such a douche bag." It doesn't work. Does that seem right to you? A douche bag is a sack that holds a vinegar and water solution used for the cleaning of lady parts. One could say that if the liquid is transferred from the bag to the place it goes its gone from a plastic bag to a flesh one. Crude, tasteless, tacky, wrong, but not entirely inaccurate. Yet actually calling a woman a douche bag is incorrect. Douche bag is masculine.

Thus, while the English language doesn't have gendered nouns, in the realm of foul language the predicate is clearly gendered.

Some graduate student in English is about to read this and get inspired. When they write their thesis on it they probably won't credit me, though they'll credit George Carlin. George Carlin is an important social commentator, I'm just a fucking douche bag with a blog.

Posted by at 8:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I know I promised you something thoughtful and deep about the differences between the fencing mindset and the football one, but I'm too tired for meaningful. This time yesterday I was 900 miles away in Montreal having just woke up from five hours sleep. Today I am at my desk on five hours sleep, deep and thoughtful will just have to wait until I have had deep sleep of no less than nine hours in duration, and a meal that didn't come in a paper bag.

In the United States convenience store clerk is a job handled by those working their way through college, retired, or hope to get back to school one day. Fast food worker is a job held by high school kids, the retired, and others I can't quite describe at this level of rest. In Quebec, fast food and convenience store worker are jobs that aspiring models and actors work at in hopes of being discovered. Even the one working the fry vat has bright intelligent eyes, clear skin and a body that could not have ever eaten fast food. It was weird.

I remember walking into a convenience store in the middle of nowhere Quebec, my six years of failed french lessons a jumbled mess of misfiring synapses and emotional damage. This completely beautiful girl at the counter smiles at me saying "Bonjour, hello!" I manage to mumble a bonjure back while trying not to look at my shoes. She rings up the two 20oz bottles Pepsi Max and cheerfully says to me "Quatre dollars, et vinget-et-un cent ci vous pley" (Just like that, only spelled correctly). I hand her my card, I have no Canadian currency. I remember her asking something that I knew meant "Is that all for you?" I nodded red faced, noticing the soles on my Clarks were cracking and the shoes really needed replacing, maybe this time with a black pair.
She handed me my card and my receipt for the two drinks costing four dollars and change. I signed the slip and pushed it back across the counter. I managed to stammer, "Merci boucoups" as I scampered out the door. I climbed back into the Rav-4 thinking, aloud to no one in particular "The King of Dorkness has returned."

It was like that.

Even in the stands watching the football game I wondered if the game was being played on the campus of some sort of modeling school. Even the old people were healthy, happy, smiling, and model-esq. I felt like the frog prince's stunt double.

After the game, the members of the Blitz took off their helmets and shoulder pads and rushed over to the fence to visit with friends and family. They didn't look anything like a football team. They looked like they were auditioning for a women of football calendar and there just weren't enough months in the year to go around.

I packed up the wet computer bag, wet camera bag, wet video gear, wet tripod, wet notebook, and put the all in their respective wet bags. I slogged down the portable bleachers squelching in my wet shoes, my wet cloths clinging uncomfortably under my wet jacket. I looked worse than a clog in a medical examiner's sink. Funny thing was everyone I met on the slog over to the vehicle were completely dry and smiled a friendly smile, "Pardon moi", "Excuse me", "Bonjour", "Hi", each spoken with the sort of warmth you reserve for your closest friends during the holidays. Sitting in the car waiting for the team to return from the locker room I heard live music from a bar nearby, it was Celtic Rock, the fiddle player was on fire, and my toes squelched wetly to the beat. The air was clean and cool and the world was perfect, apart from the loss that is.

How can a city that looks so run down, with a highway system that looks like it was designed by a group of attention deficit disorder spastics having a group conniption fit with a plate of spaghetti all be so darned nice and attractive all at once? It is a mystery for the ages.

Posted by at 10:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

They say an army moves on it's stomach. This assumes of course that everything else involved with moving that army is already taken care of.

As their first "full fledged-full membership" season with the IWFL the Phoenix can be said to operate on a shoe string budget- and that's giving shoestrings a lot of credit. They managed to fund themselves almost the whole regular season through dues, donations, and paying out of pocket. After a 7 and 1 season the barrel was dry for playoffs and the ever present championship game in Chicago. But before Chicago, they have to move 28 players, two coaches, and a blogger to a different country- and back again. It seems simple when you refer to 28 players as a group. The reality is when traveling you are moving a player and a player and a player (keep going until you reach 28, then add a coach, a coach, and a blogger (or after this gets published the "official team tattle tail").

So here's the break down, two coaches, a blogger and ten players climbed into a fifteen passenger van and a support vehicle. We left at 8am Friday morning. Our trip took us north to Liverpool NY where we were guest of TP's family. They had a house large enough to sleep us and were ready and capable of feeding the entier team. Saturday we'll climb back into the vehicles and drive the last four or five hours (depending on whose navigating) to the field.

Group two left about 2pm and will drive strait through to Montreal. They will arrive late, sleep later and rendeavous at the field.

Groups three through five or six are doing their own thing which includes getting their United Airlines flight cancelled (Boo United!) and getting hooked up by US Air (Horay for US Air!). Players as of Friday night, in New England, in NC, and somewhere on the highway between here and there.

If all goes well, all 28 players, two coaches, and a blogger will be at the field just outside of Montreal Quebec Canada at 5:30pm for the kickoff. Pray for us.

One more thing that separates football, and I suppose all team sports, from fencing occured this week. The IWFL mandates that each team must supply the next team they play with the game footage from the last game they played. Some teams don't do it, and they get fined for it. In one case that I am aware of the snubbed team got the film from the team the offending team played last. Its playoff time and now the gamesmenship has driven into overdrive. Two days after playing their last game, the Phoenix had the game authored to DVD and in the mail to Canada. The Montreal team made sure the game arrived the day before we had to leave. The rule about getting the film exchanged was fufilled without actually allowing it to be useful. Well played... So if the Phoenix win, they did it without the game footage (woot!), if they lose this pre-game foul will have had something to do with it. I can see it from their point of view- Win at all cost! Hoo raa!! Whatever. Lame.

The best team should win based on skill on the field not BS off the field. Rant off and goodnight!

Posted by at 4:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In the space what was Wild Magnolia, in the space what was a 3 bay garage, now lives a wood fired clay oven pizza restaurant. And it was good. Very good.

Sticks and Stones seems to have taken the motto "Think globally, eat locally". Most all of their ingredients are local to the point that they make note when something isn't. Some people and places claim to be "sustainable" but these guys are living it. It shows up in the seasonable menu and the waterless urinal in the mens room. These are details that I notice and appreciate.

They list the farms where they get their veggies. They list the farms where they get their free range meats. They list the Goat Lady Dairy where they get their goat cheese. They mention the herb garden next to the restaurant where they get their herbs.

The general feel of the place still reminds me of New Orleans with the three large sets of French doors in the spaces that used to be garage doors. The layout is pretty much just like Wild Magnolia used to be. The big difference between them and Wild Magnolia is they didn't hit the local landfill for all of their furniture and decor.

Everything is wood now. The table tops are all wood covered with glass. Sandwiched between are old newspaper and magazine articles, ads, and such. It felt like they were going for European countryside to me. I also think they got it. I'm all about the big open French doors for atmosphere.

The beer and wine selection is quite nice for a place that isn't a bar.

The Wife and I had an appetizer, large pizza, extra topping, drinks, coffee and dessert for $36.00. Which isn't so bad. Your mileage may vary depending on if you are in the mood to "eat" or to "dine".

The quality of the food was very high, while the portion size was fairly small. Our appetizer called the "Pinkheart" which consisted of "Old Mill Polenta battered Mortadella corn dogs with roasted tomato coulis and wildflower honey mustard" cost us $6.25 It contained five pieces which equaled about one hot dog. The roasted tomato coulis, though tastey didn't add anything to it. The wildflower honey mustard rocked with it. The dish was very tasty, but neither Sara nor I thought it was a particular value. On the plus side that means that next time we get to try one of the other appetizers.

Our pizza "To be the One", a "Margherita pizza with tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella, parmesan, and fresh basil" we added pepperoni. Sized large with the added pepperoni cost $18.95. It was probably one of the best Margherita pizzas I have ever had.

Some pizza places see the crust as nothing more than a topping transport device. Some pizza places see the crust as the center of the pizza and toppings are nothing more than condiments. Sticks and Stones made the crust an integral part of the pizza experience. The organic flour comes from Lindley Mills in Eli Whitney NC. The wood burning oven is kept at 700 degrees. The effect is that at first glance you might find your crust a little more done than you would expect or prefer. The fact is that though the crust is dark compared to most pizza places, it is not scorched. That little extra heat seemed to bring out some of the character in the crust which I should add was not tough, overly crunchy or even soggy from the ingredients. Plus they used a little toasted wheat bran in their dough which will darken it a bit anyway. It was a nice detail, well worth it.

The pizza experience was amazing! However, the large pizza pan they put on our table clearly had a medium sized pizza in the middle of it. The Wife and I polished it off entirely and still had room for dessert. This turned out to be a good thing.

For dessert we had wood oven baked peach and walnut cobbler with Homeland Creamery ice cream. $4.95 We shared one, and it was excellent, the walnuts served in the place of the traditional cobbler crust and really helped bring out the flavor of the peaches. No pizza place I have ever eaten in can claim a better dessert.

The place was family friendly and in fact there were a surprising number of young professional couples with their "first child" eating there. They even have on their kids menu what they call a "Kids Cheese Pizza" on the menu "Tomato sauce, whole milk mozzarella" add pepperoni for extra.

What you can't do here: I have the menu before me and they have no ingredient list where you can make your own pizza. That said, the offerings they have are good enough that you probably wouldn't want to anyway. Five of the pizzas were veggie. They also have some really fancy salads that I am inclined to have next time. (Add wood-fire roasted chicken to any salad for $3.95)

Noise: I am sensitive to noise. The echo in Sticks and Stones was warm and tended to be voices, but not so you felt like everyone could hear what you were saying. Some places I have eaten in have the same volume but the quality is metallic and tinny. If we're going to have noise, let it be warm and pleasant.

They have a url but at this posting they haven't actually done anything with it yet (like make a web page). They have only been open a couple of weeks now.

Posted by at 9:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It is Sunday. Sunday means that the coffee taste better and I call my parents. The coffee tastes better on Sundays because that is the one day a week I can actually sit down and enjoy it. Monday through Friday coffee is my drive to work ritual. Saturday is a day where anything can happen. Sunday is, 90% of the time, the day where I can get up put on a pot of coffee and sit down with my first mug, where at 8am on the dot I call home just like I've done every Sunday since 1992 when I left my homeland to seek my fortune in the Piedmont.

Once off the phone I start up my other Sunday morning ritual of Celtic or bluegrass listening. That ritual began some years back when there was a bluegrass radio show on one of the local stations. The show went off the air but by then the ritual was established and I'm not going to let a thing like Buddy Michaels' show going away to change a good thing into a bad thing. Sunday is the day of the fiddle, and some day, sooner rather than latter I'll be practicing on the fiddle during this time as well.

Alright, we've established my Sunday, lets crack open the old anxiety closet and see what's on tap for today. Sunday is the only day of the week where I can, without guilt, explore my various and sundry emotional boogums. I've got a job to do the other six days and need to be on the clock as best as I can possibly be. Lately I haven't been very successful at that. So, lets do something light today shall we?

My mother mentioned that an aunt and uncle of mine came for a visit the day before. I hate that I miss those visits, as he's the one uncle I can relax around. He's not judgmental. Opinionated yes, judgmental no. It is always a relaxing visit with him. Plus he loves to eat as much as I do. The difference is, he's incapable of gaining weight, where on the other hand I gain weight for him and others just by being in the vicinity.

While we were talking about what they ate and how good it was, mom mentioned that my cousin...my professional writer cousin, had stumbled upon the humble blog of yours truly. Her voice was strained, but it didn't really sink in until after I had uttered the words, "Oh good!" For those following at home, mom is a nine on the Eneigram chart. Called "The Peacemaker", nines work extremely hard to avoid all conflicts. They don't vocalize opinions, and if they do have an opinion they will only verbalize it if the feel the group already agrees.

She taught...OK...tried to teach me that one should keep their opinions to themselves. The lesson, (obviously) didn't stick with me. My opinion on the matter is that if you keep your mouth shut all the time you allow yourself to be a victim. History teaches that "going with the flow" is one of the greatest sins of man. On this, clearly, mom and I would disagree completely, if we could actually have this conversation. So mom isn't what we would call a regular reader. Occasionally she stumbles upon something, but she won't read much because she doesn't want to feel humiliated by what I say.

So after saying the words "Oh good!" I had to immediately add, "I hope it was nothing that would be too embarrassing for you." Her response was as tactful as she knew how to make it. "I think she found one of your opinions." Translated into English, that statement means, "I can't believe that you say those things in public, and worse yet, on the internet where everyone can see it. Now your successful cousin with the three children has told your aunt and uncle and sooner or later the whole family is going to know my secret shame". OK, in all fairness I may have embellished the part about the secret shame a little. If you are reading this, it is no secret, but don't tell mom.

How do I feel about that? That's what my shrink is going to ask me next week. I hate that question. I was never really good with non concrete questions. It puts me on the spot. I have to find words to articulate intuition and words are poor tools to describe the feeling I get from seeing how everything works together and feeling strongly about something that I can't prove. All I can do is make my prediction of the outcome, and let time prove or disprove it.

How do I feel about my mom being humiliated by my publishing my thoughts, feelings and opinions for the world to see? I feel hungry. I feel ambivalent. My eyes burn. I want to fight. I want to flee. How do I feel about my mom being humiliated by my publishing my thoughts, feelings, and opinions for the world to see?

Same as I feel about everything else.

I know why I do it, I know why it is the right thing to do, I know why it hurts her, I know that where it may close some doors, it also opens others. I know that when the dust settles, I will have gained more than I have lost. I know all this because that is what my gut tells me. Only I can't prove it, I can't articulate it, and it frustrates me that I can't communicate it.

And that is why I started doing it to begin with.

Every person who agrees with me, every person who calls me an idiot, every person who finds a warm spot in their heart for me, every person who wishes I'd just shut up and go to hell, formed that opinion based on information I was able to articulate to them.

And that is what the past nine hundred and fifteen blog entries have been about. In exchange for being the black sheep of my clan, I will one day learn to understand the question "How do you feel" while being able to articulate an answer. So say I left my homeland to seek my fortune, say I banished myself, say I left to avoid being banished. It is little more than a label on a door. There are always other doors.

Posted by at 10:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So this African American guy walks into an Italian restaurant and he says to the Italian behind the counter...
Sounds like the set up for a racist joke but unfortunately it happened, and more unfortunately I was a witness to the sad stupid and racist punchline.

There is a certain family owned chain of Italian restaurants in the city that I really enjoy and eat at whenever I get the chance. They are good people who make good food at a good price. I was in there last night when this guy walks in. Apparently he called his order in and was showing up to pick it up.

Note: When you call a restaurant doesn't matter if it is Italian, Chinese, or Mexican, and the person on the other end of the phone speaks with a thick accent it is your responsibility as a patron to place your order slowly and clearly and listen to them repeat it back to you so you can be sure that what you get is what you order. As a corollary to this, you can also understand that you probably want to keep the order fairly simple to avoid confusion.

This guy apparently slept through his Captain Obvious training. He ordered two pizzas, he came in gave his name and paid his bill, his pizzas were handed to him and he opens up each box. One he is OK with, the other not so much. Please allow me to paraphrase the conversation.

What is this? I ordered this pizza with a lot of onion and a little bit of green pepper. What do you see here? This pizza has some onion and some green pepper. If I wanted that much green pepper I would have ordered it.

Understand that I am paraphrasing this guy because he spoke potty mouth like some sort of dime store Chris Tucker. He seemed to enjoy using colorful racist slurs. Plus he was yelling.

The manager on duty who was Italian, did what any good business owner would. He offered to remake the pizza on the spot. Not good enough. Our loud mouth idiot wants his money back and the new pizza and he DEMANDED that no Mexican touch his food. It was about this point that the woman who came in with him (and she hadn't said a single word this whole entire time) walked out. I can understand that. I would be ashamed to be seen with this guy too.

I was so offended I took his picture with my camera phone and uploaded it to the great wide internet. My hope was that the flash would go off so he would have no choice but to include me in the conversation. I really wanted to ask him, "You think Martin Luther King died so you could act like this?" Unfortunately for me, the flash didn't go off because the kitchen was bright enough that it wasn't needed. I never got to ask him my question.

His argument was that he was in an Italian establishment and he wanted an Italian making his food. The obvious truth in the job market is that there simply aren't enough Italians available to make all the pizza in the city. There probably aren't enough Italians in all the world to make all the pizza eaten in America alone. This Italian family is too busy owning and running a chain of very fine restaurants to make all the food they serve in them. They have to hire from the pool of people applying for the job just like everyone else. It just so happened that among the restaurant staff, there were a mixture of Mexicans and Celts and one dumbass racist African American customer who really needed to get slapped upside his head with The Dream. Thank you "Mr. Setting the Civil Rights Movement Back 20 Years"

Posted by at 8:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Recently I saw an ad on TV for a combination body wash and shampoo. Clearly this is marketed only to men because all women know its a dumb idea, and every man knows its brilliance. Men in their very genes are programmed to seek a place of "high speed, low drag". Perfection cannot be achieved by mortal man, but we strive on anyway.

Guys will instantly see the good idea a combination body wash shampoo is. One bottle in the shower in and of itself is a huge win. This is especially true when the rest of the shelves are taken up by her various and sundry hair and body care products. Instead of fighting for a corner of a shelf somewhere that holds his soap and combination shampoo conditioner, he can stand mighty and alone one bottle to rule them all.

Women know of course that this is the height of insanity.

Even the instructions on the bottle are written for the man seeking a place of high speed, low drag. "Apply to rag, sponge, poof, hand, whatever. Lather, rinse, go." They don't try to BS us with that silly repeat step that we aren't going to do anyway. Once is enough, now go and be mighty.

There are, of course some guys who scoff a this. They have known for a long time that having separate soap and shampoo only slows you down. They realized long ago that hair adds both wind resistance and water drag. They choose long ago to shave their heads weekly to ensure a state of high speed, low drag. They have been using one product all this time, one bottle to rule them all, and a brisk three minute shower.

Women realize that these men are complete idiots...even those who look hot with that Mister Clean looking slick and shiny scalp.

But there are men out there who look down their noses at those guys that claim to be high speed, low drag, yet weekly have to take the time out to shave their heads. These men are, of course, blessed by superior genes. As soon as puberty hit, the hair line started receding. By college they were naturally balled, or at the very least sporting a Speed Stripe down the center, or racing strips across the sides. They may touch up here and there to make sure no stubborn tufts of hair remained to diminish their god given drag coefficients.

Women of course can spot the signs of testosterone poisoning and started shying away from these guys the moment they hit puberty.

But guys know the truth. We know that every major battle in history has been won by the side with the shortest haircut. US Calvary vs the Indian Nation. Short back and sides beats hair metal locks. Cavaliers vs Roundheads, one nothing to the Puritans. Viet Nam, crew cuts both sides, ended in a tie. High Speed, Low Drag its more than a way to sell grooming products to men, its a way of life.

Posted by at 9:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I've been something of a voyeur into a different world. Jacques Cousteau had the undersea world, Jane Goodall had the apes. I have the waiting room of a cancer center. They come in twos and threes, a patient and a caregiver or two. Most are older, but not all. All of the faces are poker faces, even those deformed by their afflictions. Everyone is keeping score but no one knows how they stack up to those around them.

They make friends fairly easily. Why not, they all have one thing in common besides the same scheduled radiation appointment time. They all have a reason to be radiated in the first place. The strangers, newbies, eye and are eyed by the veterans warily, as each tries to figure out where the cancer lives on each other. Some aren't as lucky, their cancers are as plain as the nose on their face, others keep theirs hidden deeply within. But are any of them really lucky?

The room's colors are faded, it isn't that the colors themselves are faded. Truth is there are brightly colored pictures, quilts, and fliers, but the room, or the people in it just drain all the color away. As pale as the people in the room are, it seems more like the colors themselves flee the room maybe seeking happier climates in daycare centers or McDonald's lobbies. I certainly felt a strong craving for a Starbucks, or anywhere else for that matter.

The veterans of this pale place talk. They talk mostly about the weather. They keep the topics topical and short term. Nobody is talking about their summer vacation plans. Certainly most of them will be there for the summer, but its all about the poker face, not everyone will be there, and no one knows who's going to draw the short straw.

And there I am sitting, waiting, watching, and wondering when I'm going to find myself a patient.

Posted by at 6:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I recently saw a headline about the Illinois university shooting where they used the term "Unthinkable" to describe it. Not only was the term used incorrectly, it is a dangerous term to be using at all.

Of school shootings in general, one could call Columbine "unthinkable" because it was so large and so successful (for the shooters), but don't think for a moment that the shooters at Columbine were breaking new ground. There have been murders in schools for as long as there have been schools. These guys weren't breaking new ground, they were just trying to beat the old record.

The recent university shootings are no different. They were not "unthinkable" at all, others had thought of it before and acted on the idea, these latest were just better at it (in terms of destruction).

Where people and the media and the government go wrong is all to often they see these acts as "unthinkable" -completely new, unique and unimaginable. Thinking of terrible things as "unthinkable" give too much credit to the perpetrators and take away valuable credit from those there to protect us from these acts.

I heard somewhere that some well meaning git in congress wants to create new legislature to prevent things like school shootings from occurring. Neat trick that, do they plan to change physics so guns won't work on academic ground? Do they intend to add a new commandment to the bible, "Thou shall not open fire in crowded auditoriums"? The first is impossible and the second is unworkable, people have enough trouble with the ten commandments we have already and don't even get me started on all of the other rules and regulations in the good book that we ignore on a daily basis. You know, a pork BBQ sandwich with a cold glass of milk and a side of fried shrimp would go over pretty well right now. But I digress...

What do you think campus security, resource officers, and all this existing policy was put in place for to start with? Were it not for the things already in place because long ago someone thought of it already, the tragedies of our time would be a lot worse and a lot more often. Did you think campus police were there simply to cut down drunken frat boys who have been duct taped naked to trees?

If people keep thinking of things like this as unthinkable they are sticking their heads in the sand and blissfully ignoring the obvious.

"Unthinkable" is discovering that President Bush is a high technology genius android sent from the future to bring us to a new age of enlightenment and velvet thong underwear which we wear anytime we want free steak ice cream from the locally owned and operated independent Starbucks.

A guy with a gun going into a crowded room and opening fire isn't unthinkable at all. Fortunately it is unlikely, but that isn't the same thing as unthinkable by a long shot.

"There is nothing new under the sun", and as long as we don't forget this we won't be caught unawares.

Posted by at 4:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm going to break the writer's strike picket line. I know that if I try to sell a script now, it will be sold. This film is important and it needs to be shot. Its a horror.

It is a story about a homicidal maniac who gleefully slaughters a large church group. The protagonist is the maniac who was driven to this homicidal state by the fact that the church group has the entire floor above him in his condo and keep him from sleeping because of their constant and flagrant noise and chaos.

I promise you, you'll cheer every murder because it is clearly the right thing to do. Some folks just need killin'.

Now pray for me that we can get some sort of relief before this fiction becomes our reality.

Posted by at 1:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

With the title alone, I am sure that a great number of sword wielding individuals are loosening up their flame fingers as you read this, so I'd better get to the point right away and capitalize on my second intention. For the last several years fencing clubs and the USFA as a whole has had a marvelous period of membership growth that lead to larger better competitions, better fencers, and a stronger international national program.

Recently clubs and the USFA have begun to notice a decline in the growth rate. In some clubs its turned into a run away shrink rate. I am going to tell you why. Some of you may have already figured it out. For some of you it will be a surprise, not because it is some deep dark secret, its simply because you have never thought of it from this angle.

It has nothing to do with the price of membership.
It has nothing to do with rules changes.
It has nothing to do with rating systems, sportsmanship, or the price of gear.

It has to do with the movies.

Compare a list of the membership numbers for the past ten years with a list of the top grossing movies of the last ten years. You will find a spike that coincides with Olympic years and you will see increases that coincide with the release of each installment of The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and Pirates of the Caribbean, Star Wars. The unwitting secret of our recent successes has been adventure movies. Now that we have no movies with swords, we've lost the wind in our free publicity sails.

Now we have two choices, we can go out and get some swashbuckling movies made, which is possible with our diverse talent pool, or we can bite the bullet and actually market our sport at the level where people will see it. Clearly one of these is cheaper and easier than the other, but if you are the gambling sort you can surely see the appeal of the other. Plus, hey if nothing else we have more movies with swords to go see with our club mates.

Posted by at 8:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I believe the Age of the Genius has come and gone. Sure, we have modern day geniuses, Kurzweil, and Hawking certainly count among them. But the golden age has passed and unless we as a society change, it will never return. I think the notes on Kurzweil's wikipedia entry sums it up pretty well.

# It may contain original research or unverifiable claims. Tagged since January 2008.
# Its tone or style may not be appropriate for Wikipedia. Tagged since January 2008.
# It may be too long. Some content may need to be summarized or split. Tagged since January 2008.
# It seems to contain too many examples (or examples of poor quality) for an encyclopedia entry. Tagged since January 2008.
# An editor has expressed concern that the article is unbalanced. Tagged since January 2008.

Da Vinci, a definite genius drew out designs for tanks, helicopters, parachutes, and many other things that were simply not possible to create in his day because there weren't materials strong enough, or light enough, to make the designs function as designed. Forget about the whole issue of powering the powered devices. These designs weren't published until after his death. I am sure he must have realized that people seeing a design for some amazing thing that they didn't have the technology to build would tarnish his reputation. If it can't be done, it isn't possible right? Therefore if he's designing the impossible, then he must be a nut right?

Prior to him in time genius was next to heresy. We all learned in school about people with great ideas that where seriously pooped upon by organized religion. I'm not picking on organized religion, I'm picking on the poop. People as a rule tend to mock or outright attack what they do not understand. It used to be that organized religion was responsible for stomping out free thinking and radical ideas. Today this task is sponsored by Zoloft and Prozac, and championed by well meaning people who when confronted with something they don't understand, attempt to "help" the situation through intervention, butterfly nets, involuntary institutionalization, and outright ridicule, via the internet.

Before the Industrial Revolution a genius might tell a few friends, or publish a book that only a few could read, and those tended to fear new ideas. During the industrial revolution, mankind's attitude changed and we lived in an age where anything was possible. Edison, Tesla, Bell, Colt, names that defined new ways of seeing and harnessing the world. These radical thinkers became heroes of the age. Now a person of genius has an idea, they probably create a website, the people who fear what they do not understand get a hold of it and ten websites spring up all trying to drag the genius back into the quagmire of normalcy. The people that do not understand, can't even attack the idea well because they don't understand it. Its like what would have happened if Da Vinci had published the design for the helicopter the day after he thought of it. He would have been ridiculed. Him, personally. Sure the ridicule would have been wrapped in a poor understanding of his idea, but they would have attacked the man. If the genius is to survive in this day and age they have to work alone and in secret. They may live and die in poverty believe to be a kook by everyone around them and all because the one missing piece they need to make their idea a reality is brewing in secret in someone else's mind. We have a tool that could allow the genius power of the world to unite into a new golden age of invention and it has been hijacked by Luddites.

It makes me sad to think that I can't grow four inches taller, shoot lightning bolts from my butt, and fly because someone out there is too afraid of being locked up and medicated, by the people who have made the decision that it can't be done because they aren't doing it already.

Thanks for ruining it for the rest of us.

Posted by at 8:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yesterday I happened to read an article about some real life costumed crusaders, and I have to admit it set my mind a whirl. Why is all this so familiar? People putting on fancy uniforms and going out into the real world facing ridicule and worse to do good deeds. There is something that makes me think a person could gain a lot of satisfaction by adopting the way of the mask. Have I done this before in a different life perhaps?

Even Greensboro has one. Sharp costume, clear goals, a myspace page, what more could a city want?

Of course there are some who have perhaps lost the way and turned to vigilantism, but those guys will get sorted out in the end. If they don't break the law themselves the criminals will likely break them. Criminals like their police to follow the rules. Its what gives the criminal their biggest advantage and costumed vigilantes take away that advantage and replace rules with brightly colored spandex. Darwinism will sort it all out in the end.

The rest of them however are on a very positive path, and I salute them. Salute? Why is that so familiar?

Easily recognized uniforms, good deeds, charity work, values. A group of people who are trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, curious, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent. Yeah, I think I could find a place among them.

Wait a minute! I have! I was a Cub Scout, Webloe, and Boy Scout! But now I'm adult, and the Boy Scouts ends around 18 (at least it did for me). This is the next logical step! I'm trading the brown and the green with the scarf and the belt for a cowl and in some cases a cape (optional). That's what has been missing all this time, a civic organization!

I'm going to need to do some shopping before I apply for membership...

Posted by at 11:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

People have been using symbols to represent things for as long as we've been able to think of ourselves as people. Where it gets really weird, really not like language at all is the subjectiveness of the symbols. Some ancient civilization creates a symbol that for them represents the sun. A few thousand years later this guy named Hitler used the same symbol to mean "We're better than you are." Now that same symbol is interpreted to mean "We hate YOU." Put it all together and we have a symbol that REALLY means the Sun hates us because its better than us. Or, I suppose it could mean we hate the sun because we are better than it. Or We hate the sun because it is better than we are. Never mind. That's a confusing symbol that doesn't really mean anything at all universally. Sun, Better, Hate, these are concrete, the symbol that they are attributed to mean nothing universally.

Some groups aren't all that big on symbols, they don't use them often, others use them all the time. Hitler's Germany loved symbols. They had symbols for everything, gays over there, jews over there, polish over there, blonds over there, old over there, young over there, please have your papers stamped at the barbed wire just follow the signs.

Some symbols are made up of other symbols to make one big symbol. Take the American flag. One star for each state, one stripe for each original colony, the blue field means something the colors of the stripes all mean something. Take that flag to a boy scout meeting and they salute it. Take it to an al qaeda sewing circle and it gets burned on sight. To the boy scouts the flag means all the best of our country. In the sewing circle it means evil oppressor bent on world domination. The only thing both sides will agree on is what it looks like and how much fun camping out is.

Back during the War of Northern Aggression. Those who wanted freedom created a flag to represent them. It was their symbol. It meant to them freedom from economic and political oppression. But people have the power to reinterpret, reassign, and outright steal symbolism. Hitler stole the symbol for the sun and reassigned the meaning, "we're better than you are." the world stole the symbol from him and now it means "we hate you". The southern battle flag was stolen and reassigned to mean "we hate those of African descent". Now people fight over it, each assigning their own personal "universal" meaning to it and try to hammer the other into the ground with it. Some cultures have a bunch of symbols, some have a few, some don't have that many symbols of their own so they borrow others. Hitler borrowed the sun symbol and the world borrowed it from him. The southerners had a symbol that others borrowed.

People are constantly borrowing/stealing other symbols for their own purposes. The pirate's skull and crossbones used to be an identifier for individual pirates, now it has been stolen and turned into a generic symbol that means either "biker" or "trendy cool rebelliousness" (available now at Hot Topic). The noose used to mean "execution by hanging". Now it has been stolen and reassigned the meaning "we hate those of African descent". That hardly seems fair considering how many people have been hung who aren't of African descent. Didn't they hang Saddam Husein? (North African doesn't count.) There are still a bunch of countries that execute by hanging and not all of those countries are in Africa. Still, credit where credit is due, it was quick thinking, to steal a symbol and whip up some real fear and outrage with it.

It got me to thinking. Maybe we could have some fun with stealing and reassigning symbols.

They took the noose, so lets take the square knot. The cord knotted with the square knot now means "We hate the boy scouts"! McDonald's golden arches could now mean "We hate healthy people". The symbol for the book that used to mean "library" can now mean "We're smarter than you." The symbol for the phone can now mean, "You talk too much". The symbol for school can now mean "pedophiles buffet ahead". The shamrock now means "we hate the Irish" (puts a twist on St. Patrick's day doesn't it). Pizza now means "Italians think the world is still flat". Bling now means "we hate everyone...biatch". The color red means "we hate everyone wearing the color blue", the color blue means "we hate everyone wearing red". The color yellow means "we hate everyone wearing green". Pink means "we are gay". The color black now means "We're all unique individuals" unless you wear black make up or have a really good tan in which case it means "help help I'm being oppressed". White used to mean, clean, holy, angelic. Now it means "nah nah, we're better than you are". Oh wait, we can't do that, someone's already given it that meaning, lets find a new one for white. How about, "use hot water and bleach, tumble dry warm, remove promptly." I read in this article that a city in Colorado is banning the use of green or red lights during the holidays. I am just glad I don't have to drive there, because if I got pulled for running a red light I'd have to sue the city for displaying one. Heck, someone ought to do that anyway.

Does anyone find it strange that a kid can vandalize a wall with a can of spray paint and its "obviously gang sign"? Truth is, it is probably only obvious to him, the gang, and the couple of guys on the police force in the gang unit. If a krylon squiggle is so obviously a gang sign why is it that scientist cannot create a symbol that will still mean "danger keep out" in a few thousand years?

Its because symbols have no meaning in and of themselves.

Symbols only mean what the person that views it assigns to it.

Therefore a "symbol of fear and hate" is so ONLY because you made it that way.

Posted by at 1:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

People use the term "story of my life" as a way to sum up their current events into a single pithy sentence. Often used in comedy, you have a string of slapstick events and the punchline is "that's the story of my life". Cue the canned laughter.

If I were to use the term "story of my life" I would have to open with this made up event that could be used to illustrate the story of my life.

"Get in there and jobik the gikzelen."
"Ugh...what?"
"You heard me."
"I think I missed something, could you repeat it."
"Get in there and jobik the gikzelen."
"I don't think I know how to jobik, and if I did, I am not sure I even want to attempt to do it to a gikzelen whatever that may be."
"Just do it."
"Do what?"
"Jobik the gikzelen, stupid!"
At this point the speaker stomps angrily out of the room, and I say "That's the story of my life." Cue the laugh track.

The joke continues as a running gag when every five minutes that antagonist comes back into the room furious because the task isn't complete and is completely unwilling to offer clues, hints, tips, explanations or anything else necessary for our hopelessly clueless protagonist to do anything but count to ten while breathing into a paper bag from a safe position under the dining room table.

And there it is the story of my life. Coming to you live from under the dining room table.

Posted by at 7:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As I was enjoying the rich full bodied taste of a cup of Newman's Own coffee it occurred to me that if a successful actor could do good works with a line of foodstuffs, the modern crop of wanna be's and has beens could at least pay their bills with clever marketing and the right product.

I remember a series of breakfast cereals all around a monster theme. Count Chocula, Boo Berry, and Frankenberry. Well, why not a series of breakfast cereals around the current crop of failed ingenues like Britney, Nichole, Paris and Jessica. You could put their pictures on the box and call them Breakfast Ho's.

Posted by at 12:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Recently in the mail we received a request for money from an animal rights organization that was pushing the "spay and neuter the animals" line. While I know that their hearts are in the right place, indeed none of our animals can breed, even the purebred. The problem was their word choice.

I read their letter again and where it said "pet" I substituted "person", where it said "spay" I said "hysterectomy, where it said, "neuter" I said "castrate". You can imagine how horrified I was by the end of the letter. I was holding my nards in one hand and the letter in my shaking other hand.

These are some bloodthirsty sex crazed folks who want to do unspeakable things... for a good cause.

I'm not saying they are wrong, I'm saying that they are perhaps on to something.

A boy and a girl drop out of high school because she gets pregnant (he may or may not be the father). Both get low paying entry level jobs to pay for the baby. Pretty soon since the only fun thing they can do that doesn't cost money is practice procreation they have a whole house full of youngens. This passel of little ones have little hope for a college education and probably have a substandard public education. The cycle repeats. Lets say that the drop outs above have four children, and those four have four of their own. Within three generations the original two have spawned 64 fast food workers!!! Just two drop outs in only three generations!!!

Please spay and neuter your drop outs so this doesn't happen to you! The world can only support so many fast food chains before the food chain is disrupted leading to mass unemployment and hunger!!!

It takes $2000 to neuter a human and $7000 for a hysterectomy. Please give now to the Save the Humans fund so we can stop the rampant birth of unwanted humans who will face abuse, starvation, and cruelties beyond imagination.

Posted by at 9:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In case you have been under a rock for the past couple of days this is worth reading. Essentially, the talk show host Ellen DeGeneres adopted a little doggie. She likes animals and forked out three grand for this little pooch that looks less than ten pounds total. So essentially she paid $300 per pound for a stray. Those that can, will while the rest of us adopt from cheaper sources.

Ellen forked out the cash and she got a dog. The dog didn't play well with their cats, so rather than dump the dog somewhere found a good home with someone she trusted. The mob front Mutts for Moms, said "No dice, you paid to keep the dog, if you want your friend to keep the dog they are going to have to pay, and since you are famous, you all should have to pay a lot.
Ellen cried, the children cried, the viewers at home cried, and I got pissed off with tears. It is my opinion that these so called "pet rescuers" need some rescuing themselves.

Posted by at 1:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I noticed that Fall is coming today. Sure there is a little chill in the air, and the leaves are turning, but these are not the only signs. You see the stores start getting their Christmas stuff out in September, that's a sign for sure, but not the one I'm thinking about.

Yes, when Fall is upon us it is that weird wonderful time of year that you see, sweaters, sweatshirts, jackets, and the first scarves...worn with shorts and sandals.

Spring is as odd only sometimes in reverse. In early spring you can see snow boots, thick socks, and pants with t-shirts or tank tops as well. I generally don't see that in the Fall.

People aren't like trees I guess. Trees all leave at once, both coming and going. People for the most part start at one end and work towards the other. I don't know why, I just noticed it and thought I would share. Plus I hadn't written anything lately, and needed a little filler to hopefully kick start me writing again.

Posted by at 5:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Last week I wrote this. It got several good responses and I learned that I am not always as clear as I wish I were. At any rate, Joel Gillespie challenged me with a good debate topic and I promised that I would have a response of some kind by Monday.

Here we are, and here it is.

I've got to admit, I was a little daunted by the subject matter and figured it would take all weekend to come up with anything. I did it on the car ride into class Saturday. It occurred to me that debates on "suicide" are always going to fall apart because the word is too broadly defined across the population.

I looked up the word in an online dictionary and the major definition is the taking, or intention of taking one's own life. I think this is a great definition and I doubt anyone would challenge it.

Oh, if only the world were so black and white. 90% of the time it is, but that last 10% of the time is a doozy. I'm not even talking about the chicken and egg scenarios like a guy who finds himself on death row when all the appeals have all run out, who hangs himself with his bed sheet. He killed himself. Suicide. No question, but if he was about to be killed anyway all he did was take control of the last thing he had any control over. Should I ever find myself on death row and all out of appeals, take my bed sheets if it is really important to you that the tax payers have to pay even more money to kill me. From my perspective, I've saved the tax payers some money and in my final act stuck it to the man. Its a win win.

Everything I just wrote, though true, was just a distraction designed to put you off balance before I talk about what I'm REALLY interested in.

I contend that the definition for suicide is correct but thanks to modern miracle and wonder, incomplete. It makes an assumption, that up to a very short time ago was a reasonable one. It assumes you were alive when you killed yourself. No, I am not drinking.

We are alive thanks to a number of very complex systems all working together to maintain our lives. During this lifetime we spend our existences doing things that put this delicate system in danger. We eat too many terrible for you foods, some of may have used cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, trans fats, breathed asbestos, touched mercury, and any number of other deadly chemicals. Some of us did physically dangerous activities. We all accept a certain amount of risk because at the end of the day most of us know that our brains are going to tell our hearts to beat and our lungs to breathe, and our mouths to eat, and our hands to avoid the fire, and our feet to avoid the ravenous copper headed water rattler.

We all know that when our heart stops beating, our brains stop sending or the signals don't reach their destinations, our livers stop cleaning our blood, our digestive systems stop breaking down food and elimination waste, or we can no longer draw a breath. We all know when these things happen, we are dead. Its a cascade failure scenario, something goes, and knocks down the next thing, which knocks down the next thing, and the house of cards falls. If it didn't we'd all be college age forever. (How much would that suck!)

But thanks to modern medicine, they have a machine for most every situation. Artificial hearts, iron lungs, dialysis, the list goes on, and all of these machines are true miracles of science. With them you can keep a brain thinking long after most every other system has said its long goodbye. But when did YOU die? There's the rub.

The knee jerk reaction is to say you are "alive" until the machines can no longer do the living for you. It might feel right, but is it true?

That same online dictionary defines life thus.

1. the condition that distinguishes organisms from inorganic objects and dead organisms, being manifested by growth through metabolism, reproduction, and the power of adaptation to environment through changes originating internally.
2. the sum of the distinguishing phenomena of organisms, esp. metabolism, growth, reproduction, and adaptation to environment.

I doubt anyone who agreed with the definition of suicide will disagree with the definition of life, or death for that matter.

1. the act of dying; the end of life; the total and permanent cessation of all the vital functions of an organism.

Again, no arguments, the assumption that everyone is going off of is the assumption that if you are alive, you are capable of maintaining life. Up until very recently this was a simple fact that no one would argue. But times have changed.

Now we can keep adding machines until there are no machines left to add. Its an interesting ethical quandary we've found the slippery slope and we're all screaming Weeeeee as we go. Every day someone comes up with either a new machine or an improvement on an old machine to eek out a few more cycles of something we aren't even sure what is.

So we have some new definitions of living to figure out.
You are no longer "living" when:
1. We run out of machines to hook you to.
2. You can no longer keep yourself that way without a machine.
3. You decide that you won't ever be able to maintain your own state of living without a machine.
4. You decide that you won't be able to be a productive member of society because of all of the machines in the way.

I think that the truth for you is inside of you and may change according to the situation. You'll say one thing again and again until you find yourself in that situation. Then you may or may not change your mind. There is no penalty for changing your mind. You might think to be interred is a penalty, but if the pain is bad enough, the penalty is to continue to hurt.

Thus the real debate is that there isn't one. Coffee, tea, or milk? Machine, machines, or au naturale?

It comes down to choice, and I say that choice is yours to make. My dear uncle made his choice back in April, and he's still with us. He eats with a machine, he poops with a machine, he breaths with a machine, his blood is cleaned with a machine, if you touch him, we will bleed, he is that fragile. But he lives because he says he does, or would if he could talk for the eating and breathing machines. Insurance has run out, Medicare has run out, the bank accounts have run out, and even the priest won't come to see him anymore. They're still pissed off that he chose to live in spite of them begging him to die back in June.

I for one am not sure which choice I'd make for myself, but it is my intent to be in heaven a day before the devil even knows I'm dead.

Posted by at 4:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I noticed the other day that my neighbor has a "private property" sign. Not a big deal, these signs are at the edges of many lawns, and many vast tracks of land showing that the land is "owned", and the owner doesn't want people wandering across it. Sometimes you see these signs on chain link fences topped with barbed wire. I am sure that it probably didn't cross your mind, it certainly didn't mine, but isn't the barbed wire topped chain length fence pretty much a dead giveaway that the area in question isn't a public park?

I mean, do prisons need "private property" signs. Its sort of a "Duh!" right?

That neighbor I mentioned, his/her "Private Property" sign is not on the edge of their property but in the window of the house 75 yards from the end of their driveway. What's the message?

"No you may not come into my house and have a picnic in my living room floor"?

I myself have signs at the back edge of my property in the trees that say "no hunting" in the hopes that my house won't be critically wounded during hunting season this fall. Nothing says, "eek" like finding a bullet lodged in the opposite wall from where the bullet entered.

But I have no signs in my window. If anyone comes down my driveway unannounced and knocks on my door, they get a different kind of warning.

I answer the door naked, and holding an ax. I guess my real problem is I find the "private property" sign in the window idea cold and impersonal. It greets strangers just like it greets friends. My way, when friends are coming over, I put on cloths, pick up the place and prepare snacks. To each their own, but I think I like my way better.

Posted by at 1:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Do you remember the old days when people were afraid to fly or they weren't. Thanks to our modern lives, we now have reasons to fear the airports themselves. Random terrorist, or artist attacks, losing your car, random strip searches, random strip searches ending in a dinner offer, and now going to the bathroom.

Yes, I am saying it. I was a little wigged out being in the airport yesterday and having to take a wiz. Guys have rules about peeing. But there are some new second edition rules I know nothing about yet and I don't want to get arrested...or propositioned. First edition rules are easy. No peaking, stay to the sides, never use the center urinal if the one to the left and the right of it are being used. You keep an empty urinal between you and the next guy and all is well. But now in the second edition you have to stand a certain way, and I am not sure what those rules are.

I was sort of hoping, being an airport they would have some easy pictographs hanging on the walls, they do for everything else. No guns, no food, no drink, pets must be on a leash, barf bags are on the left and your seat is a flotation device so in the event of accident the recovery crew will know where to dive for bodies. Do not stand with feet more than 18 inches apart. Do not touch the wall with either hand. Putting both hands on the wall is right out. Do not grab your neighbor's ass and comment about ham. But the walls however were bare. The room was packed, there was one open urinal that no one was going to and the only guy not worried about getting arrested for improper peeing was the Asian guy who was afraid of a whole litany of other things.

I wish for the simpler days, when the only thing I feared in the toilet was the dirty seat and the sharks, alligators, snakes, and rabid squirrels that could come out of the bowel and bite you on the butt if you aren't paying attention. Now not only do we have to fear the wildlife, we have to fear camera phones, and pants position while we do our business. Too high you poop on your self, too low you are retarded, off completely and you're just looking for trouble.

I just wanted to pee.

Posted by at 8:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Yeah, you heard me. Before you start checking the seas for blood content, you'd better let me explain myself. I've not lost my mind, though of late it feels like it more and more. This has nothing to do with that however.

I have been on an Indian eating jag of late and that means cooking curries at home and occasionally having some Indian "astronaut food" style side dishes in the boil in bag. Many of these side dishes are either vegetarian or vegan. Last night's side was a vegan selection, and I just didn't like it. It simply wasn't good. However, once I stirred it into my nice thick chicken curry the whole thing changed and I just yummed it right up.

The lesson: If it isn't tasty you just need to add what was missing to make it good again. In this case, all it needed was meat. See, even I can eat vegan food. Not as tasty as eating vegan, but when all of the vegans have been eaten, we're going to have to be clever with what's left.

Posted by at 11:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Its been suggested that perhaps I shouldn't ever mention when I screw up. I don't get it. As I have no respect for public office, and would never lower myself to attempt to hold such, I don't have to lie and tell everyone I'm perfect.

Personally, I feeling that being honest about my short comings is the best way to keep people from being disappointed later. An example of this would be our president. How many of you voted for that git thinking he would be good only to discover he's a complete and total git.

You'll never make those mistakes with me.

However, my mother once told me that If I don't have something good to day I should just keep my mouth shut. I'd like to say I'm keeping my mouth shut. However that would be a dirty dirty lie. I simply can't think of anything to say, and to me that's worse.

Posted by at 9:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Sara and I were in Reidsville over the weekend and happened to see that someone had moved into the old Hardies by the (s)mall. The sign said "Latinos Tikal Grill Churasqueria and Antojitos". More important, it was open, and we decided to give it a try. I am very glad we did.

The atmosphere was about as best as it can be when you're working with an old Hardies. You walk into the front door to see the two buffet tables, the waitress took our drink orders and asked us to help ourselves to the buffet and our meat courses would be brought to us as they came off of the grill.

The food on the buffet was a mixture of vegetables, and other dishes that we learned were of Guatemalan origin. It was a Guatemalan family who opened the business only a month before and were working hard to make a go of it in of all places, Reidsville. I enjoyed everything on the all you can eat buffet I had. Then the first course from the grill arrived and I found heaven. Well, if not heaven, as close as you can get to it, on Scales street.

My concern was how they could pull off the food cost. When I think Churasqueria I think of gaucho's with huge skewers of fire grilled meats. The quality of the meat was exactly the same as that, but they defeated the possibility of waste by cooking a serving of each meat one at the time in a rotation, by the time you finished one, the next was delivered to your waiting plate. After the first round you could pick your new order having only those things you wanted more of. I ate a lot. The seasoning on the pork and beef in particular were mouth watering, so much so that I'm having to watch the drool as I type this. Everything was excellent, and there was the variety I crave.

Best part, our all you can eat lunch was only ten dollars. Dinner is twelve dollars. We talked to the owner who told us he wanted to allow people to have the whole Churasqueria experience with the red and green marker, and hot meats and seafoods brought right to your table, seasoned in the Guatamala way at a price that made it possible for the common person to enjoy. My only complaint is that working in Greensboro as I do, I can't have lunch there daily. For those with small appetites, they had a regular menu with regular plate meals for around six dollars each.

If you happen to find yourself in Reidsville, and have a taste for really good food, you've got to give Tikal Grill a taste. This is the best food I've ever had in Reidsville, and I am positive your mouth will thank you for your generosity by going there.

Tikal Grill
1519 Scales St.
Reidsville, NC 27320
(336) 342 3135 (Take out Available!)
Open daily 10am through 10pm.

Posted by at 10:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

While it is well known to have existed pre-internet, the existance of the Information Superhighway was previously thought to only encompass the door to door bible seller, newspaper delivery people and the Book Mobile. This undated photo has recently surfaced showing that information traveled the highways and bi-ways in unexpected ways.

Posted by at 9:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I had hoped that this sort of thing was something we could call a part of our primitive history. It seems however that pockets of primitive thinking linger on. Homo Honkius is alive and well and living in Jena Louisiana. Send in the cryptozoologist.

From Color of Change:

I just learned about a case of segregation-era oppression happening today in Jena, Louisiana. I signed onto ColorOfChange.org's campaign for justice in Jena, and wanted to invite you to do the same.

http://www.colorofchange.org/jena/?id=1437-264161

Last fall in Jena, the day after two Black high school students sat beneath the "white tree" on their campus, nooses were hung from the tree. When the superintendent dismissed the nooses as a "prank," more Black students sat under the tree in protest. The District Attorney then came to the school accompanied by the town's police and demanded that the students end their protest, telling them, "I can be your best friend or your worst enemy... I can take away your lives with a stroke of my pen."

A series of white-on-black incidents of violence followed, and the DA did nothing. But when a white student was beaten up in a schoolyard fight, the DA responded by charging six black students with attempted murder and conspiracy to commit murder.

It's a story that reads like one from the Jim Crow era, when judges, lawyers and all-white juries used the justice system to keep blacks in "their place." But it's happening today. The families of these young men are fighting back, but the story has gotten minimal press. Together, we can make sure their story is told and that the Governor of Louisiana intervenes and provides justice for the Jena 6. It starts now. Please join me:

http://www.colorofchange.org/jena/?id=1437-264161

The noose-hanging incident and the DA's visit to the school set the stage for everything that followed. Racial tension escalated over the next couple of months, and on November 30, the main academic building of Jena High School was burned down in an unsolved fire. Later the same weekend, a black student was beaten up by white students at a party. The next day, black students at a convenience store were threatened by a young white man with a shotgun. They wrestled the gun from him and ran away. While no charges were filed against the white man, the students were later arrested for the theft of the gun.

That Monday at school, a white student, who had been a vocal supporter of the students who hung the nooses, taunted the black student who was beaten up at the off-campus party and allegedly called several black students "nigger." After lunch, he was knocked down, punched and kicked by black students. He was taken to the hospital, but was released and was well enough to go to a social event that evening.

Six Black Jena High students, Robert Bailey (17), Theo Shaw (17), Carwin Jones (18), Bryant Purvis (17), Mychal Bell (16) and an unidentified minor, were expelled from school, arrested and charged with second-degree attempted murder. The first trial ended last month, and Mychal Bell, who has been in prison since December, was convicted of aggravated battery and conspiracy to commit aggravated battery (both felonies) by an all-white jury in a trial where his public defender called no witnesses. During his trial, Mychal's parents were ordered not to speak to the media and the court prohibited protests from taking place near the courtroom or where the judge could see them.

Mychal is scheduled to be sentenced on July 31st, and could go to jail for 22 years. Theo Shaw's trial is next. He will finally make bail this week.

The Jena Six are lucky to have parents and loved ones who are fighting tooth and nail to free them. They have been threatened but they are standing strong. We know that if the families have to go it alone, their sons will be a long time coming home. But if we act now, we can make a difference.

Join me in demanding that Louisiana Governor Kathleen Blanco get involved to make sure that justice is served for Mychal Bell, and that DA Reed Walters drop the charges against the 5 boys who have not yet gone to trial.

http://www.colorofchange.org/jena/?id=1437-264161

Those wondering about my inflammatory blog title, it has been edited several times. Originally I was going to go in the direction of Outbreak and liken the racism to a deadly virus. Then I said, "Nuke Reed Walters". My thinking was that if you kill the head vampire the others would be freed. But who the heck is this Reed Walter's guy anyway and why should you care from just a blog title. So I went back to nuking the town, but I cracked myself up when I thought of racist as a hopefully extinct scavenger. The problem was the title "Mysterious Cryptid found in Jena Louisiana" would simply attract the wrong crowd. So I went with the hellfire and brimstone Southern Baptist title but kept the mysterious creatures entry. Now you've seen into the mind of the writer.

Posted by at 8:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

First some background. Downtown Fencing Club at the