I Finally Gave In.

I'm holding off on my official Christmas post until after another gathering tomorrow night. I hope you've all been having a great time. The post is about a different topic that has slowly been wearing me down until I finally gave in today and decided to post on it.

A few days ago I watched the national news program on one of the major networks. I honestly don't remember which one, but it further reinforced my previous policy of not watching network news. Here are the top three stories with accompanied network spin:

1. News: Thousands take to the streets of Baghdad to protest the election results. Spin: The democratic process in Iraq is on the verge of collapse.

2. News: New Orleans police shoot a man after he lunged at an officer with a knife. Spin: The New Orleans Police Department is over-stressed, under-trained, and lacks adequate decision making skills.

3. News: Auto parts manufacturer, Delphi, is planning on cutting jobs and slashing salaries in the near future. Spin: Corporate executives are greedy and immoral.

I will now provide you with my response to the above:

1. Apparently democracy in the US has been teetering on self destruction for some time now, because I am hard pressed to remember a single year in my lifetime when thousands of people haven't taken to the streets of Washington DC in protest of some sort of political issue. The broadcast totally ignored the fact that the people in Baghdad were protesting instead of blowing up cars, police stations, etc. which I kind of thought was significant.

2. As many of you know I don't have a terribly high opinion of the NOPD, and that goes back further than Katrina, but in this case I think that they're getting screwed. What were the officers supposed to do when the guy came at them with a knife? Give him a hug? As far as the whole over-stressed and under-trained thing goes, it could very well be true, but to criticize them for shooting in this situation is ridiculous. What do we have police officers for if not to shoot men marauding the streets with knives? What is more ridiculous is that this story made national news. There was a nearly identical incident at my local Wal-Mart last month that didn't get national attention. What's the difference? Like Iraq, the national media has a fetish for anything that they can make to appear to be going wrong in New Orleans.

3. I actually agreed with the news on this one. Delphi is cutting jobs and salaries at the production level while raising salaries for top executives. Interesting considering the fact that the top executives, not the production level workers, were the ones who led the company into its current financial woes. Although I agreed with the spin of the story I was still offended by it. Why? Read on.

Final Thought. Where does the media get off on putting a spin on anything? What ever happened to "who, what, when, where, and why." I don't remember "what's your opinion on it" being listed in there. I constantly hear people complaining about how biased CNN or Fox, depending on who's brainwashing them that week, is in their reporting. The sad fact of the matter is that you pretty much have to watch both CNN and Fox to get anything close to a balanced view of what's going on in the world. Forget watching the major networks, they would be hard pressed to give you an unbiased report on the state of craters on the Moon (if there even is a Moon). I guess my overall point is that the media sucks. Much like the Democratic Party I don't have any practical solution to this problem, I just wanted to complain.

Apparently Fox Doesn't Pay So Well.

The betrothed of rover finally returned from her surgical rotation on Friday, and last night we went out to celebrate the end of months of separation. We had a nice dinner at Isaac's, where I was served by the entire cast of "The O.C." and then went to see Narnia. I'll start with my thoughts on Narnia.

The movie was good. The Fiance really liked it, but she's never read the books either. I had some complaints. It just wasn't enough for me. The White Witch wasn't evil enough. Aslan wasn't scary enough. Tumnus wasn't weasely enough. Everything was a bit too easy. I didn't get the feeling that the characters were involved in a grand struggle with epic implications. They didn't take the time to develop the characters and the plot, it was just rushed. Maybe I'm a bit too wrapped up in the allegory of the whole thing, or maybe Kong has me expecting a bit much out of films lately, but I felt that Narnia could have been better. My final complaint about the film was that there was no blood shown (other than a few scrapes and bruises). I realize that the film was geared more towards kids, but come on people! This is a story where Father Christmas gives swords and bows to children and them encourages them to wage war. Eliminating the blood isn't going to change the fact that this is a violent film. I'm not asking for Braveheart here, but any kid who's watched the Discovery Channel knows that a lion's beard turns red after a kill. Anyway, it was a good movie, but it wasn't the awesome I was looking for.

After the movie we decided to go back to my place to hang out for a while. So, as we were watching TV I began to hear two men speaking loudly in the street outside of my apartment. Initially I thought that is was just some drunks walking home from the bar. The thing is that they never left. They just stood outside of my apartment yelling at each other. I then began to think that they might be fighting over a parking space (parking spaces are a delicate issue in my neighborhood). I couldn't really hear what they were saying, and figured that since my TV viewing was being interrupted I might as well know what's going on. As I muted the TV I was treated to the following conversation:

"If you're gonna kill me, then kill me!"

"Where were you man? You were supposed to be my back up, my hook up!"

"I was there man, I was. Look I've got $5,000 in my pocket."

Yeah, that's when I called the cops. Although I was a bit tempted to head out into the street and grab me five grand. The police took the info and informed me that I wasn't the only caller. I hung up and began to peek out of my window like some crotchety old lady, waiting for the troops to arrive. And arrive they did. It was only a minute or two until my street was filled with flashing lights and a voice commanding "GET ON THE GROUND!" Hoodlum #1 was stunned and dropped immediately. #2 tried to run to the North, but was welcomed by the muzzle of a Glock. It really was quite the impressive performance. A total of four officers arrived, completely dominated the situation, established nice contact and cover with the cover officers triangulating fire on both subjects, and had both in handcuffs in less than a minute. I know that doesn't mean much to the casual observer, but it was one nice piece of police work. In the ensuing search of the amazingly large amount of packages and bags that the two had with them the officers must have found something of interest because they loaded the hoodlums up and swept them off to the station. It was the kind of well organized police action that they just don't show on Cops. Strong display, but not use, of force. Good teamwork. I love those guys.

So that was my Saturday night. I'm now averaging two calls to the police a year since moving to this town. It's just great. On another note I've made some changes to my blog links. I deleted some blogs that haven't been updated in months, and added a new one. Catholic Poster Girl is it's name. I discovered it during my worktime ramblings. No, it isn't posters of Catholic school girls, sorry Brechty. It is the blog of a Catholic girl who provides thoughts and opinions on all sorts of topics. Since I felt that we don't have nearly enough disagreements amongst ourselves I threw another one into the mix. Have fun.

30 Facts About Chuck Norris.

After previous posts by Brechty and Proteinstar I had to post this link.

Here's a little teaser:

Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and
unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized,
Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil,
who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it
coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.

Kong

I'm sure similar reviews will pop up on other blogs, but I've got to get my two cents in. Last night I attended a midnight viewing of King Kong. I must say that my expectations weren't all that high because the trailers made the film look like another Hulk, with a big CGI monster ravaging about the screen in a film that is otherwise devoid of content. Despite this feeling I was encouraged by the fact that the movie was 3 hours long, and was directed by Peter Jackson. And let's be honest, what else am I going to do with my time? I knew within the first 20 minutes of the movie that my expectations had been greatly exceeded. I can't praise Jackson enough for realizing that a monster film must be founded on a plot line that is more solid than a marauding beast. I actually think that, with a few modifications, the film could have been very entertaining without King Kong. Jackson's character development was superb. Kong himself was awesome. I really loved that Jackson kept the original time era of the film, rather than falling for the temptation of a modern setting that contributed to the demise of Godzilla. After years of repeated disappointment from Hollywood, I just can't praise this film enough. It is quality, sheer quality. If Hollywood has the intelligence (ha!) to follow this trend, we could be witnessing the beginning of a new golden era of film.

In other news, I began my bowling league last night, and I officially suck. My claim to fame for the evening was that I almost didn't finish in last. For those of you who were curious, we do have a team name: Team Two. Just rolls off of your tongue doesn't it? Overall it was a very fun night, and I'm really looking forward to next week.

New Link

I have attached a new link at the left under "A Few of My Favorite Places." It is the website of a European guy who spends his freetime visiting abandoned factories, mines, castles, hospitals etc. His photography is awesome. This guy has balls (sorry but there's no other way to describe it). He, often illegally, makes entry to buildings that have been abandoned for years just to take pictures. Some of the buildings are rumored to be haunted, some are guarded by security dogs, and some are occupied by looting bands of vagabonds. If you have some free time I highly recommend browsing his galleries. Initially I thought the site was really cool, then a little weird, then flat out creepy, but now I'm back to cool again. Certainly not how I'd spend my days off (maybe if I lived in Europe and had 3 months a year to waste), but you should check it out.

I Have Surprised Even Myself

I'm not a big fan of bowling. It just isn't my thing. The sport itself isn't all that terrible, but the bowling atmosphere has always turned me off. When you say "bowling alley" my mind immediately conjures up images of a filthy smoke filled building occupied by fat men drinking beer and teenage cowboy wannabes. I know that this isn't exactly a fair representation, but that's what pops into my head. In light of this I was a bit surprised when a coworker invited me to join a bowling team, and I said yes. I'm not sure why, but the bowling shirt and free ball may have had something to do with it. I guess I also just wanted to get out and do something fun, and judging by my teammates buffoonery will certainly ensue. In other news, the "international" assessment team has officially passed under the shadow of the big clock and left my office, not to be seen for another three years. According to the big bosses my department passed the evaluation with flying colors. Not that I ever doubted that we did a good job, but it is nice to hear it from someone else. It's also nice to have the whole process done with for awhile. I had a inkling that things were going well all week when those in direct contact with the assessment team were in unusually high spirits, this hasn't always been the case in the past. Anyway, the official word has come done and now I can return to such innocent pleasures and wearing jeans, putting my feet on the desk, and watching F1 while at work.

Buddy Lee Is A Punk.

Remember those Buddy Lee commercials a few years back where this little doll, Buddy Lee, tested blue jeans by jumping out of airplanes with them and such? At the end they would declare the jeans "Buddy Lee Tested: Can't Bust 'Em!" Well, while in a crisis of clean laundry this week I dug deep into the depths of my dresser drawers and pulled out an old pair of jeans. I was quite pleased with them because they appeared to be perfectly worn, cowboy worn, if you know what I mean. I even began to wonder if they couldn't be returned to rotation. As I unfolded the jeans I noticed the "Buddy Lee Tested: Can't Bust 'Em!" patch on the back pocket. "Ah, good old Buddy Lee" I thought to myself as I turned the jeans over and noticed a hole in the knee. My line of thought then began to more closely reflect the post title, Buddy Lee is a punk. Apparently Buddy Lee isn't all that tough. I mean he tested these jeans and couldn't bust 'em. I put a hole in them and don't even remember how I did it. Some would say that this is just another example of a cheap corporate marketing ploy, but I, in my unflagging trust of the corporate megacomplex, refuse to believe that they would intentionally deceive me like that. Instead I choose to blame Buddy Lee and am officially calling him out. Bring it on little plastic man, I'm ready. I think I might return the jeans to regular rotation in order to proudly display to the world that I am tougher than a small plastic doll.

Possible Summer Bicycle Trip?

I ran into this little historical gem while searching for info on another possible summer trip. That trip was going to be to an abandoned highway bridge where a friend and I would rappel into the river below. Before I got very far in that investigation I discovered the link from above and was tantalized! Ten miles of abandoned turnpike, including two tunnels! It is almost too good to be true. The tunnels, one being over a mile long, are reported to be in sound structural condition, but have no lighting. There are also several side rooms and ventilation areas in the tunnels as well. This portion of the turnpike was in use in the 1960's but was abandoned because the tunnels were not big enough to handle increasing traffic demands. Access to the highway is just off of the Breezewood exit of the current PA Turnpike, so it isn't terribly far away. Apparently the entire stretch of highway has been purchased by a private company with plans to turn it into a bicycle superhighway. Until then the owners are happy to let would be adventurers explore to their heart's delight. I was going to give you photos, but it doesn't want to work. Here's a photo page. Anyway, It is certainly going on my list for warm weather adventure.

I Guess Its My Turn

Five Places I Would Like To Visit:

1. Kilimanjaro
2. Machu Pichu
3. Isla De Mona
4. The Pyramids
5. Cuba

My Five Favorite Restaurants:

1. El Rodeo
2. The Lampost
3. Red Lobster
4. Taco Bell
5. Lucy's

Five Sporting Events I Would Like To Attend:

1. The Monaco Grand Prix
2. The San Marino Grand Prix
3. Any Other Formula One Grand Prix
4. El Classico (FC Barcelona vs Real Madrid)
5. Paris-Roubaix (Pro bike race over cobblestone roads)

Five People Are Going To El Rodeo With Me:

1. Moses
2. Paul
3. Winston Churchill
4. Michael Schumacher (he's driving)
5. George Patton
6. Steve Irwin - He's not coming to dinner, I just want him in the car to provide commentary on Michael's driving.

Five Things I Don't Know:

1. Math.
2. The thought processes some people use to formulate their belief systems.
3. How the Flux Capacitor worked.
4. What I don't know (now that's deep baby).
5. How to get all three of my cats to use the litter pan on a regular basis.

And I tag Brechty, like I had a choice.

Bring Back Superswede!

What ever happened to Superswede? And I don't mean at Game Night, I mean here in the blogging realm. I know that he didn't want to start his own blog because he didn't feel that he had all that much to say. He certainly had enough to say when it came to the comments though. Maybe he was right, and having made his contribution, moved on. Anyway, I enjoyed his presence, and wish he were still around. I'm sure many of you share the same feelings. So, in the hopes that he is still out there checking up on us I'm making my official plea for his return. Mainly because he was nice to have around, but also because I need some more comments.

Eh?

So it's 9:53, or 2153, according to the enormously huge clock that hangs on my office wall. No, I didn't pick it out. I don't get to pick out much in my office besides my computer wallpaper (which is currently a nice shot of Michael Schumacher in the Belgian GP). The giant clock is essential though. It is linked into a satellite network and is incredibly accurate so that I always know exactly what time it is. What the accuracy has to do with the size is beyond me. Maybe the size is more related to the expense, which was unbelievable for a wall clock, or the fact that they had to drill a hole through my office wall in order to install the antenna. So, now you know that I have an incredibly large, accurate, and expensive clock on my office wall. You also know that I work for the government, the plot thickens. Also, with a little bit of intellect you have probably already figured out that I am extremely bored. After an incredibly enjoyable Thanksgiving Holiday I have found myself back at work on a Saturday night. I had a strong desire to blog, but nothing to really blog about. I recently read some interesting (won't venture as far as to call them "good") articles about homosexuality and Christianity. Wow, I just don't want to get into that. Instead I think I'll bring you up to date on my recent viewings and readings.

Land of the Dead. In a stroke of bizarre luck I got to see Romero's latest masterpiece over the holiday and really enjoyed it. If you can tolerate a healthy dose of gore you really must watch this film. My fellow viewers certainly didn't fall into the "zombie fan" crowd, but enjoyed the film anyway. If you pick it up give me a call and I'll join in the bloodfest.

Citizen Soldiers. Brechty gave me this Ambrose work along with a lump of other books a few months ago. Its really top notch reading for any history buff. It is amazing how the Allies simultaneously did so many things incredibly right and incredibly wrong during the assault on Europe. It is just great reading, and makes me very excited to view the free copy of Band of Brothers that I should be receiving shortly.

Confessions. A few posts ago I dropped you a few tantalizing quotes from St. Augustine. The Confessions is literally littered with them. The work is incredibly modern, amazingly modern when you consider it was written around 400 AD. The story of Augustine's youth could easily be confused with the plot of a Thursday night "O.C." episode. And people say that show isn't realistic.

Romans. I always loved Paul's letters, and admire him for the true intellectual that he his. The guy wasn't wishy-washy, and certainly didn't play games. Yet, could intelligently debate the philosophers of Athens and the Jewish scholars of Jerusalem with time left over to mount an adequate legal defense according to the rules of Rome. Reading this guy's stuff makes me stop and say, "Wow, why can't I be that smart?"

Well, there it is. I've always described my job as "long hours of torturous monotony punctuated by brief moments of extreme terror." Despite being interrupted by a few moments of extreme terror, the big clock now read 2248, and I have 6 minutes until I need to enter the code again. 22 37 14 12? That doesnt't sound right. Crap! Better go find Jack.

The Official Thanksgiving Post

Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday. I say probably because it doesn't seem fair to choose Thanksgiving over holidays with such weighty theological implications as Christmas and Easter, but Thanksgiving certainly ranks high in my book. In a society that has become ridiculously polarized it seems essential to share a day of unity where we gather with loved ones to recognized the freedoms and blessings that we all enjoy. I'm talking about the really great things about being American like the post-dinner football nap, and disdain for Canada. Seriously though, I think it is important on several levels to participate in an annual day of thanks. Personally I think that it has a great deal of value, especially when we take the effort to gather with family and close friends. Nationally I feel that its even more important to look back to the original Thanksgiving feast, and recognize the amazing run of damn good luck that this country has had. That original gathering of Pilgrims and Indians holds with it some of the core values that many of us still hold as a part of our national identity. Its about people putting aside differences to pool resources and overcome adversity in the hopes of a better future. An activity that our leaders would be wise to learn from today. Ultimately Thanksgiving is about remembering that early meeting and realizing that, despite the subsequent muck we made of things, we are here despite ourselves. Its about giving thanks for grace. Oh, and stuffing your face with as much turkey and pie as possible!

On A Lighter Note.

I found these two videos online and thought that they were hilarious. Not to mention that I really like the song. I know proteinstar has already seen one of them. It helps if you watch them in order.

Gary

Class

Here are my favorite lyrics from the American Version of the song:

When you leave my colors fade to gray
I need a love to stay or
All my colors fade away

I've Had Enough

Until yesterday I had never heard of The University of Wisconsin Eau Claire Campus, and I would imagine that most of you aren't terribly familiar with it either. It caught my attention because the campus has banned their RAs from holding private Bible studies anywhere in their own dormitories. It isn't surprising that the campus has received some attention over this decision. One of the RAs contacted FIRE (Foundation for Individual Rights in Education, or something like that) for assistance. The campus has turned to the ACLU and the State Attorney General's Office for help while slowly changing their policy to avoid further opening the can of worms. Basically the campus claims that RAs are on duty 24/7 while in the dorms and are state employees. As such they cannot lead any activity that is religious or political in nature. While this policy appears to be a direct contradiction of the campus' own RA job description, the school is standing by it (explore the links below). The initial incident that sparked this debate specifically mentioned Bible study, but claimed that all religious activities were banned. In my internet research I was unable to find any evidence of action actually being taken against RAs for any other religious or political activities. To attempt to achieve a sense of fairness I have attached the following links for your perusal:

FIRE
Eau Claire Campus

Also in news this week, Michael Newdow is back in action. Newdow is the guy sued the government because he didn't want his daughter, who he doesn't have custody of, to hear the words "under God" in the school pledge. Newdow claimed that it violated his daughter's rights. The Supreme Court disagreed, saying that the girl's rights weren't any of his business. Newdow then rounded up some people who actually have custody of children in school and continued his crusade, eventually getting a federal judge to rule in his favor. Newdow now wants the words "In God We Trust" removed from all US currency. It isn't really all that surprising, except that you wouldn't expect this sort of thing from a guy who denies being an activist.

So what's my point, right? Some of you might remember that when Newdow won the school pledge case my response was "It's about time." Implying that American culture has long ceased to mirror religious culture and the shedding of religious adornments might not be all that bad. Basically I guess its just that guys like Newdow irk me. The man wants to remove any trace of anything in society that he doesn't agree with. Why didn't he start with taxes? Anyway, he can go ahead and remove "In God We Trust" from the dollar bill. I can just as easily insert it again with a black marker.

This University of Wisconsin thing has got me more concerned. Frankly I'm just sick of it. There is a growing anti-Christian trend (not sure if it can be called a movement yet) in this country, and this week it finally ticked me off. It is apparent that the constriction of religious liberties in the last few years has been specifically aimed at Christianity. When was the last time Muslims were told that they weren't allowed to do anything? Hindus and Muslims in US prisons are now allowed to wear religious head wear beyond the prison uniform so as not to constrict their religious freedoms. My local school district has now added days off of school so that Jewish kids can celebrate Rosh Hashanah (spelling?). I think that these are all good things. So why can't a college RA hold a voluntary Bible study with his friends? Because he is a Christian.

John Stewart loves to point out that Christians have had their way ever since Constantine, so we should just shut up and take it. While incredibly witty and hilarious, John would do well to reeducate himself on some of the following: Joseph Stalin, Khmer Rouge, China, North Korea, The Sudan, Iran, or maybe just the causes of the foundation of the State of Rhode Island. Yes, Christendom, riding the wave of Roman might, easily conquered Europe. The associated political power led to things like the crusades. I agree that bad things happened. Just as they do when radicals use Islam to teach a religion of homicide, or when pundits use Hinduism to promote a caste system that ensures the impoverishment of the poor in India. Name one nation in the world that doesn't have a black mark in its history. Or a major corporation with business practices that actually stand up under scrutiny. My point here is that every cause can be used for ill gain. This fact says much less about the cause itself than it does about the human condition. It is easy to point the finger, but by far more difficult to look at the nature of the human heart.

What exactly is it about Christianity that so offends people. This is a religion whose true followers believe in things like love, peace, justice, forgiveness, social service, obedience to authority, and grace. Jesus even told us to pay our taxes! Are these things so foreign to society that they must be stamped out at every occurrence? Choose a point of conflict in world history and you will invariably find Christians quietly working to better the situation. Take people like Corrie Ten Boom or Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Look at the Underground Railroad. These are people who are now widely regarded as heroes while their religion is despised. So why is Christianity, a religion that teaches morals that society views a honorable, slowly being pushed away from mainstream culture? Because it works. Christianity is dangerous. Those few individuals who are able to fully open themselves to the message have such an incredible impact on the world that the religion itself has become a veritable powder keg. It teaches you that not doing as you please is the best way to live life. It constantly demands more of you and offers no hope of reward, save death. Christians are passionate. This is something that, as humans, we don't often do well, but when we get it right the results are phenomenal. Christianity is in your face, and makes people uncomfortable. That makes them want to shut it down, and I guess that's fine. We've been taught to expect, and even accept, this. That's pretty much the end of my rage.

Jumping On The Bandwagon.

After a four day absence from work due to illness and a "holiday," yes election day is a holiday where I work, I have returned to the blogging realm. I've decided to make my return by jumping on Proteinspew's quotation bandwagon and offer up some quotes of my own. I will not, however, be joining in the Chesterton fetish. Here we go.

"[Homer] attributed divine sanction for vicious acts, which had the result that immorality was no longer counted immorality and anyone who so acted would seem to follow the example not of abandoned men but of the gods in heaven."

and

"The words [Homer's] actually encourage the more confident committing of a disgraceful action. I bring no charge against the words which are like exquisite and precious vessels, but the wine of error is poured into them for us by drunken teachers. If we failed to drink we were caned and could not appeal to any sober judge. Yet, my God, before whose sight I recall this without the memory disturbing me, I learnt this text with pleasure and took delight in it, wretch that I was. For this reason I was said to be a boy of high promise."

I could rage on about the validity of this man's comments on sports, hip hop culture, or even the Intelligent Design trial, but I will control myself. Instead I offer up bragging rights to the first blogger to name the "boy of high promise." Do not despair, I will give some hints. The above comments were authored before 1517 (ie, Pre-Reformation), they were not authored by Luther. One of you already has a head start. Have at it.

Crabcake Review #1

In my continuing effort to provide the most stimulating and cutting edge blogging experience possible, I have added another new feature: Crabcake Reviews. I have long been a connoisseur of the crabcake and have compiled a list of my personal favorites. The contest for best crabcake sandwich is currently in tight contention with no one sandwich firmly holding the #1 spot. However, the contest for best crabcake (no adornments) is a different story. That #1 position had been solidly held by The Old Lincoln House in Ephrata, PA for about two years. I say had been, because the competition changed drastically last Friday night.

In celebration of two birthdays and an engagement, my parents took the fiance and I out to Lily's on Main, a self-described "American Cafe" on Main St. in Ephrata, PA. It's vintage decor combined with a scenic second story location provides Lily's with a classy feel. Diners could easily imagine George Peppard and Audrey Hepburn having a romantic interlude at a corner table. We began our meal with some calamari and "Black and Tan" hummus as we perused the menus for our main courses. The $25 price tag for crabcakes would normally make me choke, but the appetizers were so tasty that I just couldn't bring myself to dishonor them with such an uncouth action. While no domestic calamari can compare to dining on this delicacy along La Rambla in Barcelona, Lily's brand was just downright delicious, and the hummus closely followed suit.

After a brief survey of the menu I began to think that $25 wasn't all that bad. However, I still had a few concerns about the crabcakes. The menu stated that the cakes had white corn mixed in them and were served with rice pilaf and asparagus. The two sides were, to say the least, not my favorites and mixing white corn into crabcakes struck me as bizarre at best. In the end I decided to push my snobbery aside, and ordered the crabcakes in curiosity. After a wait that was just slightly longer than I would have liked our meals arrived. I was impressed with the presentation of the meal and felt that the appearance was very well done, especially in consideration of the asparagus. As the first bite of crabcake entered my mouth I was treated to an explosion of flavor that immediately placed The Old Lincoln House in a solid #2 position. Whether the white corn had anything to do with it or not, those were simply the best crabcakes I have ever tasted. After slowly savoring the first several bites I cautiously scooped up a forkful of rice. When the newly pleasant flavor of rice pilaf massaged my pallet I began to wonder if I hadn't stumbled into a strange new world where all food tasted better than it did back home. While still pondering the implications of this possibility my eyes slowly drifted toward the asparagus. As my teeth locked closed on the vile weed my suspicions were confirmed. I was in a strange new world where all the food tasted better! As I lovingly finished the rest of my meal I drifted off into a euphoric haze that could only be shaken by the arrival of dessert. I was a bit baffled as the waiter approached with a tray of what appeared to be a mountain of whipped cream, and was even more baffled as he doused it with brandy and set it on fire. This was my introduction to "Baked Alaska." I shortly found out that beneath that flaming inferno lie a chocolate and ice cream cake. Any restaurant that can set an ice cream cake on fire, and then serve it to you while retaining the delicious flavor ranks high in my book.

Alas the evening could not last forever. Leaving Lily's I became aware that I was leaving my magical world and returning to the land where asparagus is offensive and rice pilaf is bland. On our way back to the car I noticed that everything seemed a bit older and dirtier than it had before dinner, but my thoughts soon became consumed with the reality of my experience. The champion had been unseated. Lily's now had the #1 crabcake in the world.

I Own You Brechty.

And you know what I'm talking about.

Snow Day!

It appears that we may be in for a "bad" winter. Spickey De Bonzo has been quick to point out that, in some of our minds, "bad" is actually good. Keeping this in mind I thought I would ask my faithful readers what their favorite thing about snow is. For me its the silence. Snow blankets everything, and therefore muffles everything. As a little kid I remember playing in the snow with my sisters, and taking a second to stop and listed to the silence. Amazing.

The Next Big Disaster.

While our government is still hopelessly involved in finger pointing over Katrina, a far more sinister threat looms. I for one can't wait!

Exciting News.

A little while ago I received a letter in the mail addressed to me and marked "Urgent: Time Dated Materials." I didn't initially tell you guys about this for two reasons. 1) I had to make sure that it wasn't one of the secret messages that I periodically receive from Karl Rove. 2) I wasn't sure if I could talk about it. Now assured that I am free to speak on both counts, I feel that I can share with you my good news. Apparently, after being closely scrutinized by a major corporation, I have been selected for "pre-approval." Don't go getting jealous just yet. I have only been selected for a "special introductory offer," but am excited regardless. After receiving my full application I will go through an even more stringent selection process, and if selected for final approval, I will become a member of their "Gold Club." It seems very exciting. I will even get a special "Gold Card" that I can use to by stuff. To top it all off, none of this will cost me anything for the first year! Man am I stoked!! I'll keep you updated as the process continues.

A Few Observations

Faithful readers of this blog should be well aware of the rivalry between myself and a certain Mr. Brechty. Recently this rivalry has taken a much more serious, even sinister turn. It now involves food. A wager has been placed on the outcome of a soccer game between my Alma Mater and Brechty's employer. The loser of this wager must buy the other a Thai dinner. In the spirit of this wager, Brechty and I attended a soccer game last night between Messiah College and Lycoming College, not the match that the wager was placed on. The weather was chilly and a bit rainy, perfect for soccer. I knew it would be a good game when Messiah went up 2-0 in the first six minutes. The second half started with the score 5-1, and while Brechty held out hope that Lycoming would grasp victory by capturing the golden snitch, Messiah extended their lead for a 7-1 victory. I must say that I really enjoyed myself and hope to get a few more games in this season.

On my way to the above mentioned soccer game I made the first of my observations. PennDot workers are really under rated. It is a common belief here in central PA that PennDot workers do nothing but stand around. I now believe that this assumption is not totally correct. PennDot workers put a lot of effort into appearing to work. As we drove through a construction zone I commented on how much work was being done. It appeared to be quite the busy work zone. There were trucks with flashing lights, a crane lifting equipment, and a group of workers huddled around construction plans. I was impressed, but then I looked closer. The crane wasn't actually lifting the equipment, rather the equipment was hanging there while two workers stood beside it talking. The trucks did have flashing lights, but weren't actually moving. In fact, I couldn't actually see what the group was huddled around. It assumed it was construction plans, but it easily could have been a GameBoy. So the next time you cruise through a construction zone, don't curse the workers for their incompetence, take a closer look and admire them for the masters of misdirection and deception that they truly are.

Observation #2 is less observation than complaint. Have you ever known someone who can't/won't admit when they are wrong. It absolutely infuriates me. I work with a person who refuses to admit a mistake even if the evidence of it is presented directly to them, and it drives me insane. I don't understand what the big deal is. Humans make mistakes, sometimes we don't know things, and that's ok. I am willing to admit when I'm wrong. Take the time I said that "Kentucky Fried Chicken" changed their name to "KFC" because the food they were serving no longer met the legal definition of "chicken." That was wrong. Or the time I threw a rubber frog at a passing car while waiting at the bus stop. Also wrong. See, it isn't hard!

Almost Perfect.

Yesterday morning I officially began my 2005 hiking season with my traditional opening hike to the old fire tower on the top of Stony Mountain. Rising early in the morning I was a bit concerned that I may not be fit enough to tackle the hike after a summer of lounging in front of the Playstation, but I endeavored to tackle the challenge anyway. In the interest of time I brought along my mountain bike so that I could ride some of the not incredibly steep portions. I arrived in the valley just after sunrise, or what I thought to be sunrise as the overcast, drizzly, sky made it hard to tell. Undeterred by the weather I pulled my trusty Escort off of the dirt road and prepared for battle.

The nice thing about the route up to the fire tower is that it is along a gravel/dirt road used to access the forest by the Game Commission. The not so nice thing is that it goes straight up the side of the mountain for several miles. Feeling optimistic I hopped on my bike and started pedaling. I hadn't even gone 1/4 mile when I looked off to my left and saw a small doe looking back at me from about 30 feet away. I attempted to quietly stop my bike, but my wet brakes let out a squawk that could be heard for miles. Surprisingly, the deer didn't move. I quietly laid my bike down, and sat myself down on the gravel. The doe and I sat there looking at each other for several minutes until the sound of another deer further off in the woods got her attention and she slowly sauntered away. I hopped back on my bike hoping to cut off the other deer further up the road, but within another 1/4 mile I was off of the bike again, winded from the steep incline. Thus the long push began. Step after step of uphill agony made me regret all of those PS2 F1 wins and FIFA Soccer Championships. After what seemed like hours, but was actually only about 30 minutes, I came across a little clearing that marked my first break. I slipped quietly into the grass and took a relaxing sip of water while blue jays and some other type of bird (dark brown with white backs) played above.

Back on the climb, I began to wonder if it was all really worth it. The last time I visited the fire tower it had been locked and getting to the top required several acts of moral flexibility and intestinal fortitude. I continued to move, telling myself that completing the climb was the true prize and the tower was just cherry topping. 40 minutes and another break later I knew I was close to the top, but the crest of every climb revealed another uphill stretch ahead. Reaching the top of one particularly nasty section I was thrilled to see the road turn downhill, and then level off ahead. I hopped back on the bike a took off. While my joy may have been intense, it was equally short lived, and as I turned a corner I was faced with the steepest climb I had yet seen. Dejected, I slid off of my bike and began to push yet again. Just as the sweat was beginning to drip off of the tip of my nose, my ears were greeted with an unexpected, but highly pleasing sound. My cell phone was ringing. After a short conversation with proteinstar, I renewed the hike with vigor. Cell phone reception in and around the Stony Valley is notoriously terrible, except for the spot where my hike would end its upward slope and level off for good. This spot had reception because it was directly beneath a cell phone tower. If I had reception, then I was close to the tower. Several minutes later my hopes were realized as I crested my final climb and saw the cell phone tower off to my left. After shaking my fist at some cell phone company employees and the SUV that undoubtedly got them to the top of the mountain faster than the hour and a half it took me, I swung my leg over my bike and took of for the fire tower.

With the agony behind me I was able to realize what a truly beautiful day it was. The early fall foliage showed just a hint of red, yellow, and orange peeking out from the mostly green trees. Despite the still overcast skies, the weather was quite pleasant, and I thoroughly enjoyed the short ride to the base of the fire tower. Upon my arrival I received the best surprise of the day, the tower was unlocked and the gate was hanging wide open as if it had been awaiting my annual visit. I scampered up the rusted stairway to the top, checked out the new graffiti and set to work on my most difficult task of the day: deciding which side of the tower to sit on while eating my ham and cheese sandwich. Normally there is no contest, the East side simply has the better view, but the low hanging clouds negated this advantage. After walking around the tower several times I finally decided on the West side. As I sat eating my sandwich I enjoyed the view as several more blue jays darted about below, their blue brilliantly highlighted by the multicolored leaves. Finished with my sandwich, I called the fiance (the one element missing from my perfect day) on my cellphone, and then encouraged the mountain with a reading of Psalm 121. Recently part of the Stony Valley has become endangered by a National Guard plan for a new tank range. Satisfied with my visit I got up to leave, and was pleased to find that the clouds had lifted just enough to clear the view from the East end all the way down to the DeHart Reservoir. Exquisite.

Back on my bike, my nerves began firing in high gear. I was about to enter the most exhilarating and dangerous phase of the day. I had spent the entire hike up convincing myself that I would not die on the way down. Now I would find out. As I reached the cellphone tower I slid my butt off of my seat and threw the weight of my body back over my rear tire as my bike accelerated to, and through, ludicrous speed. It is amazing how much time you have to think when the world is flying past at high speed. In this instance my mind was mainly consumed with the fact that four years ago I had opted not to spend the extra $100 for a front suspension on my mountain bike, now my limbs were paying for it. After several minutes of blurred trees and gravel I stretched my butt back as far as it would go and squeezed hard on both brakes. As the bike slid to a halt my arms and legs continued to shake as if still in motion. I took a few minutes to gather my thoughts and tried to remember what spots I had designated as "especially dangerous" on the way up. When my muscles spasms returned to a controllable state I took off again. After my initial success I felt a bit more daring and released the brakes fully. As I plummeted down one slope after another my wheel chatter turned into a high frequency vibration and it became clear to me that I might be reaching highway speeds. I became aware that some of the more difficult sections were ahead and slowed up a bit to navigate them. The combination of the sudden loss of altitude and the violent rattling of the descent had an interesting effect on my stomach. Having just eaten a ham sandwich I felt as if I might vomit. In what was a questionable decision at best I decided that finishing my ride at top speed was worth a little puke, and after clearing the last rough patch, I released the brakes again. Within a few more minutes I could see the gate that marked the end of the path and my car. As I approached it I smashed my rear brake and let the bike slide out from underneath me. I quickly slid to a halt and lay on the ground with my heart pounding, my stomach heaving, and my muscles quivering in a miserable gelatinous mass. With a huge smile on my face I looked at the gravel road beneath me, gave it a little pat, and said "That was great baby." I had covered the distance of my 1 1/2 hour ascent in just over 10 minutes.

The Greatest Post Title Ever,

The greatest post title ever has got to be "Let Me Hit You With This." I originally used this title several posts ago when presenting my opinions on Female Infant Obsession Syndrome. I used the title, "Let Me Hit You With This," in a manner that meant "What do you think about this?" I have since come to realize that the title could mean so much more. Here are just a few ways that the title could, and may be, used in the future:

"Let Me Hit You With This"

1) The delivery of good news. "I just caught an incredibly large trout."
2) The delivery of bad news. "I forgot to take the large trout out of your car when you dropped me off yesterday."
3) Literal application, "this" being the large trout. "Let me hit you with this."
4) Skewed word usage. "Let Me" being an Asian male, and "this" still being the trout. "Look at what Let Me hit you with."

I could go on and on. Look for more fun and exciting uses in the future.

Did Anyone Else Notice It?

Last night I watched the first two episodes of Lost, and I have a question for those of you who have also seen them. I need to begin by saying that, in this new season, the writers have blown the roof off of the show. By the end of last season I was growing tired of the plot. By the end of last nights episodes I was wishing that I was on the island. Anyway, here's my question. Throughout the two new episodes, especially the second one, you see the logo to an unknown company numerous times. I believe the company name is "Scorpion," but can't be sure. There is also a point in the show when two characters are afloat at sea and encounter a shark. In an unfortunate TV viewing event, I glanced away from the TV for a split second, and missed a shot of the shark moving across the screen. As I looked back, Nicole started yelling that the "Scorpion" company logo was tattooed on the shark. The few remaining shots of the shark were mainly of its fin, so I wasn't able to check it out again. Did anyone else see if the shark had a tattoo? I have already formulated several opinions about the island, and a tattooed shark could conceivably fit into all of them (what a sentence). Let me know.

Updates.

A buddy of mine managed to record the entire first race of the Gratz Fair Figure 8 Races on his digital camera, and I was waiting for him to email it to me in the hopes of posting it for you. Obviously, the lack of it here indicates that I have not yet received it. Sadly, I did not attend the races this year. After my cohorts bailed out (through events beyond their control), I decided that I did not relish a 2.5 hour round trip by myself, and spent the evening with my fiance. It was nice, and the races will return next year. From those that did attend I gleaned the following information. The track was a bit larger this year, and had fewer concrete barricades. This led to less traffic congestion, and therefore less smash 'em up action. The first few races were described as something of a disappointment. However, for some unknown reason, the drivers in the later races were consumed with rage and seemed to care more about collision than victory, which more than made up for the early timidity. For those of you who are unaware of, and trying to picture, the Gratz Races, take a healthy blend of Mad Max and Deliverance with a little bit of good old Roman bloodlust for taste, and you will be pretty close to the actual event. Anyway, when the above mentioned video becomes available to me I will be more than happy to share.

Let Me Hit You With This.

What is the deal with the female obsession with babies? I know it has to do with the female instinct to reproduce which is essential to the survival of mankind, but seriously, women go absolutely insane when it comes to babies. Some of you know that I have been baffled by this since my sisters starting having kids a few years ago, but last night things finally went too far. I was doing some shopping at my local grocery store, and decided to treat myself to some Chinese food for dinner. I politely positioned myself in line so that my cart was out of the way and allowed for through traffic in the aisle. There was a gentleman in front of me whose wife had also placed her two carts out of the way on the opposite side of the aisle, allowing space for one cart to easily pass down the center of the aisle with no problems. Sounds reasonable right? Until you factor in that the wife had two small children in the carts, about 1 1/2 and 3 years old. Shortly after my arrival a woman in her fifties pulled her cart into line behind me, saw the two youngsters, and then moved her cart into the space that had been thoughtfully provided by the rest of us line-dwellers. The woman stayed there for some time, until the babies left, cajoling and cooing and cuddling, while numerous other shoppers were clogged into a traffic quagmire. Despite this fact the woman continued her ogling, oblivious to the inconvenience of those around her. It was like she was hypnotized. A freight train could have been bearing down on her and she wouldn't have flinched, as long as those kids were left dangling in front of her. I was appalled. While this is the most extreme example of "baby syndrome" I have seen, it is only the last in a long line. I do have to say that mothers who currently have babies seem to be immune to the syndrome, and appear more than happy to pass their kids of to some crazy, baby obsessed, woman. Older women are certainly the worst offenders, but not by much. Don't get me wrong, I love my nieces and think that babies are cute and great and all of that, but upon seeing one I don't turn off my mind and switch into some tunnel-vision, pampers-induced, vegetative state that renders me useless to society and a nuisance to those around me. I honestly believe that the only solution to the shopping cart gridlock, other than the removal of the children, would have been to give the woman a good swift kick to the back of the head, a sort of jump start, if you will. Not being that kind of person, I was forced to suffer in torment with my fellow man. What is my point? My point is that when you, as a female, see a baby you should WAKE UP AND USE YOUR HEAD! As I said before, I like kids. I like to smile at them and make funny faces at them (mainly in church) and listen to the funny things that they say, but the entire female gender are like a breed of alien robots intent on one thing and one thing alone. BABIES, BABIES,BABIES!! That's pretty much all I have to say on that. Before someone jumps all over me, questioning how I can lump all females into one category, please read my post below entitled "Because I Can."

Because I Can.

I recently saw an add online for the book Marriable. I haven't read this book, but the title reminds me of another book that I haven't read, I Kissed Dating Goodbye. I tried to go to the Marriable web page and read some excerpts, but they didn't have any. I tried the same thing at amazon, with the same results. Despite my limited knowledge of the book, I decided to rage on it anyway. Why? Because I can. I have a blog, and that gives me the ability to spew forth filth into the world at a rate rivaled only by the mayor of America's newest lake (that's right, I said it). Blogging is power. In starting a blog you have become the dictator of your own world. You can say what you want when you want. Someone disagrees with you? DELETED!! You can connect your blog to the worlds of others, or isolate yourself completely. It is a realm that is totally at your command. Blogging is life as it will never be. Come to think of it, I'm not really going to say anything about Marriable, the capability is enough for me. Isn't blogging great?

Hope From Despair

Several weeks ago I was pleasantly informed by my future mother-in-law that, at the rate of things, there would be a Hurricane Nate this summer. While it reveals something of my identity, I was excited to hear that they finally saw the merit in naming a hurricane after me. Sometime late last week Hurricane Nate formed somewhere in the Atlantic, and my hopes began to grow. I even received a phone call from a coworker to inform me of my prospects. Now, before Nancy Pelosi begins to slander me on CNN, I’m not demented enough to hope that Nate turns into the next Katrina, but I want my namesake to do well for himself. As I am writing this, Hurricane Nate is still in the Atlantic and is heading straight out to sea. What a let down. The one time in my life that I have one of these meteorological leviathans named after me and the thing turns tail and runs at the first sight of land, if a hurricane considers Bermuda to be "land." As I watched the weather last night my hopes turned to despair. My namesake would not be honored in tales for future generations of coastal dwellers. Hurricane Nate was truly a disappointment. But then I thought to myself, perhaps Hurricane Nate isn't the underachiever I think he is. What if he is an overachiever? It would only make sense. The Gulf/Atlantic Coast and the Caribbean get hammered by several hurricanes each year. It's been done, but when was the last time that the Atlantic Coast of Europe got hit. Um, never? I am now very proud of little Nate as he blazes his course across the Atlantic to go where no storm has gone before. Will he make it? The odds don’t look good, but hopefully he has opened the door for many more adventurous storms to come. Watch out Spain, here comes Nate!

I Hate Computers.

Seriously, I had a nice long post four you, but when I went to spell check it my crap work computer froze. Thus, no nice long post, and no spell check on this post. I am back though. I haven't been commenting lately because, excluding wedding planning, there hasn't been much going on. I am sure that you don't want to hear about wedding planning.

A Great Mystery Revealed.

Sorry that I haven't really posted in awhile. I just haven't had that many great adventures lately. I know that you are all still waiting for The Valley Part III, but wedding planning and various other things have thus far conspired against its completion. I have a couple of days off next week, so maybe I'll get it done then.

I suppose the big news in the blogrings these days is the arrival of the mysterious EGTY. It has been reported that EGTY can be chopped to pieces and then regrow himself from the stump of a tree at an incredible rate of speed. While the discovery of the phoenix of trees would be cool, we have now come to know that EGTY is nothing more than a pathetic attempt by wanna-be spammers to bring attention to their own company. It turns out that EGTY has never wrestled a badger in Juarez, or rid a college campus of a marauding gang of mercenary squirrels, or even been suspended over an abandoned mine shaft. We will never know if EGTY tastes good when grilled with a little bit of cheese, or if he can make us laugh until our bellies hurt. It is depressing in a way, EGTY could have been many things, but turned out to be none of them. I will miss you EGTY, you were the friend that none of us ever wanted to have. It's really a shame because I was so looking forward to having a tree in my backyard that I would have to chop down every day.

Sorry.

Just like Proteinstar, I had to enable the word verification program for commenting. Rover's Racing World got slammed by a whole bunch of unsolicited comments about everything but EGTY. As a precaution I enabled the program on both blogs. Sorry that it makes it a bit harder to comment now. Like people were commenting anyway!

An Event of Interest.

I have returned from vacation, but I will not regale you with tales of swimming with stingrays, or the not quite invention of Beach Croquet. Indeed an even greater event has caught my attention. Today I went on a bike ride. It wasn't really meant to be anything special, just a ride along my normal fitness route. You can imagine how astounded I was when I passed a large sign for the Falmouth Goat Races! It appears that the village of Falmouth (Lancaster County) annually holds a goat race to raise funds for community events. This year the race will be held on September 24, and I have every intention of attending, if not participating. Initially I didn't think that I could participate as one of my landlord's few pet restrictions is against goats, but it appears that organizers have some goats available to rent for the day. How considerate! I attempted to find some pictures, or a web page about the races to share with you, but there isn't much info about them online. I did however find a web page for a similar event held annually in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. They look a bit more elaborate than what I expect the Falmouth races to be, but who knows? On a side note, the Dar es Salaam site led my to discover Blue Mango, a site with some exceptional African photography that I will add to my links. Beyond that, vacation was quite nice. I did actually swim with stingrays and almost invented Beach Croquet, until I returned home to find that it had already been invented under the guise of Toequet. Guess I'll have to go on working for a living.

Double Blog Blitz!!

That's right folks. I have made history posting about the same topic on both of my blogs at the same time!! Actually it isn't at the same time, but close. Anyway, it is my way of officially celebrating the end of this year's Tour De France. Enjoy. Also, check out Rover's Racing World for some long overdue F1 updates. Also, I leave for vacation on Friday and hope to post The Valley Part III before I leave. I know, I should have posted it weeks ago. Sorry.

A Farewell To Lance

Although it appears to be something of a trend in sports lately, it is not often that an athlete comes along and dominates an era in the manner that Lance Armstrong has. I know the Tour De France has been over for some time now and has therefore disappeared from the American sporting conscience, but for me some memories still linger.

As I sat and watched the last time trial of this year's Tour, and ultimately the last time trial of Lance Armstrong's career, I realized that I was truly being treated to something special. I have long been a fan of the time trial, but I never really realized how much this event really is Lance's element. It is like watching poetry. The Armstrong of the time trial is the total opposite of the Lance that we saw hammering out a murderous pace up the side of the Alps. The TT is totally different. There is no hammering (at least not from Lance). Instead he lightly taps out a rhythm. It's almost like a dance. His entire body sways back and forth ever so slightly to the beat. The yellow jersey is (as it was meant to be) a beacon, drawing the attention of all around. Lance is known for having a slight hump on his back, and the yellow only accentuates it. Normally it would be viewed as bad posture, but on a bike it gives a certain edge to his appearance. The view from the motorcycle behind almost gives the impression that you are following an animal, a great beast on a chase. His lungs heave under the jersey and give the perception that this is not a domesticated animal. It is wild and on the charge. Despite that, there is little movement from his upper body and his broad shoulders quickly shrink away as his back flows down to his surprisingly thin waist. It is here, on his lower back, that the #1 is pinned right on the border between the yellow jersey and the black shorts. That one single vertical line on a white sheet of paper speaks volumes to the viewer. "Yes, in case there was any doubt, this is Lance." It isn't just that Lance has been assigned the #1, he is the #1. He is the grand patron of the Tour. The simplicity of the statement carries great power with it. After hovering at the waist, it is easy to get drawn back up to the broad yellow back, but doing so would be missing the greatest treat of all. Below his waist, hidden in the black shorts, Lance's legs explode in muscle. As Lance "lightly" taps out a pace, you can see the power that is flowing into the pedals. It is a beautiful thing to watch. The entire body in motion on the bike oozes of both confidence and contentment. Lance knows he's going to win, and there is nothing else he would rather do. You can see it in his eyes as he stands on the winner's podium. It's like looking into the eyes of a wolf after the kill. He loves this.

Alas, as I said before, it is over. Lance has moved on to a life of retirement. It is a shame. I don't say it's a shame because I particularly admire Lance as a person. I don't. I say it's a shame because, as I watched that last time trial I realized that there is no other rider who can even approach the level of grace and beauty on a bicycle that Lance has shown us for the last several years. This is the reason why I will miss him.

The Kayak Incident

Gandalf's Lackey recently provided us with a post describing a kayaking trip he took with a Mr. Bob Barrett. The name immediately brought to the forefront of my mind a day that I will not soon forget. While the name "Barrett" will forever be linked with that day in my mind, I in no way hold Mr. Barrett responsible for what I am about to relate to you.

I guess this is basically the story of my first kayaking trip. It is also the story of my first encounter with a "strainer" (yes, I have had more than one). In nature a "strainer" normally occurs when a tree, or part of a tree, falls into moving water. The trunk of the tree remains at or near the surface of the water while the underwater branches wedge against the stream bed, holding the tree in place. As time goes by these branches collect debris. The more debris that builds up in the branches, the more debris the branches collect. Eventually it reaches the point where solid items are no longer able to pass under the tree, and get stuck. Water is still able to get through, but do to the large amount of debris in the way, the current is significantly stronger under the tree. Anyway, my first day of kayaking went quite well, until we came to an area where the stream was partially blocked by a strainer. Mr. Barrett carefully explained to us how we were to maneuver around the obstacle. Being last in the line of kayakers I tried to hold back while the others went ahead. However, when my time came to negotiate the obstacle I found out that I was caught up in the current and my kayak quickly came to rest alongside of the log that formed the top of the strainer. I attempted to paddle along the log, but the current held me in place. I became clear to me that my solutions for a water bound escape were slim. The log was actually quite large and I thought that is would be possible to climb onto the log and drag the kayak onto land where I could then put back into the water downstream a bit. It would have been a great idea had the current not, at that point in time, flipped the kayak over. Finding myself upside-down lodged under a kayak that was lodged under a log, I began to realize that the situation was somewhat more serious than I had initially thought, and had the most memorable moment of clarity in my entire life. I suddenly found that I had all the time in the world. I won't say that my whole life flashed before my eyes, but I did spend what seemed like a good bit of time thinking about my family. I then became very angry and remember saying to myself "Not Today." I then popped the skirt on my kayak and pulled myself above the water. Using the kayak as a flotation device I could still feel the current trying to pull me back down under the log. At this point in time my attitude was basically one of "screw the kayak" and I shoved that boat under the log which enabled me to crawl on top of the log.

It is amazing how exhausting such a brief moment of time can be. After some prying we were able to extract the boat and paddle from under the log, and I found my self, cold and wet, lying on the shore. I gradually worked my way back into the kayak and slid back into the water. I was pretty sure that I wasn't the only one who realized how close we all were to having a very bad day, but fortunately I also wasn't the only one who realized that I didn't really feel like talking about it. The only comment of the day came when Mr. Barrett paddled up alongside of me and said "I am soglad that you came back out from under there." I couldn't help but agree with him.

The truly amazing thing about this story is that, despite the "strainer," my initial kayaking experience was such a positive one that I have gone several times since. I actually just purchased an inflatable kayak from Wal-Mart which will undoubtedly provide me with countless more river adventures.

Tough Love Straight From Bavaria.

It is one of the odd facts of my life that I like going to the dentist. I like it because its a no nonsense business. You show up, get cleaned or drilled or capped an then go home. None of this junk about medicines and follow-ups, just straight forward teeth work. I especially like my dentist because he is all business. He never messes about with questions about family, or work, or anything. He checks your teeth, asks if you have any questions, and moves on. Good man. However, the hygienists at my dental office are a completely different story.

Imagine yourself as a traveler in the Alps. Tired and hungry after a long day's journey you check into a mountain lodge and are greeted at the restaurant by a large, boisterous, buxom, beer stein toting, bear hugging alpine mountain woman. Keep that imagine in your mind. I recently had a dental appointment. After a short wait in the lobby I was greeted by my hygienist (enter alpine mountain woman). She was boisterous, talkative, and did a very thorough job on my teeth. She was by no means gentle, and certainly fell into the "tough love" category, but got the job done. While I loved her approach to work, there was a slight problem. As my previous description suggests, she was a large and forceful woman, not "fat" exactly, just large. She had placed her tool tray above my head, and each time she reached for a new tool she would inadvertently (I hope) press her breast into my face. My initial thought was, "What is the protocol in this situation?" Being that my head was firmly pressed both into the head support of the chair, and into my hygienist's breast there was no chance for subtle movement. Removing my head from the supports would have pressed it further into her breast. There was a good chance that this may have angered her, and you don't want to anger a woman who is working with sharp objects in your mouth. In the end I came to the conclusion that if she was ok with it I was too. After all, she did a heck of a job on my teeth.

Why I Am Destined For Greatness

It is probably obvious to anyone who has read this blog that I am destined for greatness. In case you have any doubts, here is a list of people that share my birthday. I know that this had already been done on another blog, but as you will see my birthday blows those out of the water. I have divided the names in categories to assist you. So here is a list of people who entered the world on the 30th of November.

Politics/World History
By far the highlight of this section, and the list as a whole, is the Lion of Britain and the Defender of the Free World. Winston Churchill was born on November 30. I always felt that Winston and I had a connection. Albrecht von Kesserling, more commonly known as Field Marshall von Kesserling of WWII fame adds a little more distinction to the list (1885). Here are a few more:

G. Gordon Liddy (1929 and 1930)- That's right, there were two. One was a famous entertainer, the other of Watergate fame.
Andres Bonifacio (1863)- Led the Philipino revolt against Spain in 1896.
Oliver Winchester (1810)- Invented the Winchester Rifle.
Christian VI (1699)- King of Denmark and Norway

Sports and Entertainment
The shame of my list is, by far, one Clay Aiken (1978). However, he is easily balanced out by the awesome Billy Idol (1955). Also:

Des'ree (1970)
Ben Stiller (1965)
Bo Jackson (1962)- Bo knows football and baseball.
Dick Clark (1929)- The real Dick, not the robot that we see on TV every New Year's Eve. The robot was "born" on November 30, 1989.

Literature
All I have to say here is Mark Twain (1835) and Jonathan Swift (1667). As you know, Twain wrote pretty much everything, and Swift is known for "Gulliver's Travels" and "A Modest Proposal."

As you can see, I may just have the greatest birthday ever. If you need more convincing view this short list of events that occurred on my birthday.

1954- First report of a meteorite striking a woman.
1947- The beginning of the Jewish War for Independence.
1891- The first indoor softball match.
1839- Mexico declares war on France.

As final proof of my grand destiny I throw in the Biblical characters of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Their exact dates of birth have never been confirmed, so I'm going to go ahead and claim them right now. That's the whole list for you. You can make your own conclusions from it, but I know the truth. I do have to give a shout to my coworker "Hawk" Henning who, during the creation of this post, learned that he shares his birthday with one Saddam Hussein. Ouch.

It's Bastille Day!!!!!!!!

That's right my fellow bloggermen today we commemorate the day that the French conquered themselves! And what a fine job they did. You've got to hand it to the French, they know how to have a revolution. Here in America it was sort of a once and done thing. We defeated the most powerful nation in the world, made up some laws, then moved straight on to the fireworks and barbecue. In France they did it a bit differently. They had their revolution, then a bit of counter-revolution, then some rerevolution. It was best that way as nobody felt left out. Seriously though, you have to appreciate a country that annually celebrates a prison break. I have always been a bit suspect of the fact that Bastille Day happened exactly ten days after Independence Day. It really just takes the originality out of the whole thing. David Moncoutie celebrated his Frenchness today by winning a stage of the Tour De France. The crowd was very pleased. If only there weren't that pesky American sitting in the background with a bright yellow shirt on.

London

I was just talking to Nicole last night about how much I enjoy the British people. I had the fortune of spending some time in London in the past and found it to be a splendid town. I don't quite know how to describe what happened in London this morning. I guess you could call it a shame, or a tragedy. The best description I have heard was when CNN called it "the new normal." They are absolutely correct. Terrorism is a way of life in the 21st century, whether we like it or not. Over the next few days I am sure that we will hear people attempting to blame the bombings on everyone from George W. Bush to Michael Moore. Never forget that, despite the circumstances and encouragements that may have led to this new terror war, the ultimate responsibility lies with an international band of punks and bullies who hate any way of life different from their own and aim to intimidate the weak and destroy the strong until they achieve global domination. Unfortunately, our national conscience has become so politicized that the basic truths of this war cannot even be mentioned in public without a slurry of political backlash and slander. The simple fact of the matter is that the terrorists will currently explore any opportunity to attack anything that represents western civilization. If we were to remove our troops from all foreign engagements and pursue a policy of isolation the terrorists would explore any opportunity to attack anything that represents western civilization. Its not about what we do. It is about who we are. What we can do is live our lives and thumb our noses at these overgrown five year olds. Don't cancel vacations or lock yourselves in your homes. Attack the enemy by living boldly and pray that they someday get the message.

The Ultimate Prank

Yesterday at work I had a phone conversation with a gentleman who had recently fallen victim to the "flaming bag of poo." The guy wasn't all that socially savvy, and described it as "a small fire was left on my porch by troublesome youngsters." It was in that moment, while choking back a laugh, that I realized that the "flaming bag of poo" may just be the ultimate prank. When you think about it, the deed must have evolved over time, because it is actually the combination of three different pranks.

Initially I think that people probably just left poo on your doorstep. That would certainly get the point across. Then, probably with the advent of the Postal Service, the "poo drop" was combined with the traditional "knock and run." This prank alone would have been quite brilliant. Imagine some early settler resting his feet after a long day of oppressing indigenous peoples when he hears a knock at the door. "Why it must be a package from that new Postal Service" he excitedly thinks to himself as he opens the door. But, Alas there is no package, only poo.

The bag was probably always a part of poo pranks because the prankster would need a clean way to deliver his product. With the addition of the "knock and run" to the scenario the bag was simply left with the poo for two reasons. 1) Time. "Knock and run" doesn't provide the deliverer a large amount of time to empty a bag before running. 2) Surprise. With the poo now in a bag it could be hoped that the bag would be taken into the home before revealing its surprise.

Fire also became involved for a number of reasons. 1) You can only put an immature male and a paper bag together for so long before one of them gets set on fire. 2) Someone initially thought to set the pile of poo on fire. I sort of wish that this prank had remained in its current form, because the prankee was now faced with the decision of letting the fire burn, or knowingly stomping on a pile of poo. Classic. However time and cleanliness probably intervened here to give us the "flaming bag of poo" as we know it.

As I said before, yesterday I thought that the "flaming bag of poo" was the ultimate prank, but today I discovered this. Ignoring the fact that they are a bunch of French socialists, and that they are disrupting the greatest sport in the world, this may be the ultimate prank. You've also gotta love a donkey named "Jujube." Anyway, I'm sure it won't be long until some public event angers me, so get your donkey ridin' boots on boys.

Chickens and Rabbits

First off, check this out!! Well done I say. It reminds of the time I stalked a Lynx across the Jos Plateau. It was killing my neighbor's chickens and rabbits. What would you have done in that situation? Gosh! Anyway, it also reminds me of a Sunday lunch that I shared with a friend of mine a few weeks back. Trust me, this story is far better than the Lynx.

A few weeks ago I ran into an old friend of mine, Rupert. We were close for awhile way back when and so he invited me over for a Sunday afternoon lunch. Rupert lives on something of a farm and we sat on his back deck overlooking his plethora of animals. When I knew Rupert he was single. Since then he has fathered what must be about 12 kids. Needless to say that, while we ate, there was an adult table and a kid's table. Out of all the children I was most amused by Rupert 2. The "2" is correct. Rupert is a firm patriot and doesn't make use of any item bearing a foreign designation: No Roman Numerals, no Chinese Fire Drills, and certainly NO French Fries (I didn't have the heart to tell him that "2" was an Arabic Numeral). Young Rupert 2 was about three years old, and had a propensity to find trouble, if trouble was anywhere to be found. Prior to lunch he had managed to climb to the top beam of the swing set, and then face down a charging turkey (a charge that Rupert 2 had provoked). With a personality of this sort it should have come as no shock when Rupert 2 quickly became bored with lunch and tore off into the yard for some more "fun." I was not alone in noticing this act, and it wasn't long before the family collie sauntered over to the kid's table, pulled Rupert 2's mostly full plate onto the floor, and began to chow down. Apparently Rupert 2 had not become bored with lunch, but simply liked to break up his meals with other activities, for variety and such. Anyway, I had never before in my life seen a three year old boy fight a collie for food, but it goes down in my book as one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Considering the fact that I was the closest adult to the melee and did nothing to intervene other than stare in amazement, it is understandable that Rupert 2's mother was not all that happy with me. When that little tyke sprinted in from that yard and tore into that dog I was enthralled.

In conclusion, well done to Rupert 2 and to our African friend. I do feel sorry for that collie though. I don't think he'll be interested in table scraps anytime soon.

The Valley Part II: Hanging By A Thread

My initial intention in storming off into the wilderness in pursuit of a mountain lion was to photograph it. That seemed the most logical way to prove that I had actually encountered one. How to prove that the picture was actually taken in the area was another story, but in the spirit of documentation I paused by what seemed a particularly good paw print, snapped a picture, put the camera in the right cargo pouch of my pants, and moved on.

I'm no expert in mountain lions, but I do know that they can move quickly. An adult can do something like 30, or 50, miles in a day. I can never remember which one. Nevertheless, it was more distance than I would be able to cover, and I hoped to catch it quickly. I found the terrain off of the trail to be difficult, much more difficult than the trail itself, which was not easy. As I scampered along, trying to move as quickly as possible, I frequently lost my footing. Falling became quite common, and also quite annoying. It wasn't long before I became quite frustrated with the lack of footing, and quite bruised by the repeated falls.

Placed in this situation, a logical person would probably have turned back. In my sleep deprived, mountain lion obsessed state I was hardly logical. I attempted to press on even harder, which led to more falls on the rocks. The more I fell the more upset I became with the situation, causing me to try to push even harder. The situation was obviously worsening. In a desperate push, I followed the tracks over the top of a large mound of rocks and dirt. In hindsight the structure of this pile was a bit unique, and not of natural origin, but I was in a rush and didn't take much notice. Upon reaching the top I thought I saw some movement in the forest below. I attempted to freeze in midstep, but the rocks under my feet gave way and I began sliding down the side of the mound. As my flailing arms failed to arrest my fall, my head hit against something hard and everything went black.

I awoke to a sort of swinging sensation, and was immediately aware that my right side hurt very much. Things were very dark below my feet, and I knew that I wasn't standing on anything. As time went by I became aware that I was suspended at the mouth of some kind of hole. It appeared that whatever was keeping me from plunging into certain doom had somehow snagged the right shoulder strap of my backpack, from which I was now gently swinging back and forth. My right pant leg had been torn from knee to hip and my thigh was bleeding. There was also a burning sensation going from my right hip to the back of my right shoulder. As I looked around it became apparent that I was hanging over an abandoned mineshaft, the mouth of which was only a few feet across. As I pondered what luck I had to slide into this exact location I noticed that there were several old wooden beams protruding over the entrance of the shaft and it appeared likely that I was hanging from one of them. I cannot fully relate to you how it felt to be hanging over a pit of undetermined depth by a piece of wood that was probably older than my grandfather. As time went by and my senses slowly returned, it became obvious that a feat of some gymnastic prowess would by necessary if I were to survive this situation. I had never been very good at gymnastics, but I was able to stretch my legs out and press against the opposite side of the shaft, pushing my back against the closest wall. I then used my arms to pull myself up on top of the wooden beam and slowly slide myself back onto solid ground.

I lay sprawled out beside the mineshaft for what could have been an hour before I felt like moving again. I quickly realized that whatever items had been stored in the right cargo pouch of my pants were now lost, but I couldn't exactly remember which items those were. The sun had now sunk below the top of the mountain, and I knew that daylight was scarce. At this point I figured that the quest for the mountain lion had ended, and it was high time to get back to the trail, and back home. All I had to do was climb back over the dirt mound and follow the mountain lion tracks back to the trail. I was dismayed with the fact that the mineshaft was actually surrounded on three sides by mounds of dirt and rock, but guessed that I had slid down the side closest to the beam that had saved me. I climbed more slowly, and painfully, this time, but upon reaching the top I couldn't find any mountain lion tracks. I was admittedly still a little dazed from that shot to the head, but after a good fifteen minutes of searching the top of the mound, I became concerned.

Every good hiker knows not to depend on the trail to be your sole guide to home and safety. The Stony Valley was laid out pretty simply, geography wise, and I knew that to my south lay the Stony Creek. If I could make it to the creek I would only have to follow it upstream to find my car. Feeling slightly better about things I took of my backpack to get my compass. I should say that I took off what was left of my backpack, for I quickly found that my fall had pretty much destroyed the bag, and left only one of four pouches intact. It was not the pouch that my compass was in. Undeterred, I figured that the evening glow in the sky was in the general direction of west, and struck out in the direction of south in hopes of home and bed.


Stay tuned for Part III: Between A Rock and A Hard Bite. Click here if you missed Part I

The Pride of A Father

Despite some years in Nigeria, there were always cats around when I was growing up. I like house cats and view them as little panthers stalking about and relaxing in the sun. When my girlfriend, who can't have cats at home, suggested that I adopt a kitten from the Humane Society, I responded favorably. I was so proud of little Orion (black with tiny white "stars" on her hide) as she pounced about the apartment defeating imaginary foes. So proud that I wrote her a little poem, and was convinced to get a second cat. While Orion and Callie (new cat) did play together, I began to notice a disturbing trend as the two cats aged. Orion, my great hunter, had become a complete coward in the presence of strangers, and Callie would prostitute herself for a mere pat on the head. These were hardly the pride leaders I had hoped for. And so I resigned myself to the fact that my cats were less than ideal, and retired my poem written to the great Orion.

Yesterday morning I happened to notice a small thumping noise in my bedroom wall. Orion noticed it as well and looked ready to bolt from the room. The noise slowly moved up the wall and onto the ceiling tiles. I gave the tiles a little poke and could here something scampering back and forth on top of my ceiling. My experience from Nigeria told me that, whatever it was, it was not a snake (don't ask). Several hours later I returned to my bedroom to get ready for work and noticed that Callie was sitting on the bed staring at the ceiling, and I could hear what I thought to be a bird chirping. In my infinite wisdom, I pushed up on one of the ceiling tiles and, to my surprise, a little brown bird flew out. Also to my surprise, Callie was on that bird in a heartbeat. I was able to get the two separated, and returned from locking Callie out of the room just in time to see Orion attack from out of nowhere. Now Orion is much more athletic than Callie and her strike was so impressive that I almost didn't want to stop it. However, Orion soon found herself locked in the hallway with Callie.

Seeing as I had to go to work, and that the bird was somewhere in the box spring under my bed, I closed the bedroom door and left. I notified the girlfriend of the incident and she stopped by my apartment to find that the bird was now sandwiched in between the window panes of my bedroom window. With the savvy use of a fishing net, she was able to extract the bird from the window, and it is now resting comfortably in a used hamster cage while its future is determined.

As funny as the bird story is, the most shocking fact here is that my cats DO possess that killer instinct that I had previous accused them of lacking. I am so proud, and in that spirit I have posted my, previously abandoned, ode to Orion. Enjoy.

The Hunter
Oh, Queen of the apartment
With prideful stride
Black and sleek with starry hide
Sharp of fang and swift of paw
Making prey quick to fall
Nerves of steel, paws of might
Oh fear ye rodents
Tis Orion's night!

The Valley Part I:Two Paths

Life has always amazed me in its ability to surprise you with options. It is assumed in our current culture that sometime in late adolescence, or early adulthood, one sets out on a chosen path for life and then remains in pursuit of said path until retirement. In my experience I have found that this isn't always the case. From the epic realm of morality to simple daily tasks life frequently presents us with options that were not anticipated and are occasionally completely surprising in nature, leaving you alone to make a choice. Not all that long ago I found myself in just such a situation, and the decision I made lead to some remarkable results. Some of you may remember the time, though few know the circumstances.

My friends and co-workers will remember that several months ago I disappeared for several days. Upon my return I offered only the explanation that "I went hiking." Those of you closest to me found this excuse to be somewhat suspect, and rightly so. At the time I apologized for the simplicity of that explanation, and assured you that there was nothing left to be known. I now apologize to you for the lack of complete honesty, and for the time delay. Unfortunately, at the time, my tongue was tied by a mixture of personal embarrassment and governmental restrictions. Recently the latter factor has been removed and I am now free to tell a story that is too good keep to keep to myself.

I enjoy such outdoor activities as running, biking, and swimming. Bearing this in mind it was only a matter of time until I undertook to participate in a triathlon. Despite the early challenge of getting into the proper physical condition, I found the training to be quite enjoyable. In fact, it wasn't long until I started looking for some kind of performance boost. After a short search I discovered an article in my favorite adventure magazine touting the performance enhancing abilities of Ginseng. Excited about this new find I dropped the magazine in mid-sentence and ran out to the drug store. It was not long before I was taking the supplement in heavy and frequent doses. What I had failed to learn from the rest of the half-read article was that despite its performance enhancing abilities, Ginseng is known to cause insomnia in heavy and frequent doses. Needless to say, it was not long before I could not sleep at night, or during the day, or at any time at all.

Recovering from Ginseng induced insomnia is not an easy task. After several weeks I found that the best way to get some sleep was to totally exhaust myself just prior to going to bed. With this goal in mind I took to the habit of taking rigorous hikes in the late afternoon and evening. On the evening of my disappearance I set out on one of these hikes (see, I told you I went hiking).

Few people know that just to the north of our illustrious capital city lies one of the wildest areas in our state. The Stony Valley is the second largest roadless wilderness in the state of Pennsylvania, and seeing that it lies on the northern border of the Fort Indiantown Gap military base, it receives more visits from errant artillery shells than it does from humans. For these reasons, and a few more, the valley is my favorite place to hike. For the hike in question I had decided to pay a visit to the Stone Tower, one of the last remnants of an old coal mining operation on the top of Stony Mountain. And so, with the sun making its decent in the west I set out over some rugged terrain to achieve my goal.

The Stony Mountain and Valley earn their names well, and a trail on the mountain is less of a trail than a meandering pile of loose rocks. To reach the top of the mountain one needs physical stamina and mental focus. While the former is gained with time the latter is lost. It was not long before it required an effort of will to keep my eyes focused on the ascent ahead instead of off into the woods in the hopes of seeing some wildlife. In a brief moment of fate, my eyes happened to return to the trail just at the right time to see something that froze my body in mid-step. To say that the Stony Valley is a wild area implies that wild animals live there. The valley is the proven home of deer, bear, bobcat, coyote, and numerous other species of animals that leave their tracks up and down the mountainside. However, what I saw on that trail was far to feline to be a bear track and far to large to be a bobcat track. There in a small patch of mud a few feet ahead of me lay what was unmistakably the track of a mountain lion.

Although the mountain lion officially does not roam wild anywhere east of the Mississippi (except for a small protected area in Florida), Pennsylvanians report hundreds of sightings each year. Due to this fact, the mountain lion had become something of a fascination for me. It represented the original wild nature of our land, and I yearned for its return to the area. You can imagine my excitement at finding evidence of one in my backyard. I was now faced with two very clear options. Ahead of me was the Stone Tower, it was my goal and provided me with a clear path back to my car, home, and bed. To my left was the path of the mountain lion, promising only uncertainty and risk. With the sun sinking closer and closer to the hills, I took a moment to pause and then turned left and headed off on the trail of the lion.




Author's note: Obviously this is just the first of several installments. Stay tuned I hope to post each new part on a weekly bases. I've also posted several times in the last few days, so check out the previous posts if you haven't visited in a while.

A Feast in Cinematography

Among our little blog network some of you have recently endeavored to review films that you feel deserve some credit. All of you have fallen short. If you will make note of the new link at left you will find a smorgasbord of filmographic euphoria commonly referred to as Spring Break Shark Attack. While not initially receiving rave reviews, this film is sure to become a cult classic. Shannon Lucio, formerly of "The O.C.," leads a brilliant cast of teenage talent in a plot of epic proportions. When Danielle (Lucio) arrives in Florida for Spring Break against her parents will she has no idea what she is in store for. While the bikini clad girls and video camera wielding boys pursue hedonism in its most evolved form an armada of killer sharks is quietly amassing off shore. The sharks are drawn to the area by the artificial reef that the town recently installed, and the relentless chumming of a jealous local businessman. Danielle and an intelligent-but-misunderstood local boy uncover the secret just in time, but a complicated love triangle and unbelieving town bureaucracy get in the way. Its a coming of age story that I think we can all relate to. While critics can rail away on minor foibles, the spring breakers relax on the beach with mountains in the background (ah the famous Floridian Mountain Range), any film in which the main character survives a dose of roofies, a boat wreck, and a shark attack all in the same day gets thumbs up from me! Oddly enough, I have not been able to find Spring Break Shark Attack on sale, but once I do we can all kick back and enjoy.

Long Overdue

As some of you are aware I make it a habit to, from time to time, visit the wild places of the world. Until recently I was satisfied simply with the fact that this was an activity that I enjoyed doing, but have lately come to think some more of it. Yesterday I took a good friend out on a hike to show him some places of interest I have found over time. I know he's a good friend because he suffered through some pretty rugged terrain, rising temperatures, long hills, and killer salamanders without a word of complaint. We even pulled of a nice attack on the northern border of Fort Indiantown Gap. An attack that went unanswered. Homeland Security my butt. Anyway, this trip was unique in that I returned to spots previously visited, something that I never do unless I am showing them to someone else. Mostly my adventures consist of finding places I have never seen before, a trend that leads to larger and larger undertakings. I noticed yesterday that I did not get the same thrill from these old spots as I did when I visited them for the first time. Initially I felt that this said something about me. Maybe my adventures represented some greater searching in my life. As I thought about it some more I realized that this tendency wasn't limited to me, but was a theme in human nature. We, as mankind, are constantly searching for something new and exciting. Our initial visit to the moon was proclaimed with much grandeur, but after several visits became more of a ho-hum affair, and eventually we gave up on it altogether. Now we want to go to Mars. It seems that once we have done something, it has simply been done and we need to move on. It isn't that these tasks are no longer difficult, our jaunt through the woods yesterday was certainly not easy, but merely that they are no longer new. If you don't believe me simply try to find funding for an expedition to the North Pole or the top of Everest. If you don't plan to do it faster or harder than ever before than you better not plan on doing it at all. Anyway, these are just my thoughts on the matter and it had been awhile since I yammered on in a post. Keep checking as I am working on Part I of a multi-phase blog epic. I'll keep you posted.


PS. Does anyone elso find it funny that blogger's spell check won't accept the word "blog?"