Baboons in Yankari

One of the Great Dilemmas of Life

2009-03-27T09:00:00.003-04:00

On a recent Facebook quiz (where else does one encounter probing questions about life?) I was presented with the following option: Pirate or Ninja? This is one of those questions that every adult in the western world must eventually answer for themselves, but let me aid you in your quest by taking you down the road that eventually put me at ease with this issue.

Let's look at the two based on their merits. Ninja's have a number of positive qualities on their side. First, is toys. Ninja's have a wide array of amazingly awesome weapons at their disposal, which have equally amazing names: nunchuk, katana, star. Their uniform, although resembling an adult form of footsie pajamas, is also appealing. Who doesn't want to be clad in black, slinking across a midnight rooftop to assasinate a foe? The uniformity of the ninja uniform adds safety. There is no way of knowing which ninja killed your father. Finally, the ninja has mystery. No one knows who the ninja is or where he lives. In an odd way, this makes the dream somewhat attainable. Anyone of us could be a ninja in our free time and no one would know.

Pirates also have toys. Most importantly, they have a ship and all the enjoyment that comes with sailing and the sea (including canons!). Add to that the cutlass, dagger, and pistol and the pirate has a toy chest that rivals the ninja. The pirate uniform is the opposite of the ninja, but equally appealing in its own way. It isn't really fair to call it a uniform, because pirates really just wear whatever they wake up in. It lacks conformity, but is incredibly easy to wear and maintain. Even if we exclude the Dread Pirate Roberts, pirates also have an air of mystery surrounding them. Who wouldn't want the high seas to tremble with the rumors of their cruelty? The problem with pirate mystery is that it never ends well. Eventually the pirate is caught, imprisoned, hung, or otherwise publicly shamed. The pirate life isn't easily accessible. Unlike the ninja, you can't just be a pirate on the weekends, it requires more of an intense commitment.

So, both pirate and ninja have some positive qualities, and both are very appealing (that is what makes the decision so hard), but ultimately I think this great dilemma comes down to a question of lifestyle vs. capability. Ninja's are highly capable, thus their reputation, but you never see them charging into battle with their beard on fire or ending the day with a beer and a wench. Ninja's don't seem to have any fun. Pirates do have fun. In fact, I would argue that pirates are fun. Theirs is a life of leisure on the high seas, punctuated by breif moments of intense battle. The problem with pirates is that they aren't very capable. While the ninja trains for battle, the pirate lounges between battles, and therefore has to pick his fights carefully and often flees from his most challenging foes.

At the end of the day, I have to choose the pirate. Mostly because of the lifestyle, but also because of the fame. Ninja's are really cool, but they all look alike. I can't imagine how frustrating it must be for them to assasinate the local shogun, but then have all the credit taken by some kid down the street who sits around eating wonton all day. Ninja's are anonymous. Name one. Now name a pirate. Name three. True, the deeds of the ninja live long after his death, but the name of the pirate lives along with those deeds. That is why, when faced with the question Pirate or Ninja? I must always respond "Pirate."

Riffing

2009-02-27T19:20:00.004-05:00

I was talking to Proteinstar about starting some sort of riff competition on the blogs. You get a random subject and have 24 hours to post on it. I'm also working on an article/paper on the Twilight series and can't quite seem to get the words out, so I thought "now is the time to riff." Here is it is, my random thoughts on why Twilight is so appealing to teens.

On the surface, the popularity of Twilight might be surprising. Few vampire tales gain much more than a cult following, and one that crosses into mainstream culture is almost unheard of. The real appeal of Twilight is that it isn't actually about vampires. It is about a teenage girl and her feelings of loneliness, inadequecy, and mediocrity balanced with her desire for independence and a place to belong. This is a theme that resonates with every teenage girl in the western world because it is about them. But Meyer (the author) didn't stop at connecting with teenage girls on their level, she made all of their wildest dreams come true. When Bella (the main character) moves to a new, smaller, high school she suddenly finds that she actually is everything that she always thought she wasn't. She is set upon by a number of boys looking to make her their own, including Edward, the hottest guy in school. At first Bella finds this hard to believe, as Meyer's writing, perfectly designed for the teenage girl, demonstrates:

Of course he wasn't interested in me, I thought angrily, my eyes stinging. . . I wasn't interesting. And he was. Interesting. . . and brilliant. . . and mysterious. . . and perfect. . . and beautiful. . . and possibly able to lift full-sized vans with one hand.

After he miraculously saves her from a car accident, Bella begins to suspect that there is more to Edward than meets the eye. She soon finds out that she is correct, and that her lonely, inadequate, mediocre self has attracted something more amazing than she ever could have imagined. A vampire. As we will discuss later Edward's "family," the Cullens, also provide a safe and loving community where Bella finds meaning and belonging. Another desperate desire of teenagers today.

The actual romance with Edward is pure teen gold. The two meet and fall hopelessly in love in a matter of weeks. Their relationship has relatively few internal hardships beyond Edward's desire to drink Bella's blood. This is also appealing to teenagers. Edward is the ultimate bad boy, one can hardly imagine someone more dangerous for Bella to get involved with, but she alone is enough of an incentive for him to behave. Edward even takes extra steps to ensure that he will not overcome with desire when near Bella. What girl doesn't want to be the one to turn the bad boy good?

Meyer's grasp of this "Girl World" that so many teens live in has led some to suggest that she hasn't matured much beyond the level of a teenager herself. In fact, Meyer drew from her own experiences in high school and college when writing the books. This, along with the romantic aspects of the story, may be why so many adult women have become fans of the series.

Ok, I think that's enough for me to keep moving along. Sorry that I didn't have something more interesting to riff on (the intellectual relationship between zombies and jazz would be fun. . . bonus points for quoting Nietzsche), but this is my life. If my prof likes the paper it might get published in a local youth culture journal. I'll keep you posted.

PS. I spelled Nietzsche right on the first try!

Philosophizing and the State of the Perpetually Worthless.

2009-02-16T16:26:00.004-05:00

When Jesus talked about Hell he used the word "Gehena," which was actually the formal name for a garbage dump just outside of Jerusalem that was perpetually on fire. when you think about this, it is possible that Hell isn't some remote geographic region, but is actually located near a land of great wealth. Where would the piles of smoldering refuse come from if not from a place constantly creating new and wonderful things, thus rendering old things worthless? Gehena itself was located outside of the regional center of culture and religion. If the concept is true, then perhaps Hell doesn't specifically have any geographic boundaries at all, it is merely a state of worthlessness. Your keys, for example, are valuable to you, but if you lose them they suddenly lose thier value. You may search for them, because they still have the potential to be valuable, but as long as they remain lost they are not. It doesn't matter where they are lost at. They could be under your couch, in your jacket, or as far away as the city dump, as long as they are lost they are in Gehena, the land of the perpetually worthless. Their geographic location matters little, but their status in relation to the land of great wealth does. Because they are lost they are in Gehena. Hell could actually be described as the State of the Perpetually Worthless.

That was the straight forward part. Stick with me for a quantum leap of logic (also, prepare to be offended). This past weekend Protienstar had some family visit from Rhode Island. On their trip, they briefly got off of the highway in New Jersey and got lost because they were in Jersey and didn't know where they were. I would argue the opposite. I think that they were in New Jersey because they were lost (don't get ahead of me now!). What is New Jersey other than a vaguely described state located between lands of great wealth, New York, the shore, and Philadelphia (ok, Philly's a stretch)? Who among us hasn't heard some grand tale of being lost in New Jersey? Could it be, that New Jersey isn't so much described geographically for what it is, but for what it isn't when related to the lands of great wealth? Think about it. When people get lost in New Jersey they do so because they have left or avoided a regional center for culture and entertainment. They have rendered themselves worthless to the places that matter in the world and are condemned to fester in Gehena. So the next time you find yourself on some shell of a road, trying to find your way home from the beach, remember, you aren't lost because you are in New Jersey. You are in New Jersey because you are lost.

Coming Out

2009-02-04T15:03:00.004-05:00

It didn't take long did it? His first week in office was barely over before the media was declaring that Obama's "honeymoon" was over. Now we're finding out that some of his political appointees are in fact politicians (the shock) and have engaged in all of the unsavory activities that politicians seem drawn to, like not paying taxes. Some people seem generally distraught by this, some outraged, some overjoyed. "The Chosen One" has turned out to be imperfect after all (so much for living life according to Oprah).

I had to run a check in to our district office before lunch today, so I bailed out of the office around 11, got halfway to my car before realizing that I didn't actually have the check. Had to turn around and go back. That got me thinking. Why did this happen? I couldn't very well blame the check, because it was exactly where I had left it. I couldn't blame my car, becuase it really wasn't involved in any meaningful way. Couldn't blame coworkers, I was the only one around. Couldn't find a way to chuck it on the layout of the building. I did have to pee really bad, but that's because I drank way too much water after working out today. I probably spent a good twenty minutes thinking about how this happened when I finally though, "Holy s--t! Barack Obama's not perfect!" This really liberated my worldview. If the leader of the free world, and the hope for every generation until the end of time, isn't perfect than maybe I'm not either. Could this be? It took me a few hours to come to grips with the thought, but now I'm at ease with the fact and am ready to come out publicly. People of the world, I am not perfect. Not only am I not perfect, but I am challenging you to embrace this imperfection. Join me in publicly declaring your imperfection to the world!

PS. My church is bringing back revival meetings to be more outreach oriented. How retarded is that?

What I'm Not Watching.

2009-02-01T19:28:00.003-05:00

The "Super" Bowl. Why? Because I really fail to see what is so "super" about it. I don't know why. Watching fat guys smash into each other at top speed should rate high on my list of entertainment options, and I actually find football to be exciting. However, I also find football to be largely unintelligent and mildly homosexual (ask me about my "tights and twirling" rule). Instead, Roverine and I went to see Slumdog Millionaire and I think we'll watch a video or something. Slumdog was really good, you should check it out. Bollywood seems willing to push the visual envelope a little more than most US films. American films do this, but it's an all or nothing thing like 300. So anyway, I am taking a few breaks to check the score so I'm not a complete cultural idiot. I'm also taping it to watch the commercials later. I think that's the end of my thoughts for now.

I'm Back Baby!

2009-01-30T11:31:00.002-05:00

After years of absence, I have decided to resurrect the old blog. Why? Allow Rage Against the Machine to speak for me:

"It has to start somewhere. It has to start sometime. What better place than here? What better time than now?"

I hate those guys, but when they're right, they're right. I've spent most of the last two years raging against my own machine while neglecting some things that truly brought pleasure to my life. I'm not doing that anymore. Some dude in some book I read said that if all we knew about God was the first chapter in the Bible we'd only know that he liked to make things. God is creative, why the heck can't I be? So here I am, back on my high horse, and offering you whatever creative whims flow from my mind. I don't promise that they will be good, I only promise that they will be here. Catch you later. Rover.

Niagara Falls: Where America Gets Screwed.

2007-06-03T22:26:00.000-04:00

I initially meant to do all of these posts on my Niagara Falls trip in a row, but life got in the way. So without further delay, some ranting. It is popular, or at least common, in certain circles these days to bash America. The general argument seems to be that we are selfish, pushy, rude, and pretty much take what we want without regard to anyone else. I'm not going to attack that argument on its merits because of, well, New Jersey. What I am going to do though is demonstrate, through a simple geography lesson, that we are not all like that. This lesson takes place at, you guessed it, Niagara Falls. It is a running joke amongst our fellow countrymen that, when it comes to the falls, America got the short end of the stick. This is based upon the fact that the Canadian, or Horseshoe, side of Niagara Falls is significantly larger than the American side. That is an accurate statement, but I for one believe that the American Falls are adequately prestigious and beautiful in their own right. I also happen to believe that, despite what our President's ear size might indicate, Americans do not need to have the largest of everything. You may now be asking yourself, "If he doesn't think that America got the short end of the stick, why is this post entitled 'Niagara Falls: Where America Gets Screwed?'" Read on.

At Niagara Falls, America didn't get the short end of the stick. We got flat out screwed. Not because we got the lesser of the two falls, but because, from America, you can't even see the falls. You can't even see the American Falls from America! Sure, you can walk right up to the edge of them and watch the water fall of, but that is about it. All of those grand pictures you see on postcards and such are taken in Canada, where you can actually see the entire water falls. That is how America got screwed.

So what does any of this have to do with the whole perception that America is filled with a bunch of Imperialists? Quite obviously, the fact that we allow our weaker, more annoying, monopoly money using, neighbor to both possess the nicer of the two falls and all of the prime property for viewing said falls shows that not all Americans are greedy land grabbing jerks. Some of us are quite happy to visit the scene of America's greatest screwing, cross the border, and get screwed again on the exchange rate for money that we could have stolen out of a board game at our local Wal-Mart. Why? Because we like Canadians. They are nice to have as neighbors, and we really don't care that they made out well on the whole Niagara Falls deal. They are quite happy to let us look at them whenever we like. So in the end, perhaps only a few Americans (New Jersey) are a bunch of self centered jerks. If all we were, Benedict Arnold wouldn't have marched on Quebec two hundred years ago. He would have marched on Niagara! Thus ends my rant. Look forward to my next post on the falls, where I will plagiarise (and badly at that) Herman Melville.

Leave 'Em Wanting More

2007-05-31T10:34:00.000-04:00

I've said a lot of goodbyes this week. I quit my job, not spur of the moment, and stood-by as Roverine buried her Grandmother. Both were bittersweet moments that held more than smidge of hope. The Grand Roverine had been battling Alzheimer's for the last seven years and by the time I came on the scene five years ago, her personality was all but gone. From family stories she seemed like a grand old lady. Her parents rode a steamship over from Ireland in the early 1900s. She married a pilot in 1944 and boldly waited at home as he flew missions over "The Hump" in Burma. He came home and they lived that American dream for many years. They bought a brand new home in suburbia and raised six children. One fought in Vietnam, one was held hostage by Saddam Hussein in 1991, one is a doctor, one is a lawyer, they all loved her fiercely. So I stood there, watching what could be any family in our country say goodbye to a woman I never knew, and was both sad and happy. I was sad because everyone was sad. She marked the end of a great generation for them, and in many was was the defining member of the family. I was happy because she left many letters and instructions behind, and made it very clear that she knew exactly where she was going after death. That was awesome. When I first met her I saw her struggle as her mind went away and she struggled to understand the world around her. In the last years she sometimes struggled to function at all. It is painful to think of the hell she lived with when she had such a firm hope in heaven. In the end her death was a release for everyone, and it is encouraging to watch someone who has struggled so much pass away filled with so much hope.

And then there's my job. About two years ago I decided that it was time to move on. At the time it was apparent where I was going to move on to, but that came with time. Sunday was my last day of work, and it was pretty hard. For a significant piece of time I was so focused on getting out that I didn't think about what I would leave behind when I finally left. I had formed a pseudo family at work the members of which I had worked with in various capacities for nearly ten years. Many of them have been heroes of mine as far back as High School. Sunday turned out to be a good day to end it all though. I spent most of the day sitting with a mentor who had been one of those High School heroes and we had a really good talk. He shared a lot of hopes and fears that I never knew existed in such grand men. Anyway, enough of that sentimental crap. I will still hear from those with whom I was tight, and that's all that matters. Tomorrow I move into my new office where I will explore the land mine ridden world of youth ministry. It is so exciting going from a job where I felt like I was locked in a cage to one where the only limitations are the ones that I make myself. Later.

A Little Slice of America

2007-05-09T12:28:00.000-04:00

This past weekend, having some free time and money, Roverine and I set off for the great white north of Canada and the allure of Niagara Falls. Some of you know that I have a rocky relationship with MapQuest, and that pillar of ineptitude disappointed yet again when I saw that it couldn't come up with any "good" way to get me to Niagara Falls. When I travel I want highway, big, broad, straight, fast, highway. What MapQuest provided me with was a smattering of Interstate, secondary routes, and rural byways. There were more unbelievable twists and turns in this route than even Dan Brown could comprehend. But, alas, it was a busy week and I didn't have the time to plot out my own route, so on Saturday morning we loaded up the car and headed North. Just North of Harrisburg we crossed over the Susquehanna River, and began to follow US 15N. It was surprisingly pleasant, cutting a path through the heart of Pennsylvania while following the curves of the Susquehanna. We past a number of rundown, but somewhat charming, river towns which contained a disturbing amount of adult video stores. It was a beautiful day, and the first leg of the journey didn't seem all that bad at all.

After sixty some miles we past Selinsgrove and the river and the roadway parted ways. Normally this would sadden me as the presence of a waterway always adds a little charm to life, but I didn't have time to be disappointed because 15N turned into some real highway and began to dive and twist and wind through the mountains of northern PA. It really was an exhilarating drive as I didn't see another car for miles and divided my time between hair raising mountain switchbacks and broad expanses of beautiful mountain highway where 85mph seemed to only be scraping the surface of possibility.

After passing Mansfield and entering New York the mountains flattened away and the signs of industry and development began to appear again. 15N eventually butted into Interstate 86 and we took a short eastbound detour into Corning for the Corning Museum of Glass. The museum itself is fairly decent, probably excellent if you are into glass spanning two thousand years, but its real charms are the glass blowing show and the "Studio" where guests create their own glass works while being guided by students of the Museum's glass blowing school. Roverine and I made flowers.

After the variety of 15N, Interstates 86 and 390 were monotonous at best, but then MapQuest threw me another curve. We left the highway for the rural routes of New York 63 and 36. With the mountains of PA and the light industry around the finger lakes gone, we settled into the gentle rhythm of farm lands and town squares. This was Americana at its best. Each town was different, yet the same. Each main thoroughfare was decorated to honor the glory of the local football team or the valor of fallen soldiers from years ago. While this was a nice change of pace, I was glad when the continual barrage of country markets and general stores ended, and I turned onto the merge ramp for I90, the New York State Throughway.

Despite having the largest toll ticket I have ever seen, the New York State Throughway also had some of the worst driving I have ever seen. I'm normally a fast lane driver. I believe that, on the freeway, speed equals power. Not insane or reckless speed, but enough speed to control your own destiny. I90 forever destroyed that myth. I was initially uncomfortable when 75 mph wasn't sufficient to keep pace with traffic. By the time I hit 80 mph and was being tailgated by a man in a minivan who was reading a book, I decided that this game was not for me, and retired to the right hand lane. Fortunately, I soon came to I290, then I190, and found myself crossing over the Niagara River with the mist from the falls in the distance. Our "romantic package" in Canada didn't start until Sunday night, so we dove off into the US before crossing the border and spent the night in some low rate motel on the American side. That brings me to the topic of my next post "Niagara Falls: Where America Get Screwed."

I really have to thank MapQuest for this one. I haven't enjoyed a drive so much in a long time. I find it a bit ironic that I found such an enjoyable slice of America on my way to Canada. My only regret is not stopping at Reptiland, but what can I say, Roverine is evil. If you ever find yourself hankering to go to Niagara, take the MapQuest Route. It will be worth your time.

If you do decide to make the trip, Here's your playlist:
15N - Redemption Songs Jars of Clay
O Brother Where Art Thou Soundtrack.
I86 and I390 - Anything Techno
NY 63, 36, and 90 - Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits.
I90, I290, I190 - Go back to the techno, or some very heavy metal.

"Save Mr. Hershey's Dream" or Feel My Rage!!!

2007-04-27T07:47:00.000-04:00

So, if one takes a drive around Hershey, Pa they will find clusterings of little orange yard signs reading "Save Mr. Hershey's Dream." Presumably, these signs are in response to The Hershey Company's plan to relocate a number of jobs to plants in Mexico and, if rumors are to be believed, a number of other countries as well. This has angered numerous people in the general Hershey area. Obviously, the employees of the company have reason to be concerned as they may lose their jobs, but the plan has also angered a group of local elitists who have little interest in The Hershey Company beyond its ability to maintain the bubble of elitism that they have surrounded themselves with. To this egotistical, and apparently uneducated, rabble of lemmings, I have this to offer.

The myth that is generally proposed is a tale of the incredible loyalty that Mr. Hershey had for his community, such overriding loyalty that he would never do anything as harmful and deceitful as outsourcing. This myth is so off base that it is almost not worth debunking at all, but since I'm that kind of jerk, here it goes. 1916. That single year destroys the Hershey elitist myth. In 1916, Milton Hershey took a trip to Cuba. He loved Cuba for its weather, its people, and its vast amounts of cheap sugar. Within six weeks, Hershey had purchased his first sugar plantation in Cuba. Within a decade, Hershey, Cuba consisted of multiple sugar plantations, a railroad, a model town, and an orphans school. Sound familiar? The fact is that Milton Hershey was incredibly loyal. He was incredibly loyal to cheap labor and abundant resources. These were the determining factors in his decision to base his new chocolate factory in Derry Church, PA in 1903. The location was ideal because it combined a large number of milk producing dairy farms, an ample supply of freshwater from a local creek, and a readily available work force. His choice of Derry Church was, wait for it, a business decision. The elitists conveniently forget that Hershey actually started a number of businesses nationwide in Denver, Chicago, and Lancaster (to name a few) before his move to what is now Hershey. I'm sure he had some sentimental attachment to the place where he grew up, but he didn't start his business there until he realized that it could make him money. It is true that Milton Hershey was loyal to his workers and treated them well, because it made good business sense. Happy workers work better. At the end of the day, Milton S. Hershey was a capitalist, he did good things for the community because they were ultimately good for him, which brings us to my next argument.

While we are on the topic of loyalty, lets discuss the local chocolate workers' union. Since Milton Hershey's death there have been strikes and threats of strikes. The most recent strike was over a proposal by The Hershey Company to have employees contribute towards their own health care. Let's consider for a moment the nature of labor unions. The idea of labor unions is socialist at its core, and therefore frequently at odds with capitalist goals. I'm not trying to fault either system here (both are imperfect), but merely pointing out facts that are often overlooked. The modern labor union in fact is seldom true to socialism, but has morphed into a pseudo-socialism. True socialism strives for the good of all. Labor unions strive for the good of all who are members, the rest be damned. So considering the self-centered (dare I say ethnocentric?) nature of our local chocolate workers' union, is it really a surprise that they have found themselves at odds with the, also inherently self-centered, leadership of The Hershey Company? Not at all. Both organizations exist solely for their own benefit. Here's the rub. All of the member of the chocolate workers' union are employed by The Hershey Company. When the employees band to together to make demands that are solely in their own interest, only one thing occurs. Labor is no longer cheap, it is expensive. Not only is it expensive, but the expensive workers are no longer happy because they always want more, and they want it at the expense of the company. In the end, one of the key factors that led Milton Hershey to start is plant in Derry Church has been removed. This leads me to one inevitable conclusion. Not only is The Hershey Company justified in relocating jobs, but doing so does not violate "Mr. Hershey's Dream" because Milton S. Hershey dream of a viable, even dominant company. I will even go so far as to say that Milton Hershey himself would relocate jobs if he were running the company today.

Now for some random thoughts about the relocation plan in general. 1) Relocating jobs is ultimately better for the Hershey community than not relocating jobs. A healthy and viable Hershey Company is the only hope that the Hershey community can hold for the company. Refusing to recognize economic trends and adjust to them would lead the company to is demise, which would also have the Hershey elitists bemoaning corporate mismanagement. 2) In the long run, relocating jobs to Mexico may be good for America. While border security is a popular topic among talking heads these days, few recognize the fact that the best, and most difficult to attain, solution for our border problems is a strong and stable economy in Mexico. Until the benefit of living and working in Mexico outweighs the risk of crossing the border, security will continue to be a problem. When profitable and stable companies do business in Mexico we all move towards that goal. Let's face it, the chocolate that will be made in Mexico is going to be sold in the US. People need to be employed here to sell that chocolate. If The Hershey Company grows, our economy still grows, and it will grow in a manner that more aptly fits our service based economy rather that the production based economy of yesterday. 3) Despite the fact that The Hershey Company will always maintain its headquarters in Hershey, the Hershey community doesn't need them. Organizations like Hershey Entertainment and Resorts, the Penn State Milton S. Hershey Medical Center, and the Milton Hershey School are growing by leaps and bounds and combined employ far more people in the area than The Hershey Company does.

So there are my thoughts on that. I really do love the town of Hershey, and I think it has a great legacy. It just annoys me when a bunch of self righteous jerks try to high jack that legacy to boost their own egos.

An Honorable Death

2007-03-21T07:55:00.000-04:00

For many years our people had lived by the sea in relative peace. They farmed and fished while we, the chosen few, handled the occasional minor skirmish that arose with the neighboring Bjorkman Clan of Romans. Our Samurai grew fat and old during this time, and recruits became fewer and fewer. Only the rumors of a strange mountain people far beyond the river kept enough fear in the minds of the people to allow us to continue the old ways of the Ninja. The Shogun was pleased with our methods, and we were allowed to live and train amongst the ruins of the old hill fortress.

But then things changed. A new clan appeared and began constructing a fortress along the river. It was massive. It threatened our farmlands along the river. It threatened the Bjorkman Clan's access to the northern lake. It threatened the foothills of the mountains. As the fortress neared completion a banner was raised on it ramparts emblazoned with the letter "P" and a star. Sentries with muskets, robots, and an elf with a bow were seen patrolling the walls. All emissaries to the fortress were fired on. This was unacceptable. Soon messengers came to offer an alliance with the Bjorkman Clan. Strange men came from the mountains representing "Thurstan." These negotiations did not go well. Thurstan and Bjorkman did not respect our people and they mocked our traditions. They saw our ways as old and slow. It required great humility to hold the alliance together. We could not defeat the fortress alone.

There was much discussion on tactics. The other clans wanted to hold back, attack from afar, and settle into a longer siege. This is not how our people wage war. Shogun Rover thought it best to send the Ninja at night to kill the enemy in their sleep, and end the war before it began. The other clans did not agree and distrust grew. While the debate raged the Samurai grew strong and numerous once again. During this time ships appeared on the horizon, the English had come to trade again. With them came Sir Hawthorne, The Black Knight. In his country there were many large fortresses, and he had waged many battles against them. He united the alliance, and while he didn't fully understand the ways of our people, under his leadership we felt that the war could be won. His battle plan was simple, and respected all of the clans. The others would hold back and fire from afar, while Rover's Samurai and Hawthorne would charge the fortress gate. The Ninja would be held in reserve.

The day of the battle dawned, and the plan unfolded. Secret Krav Maga Agents descended from the mountains into the foothills at night. Early in the morning Bjorkman's Roman Archers were deployed on the plane by the northern lake. Almost in unison the Archers and the Agents opened fire on the fortress. Only the elf manned the ramparts, but he exacted a deadly toll on the Archers before the Agents cut him down. As he fell, the robots appeared on the looming walls of the fortress. Sir Hawthorne deployed the Samurai to assault the gate. A third of them were cut down as they crossed the river. The remainder charged under the shadow of the fortress and began to damage the massive door. Thurstan's Krav Maga continued to fire into the gate over the heads of the Samurai, but they were too far away to do much damage.

The battle looked to be a stalemate. The Archers were not able to inflict as many casualties as they received, and the Krav Maga Agents were killing the defenders on the walls, but were unable to damage the gate. The Samurai alone threatened the integrity of the fortress, but were quickly being cut down by the remaining robots above. At last only one small unit of Samurai remained at the gate. Sir Hawthorne himself ran towards the fortress to bolster the assault, but slain as he crossed the river. Colonial Musketeers appeared beside the robots on the walls and exacted even more harm on the Bjorkman Clan. Without Sir Hawthorne the attack appeared doomed to failure.

It was now, when things appeared darkest, that Shogun Rover remembered his original plan. He came to the Ninja and chose three. Lin, Kenjei, and I were to enter the fortress, slay its inhabitants, and hold it "for the honor of our people." It was a great plan that would be remembered for generations, but it was foolhardy. Alas, the Ninja exist to fight, not to argue. We set out across the plane in eagerness and soon arrived at the base of the fortress unnoticed. The Krav Maga were pushing their attack and large creatures began to appear from the mountains behind them. A lone paratrooper from the Bjorkman Clan had circled the far side of the fortress and was near to joining the Samurai at the main gate when we arrived. The defenders were either feeling bold, or had greatly underestimated the forces outside, because they opened the gate. We three Ninja quickly stole inside and Kenjei closed and barricaded the gate behind us, much to the surprise of the Samurai outside.

The robots had all been destroyed and the ramparts were manned by two Musketeers alone. However, they were able to fill the courtyard below with a hail of shot that required all of our skill and cunning to avoid. Lin quickly flew up a ladder and sliced one of the Musketeers in two. Then came the biggest surprise of the day. Our silent work was interrupted by a loud bang, and the final Musketeer crumpled to the ground. There, atop the rampart, stood Bjorkman's paratrooper, smoking .45 in hand. Somehow he had scaled the outside wall. Lin was the first to react and front flipped over the paratrooper's head while he buried another round into Kenjei's abdomen. The last thing the trooper heard was the tune of my singing Katana. With that the fortress of P Star had fallen.

As we removed the P Star banner it became apparent that betrayal of the alliance was not unique to the Clan of Rover. Our Samurai at the gate were easily slaughtered by by Thurstan's forces and the Krav Maga once again opened fire on the fortress. Lin and I had no ability, or desire, to defend a fortress against the large force outside. The failure of the Samurai to hold the gate sealed not only the fate of the battle, but the fate of our people. The Bjorkman Clan's army was destroyed, and handful of Ninja could do little to hold back Thurstan's forces if he chose to march out of the mountains and enslave our people. Rover's greed was the demise of all. In the end we could not give our people freedom or hope, but we could give them honor.

Recognizing that any attempt to hold the fortress would be idiocy, Lee and I decided to decimate the Krav Maga before the day was out. Prepared, we flung open the gate again, and were shocked to find the Krav Maga lined up on a hill behind and massive troll-like creature wielding a steel claw for a hand. Lee and I charged the beast and eluded its initial blows. I struck first, glancing my Katana off of its leg. I had done no damage. The beast caught me with a quick backhanded blow that sent me flying for yards. As I landed I felt my chest begin to collapse. fighting the coming darkness, I watched Lee thrust her sword towards the beast's chest. It shattered on impact. The beasts steel claw closed about her and crushed her body. All light faded away.

For those of you who weren't there, this is my account of a Heroscape battle that occurred at Protienstar's last night. If he lives up to his end of the bargain, we should have his take on things posted in a few days. That will be interesting because he played poorly, and as a coward.

I'm Back. . .Again

2007-03-09T18:09:00.000-05:00

Since proteinstar has yet again demanded a post, here it is. Sorry I haven't been around lately, but things have been a tad busy, and I haven't felt like I have anything to offer. Here's today's dilemma though. Roverine and I are making a commitment to get in better shape over the next few months. Step one was having a goal. We chose the Five Boro Bike Tour in NYC. We are still hammering out a training program, but I was initially concerned with where I would find the time to fit a training program into my already "busy" schedule. Today I came to the realization that I actually have a ton of free time. I just don't manage it very well. I have a whole list of things that I would like to do "if I had the time." Among them are more reading, more exercise (specifically cycling), and more "good husband" time (which equates to more cleaning). So what exactly eats up my free time? Three things. Playstation, TV, and work. It isn't that I work all that much, but I do work a fair amount of bizarre mid-day shifts that eat up all of the daylight hours during the winter. I can't really do much about work (although I am working on a plan). That leaves TV and Playstation. Due to my Formula One obsession, I am unwilling to part with cable TV at this time. Playstation now falls under my crosshairs. Roverine and I use my PS2 almost daily for exercise videos, and we have also discovered the joys of Dance Dance Revoltution. So I think the console will stay, but I may sell off my game collection. Maybe not all of the games, but do I really need four different F1 games, a NASCAR game, rally racing, Gran Turismo 4, and Indy Car? I love my PS2 time, but I am pushing 30. Maybe it is time to move on. I think my life would be much more fulfilling if I found other uses for my time. So help me out here. PS2 games, stay or go?

Baseball, Hot Dogs, Apple Pie, and Toyota.

2007-02-15T12:55:00.000-05:00

I seem to have this ongoing and tumultuous relationship with NASCAR. Ideally I would like to be able to say that I love all forms of motorsport, but NASCAR keeps holding me back. I really do have a diverse love for all forms of racing. I can get excited about everything from Formula One to off road rallying to dirt track sprint cars. For some reason I can't get excited about NASCAR. Each season I get all hyped up for the Daytona 500 and all the little races that surround it but then fall into a disillusioned boredom as the season wanes away into a legion of races that all appear to be identical. This season hold little hope of being any different, save one thing. This year, in an attempt to break out from their rural (read redneck) roots, NASCAR has allowed Toyota to enter the sport. This decision has sparked vigorous opposition from some of the established "rural" team owners. A barrage of ethnocentric idiocy has been thrown into the media. The basic argument appears to be that NASCAR is an "American" sport, and Toyota is not an American company. The funny thing is that the people levelling these accusations appear oblivious to the fact that in many facets Toyota makes more cars in the U.S. and employs more American workers than the "American" companies that the accuser represents. The secondary accusation that the established teams make is that Toyota will enter the sport with such a massive budget that they will buy up all of the good talent and build such high tech cars that they will effectively buy championships. This is also funny because, as I understand it, one of the appeals of NASCAR is that the cars are so tightly regulated that they are basically identical, therefore making it impossible to build a "high tech" car. A knowledge of recent history would also serve the NASCAR good old boys well. In 2002 Toyota entered Formula One with much fanfare. Their F1 team has spent an estimated $400 million each season (the largest budget in F1) and have yet to win a single race. That's right, they have invested somewhere around $2 billion into sport with no success for five years.

So it appears that the NASCAR boys have nothing to worry about, or do they? Toyota does have a massive amount of money to spend, and money sometimes leads to championships. Toyota also has a wealth of racing history and experience to draw from. The real concern for the NASCAR establishment has less to do with Toyota itself than it has to do with the idea of Toyota. The doors to the sport have been opened up to new companies, who knows who will come knocking? One company that is at the forefront of my mind is Honda. Honda has a huge market in America and has an even larger rivalry with Honda. Toyota's entry into F1 in 2002 was largely due to a desire to take on Toyota in popular forum. Don't be surprised if Honda decides to return the favor in NASCAR. That could mean serious trouble for the American teams.

While a Honda/Toyota NASCAR rivalry may be a pipe dream, I have found my point of interest for this year's NASCAR season. I want to see Toyota thrash the dickens out of those backwoods NASCAR boys. It probably won't happen this year, but a man can hope,

. . . And That Was Fun.

2007-02-03T19:53:00.000-05:00

In High School I once told a Navy recruiter that I thought it would be fun to be a Navy SEAL. He asked me if I liked being wet and cold. I said "No." He told me to pursue other careers. I don't know why, but for some reason that conversation didn't pop into my head back in October when I was recruited for the Law Enforcement Eskimo Plunge. It seemed like a great idea at the time. It was October, almost seventy degrees outside, and the event benefited the Special Olympics. I thought it would be a good way to make up for all of those "short bus" jokes I've made in my life, and how cold could it get in February anyway? To add to the incentive, I would be participating as part of a team that had a designated Fund Raiser who didn't take the plunge, but raised money instead. I was all out of reasons not to go plunging. That was, of course, until last week when I realized that the Eskimo Plunge was no longer in the distant future. My enthusiasm was additionally lessened when I was told that the event location, Harrisburg's City Island, was in question due to "ice flow issues." Ice! I didn't sign up for ice!

At noon today I became painfully aware that our unseasonably warm autumn had turned into a seasonably cold winter. I stood on the northern tip of City Island and shuddered with my three teammates (and McGruff the Crime Dog) as we listened to the ice crackling by us as it flowed downstream. I was already cold and I hadn't even stripped to my swimming trunks yet! Side note: If you ever undertake an Eskimo Plunge, Corona board shorts and a Navy watch cap will not be appropriate attire. A least it was a dry cold, that humid cold really drains you. After groaning and mumbling for a few minutes we all trudged to the section of the "beach" designated for our endeavor and began to disrobe. Apparently we were a tad slow in our preparation because, without warning, a stampede of nut jobs sprinted past us and into the water while hooting and hollering along the way. We timidly began to follow behind, but gradually got caught up in the hoopla as we approached the river. The water was shockingly cold. My legs numbed almost immediately as we charged forward. It really was a bizarre scene, a mass of humanity charging forth to the waterfront, only to experience shock and pain. It was like Melville and Poe had collaborated to create some sort of sadistic tale. As I waded deeper and deeper into the water I felt a thousand ice fragments bumping into my legs. Fortunately, I had been advised to wear shoes on this adventure. As the water passed crotch level, myself and two teammates decided that we would like children to continue to be a future option, and turned back. The fourth team member charged forth, not content until an official in a dry suit turned him back.

Leaving the water, I was beginning to think that things hadn't gone all that bad. I could have stayed in longer (thus the genius of hypothermia)! Then the wind hit me, and the real race began. The three of us charged through the crowd, laughing, as the most extreme cold I had ever felt assaulted my body. Why were we laughing? I have no idea. There was nothing funny going on. As I returned to where Roverine was awaiting with warm clothes she pointed to my legs and cried, "What happened?" My lower body was covered in small trickles of blood, cut by razor sharp ice that I had barely felt. It wasn't just me, three of our team suffered the same fate. The fourth? The one who charged neck deep into the abyss? Unscathed. Fortune favors the bold.

Upon grabbing my clothes we (now down to two) ran for the heated changing tents, only to find them full. This was to our fortune, as we later discovered that the overcrowding had led to a heater igniting the clothes of some poor soul, who escaped uninjured. Instead of waiting in line we chose to hide "behind" an RV to change. I say "behind" because it was only so to humans. To the wind it was "along the way." Naked except for a beach towel, my numb fingers struggled with shoelaces that had frozen as stiff as electrical cable. How I got my trunks off before my shoes I still don't know, but I soon found them frozen to the ground beside my backpack. I eventually managed to get some warm clothes on in a haphazard manner that included an inside-out shirt and unzipped blue jeans. A stranger was kind enough to point out the open fly, but only after mocking my bloodied feet. He later also pointed out that I was eating my napkin along with my hot dog. What would we do without strangers? After getting fully dressed, fed, and filled with hot chocolate the team gathered again to laugh at our stupidity, and make plans for next year's event.

At the end of it all the Eskimo Plunge was exactly the type of adventure I've been yearning for. A few months back I realized that I hadn't had any really good excitement for awhile. A body goes stale if goes without bruises for a time. I needed a good knocking about. like the time I tried to learn to play rugby, or the time it tried to ride my bike down four flights of stairs, or the time I wrestled a Marine. You get the point. Though I dreaded it, and always will dread it, I really enjoyed the Eskimo Plunge and might just make it a yearly event. On with the pictures.

The Team

I hate McGruff the Crime Dog.

The River.

The Ice.

The End (I'm the shirtless guy behind Scary Elvis).

Wating For Audrey.

2007-01-25T10:56:00.000-05:00

Last night Roverine and I watched Just My Luck, the latest offering by Lindsay Lohan. I was surprisingly entertained, but still disappointed at the same time. Several years ago I was very impressed by the remake of The Parent Trap that Lindsay starred in. As she aged and burst into the Hollywood spotlight she was touted as the next Anne Margret. I never really liked Anne, but saw in Lindsay the potential for the next Audrey Hepburn. In my opinion Audrey Hepburn was the ultimate movie star, she embodied grace in way that others only aspire to. Granted, Audrey wasn't perfect, but she left us with the feeling that perfection just might be attainable. I wasn't alive when Audrey was in her prime, but I live in the hope that someday another star will rise that oozes class like Audrey did. As I said, several years ago I had hopes that Lindsay Lohan might be that star, but sadly I've sat by and watch as her life has spiralled into a nightmare of drunken parties and drug use. Her acting has suffered because of it. The Parent Trap remains the highlight of her career, which is pretty sad. Granted, she is still young and can turn it around, but I'm not holding my breath. My hopes for the next Audrey Hepburn remain unfulfilled.

In the Formula One world Renault has released their 2007 contender, the R27. You may view it below, but may need to shield your eyes. It looks like a Cadbury's Cream Egg had a bad encounter with Willy Wonka. It's a shame that the color scheme is so bad because they've done some really neat aerodynamic work with the rear view mirrors.

Adding to the 2007 field is Honda's RA107 (pictured below). I love the all black scheme on this car. It looks like something from Speed Racer. Sadly the team only uses the black for winter testing and revert to a white base with brown and red highlights for racing. Despite having only been out in public for a few days, the RA107 has already set an off season record. It exploded after just three corners, beating McLaren's record of just under one lap. I'm still waiting to see the new Red Bull.

Different

2007-01-21T21:38:00.000-05:00

I don't like weddings. I think I've established that pretty well over my blogging history. I find it sad that we express our sincerest hopes for the future by engaging in our most materialistic tendencies while paying little more than lip service to the big guy that makes it all possible, but off of my high horse right? I spent the better part of this weekend in Baltimore for a wedding that, no surprise, I wasn't looking forward to. It was for one of Roverine's cousins, it was out of state, I had to rearrange my work schedule, and it was a wedding. It isn't that I don't like Roverine's side of the family, I do, but I don't feel the same connection that I do with mine. I realize that attending family events like weddings will increase our common history together and foster stronger relationships, but knowing that and wanting to put effort into that are two different things. What can I say? I'm kind of a grump. Anyway, considering all of this you can imagine my surprise when I realized that I was actually enjoying myself. As the bride walked down the isle my thoughts drifted back to that beautiful summer day when I watched my own bride coming toward me. I couldn't help but smile. It was actually a surreal experience. I had had a little bit of a rough day at work when we were called to assist at the death of a local woman. It made so much sense to take a day that began in death and end it with two people beginning a new life together. The reception was nice and, aided by some red wine, I was able to further my relationship with the extended in-laws. Unfortunately, I also had to further relationships with two very bizarre strangers that were seated with us. Anyway, when I awoke this morning I was mystified by my enjoyment of the past evening. I had just attended a wedding and liked it. All was not right with the world. I mean, I had liked my own wedding. It is actually one of the highlights of my life, but liking other weddings seemed to go against my rover "-ness." Even more bizarre was that this wasn't the first wedding I had been to since my wedding. It was wedding 2.5 since my big day (I was late for one so I only count it as half), so it wasn't like being married had suddenly transformed me into a wedding lover. At the end of the day I am left with this undeniable fact, I went to a wedding and enjoyed it. That is very different. There isn't another wedding on the schedule, so I won't be able to see if this was a freak occurrence or not. I'm not sure that I want it to be.

He Never Stops

2007-01-18T12:56:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I was sitting at my desk minding my own business while my coworker was perusing some internet news site. He came across a story about Muslims requesting to use the Qur'an when being sworn in to testify in court. He promptly exploded yelling, "Those (insert random string of profanities) Arabs! We should take them all out and (insert any profanity not already used) shoot them! They don't have any respect for the Bible!" Seriously, where do the Arabs get off with spreading their message of violence and hate? We really need to appreciate people, like my coworker, who are willing to kill people of differing viewpoints to defend the message of the Bible. Today he informed me that he doesn't like Jehovah's Witnesses because they try to tell him about God. How dare they force their religion on him! I really need a new job.

Ha!!!

2007-01-17T11:23:00.000-05:00

I don't usually post on Ferrari's opposition, but I thought this was pretty entertaining, especially after a conversation I had with proteinstar about this car. Below is the new Mclaren-Mercedes MP4-22. As usual, there has been a large amount of hype around the release of the new Mclaren, especially since it will be driven by the reigning world champion, Fernando Alonso. So why is this entertaining? Yesterday Alonso got his hands on this shiny little trinket, and just prior to completing one lap in the car it exploded. Complete engine failure. Looks like those boys a Mclaren have some work to do. While that was going on in Valencia, Fisichella managed to launch the new Renault off of the track in Jerez. If this is any indication of how the rest of the year will go we should be in for quite the show.

I Am In Love. . .

2007-01-14T21:08:00.000-05:00

In an attempt to keep their noble lineage pure, the British monarchy has become a bit fruity, if you know what I mean. Purebred dogs and horses suffer from genetic defects rendering them unpure. But do not fret my friends, one line shall always remain pure and today the protectors of that line have introduced the world to the 53rd descendant of the that noble name, the Ferrari F2007. View upon her with awe.

Somewhere in France a Renault is trembling.

The Dread Pirate Roberts Is Here For Your Soul!!

2007-01-14T17:46:00.000-05:00

Last night Roverine and I ran across a Princess Bride marathon, and I had a sort of Princess Bride mental revolution. I've always assumed that the plot went something like this, Prince Humperdink needs to get married, so he chooses Buttercup since she's the most beautiful commoner in the land. This is unfortunate for both of them because Buttercup was planning on marrying her long lost (and presumably dead) love, Westley. On his end Humperdink doesn't really want a wife, he wants a war with the neighboring country, Guilder. He attempts to achieve this through a series of elaborate plots to either kidnap or kill Buttercup in a manner that can be blamed on Guilder. Much to Humperdink's consternation, each plot is ruined through the efforts of the Man in Black (aka The Dread Pirate Roberts, aka Westley (back from the dead)). The movie ends when the Man in Black, aided by Inigo the Spaniard and Fezzik the Giant, storms Humperdink's castle, rescues Buttercup, and leaves Humperdink tied to a chair, "wallowing in freakish misery, forever." Westley and Buttercup live happily ever after, Inigo becomes the next Dread Pirate Roberts and Fezzik dies at an alarmingly young age.

That is generally how I remember things. The good guys (minus Fezzik) end up living the good life while the bad guys' plans are ruined and they end up either dead or destitute. Unfortunately, last night I realized that things don't go that way. At the end of the movie Humperdink is left unscathed and tied to a chair in the castle. Buttercup has disappeared after a daring raid by a mysterious pirate and his band of miscreants. Humperdink has gotten his way. He has his war. Granted, Count Rugen, Humperdink's evil henchman, is dead, but the kingdom is intact, the prince is alive, and the Princess is missing. It's time to assemble the seige works if you ask me. You might wonder what happened to Westley's whole "wallowing in freakish misery" thing. In fact, he never actually did anything to Humperdink short of threaten "freakish misery" and then leave him "alone with his cowardice."

So what am I getting at? The Princess Bride is widely regarded as one of the best fairytale movies out there. In light of my revelation you might think that I would disagree. I don't. In fact I think that my revelation only increases the fairytale value. It's a win-win situation! Westley and Buttercup get each other, the Prince gets his war, and Inigo becomes a pirate. It is perhaps the greatest fairytale ever written. Granted, Fezzik's heart does explode, Count Rugen dies, and Miracle Max is probably hunted to the death for helping the "rebellion." I didn't say it was perfect, just the best ever.

On a side note: I've seen my fair share of TV movie marathons in my day, but last night was a first for me. As soon as the movie ended the screen was split horizontally about a third of the way from the bottom. In the bottom third of the screen the credits rolled and at the top of the screen The Princess Bride began to play again immediately. It was genius! Fair play to whoever thought that one up!

Christmas Review

2007-01-10T13:55:00.000-05:00

Although I still have one family gathering pending, I have decided to officially declare my Christmas season over. My official Christmas motto for the year was "Christmas is going to be awesome this year. Why? Because its awesome every year!" This year didn't disappoint. I was able to get some really good family time in with my side and Roverine's. Food was piled as far as the eye could see and presents fell from the sky like paratroopers in Market Garden. The highlights of the gift receiving were a pocket watch, a torque wrench, and a first edition copy of Through Gates of Splendor. But none of that really describes how great the holiday was this year. It was almost good beyond belief. On Christmas day I got the whole family to agree to a viewing of Bridge on the River Kwai(also a gift). That sort of holiday magic only happens once in a decade!

However, it must be said that there were a few low points. The first being Christmas Eve when I was convinced to go to Catholic Mass. I don't really know much about the Mass, but isn't it supposed to be a celebration? It seemed to me like it was more of a "Well, if I have to." sort of thing. I'll be the first to admit that I have been through my share of bad Protestant services in my life, but this service was not only boring, it was strangled by bizarre, and apparently meaningless, traditions and performances. Needless to say, I won't be converting anytime soon. The second low point was one of my extended family gatherings that occurred this past Sunday. There wasn't anything explicitly bad about it, I just didn't get to spend enough time with all of the people that I would have liked to. We get together again this summer, so I'll have to give it another shot then.

Some of you may not have had the wonderful holiday experience that I did, and are wondering how you can improve things in the future. The answer is simple. Preparation. You need to set the tone early. This year I chose to officially start the season by reading Dicken's A Christmas Carol. I highly recommend it to get you in the mood, and you can easily burn through it in a few hours. After the mood has been set, you need to decide on a gift buying strategy. Using the old gift checklist each year turns gift buying into a repetitive chore. Shake things up! My strategy this year focues on spontanaiety and collaboration. Whenever possible I collaborated with other family members to get people larger gifts than they otherwise would have gotten. when those options were depleted I switched to the spontaneous method. I went to my local shopping center, got a cup of coffee, and began to roam. When using this method, don't select stores that you think would have good items for your intended recipients. Just relax and go with the flow. This method scored me a nice painting for Roverine and a board game for proteinstar. Neither of them were at stores that I normally would have checked.

Anyway, at the end of the dayit was a great Christmas. I look forward to next year.

I Was Waiting For Pictures, But. . .

2006-12-22T08:29:00.000-05:00

I've been battling my digital camera over some pictures I took on my recent visit to Wilmington, DE. I was waiting on them to post, but Matt has forced my hand with this post. In case you don't want to read the whole thing I can summarize it with one quote. "I know what Christmas is truly about, but it seems that it means more than just that." What? You know I love you Matt, but I think that Alpine air has gone to your head. If Christmas is about anything other than "just that," I'm not interested. What else could Christmas possibly be about? Is it about gathering together with loved ones? We only do that about eight times a year. Is it about giving gifts to family and friends? Maybe! The giving of gifts signifies. . . never mind. What about Santa! Surely a fat man sneaking into my house at night and eating my cookies is a metaphor for. . . nothing. The Christmas tree! Now we have it! Here is the greater meaning of Christmas! Kidnapping a plant from its native habitat and adorning it with gaudy trinkets and flashing lights must mean that we are. . . bored? In the end Christmas is about one thing, Christ. I understand that we (humankind) have pile an unfathomable amount of crap on the day that seems to make it much less significant than it actually is. I think that this is because of one simple fact. The impact that the birth of Jesus had on the world was far too great and complex for any of us to fully understand. The part that we do understand has meaning enough, but we can't help but realize that we don't really get it. The result is that we pile on the crap. Granted, there are some who are so offended by the little that they do understand that they need to twist the meaning to fit their own world view. Apparently the "idea" of a holiday still appeals to them. Anyway, Matt, there is no "more" to Christmas beyond Christ, only "less." The day that the "less" becomes more important I will arbitrarily select another day to celebrate on.

Science Hates Me.

2006-11-10T08:18:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday Roverine and I went on a fossil hunting excursion in Swatara State Park. I have vague memories of visiting the park's fossil pit in Elementary School. It was an exciting time. The pit, back then, was more of a low cliff, the face being made up of sedimentary rock. The rock was compacted in thin layers and with the help of a hammer and chisel could be pulled out, almost like books stacked vertically. With those memories fresh in my mind I was bitterly disappointed when we arrived to find not a cliff of rock, but a hill of broken stones. It was then that I realized that Elementary School had in fact been 20 years ago. That moment of clarity didn't help my mood any.

Regardless of my disappointment, I pounced on the pile of rocks in earnest. Underneath the loose rubble there actually was a layer of rock that I chipped away at. I proudly proclaimed to Roverine that I was perhaps only minutes away from finding the fossilized iPod that would turn decades of scientific theory on its ear. Maybe I shouldn't have boasted too loudly. Roverine soon found some plant remains. I found a baseball sized portion of mud. Roverine found a tiny impression of a spine and ribs. I found a small rock. Roverine found a shell. I discovered a whole new type of rage. Science was having its revenge for my boasting, and it was doing quite the job. Demoralizing me in front of my wife wasn't enough for Science, not enough by far. It was only a matter of minutes before an entire troop of Boy Scouts arrived, climbed about the pile like little monkeys, and began to announce discovery, after discovery, after discovery. Their troop leader came over to tell Roverine and I about the fossils he found last year that had been analyzed by the Reading Museum. I wanted to make him a fossil. I still hadn't found bupkis!

I began to wonder about Science. My iPod joke hadn't been that offensive. In fact I thought it was quite witty. Did that one joke warrant the misery that I was now living with? I thought not, but then thought again. Maybe it wasn't that one joke. Maybe this was the culminated revenge for the years of mockery I have put Science through. Maybe Science remembered the time I set fire to the sink in 10th grade Biology, or the time we removed the handles from all of the gas valves in the lab, rendering them useless. Maybe it had something to do with setting off the emergency shower in 12th grade Chemistry, citing "Chemistry sucks" as my sole justification. I certainly hoped that Science had forgotten about my eloquent treatise arguing that the scientific explanation for the origin of life fell apart when examined under the rules of scientific method itself. With horrific clarity the picture became clear to me. Through years of thoughtless mockery and ballyhoo I had established a pattern of contempt for Science. It wasn't intentional, but with that realization I came to one conclusion. Science hates me.

So there I sat, perched on top a pile of fossil bearing stones without one fossil to show for myself. Why? Because Science was having his revenge. Others around me gloried in ferns and shells and trilobites while my bag sat empty. It was now obvious that I would be making no discoveries today. In humility I gathered up Roverine and headed off to photograph the scenery, that seemed relatively secure from the scorn of Science.

I'm at a loss for what to do about Science these days. Initially I thought I would just go with it and continue to antagonize (referring to Darwin as a "ragamuffin island hopper" came to mind), but I now realize that that might not be such a good idea. As it stands I hold no hope of ever finding a fossil again, and I can live with that, but what if I push things further? Can I live with a meteor in my house? I think not. Science and I have settled into an uneasy truce. I will no longer find fossils and Science will let me live. At that's how things will stand. Until I think of something very witty to say, in which case it was nice to know all of you.

As It Turns Out, I'm Not Perfect.

2006-11-06T00:33:00.000-05:00

I made a mistake at work tonight. It wasn't a little, "Oops! I spelled Saskatchewan wrong." mistake either. The consequences of my mistake could have put several of us into a very delicate situation. Fortunately, someone at another agency also made a mistake (I'm being generous there because it was more of a deliberate act of sloth). I was forced to take action in response to their mistake, and that action rendered the consequences of my mistake to be void, or at least significantly diminished. In the end I was very fortunate, but not off of the hot seat. I hate to make mistakes. They make me very angry with my self, and I wish that I could pretend that they never happened. At the same time I have a personal policy of always owning my mistakes. I think its what a person of integrity and faith does and I also think that it makes me a more trustworthy person. I have a coworker who never owns any mistakes and the result is that no one believes a word he says. So back to tonight, in the end I could have let things go. Several people knew that something had happened, but if I told them not to worry about it they wouldn't ask any questions, and I love them for that. Because I love them I told them the truth, and they were incredibly gracious about it. They were actually more upset about the deliberate act of sloth (sorry, "mistake") that followed. Somehow though I didn't feel any better. Tonight was a close as I get to "big time screw up," and although no perceived damage was done, I felt damaged. I pride myself on speed and accuracy, and I failed on both counts. That really bothered me. Thankfully I had the time to retreat into a good book for a bit before I had to get back into things. That helped. I eventually blew off a post-work social event (and it was a good one) and went home. For the rest of the night I felt as if my credibility had been ruined and I just wanted to get out of there. Anyway, I suppose I will feel better in the morning and I will get a fresh shot at making a mess of things then. For now I'm headed back into that good book.

Since Proteinstar Begged For It.

2006-11-03T18:26:00.000-05:00

Here is a new post. I find it ironic that a man who goes months without posting feels free to criticize me after a matter of days, but whatever.

Some of you might remember that last fall I was excited about a new racing series called A1GP, but lost interest due to a difficult TV viewing schedule and lackluster performances by the U.S. Team. The basic premise of the series is that Formula One and the Olympics had a night of poor judgment resulting in a child, A1GP. The series is held over the winter months on circuits around the world, similar to F1. The teams represent nations, rather that multi-million dollar corporations. The principal team member must be from the country the team represents. It is actually a pretty cool concept, but like I said, TV coverage here in the states was poor and the U.S. Team wasn't exactly awesome. The cars are not the wonders of technology that F1 cars are either. However, this year I am determined to give A1GP another shot. I'm beginning to see the beauty of the series. The drivers are either F1 hopefuls or has beens and the cars lack the downforce of their more famous cousins. This makes for some very interesting racing. A1GP also webcasts their races and has signed a contract with Speed TV for U.S. coverage. To add to my excitement the are also in negotiations to have a seasoning opening street race in Washington DC next September. That would be a must attend event. Here's some Youtube highlights from last season if your are interested.

Wahooo!!

2006-10-29T08:25:00.000-05:00

After a long absence, Superswede appears to have returned yet again! You come and go more than Michael Jordan buddy, but you are always welcome here. I understand that you are currently in a bit of a difficult spot, and I'm not referring to your upcoming wedding. I hope things improve for you, but I hope that this means we will be seeing more of you around here for now.

Goodbye Old Friend

2006-10-24T16:55:00.000-04:00

On Sunday, Michael Schumacher raced in the final Grand Prix of his glittering career. Last week I envisioned that this post would go along the lines of "Michael won!" or perhaps "Quick, but not quick enough." I would have then followed with an eloquent summation of the most astounding career the sport has ever seen. I even would have given a nod to some of the darker moments over the year, and believe me there were dark moments. Instead, Michael has forced my hand.

Schumi's championship prospects going into this weekend were bleak at best. If he were to claim his eighth World Driver's Championship he would have to win the upcoming Brazilian Grand Prix. That in itself wasn't all that daunting, Michael has won over ninety Grands Prix. What was daunting was that Michael's rival, Fernando Alonso would need to fail to score a single point, meaning he would have to finish the race below eighth place, or not finish at all. Alonso makes it a habit of finishing races, and a practice of finishing them in the top three. As if things weren't tough enough for Michael, his Ferrari developed a fuel pickup problem in Saturday Qualifying that left him starting the race from tenth. Michael had never won a race from tenth, although he had won one from sixteenth.

Regardless, the flag dropped on Sunday afternoon and Michael bolted to the front of the field. In four laps he moved from tenth to fifth. It look as if a miracle were about to happen. Then disaster struck, Michael dove around the Renault of Giancarlo Fisichella, but misjudged slightly. His left rear tire nicked Fisichella's front wing. The contact was enough to puncture the tire. Michael limped back to the pits and rejoined the race in twentieth, dead last. There was a fifteen second gap from Michael to the next car, and a seventy second gap to the race leader. Then the miracle occurred. Michael put the hammer down. Over the next ninety minutes fan were treated to one of the greatest displays of driving ever seen. Michael passed over ten cars on the track, and a number more through speedy pit work. Critics of F1 lament the lack of on track overtaking, but they sat silent on Sunday as Michael downed rival after rival. His final pass of the day was against the McLaren of Kimi Raikkonen, "The Flying Finn." Raikkonen blocked Michael to the inside, but Michael squeezed in, dangerously close to the wall. As the two entered turn1 they were so close together that even the daylight between their tyres was getting nervous. Eventually Michael squeezed ahead to take fourth. He didn't win the race, but his status as the most talented driver in the sport will never be questioned. That seventy second gap I mentioned was reduced to less than thirty at the chequered flag. Michael's teammate, Felipe Massa, went on to win the race. In doing so he became the first Brazilian to win his home Grand Prix since the late Ayrton Senna did so thirteen years ago.

To fully understand the brilliance of Michael's drive we need to compare his lap times with those of his teammate. It is generally accepted in F1 that a team's two drivers will receive nearly identical cars, some changes are made to suit driver preference. Before the race on Sunday both Michael and Felipe were given permission to push the engines on their Ferrari 248 F1 racing cars to beyond 20,000rpms in an attempt to secure the Driver and Constructors World Championships. They failed in that attempt, but they did set some very fast lap times. Just before his final pit stop, the point at which a Formula One car is at its lightest and fastest, Felipe Massa set a single lap time of 1:12.3. Just after his last pit stop, the point at which an F1 car is at its heaviest and slowest, Michael set a single lap time of 1:12.1, the fastest of the race. The man is just fast. In case you don't believe me yourselves, please check out the lovely YouTube tidbit below. Especially enjoy the last pass over Raikkonen.

Brazilian Grand Prix Highlights

I will regale you with tales of his brilliant career some other time.

"It is nothing to die; it is frightful not to live."

2006-10-20T22:18:00.000-04:00

Moments ago I finished Victor Hugo's epic Les Miserables. I'm a bit at a loss for what to say about it. Several months ago I attempted to read the complete, unabridged, version and got lost. This time around I inadvertently got ahold of the abridged version. The shortened text probably accounts for why I got through it so easily, but I can't help but feel somehow cheated. Despite being familiar with the plot thanks to Broadway and Hollywood my first attempt was tainted by a modern intolerance for any content that didn't advance the story line. That was a mistake. I guess that the pre-YouTube world was more into savoring things. The richness of the full text was more easily enjoyed when Lost wasn't on at 9. That said. I finished the book, all 600 pages, and felt myself looking for more. It wasn't that the story was incomplete, I just didn't want it to end. Hugo is one of the finest story tellers I have ever encountered. The work connects with the soul on several levels. Readers who approach it looking for the revolutionary feel they got from the Broadway show will be disappointed. It was revolutionary in its day, but only those very familiar with French history will grasp it's full political implication. Today I feel that it is so much more about redemption and integrity. I think we often view our lives as being effected by crucial moments in time, which they are, but Les Miserables shows that our actions in those moments are defined by the constant dedication to our moral values on a daily basis.

As far as the characters go I felt that Jean Valjean was perfect. Hugo beautifully depicted the sinner struggling with his past sins in light of his current salvation. Just perfect. Javert was both admirable and despicable at the same time. I was contorted over him until the end. Thernardier was disgusting, yet completely believable. I found myself wondering if there wasn't a real life person somewhere behind Hugo's character. My disappointment came with Cosette and Marius. I found Cosette to be spoiled, and if we were expected to love her, incredibly underdeveloped as a character (granted, I did read the short version). As a child she is heart wrenching, but almost immediately after her rescue I lost all sympathy for her. If I were Marius I would have chosen Eponine. She came across as a much more genuine and giving person, especially when you consider the parenting she received. As for Marius? What an ungrateful prat. Jean Valjean gives him his child and his fortune and Marius can't wait to show him the door. Only when he finds out what Jean Valjean has done for him personally does he accept him. I guess rescuing the love of your life from slavery and then raising her as his own wasn't enough, eh?

In short, I was enraptured by Les Miserables. After a short visit with Augustine, Steinbeck, and who knows who else, I think I might be ready to savor Hugo's masterpiece as it was intended.

Also, please celebrate in this post as it marks my 100th.

Discovering My Hometown

2006-10-16T14:11:00.000-04:00

Back when it was warmer out Roverine and I took a walk around town and took some pictures. While parts of the area are aptly described as "ghetto," there are some interesting buildings and other points of interest about. Here you go.

The home of a local celebrity.

Perhaps the most famous business in town. Great old building.

Never ate there, no plans to.

Maybe he's been advertising in the wrong places.

No, it didn't stop for the sign.

The train station.

And some more of that.

Like I said, "Ghetto."

Use My Word!

2006-10-14T08:44:00.000-04:00

Several years ago, never mind how many exactly, I was engrossed with the completion of a certain academic treatise. The completion of said work had me somewhat down in spirits because I felt that I lacked the proper terminology to fully describe the chaos that surrounded the Diet of Augsburg (1530). For those of you who aren't familiar with the event, it was billed as the ultimate showdown between Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, and Martin Luther, the indefatigable Bull of Wittenberg. The insane chaos that preceded Luther's arrival could best be compared to, but was probably far in excess of, a national political convention today. While official condemnation of Luther rang throughout the streets, secret messengers scurried back and forth in a final effort to avoid the inevitable showdown. Back room deals became commonplace. Bishops acted as pages. For a moment, the world was turned on its ear. All of this before the man of the hour, Martin Luther, even set foot into the town.
The excitement of the event is hard to deny, and cannot be ignored when addressing the life of Luther. However my friends, how was I to describe this vast spectacle within the confines of a collegiate work that was more concerned with the person of Luther than with the events that surrounded him? In the end I came to one conclusion. Necessity is the mother of invention. I created my own word.

Polympics- The chaotic jockeying for power and position that accompanies a political event.

The word suited my needs perfectly and allowed that portion of my work to be succinct, yet descriptive. After its initial usage I filed my word away in my mind, having no more apparent need for it. However, after dining with Roverine, Brechty, and Gen last night I have been convinced to share my word with the world. I have made it my goal to ensure my word's inclusion in Webster's Dictionary. I cannot achieve this goal on my own though. I need your help. Use my word! Make it popular! My argument for inclusion will be that much stronger if my word is in common usage (isn't that the Scrabble requirement?). If I succeed we can have a party or something.

What Is The Point?

2006-10-08T21:39:00.000-04:00

The BETA swtich seems to have worked.

I was going to use my blogging time today to bless you with the latest feats of Michael Schumacher. Last week he won the Chinese Grand Prix despite trailing the leaders by over 25 seconds at one time. The old man's still got it. Today he was leading the Japanese Grand Prix when his Ferrari engine exploded. That marks Michael's first engine failure since 2000. Alas, without an engine he didn't finish the race, and without the points from the race he is all but eliminated from the World Championship. I will keep you posted.

Now on to my real topic.

Roverine and I went to church this morning. That in itself isn't unusual. What was unusual was the service. It was very focused on the Amish school shootings. Disturbingly focused. I can only compare it to services I attended after 9/11. Not only did the whole service seem like overkill, it was poorly executed overkill. Early on, all of the small children were brought to the front of the church and lined up for everyone to see. The pastor then said, in his most tormented voice, "Look at them. These are the ones that Jesus loves." I couldn't help but think, "So the rest of us are screwed?" After the service Roverine expressed a similar response. We were then subjected to a sermon pleading with us to do more for the children. The service ended with a responsive reading where the leader would read a phrase something like this, "There is violence in the world. What should we do?" Everyone would respond with, "We will do what the Amish do," followed by some bleeding heart mushy talk like "Build a barn of love. Build a barn of peace." or "Plow the fields of forgiveness." It was the intellectual equivalent of vomit. "Build a barn of love." What does that even mean?

Returning to my post title, what is the point? Why even put the effort into a service that addresses a topic that doesn't relate to the lives of your congregation, and then further alienates those attending by throwing out empty catch phrases and attempting to make them feel guilty for something they played no role in? I honestly think that, outside of the scripture reading, the only time Jesus was mentioned was when they told us how much he loved the children (but apparently not the rest of us). There was a brief respite from the onslaught when the service briefly changed topic to guilt us for not giving enough in offering (a subject that is popping up with alarming frequency). Why would I give money to support a religion that only loves children? I don't even have children!

Honestly I should be more forgiving. The church is going through a transitional period right now, and the service is normally better. It just bothers me when a service is so far from the point that it renders itself pointless. It also bothers me to see effort and potential so wasted. In response I have already made efforts to get more involved. You can't really gripe if you offer no input, right?

Hang On!

2006-10-08T16:15:00.000-04:00

I've decided to make the jump to Beta. If you don't hear from me in two days, contact the authorities.

Ranting

2006-09-29T12:54:00.000-04:00

Forgive me, but I need to vent. Roverine has become hooked on Grey's Anatomy. It is a sad commentary on our society that anyone watches this show. Even more pathetic is the fact that it isn't even the worst show on TV! I've long since refused to watch Desperate Housewives and The O. C. Although I still say that those Orange County kids are alright in a very twisted sort of way. Anyway, back to Grey's Anatomy. What is the appeal of this show? It is about a bunch of self obsessed brats who pursue the most frequent occurrence of inappropriate sexual relations possible, and practice some medicine in their free time.

In what world does it make sense that cheating on your wife because she cheated on you mean that everything will work out? And that work of genius only covers the first episode. In Grey's world you would then realize that cheating on your wife was fun, so you do it again. Using your logic, your wife then continues her affair. This angers you. Did I mention that you are cheating on your wife with someone you supervise at work?

Or, you are a doctor who really likes one of your patients. They like you also. The relationship progresses until you get engaged. Your fiance is sick, but not sick enough to get a needed transplant. To help out, you intentionally make them worse. They die. You quit, saying you feel bad about the whole thing when in actuality you were about 30 seconds away from getting fired. You get depressed, lay on the floor for awhile, makes some muffins, go to the bar, etc. Meanwhile your supervisor feels guilty because she should have told you not to kill your patients, and begs you to come back to work.

Let me tell you something. At my job, if I intentionally do anything that ends badly I will not be given the opportunity to quit, and will not be begged to return regardless of how tasty my muffins are.

In short, Grey's Anatomy has been added to the list of shows I refuse to watch.

Quote of The Week

2006-09-28T12:15:00.000-04:00

Overheard at work:

"Who the heck is Gaudi paying off to keep getting a mistrial?"

Well, considering that Antoni Gaudi died in 1926 after being run over by a tram in Barcalona, I would imagine he would be paying God. Additionally considering that he was so ragged and unkempt at the time of his death that he wasn't recognized as the great Gaudi for days, I don't think he had enough money to keep God at bay for eighty years. I love the guys architecture though. John Gotti however, is probably paying off a series of jurors in New York.

The Bizarreness of My Life Knows No Bounds

2006-09-15T13:12:00.000-04:00

For some reason the people I work with have strange relationships with their dogs. One coworker felt that his dog was becoming too aggressive, so he took it to the shooting range and, well, shot it. It didn't survive. Another coworker arrived at work one morning and stated that when he woke up his dog looked "a little sluggish." At 11:30 he took the rest of the day off to have the dog put down. Ok, so these guys border on the far end of "a little off," but they pale in comparison to what I heard today.

About a year ago, in an incident unrelated to the ones listed above, another coworker was advised by his veterinarian that his dog had reached its expiration date, and should be put down in order to save it from undue pain. The coworker refused and kept the dog alive for 8 months. During this time period the dog had days where it would not move, and had long lapses of unconsciousness. When it finally died, my coworker took an entire week off of work to mourn its death. If the dog meant so much to you, why did you torture it to death?

Two months ago, the same coworker's printer stopped working. Last night he finally got it operating again, and it immediately printed out a picture of his, now deceased, dog. A picture that he claims he never took, even though the picture is saved on both his home and work computers. Upon relaying to the story to his neighbor, my coworker was informed that his house emits strange noises in the middle of the day. Coworker's conclusion? He is being haunted by the ghost of his dead dog, and it may want to hurt him. I wonder why it would want to do that?

Imagine that you are in a situation where you believe that the ghost of your dead dog is out to do you harm. How would you handle that? I think I would try to keep it quiet, assuming that people would judge me poorly for those beliefs. My coworker obviously viewed things differently and has told everyone he sees about it. He even went so far as to suggest that the haunting was a type of karma for the time he criticized a female coworker for attempting to contact her miscarried child via a psychic. Initially I thought he was nuts for doing so, but now I see things differently. If not for his bold leadership involving this important issue I would still, to this day, have no idea how to handle a situation of this sort. How could I go through life without his exemplary handling of a canine haunting? I applaud his work and appreciate the life experiences he has shared with us all.

Regarding The Matter Which Must Be Addressed

2006-09-10T16:09:00.000-04:00

In the fall of 1996 I was a young High School Senior enjoying the rigors of Cross Country running. My coach had a poster on his office wall displaying a red racing car and the name "Michael Schumacher" in bold print. Despite having no knowledge of racing I distinctly remember the poster because my coach and his wife frequently lauded Schumacher as "the greatest driver ever born." In my ignorance I took their word for it.

Fast forward four years. Lounging in my college dorm with nothing to do I found that my remote control had led me to an auto race. A surprisingly familiar red car shot across the screen and the announcer screamed something about "Schumacher." The red car, soon to be identified as a Ferrari, was holding a marginal lead over an ominous looking black and silver car. Behind them there was nothing. 52 seconds of nothing. The third place car was nearly a minute behind as these two masters grappled with each other. Although I didn't know it at the time I had stumbled upon the 2000 Italian Grand Prix and was witnessing a battle that had been raging for months. Michael Schumacher and Mika Hakkinen had been climbing over each other for the Formula One Driver's World Championship, the most coveted title in the most watched sport in the world, since early March. Both driver's had already won the title twice and neither was willing to lose their third to the other. As I said, I didn't know any of this at the time. All I knew is that the mysterious "Schumacher" won the race by three seconds and was so happy that he cried. Hakkinen also looked to be on the verge of tears, albeit for opposite reasons. Most bizarre of all was the third place car that finished 52 seconds back. It was driven by Ralf Schumacher. Michael had gutted his own brother on his way to victory. I was hooked.

In the coming months I went on a Formula One binge. If I wasn't watching the sport I was reading about it. Apparently Schumacher was considered by some to be the greatest driver ever born, and was well on his way to proving it to all doubters. Schumacher won the World Championship in 2000, followed by 2001, 2002, 2003, and 2004. He took me and tens of millions of viewers on a whirlwind ride the likes of which had never been seen before. I learned to eat and sleep Ferrarri red, and cheered as rival after rival fell to the wayside in defeat. I shouted with him in victory and wept with him in defeat. Secretly I prayed that Schumacher's era would never end. But alas, at 9:30 this morning I finally cursed me ears as they delivered the news.

It has been an exceptional time the last thirty years of what motorsport has given to me. I've loved all the good and bad moments and they've made it so special.

With those words Michael Schumacher announced his retirement from racing. Fittingly, the announcement came at the Italian Grand Prix just moments after Michael had clinched his 90th victory. He isn't done quite yet, there are three races remaining in the 2006 season, and Michael is in a strong position to win his 8th championship. However, for me, the racing world will never be the same. Ferrari have announced that Michael will not fully retire, but will take up "another role within the team." In the same breath they announced that Kimi Raikkonen, a driver both Michael and I hold in high regard, would be filling the vacancy in the hopes of keeping the dynasty alive. These statements have given me hope to continue watching the sport, but I ask that you join me in savoring these last few moments of the great man's career.

Crikey!

2006-09-06T16:14:00.000-04:00

So, I'm apparently out of the loop. I didn't know until I got to work today that Steve Irwin had died. Some of you may remember that Steve and I once spent several weeks tracking Brechty's Mom through the Pennsylvania woodlands. Sadly, we had to put her down. The tranquilizers just weren't getting the job done, but that's a story for another time. I always loved "The Croc Hunter." In my younger years I could do a pretty good imitation of him. His show was one of the best on television, because you always got the feeling that he was about two seconds away from instant death. Apparently he was. I must say that taking a stingray barb to the heart while diving off of the coast of Australia is a pretty good way to go. Rumor has it that he even pulled the barb out himself before dying. That's hardcore. I loved that khaki look too. We'll miss you buddy.

Updates

2006-09-02T11:26:00.000-04:00

I've performed some long overdue maintenance today. You will not that some of the links at left have been removed and replaced with new ones. The old links were to blogs that either didn't exist anymore, or ceased to entertain me. The new blogs are ones that I check frequently, and am sick of getting to through roundabout means. Most importantly though is the demise of Rover's Racing World. I haven't been blogging frequently enough to justify two blogs. I will still keep you updated with racing topics that catch my fancy.

Post Apocalyptic America.

2006-08-19T17:18:00.000-04:00

That's how I saw it described on a website months ago. I was so enthralled with the idea that I posted on it over the winter. I'm talking about the Abandoned Turnpike. Yesterday myself, Baby Dague, and Roverine (formerly known as "The Fiance") braved the unknown and made a visit. For those of you who don't remember, the Abandoned Turnpike was originally part of the Pennsylvania Turnpike until increased traffic volume made its two tunnels inadequate for use. The PA Turnpike Commission constructed a new route through the mountains and the life of the Abandoned Turnpike began. After a tumultuous history the Pike finally appears to have found a home with a non-profit organization that has plans to incorporate it into a coast-to-coast bicycle superhighway. Restoration work has yet to begin, but the highway is open for would be adventurers to explore at their own risk.

Early yesterday morning the three of us loaded up and headed to South Central PA to take in the two gems of the Abandoned Turnpike: the tunnels. Along the route of the old highway are two old highway tunnels that cut under the local mountain ranges. The longest of the two, Sideling Hill, is over a mile long. Ray's Hill, the second tunnel, is around 3/4 mile. The Pike itself is somewhat hard to find. If you want to visit it call me. Don't trust directions you found online. Upon arrival I was kind of surprised that there actually was a highway out there in the middle of nowhere. The pavement was in bad condition and vegetation had grown up all over the place, but there it was! One of the nice things about the Pike is that, although it is in a pretty hilly area, the highway is graded for Interstate traffic. That means that there are no steep hills, only long gentle ones. Sideling Hill lies a short ride away from the parking area, and my neurotic mind had been pondering everything that could go wrong in the belly of that beast for days. I had developed a safety system that hinged on redundancy. Bicycle headlamps were backed up by Maglites which were backed up by glow sticks. Two separate individuals would contact authorities if we weren't heard form by a set time. Like I said, neurotic. As it turned out, Sideling Hill turned out to be much closer to "cool" than to "horrific." Several web pages touted it as being so long that you cannot see light at either end when in the center. That may be true, if you visit at night. It does get dark though. There were rooms at either end of the tunnel leading up into the ventilation and service areas above. Unfortunately the stairways were so rusted that we couldn't venture beyond the first floor rooms. The tunnel itself was long and dark. Its subterranean chill was a welcome break from the summer morning. The rooms at the far end proved to be equally inaccessible. Beyond Sideling Hill we faced several miles of deteriorating highway before reaching Ray's Hill tunnel. To our chagrin, the near side access room's doors were welded shut. We ate lunch on the near side and then rode through. The ride was fun for sure, and the tunnels were great, but as far as adventure goes the trip had been lacking. The meandering subject matter of the local graffiti kept us entertained. At the far end of the tunnel we found more welded doors, and were about to head back to the car until Roverine pointed out a trail of sorts leading up a steep hill along the tunnel's entry way. It wasn't long before Baby Dague and I scampered up the hill and gained access to the tunnel's second story maintenance area by way of a ladder and an unsecured window. The inside was amazing. There were giant ventilation fans, maintenance tunnels running on top of the tunnel for its entire length, and the amazing "triangle room." I felt like I was in Lost. The entire place was littered with paintball and airsoft pellets. Initially we thought some kids had had some fun there, but I recently learned that the Army sometimes uses the buildings to train troops before they head to Iraq. After exploring for a bit we mounted our bikes and headed for home. On the way back Baby Dague showed us why he can always fall back on a circus career, and we decided to blow our glow stick backups on an impromptu rave in the heart of Sideling Hill. It was a great trip all around and I plan to go again. Baby Dague and I would love to go at night. I have attached some pics for your viewing, unfortunately most of the ones we took can't be posted because the local graffiti probably isn't appropriate for public viewing.

Exterior view of Sideling Hill Tunnel

Inside Sideling Hill, looking back at the Pike.

Deeper inside Sideling Hill.

Ever get the feeling that you're being watched?

Looking down at Roverine from the Ray's Hill complex.

Stairway inside Ray's Hill.

Baby Dague showing off his ninja skills.

My bike on pot.

Glow stick party!

And some more of that.

Deep inside Sideling Hill.

Honeymoon Pics

2006-08-11T05:09:00.000-04:00

Here is a small collection of honeymoon pictures from Puerto Vallarta.

Sunset from the bar.

In the seaside pool.

On the beach.

Still on the Beach.

The view from our room.

The Church of the Lady of Guadelupe in Puerto Vallarta proper.

Hotel view again.

I'm Back.

2006-08-10T08:24:00.000-04:00

My trip to exotic locales has ended for this year, and I'm pretty darn happy to be home. Maintaining a rigorous schedule of leisure was more taxing than I had anticipated. The last two days were mostly spent napping. I only ventured onto the beach once, to watch the moon rise. I'm hoping to get some pictures up for you while on night shift tonight at which time I will also review the three ocean front locations I visited. No big shock here, New Jersey didn't fare well. While on vacation I was able to read Exodus and The Da Vinci Code. Here are my thoughts:

Exodus is an epic novel of historical fiction by Leon Uris covering the Jewish migration to Israel from the late 1800s to the 1948 War of independence. Overall I would rate this book as very good, bordering on excellent. On the historical end Uris has done his homework. The reader gets an excellent overview of the plight of the Jewish people throughout Europe and Palestine from the Diaspora up until the founding of the state of Israel. Uris is able to adeptly weave fictional characters into the historical events, enabling the reader to become more emotionally attached to the events than would be possible with straight fiction. The fictional plot focuses on the activities of the Israeli Ben Canaan family, mostly on the son Ari Ban Canaan as he fights to assist ships in running the British blockade of Israeli ports and later is a leader in the fight for independence. Along with Ari on most of his journeys is an American nurse named Kitty Fremont. Kitty begins the novel as a typically ignorant American with some underlying Anti-Semitic feelings. As the novel progresses she gradually falls in love with Israel and also with Ari. Overall I feel that Exodus is kept out of the "excellent" category by two main flaws. The historical portions can be a tad lengthy and tedious. Beyond that it is clear from the novel that Uris is a fervent Zionist and makes his opinion well known, which is certainly his right as the author. However, his blatantly biased slant becomes increasingly annoying as the novel wears on. One begins to get the feeling that no Jew has ever so much as violated a traffic law while Arabs feed on Israeli babies in their free time. When it comes to the Arab/Israeli situation I firmly support the Israelis, so if I find the slant to be annoying, others may be far less tolerant. Uris' bias does have a positive aspect to it though. Exodus is the perfect primer for understanding the Israeli side of the issue. If you want to get the Arab's point of view, look elsewhere.

With all of the hype surrounding the recent release of The Da Vinci Code movie I decided to finally break down and read the book. Before addressing the religious issues involved I would like to look at the literary merits of the book. Overall I was greatly disappointed. The Da Vinci Code reads like any other cheap paperback thriller that you could pick up at K-Mart. The characters are mildly unique and the plot is heavy on fluff and relatively predictable. It is a nice read if you don't enjoy being mentally engaged and have some free time to waste. It is so run of the mill that I am still trying to figure out why the religious establishment even bothered to respond to it at all. Without their ranting I can't help but think that sales would have been significantly less than what the have been. Anyone with a smattering of brain cells can see that the novel is a factless fairy tale created by a man with a clear agenda to smear persons of faith.

I guess that brings us to my analysis of the religious claims that Dan Brown makes in his book. His basic premise is that Jesus Christ was married to Mary Magdalene with whom he had a child. The Church, mainly through Constantine's hijacking of the Council of Nicea in 323 AD, suppressed this information in order to consolidate their own power base. This has far reaching implications including Brown's claim that it eliminated the "sacred feminine" from religious worship and turned the world into a male dominated society. In order for the world to be truly balanced and peaceful we must worship both male and female deities. To begin with, it appears that Dan Brown did the equivalent of a google search when researching the Council of Nicea. Beyond the date Brown presents little else that even approaches accurate information. For example, Brown, through the fictional character Leigh Teabing, claims that Constantine used the Council to elevate Jesus to the status of God, prior to that he had only been considered man. Brown/Teabing claim that Constantine barely succeeded in this manner by winning a very close vote. In fact, there were writings in existence as early as 200 years prior to the Council of Nicea establishing Jesus Christ both God and man. It was hardly a new concept in 323 AD. Also, out of the 318 bishops present at the council 316 supported Christ's deity, two dissented. Hardly a close vote. Brown also ignores the fact that, beyond assisting with some procedural items and providing opening statements, Constantine was a spectator at the council. Brown claims that the council established the current configuration of the Bible, intentionally choosing books that eliminated the importance of Mary Magdalene. In fact, the council never even discussed the issue of Canon. These items are part of a much larger list of factual errors that Brown makes ranging from central religious doctrine to the basic construction of the Louvre. Brown doesn't even agree with himself at times. Characters in the novel claim that the true relationship between Jesus and Mary must be revealed so that the "sacred feminine" can also be worshipped allowing for spiritual balance to be restored to the world, but at the same time argue that Jesus was only a man and should not be worshipped as God. In the end The Da Vinci Code is a work of fiction and should be read as such. Even then, I would be hard pressed to advise that it is worthy use of your time.

I Don't Mean To Gloat.

2006-07-27T11:39:00.000-04:00

But I warned you about Landis. I also don't want to come across as happy about this. I thought it was a great thing for US cycling when he won the Tour. Now the whole thing appears to be a farce. For those of you who aren't aware of what I am talking about, Floyd Landis was suspended by his cycling team today after testing positive for doping. The rumbles actually began yesterday when rumors leaked that a top finisher in the Tour De France had failed a drug test. Shortly thereafter Landis unexpectedly pulled out of two events in Denmark. I was hoping this was because of his hip. Now it appears that it was because he didn't have a job anymore. I don't really feel bad for Floyd at all. I think I have made it clear that I think the guy is a complete jerk. I do feel really bad for his family, they appear to be genuine people, and don't deserve the hounding they will certainly get. The real shame of the thing is what this will do to pro cycling. What Landis did was gutsy. The 2nd, 3rd, and 4th place finishers in last year's Tour are banned from this year's Tour for doping, and Landis just keeps on shooting up. Amazing. The entire reputation of the sport is now virtually shot. I'm sure Landis will come up with some ridiculous excuse, just like Hamilton did a few years ago, that no one will believe. The whole thing just stinks. Is it impossible to believe in hero's anymore? I'm even beginning to believe those rumors about Armstrong. Anyway, I was going to post some honeymoon pics for you, but that will have to wait until tomorrow.

So, I Got Married. . .

2006-07-14T00:53:00.000-04:00

. . . and that was fun. Really, I had a great time and I hope that all of you did as well (patented thank you card line). Maybe I'll post some pics later. Now that I am going on six consecutive days of marriage I thought I would drop some knowledge on you unmarried folks. I initially anticipated that I would get yelled at more after getting married. This hasn't really happened yet. There was some yelling on Day 2, but that has since subsided. The prize for best wedding advice has got to go to the dude at my local bike shop. He told me to take everything my spouse said and did in the two months leading up to the wedding, and pretend that it never happened. He said that the woman I knew during that time period was not the woman I proposed to and would not be the woman I married. "There is something about weddings and babies that make women go nuts." He was correct. I should by him something. Or not. Maybe I will stop telling people that he can't adjust a derailleur to save his life. That would be nice of me. I was pretty grumpy for a day or two leading up to the wedding, and I wasn't really sure why, because I was actually pretty excited to get married. I think it was all of the extraneous trappings that go along with getting married. It really is a bunch of excessive crap that does little to enhance the occasion. I could have assembled a panel of man friends and had the whole event planned in 30 minutes for a much lower price and had a guarantee that there would be no left over alcohol to worry about. However, those are some pictures I would not want to post. My point here for the guys is that there is a good chance that you will be miserable for a short time period leading up to your wedding. My Dad told me that he experienced the same thing. Hang in there guys, the spirit of the woman you love returns to inhabit her body somewhere between the dressing room and the altar. And from my nearly six days of marriage experience, she sticks around for awhile.

Now that I am married it is apparent the the title "The Fiance" is no longer an adequate descriptor for my spouse when blogging. I am officially announcing a contest to give my spouse her new blogging title. Just leave your entry in the comment field and I will pick a winner.

Also, I'm off for a trip around the World visiting such exotic locations as Mexico, North Carolina, and New Jersey. Isn't it strange that North Carolina and New Jersey actually used to be exotic places? Anyway, if you don't hear from me by the end of August you should just count me among that old fated crew that attempted to inhabit Roanoke Island, but instead found only Zombies!!!!

I'm a Little Ticked

2006-07-02T18:52:00.000-04:00

On Friday I was working on a Tour De France post where I stated that George Hincapie was my man to win the Tour. I got busy with work things and never really had the time to finish it. Today George took the Yellow Jersey and now, instead of looking insightful, I look like a bandwagoner. Anyway, Big George is my man for this year. Despite today's performance, and the exclusion of Ulrich, Basso, and Mancebo, I still think he's a bit of a long shot. The logical choice would be Floyd Landis of Vinokourov, but I have a feeling about George. He's solid and has heart. Vino is unpredictable and Landis is a self centered jerk. Beyond George, my #2 man is another American, Levi Leipheimer. Levi's been around for awhile and had always been a respectable Tour rider, but this year he seems to have lit a fire under his rear. Anyway, before the doping scandal my Tour prediction was going to be about how the Americans would dominate the top positions, but none would actually win the whole thing. Now I'm thinking that there is an incredibly good chance of seeing another overall winner from the US, and an outside chance of Americans taking the top three positions. Either way, expect this Tour to be filled with excitement and cutthroat attacks from beginning to end. Also, Landis' little monkey friend Zabriskie also falls into the "self centered jerk" category.

Final thought. This one is mainly for Matt, Jason, and Brecthy. Now that Ronaldo is out of the World Cup and Ulrich is out of the Tour, who will down the most pies in the next two weeks?

Kind Of Cool

2006-06-22T09:23:00.000-04:00

My communications grid has imploded here at work, so I have little to do beyond surfing the web for a couple of hours. I know, I know isn't that usually all I do? Anyway, I came across this Youtube clip and thought it was fun. I also found this entry on his blog. I think I've found my soulmate.

Triathlon Pictures- Full Review Below

2006-06-17T19:38:00.000-04:00

Rover and Jason waiting at the starting line.

Jason blows by a lithe lady shortly after the start.

Our canoe eagerly awaits our arrival (isn't The Fiance good with a camera?).

Although he doesn't know it, Jason is about to receive a facefull of water.

Pushing hard to catch up. Yes, I know my technique looks a bit gay there.

Crossing the finish line and heading for the food station.

The Race

2006-06-17T18:07:00.000-04:00

As part of my continuing effort to have a "summer of adventure" (not to be confused with George Costanza's "Summer of Love") I teamed up with Jason to tackle a team triathlon at the Wildwood Sanctuary this morning. It wasn't the Ironman, but it was a buttload of fun. The event was advertised as "non-competitive" and participants were expected to complete a 1.5 mile bike ride, .5 mile canoe, and 1.5 mile run. The field was split up into heats, Jason and I were in Heat 2. As we approached the starting line I noticed two rather lithe looking young ladies in our heat along with several soccer moms and a few preteens. I pulled my bike right to the line and Jason tucked in behind me. The whistle blew and we took off. There was a mad sprint for position as the road narrowed to a trail and turned to gravel ahead. I was just sliding into the lead as some 13 year old kid came out of nowhere and cut me off. I locked up my rear tire on the gravel and almost lost the whole bike. As I regained control the little snot ahead of me quickly dropped speed, looking like he was in need of some oxygen. Ahead of me lay a surprisingly steep hill, which I tore into Lance Armstrong style. At the top I took a peek behind and noticed Jason right there with me. The rest of the biking route was a series of ups and downs with some tight turns thrown in. Jason and I pretty much dominated the ride, but I did occasionally notice one of the lithe ladies hanging back in the distance.

The ride ended with a short wood chipped trail that led to a parking lot where we dropped the bikes and hopped into our canoes. Jason and I took a minute for a quick drink at this point, which turned out to be a pretty bad idea. The lithe ladies arrived and scooted into a canoe before us. Jason and I were in one shortly thereafter, and were very happy to see that the ladies were unduly hasty and were seated facing each other! While they got that sorted out Jason and I slid back into the lead. In a few minutes we came to the buoy that marked our turn around point, but not before I gave Jason a facefull of water, and ran the canoe aground. I pulled a ribbon off of the buoy to prove that we actually had been there, and we headed back. It didn't take long to run the canoe into a large patch of foliage, which delayed us long enough for the lithe ladies to take the lead again. We eventually extricated ourselves from that mess and put up a valiant effort to catch the ladies. At one point in time we slid in between two oncoming canoes, avoiding collision by inches. Alas, it wasn't enough and the ladies arrived first at the transfer point.

Leaving the water Jason and I were only a few yards behind the ladies. We were also eager to leave the transfer point behind. Just because we rammed one canoe when coming in to dock doesn't give them the right to get an attitude. Anyway, we headed off on the run with the girls easily within reach. It should be noted that Jason and I combined probably haven't run a total of one mile in the last year. Pre-race I thought to myself "A mile and half isn't all that far. Jason's young, and I can ride like a madman. Piece of cake." About 1/4 mile into the run I was starting to hurt, but we were starting to pull the girls in. Then they dropped the hammer. One of them stopped to tie her shoe, and then they both took off. We didn't see them again until the finish line. My will had been broken. Jason and I completed the run using an embarassing walk-run-walk strategy, but easily held second in our group. We both got free T-shirts, and "thanks for showing up" certificates. In the final standings we came in 6th overall and 5th out of 6 all male teams. All in all we left for the day with some wet shoes and good memories. Next year we're thinking about doing some training.

I Ate Your Face Off.

2006-06-14T16:17:00.000-04:00

That's right Matt. You know its true. You were running around all nimbly pimbly like you were something special. Guess what? You weren't. Old Zed the Zombie got you and ate your face. Man did it taste good. Some might have been impressed with the fact that you were the last human standing. Seriously though, when you hide in the garage all day while your friends are killed off one by one it isn't hard to stay alive. Now you are one of the horde, the lurching undead. Welcome to the club buddy.

I'm Surprising Myself Here.

2006-06-11T21:38:00.000-04:00

I've never been a big sports fan. My family was never into sports and I can barely tolerate most of the big American sports. However, a few years ago I fell upon F1 racing and became enamored. Then I got into cycling and started watching the Grand Tours. Finally, in the last year or two I've gotten into soccer, mainly the big European leagues. Given that last fact I guess it isn't surprising that I'm pretty psyched about the current World Cup. I'd be more psyched if Nigeria had made the cut, but have resigned myself to cheer for the USA. I must say that most of the matches so far have been pretty good. The big surprise is that, quite unexpectedly, I have become a sports fan. Between F1, cycling, and football my year is almost totally covered with sporting events to watch. I have discovered the joy of "having the boys over to watch the game." Good times. I have also discovered the joy of sporting participation. I utterly destroyed the will of the entire field in a local cycling event, and have signed up for a mini triathlon of sorts this weekend. Anyway, I've become a sports fan, and for the rest of June at least my appetite will be filled. Here are two tidbits to wet your appetite for the big event in March. Granted, the plot line will be changed a bit, but I will post on that later.

I Will Now Regale You With Tales Of. . . .

2006-05-12T16:17:00.000-04:00

Tazio Nuvolari.

I have resigned myself to the fact that Michael Schumacher is in the waning days of his career, and whether it is this season or the next or the next I must prepare myself for life without the master behind the wheel. In anticipation of this I have decided to, from time to time, provide you with some history of the more memorable characters in motor sport. I'm doing this here so that Rover's Racing can remain dedicated to current race coverage.

Tazio Nuvolari raced most of his career in the pre-modern (pre WWII) era of Grand Prix racing and quickly became a racing legend. Nuvolari never won a world championship, as such a thing did not exist in motorsport until the late 1940s. He did however win a large number of races.

Perhaps his most famous win came on the monstrous Nurburgring Nordschleife in 1935. Hitler's push for technical supremacy had permeated all facets of German life, including motorsport. The Germans arrived at the Nurburgring with five new Mercedes Benz race cars and four new Auto Unions (now Audi). The cars were considered to be the fastest and most advanced race cars ever built. Nuvolari arrived in an obsolete Alfa Romeo, and won. Hitler was so infuriated that he refused to shake Nuvolari's hand after the race. The German officials informed Nuvolari that they had only expected a German to win and thus did not have a recording of the Italian national anthem to play. Nuvolari promptly produced a record of the anthem from the cockpit of his race car.

In 1946 Nuvolari was racing in Brescia, Italy when the steering wheel came off of his car. He not only finished the race, but won, using a wrench clamped onto the steering column for control. The above photo was taken at the finish line.

Nuvolari was not only known for his wins on closed racing circuits, but also on the open road races that were popular at the time. He achieved wins in both the Targa Florio and Mille Miglia during his career. A popular story among Nuvolari's fans recounts his victory in the 1930 Mille Miglia where Nuvolari knew he did not have the fastest car, but deceived the race leader into slowing the pace by following closely at night without his headlights on. Within sight of the finish Nuvolari made the pass for the lead, turned on his headlights, and won.

Legends of Nuvolari's driving prowess abound. He is also said to have won a race with only three functioning tires on his car (there is actually photo evidence of this), and to have won a motorcycle race with both of his legs in casts (no photos on that one). I love to read about Nuvolari's exploits because they seem so foreign from today's sterilized races. There were no track marshals or safety cars in Nuvolari's day, just a bunch of guys out there trying to drive as fast as possible while holding the car together with there fingernails. Oh yeah, after that German win Nuvolari was offered a job driving for Auto Union. Guess Hitler's technology couldn't account for everything.

Why Is TV So Bad?

2006-05-10T11:10:00.000-04:00

Last night Matt and I went to see the Harrisburg City Islanders tackle DC United. Brechty was supposed to go also but had to stay home. He said it was because he was sick. I think its because he's a girl. I can't make too much fun because Brechty didn't make me pay for the tickets. For those of you who aren't soccer savvy, the City Islanders playing DC United is the equivalent of the Harrisburg Senators playing the New York Yankees. Basically it is our neighborhood knock around boys taking on the (arguably) finest team in the country. I was not expecting a close match. I was oddly surprised. DC won 2-1, but not with ease. The City Islanders held there own and . . . I have to go off topic here for a minute because two of my coworkers are in here talking trash about who has the nicer PT Cruiser. You can't make this stuff up!!! Now they are arguing about whether or not Barry White sucks! I just can't do this anymore. Anyway, DC United played very poorly. Freddie Adu couldn't be bothered to do anything more than some light jogging on field. Overall not a very inspiring game.

When I got home I was looking forward to my latest reading endeavor, North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell. It is a great novel about the employer/employee struggles in England during the industrial revolution. After turning a few pages my eyelids began to get heavy. I wasn't quite ready to sleep yet so I turned on the TV. I wanted something "intelligent" to watch instead of the normal drudgery. Discovery Channel didn't have anything, and The History Channel seldom offers anything beyond the level of a grade school research paper. Eventually I settled on BBC News. They were reporting on recent tactics by animal protestors to bully shareholders into selling their shares in certain companies. In what has become typical of media "fairness," BBC switched to some commentary on the issue from the "moderate" viewpoint. . . a spokesperson from PETA who, of course, totally supported every practice in question. So much for "intelligent" coverage. I resumed channel surfing. I then came across a Kathy Griffen stand up routine. It was initially entertaining because she was pointing out how hopelessly clueless Hollywood is. After a few minutes though it became pretty clear that Kathy doesn't really have a clue either. I've come to the conclusion that TV is the true "opium of the masses." I enjoy a good sitcom now and then, but where is the substance? What about TV that answers real questions? No, another "investigative report" on Iraq doesn't count. Especially when you rehash the same antiquated arguments over and over. Here's an idea for a show on Iraq. Why not investigate reports by former Iraqi generals that Russian commandos were on the ground in Iraq up to a few days before the US invasion? That would be a show worth watching. Why were they there? What were they doing? Why has no one in power even mentioned it? Are the Iraqi generals telling the truth? I'd watch that stuff for hours. I wouldn't even care what they found out. Just cover something interesting!

Random Thoughts.

2006-05-06T11:17:00.000-04:00

Without prompting a secondary deluge of profanity from Brecthy, I would like to announce that The Tony Danza Show is being cancelled and will be off of the air in less than a month! Apparently the network execs felt the power of my blog scorn.

The other day my local Public Works crew was out repainting the lines on the local roads while I was out riding my bike. I would like to thank them for the fresh paint on my bike tires, but that isn't the point. I discovered one of those "support our troops" ribbon magnet things lying on the road. The road crew had painted over it so it was effectively painted into the roadway. For the remainder of my ride my thoughts were filled with new slogans for the ribbons. My favorite is a chocolate brown ribbon stating "Avoid Flatulence Causing Foods."

Take it from someone with education, training, and experience. If your primary duty at work is to catch stray dogs you probably don't "need" to have body armor equipped with a titanium trauma plate. Then again, that is just my opinion.

Finally my most disturbing random thought of the week. If Anne Heche was straight, then gay, then straight again does that prohibit us from being able to consider her hot? I saw a clip of her on some TV show and thought, "That girl is kind of cute." Then I thought, "Whole Crap! That was Anne Heche! I am not a man." Brecthy pointed out that merely being gay doesn't eliminate hotness. The Fiance still thinks that Heath Ledger is hot despite Brokeback Mountain (which she conveniently refuses to acknowledge exists). Good point, but I still couldn't allow myself to consider Anne Heche as attractive. Then I thought that it was because she dated Ellen Degeneres. But Ellen, despite being a bit mannish, is likeable and entertaining. So why then, was I so repulsed by the fact that I briefly thought that Anne Heche was cute? Six Days Seven Nights is why. That film was such an affront to my sense of taste that it has forever ruined my opinion of everyone involved. I have never looked at Harrison Ford the same way since. Sometimes I watch Star Wars and hope that Luke Skywalker punches him out. All because of Six Days Seven Nights.

What A Crapfest.

2006-04-26T08:43:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I had the "pleasure" of watching about 5 minutes of The Tony Danza Show. In all fairness I should say that I was not an unbiased observer. I also had the "pleasure" of meeting Mr. Danza a few years back when he fell under my "protection" at work. I have to say that the assignment wasn't terribly difficult as Mr. Danza didn't exactly attract a crowd. However, it was highly annoying when he continually made uncomfortably strong advances towards a female coworker of mine. He even went as far as to kiss her hand. It was pathetic. Anyway, back to the five minutes of the show I saw. Tony spent the first few minutes telling the audience about the reruns of Taxi and Who's The Boss that he had watched that morning. Apparently the writers for both of those shows were awesome. What kind of pompous jerk uses his crappy talk show to brag about how great is previous crappy shows were? Perhaps the next segment of the talk show will answer that question. Tony had the Stanley Cup on the show. Oddly enough, the Stanley Cup was also under my "protection" at one point in time. If you have ever seen the Stanley Cup in real life you will know that it is always escorted by a white glove clad man named Mike. Mike is a pretty nice guy, but is also pretty anal about people touching the cup. The whole purpose of Mike is to keep human oils off of the cup. You can imagine how thrilled Mike looked when Tony Danza began to molest the cup in embarrassing fashion. To his credit Mike didn't say anything, but was obviously uncomfortable. Tony Danza, to his credit, picked up on it. Did Tony stop fondling the Stanley Cup? No. Instead, with his bare hands still on the cup, he told Mike that it was ok because he used to drink out of the cup when he partied with Chris Chelios (famous hockey player). Mike became red in the face. I turned off the TV.

So, to answer my above question, what kind of self aggrandizing jerk makes unwanted advances to members of his security detail, uses his crappy talk show to praise his previous crappy shows, and blatantly molests the Stanley Cup? David Hasselhoff. That's right, in my opinion Tony Danza has sunk to the level of "The Hoff" himself. The guy might as well make a Christmas dance mix album and market it in Poland.

My final question is this. How does The Tony Danza Show stay on the air? Who watches this crap? The crowd seemed to be made up of gay men and grumpy middle aged women. None of them looked happy. I wonder what contest they lost to get tickets. Seriously, the set and Danza's demeanor seems very geared towards the Oprah crowd, but does the Oprah crowd want to see the Stanley Cup? Doubt it. That's very much a guy thing. Also, who exactly cares what TV shows Tony Danza watches in the morning? Who isn't disturbed by the fact that he watches reruns of his old shows (and loves them)? Those shows sucked. Perhaps the most disturbing thing about the whole ordeal is how much it actually disturbed me. Yeah, I'm still ticked over 24 hours later. Maybe that puts me on the level of "The Hoff."

The Agony Of The Workday Mind.

2006-04-13T13:48:00.000-04:00

My overstuffed coworker has advised me that we only have 1 hour and 50 minutes of work left! Well Yipee. He might as well have told me that we have 3 months left. 1 hour and 50 minutes with nothing to do but listen to him drone on about "The Leola Massacre." Don't get me wrong, six bodies found in one house is downright notable (at least FOX, CNN, and MSNBC think so), but it is too darn nice outside to worry about such things. My baby blue cycle is sitting at home just waiting for me. Today was supposed to be a gym day, but it would be a crime against humanity to lock myself away in that dungeon today. Its supposed to rain tomorrow. I can go to the gym then. Today I go on the hunt for the Fluorescent Flock. Who are the Fluorescent Flock? I will tell you.

Two days ago I took Pearl out for her final shakedown ride. We went for a gentle cruise on my favorite riding route down past TMI. I had finally dialed in the last minor adjustments and old Pearl was running fine. All that winter work is proving worthwhile as that bike is surprisingly fast. Anyway, I cruised along the river and past TMI (still haven't absorbed any super powers from that place, Gosh!). Before I knew it I had blown nearly half and hour and turned around to head home. After blasting down a hill at what I estimated to be close to 50 mph my eyes were blinded by a ghastly bright greenish light some distance ahead heading towards me. At first I thought I was seeing a UFO (Three beautiful glowing orbs!), but as the object drew nearer I could see that it too was riding some type of bicycle. Someone else had absorbed super powers from TMI!! Jerks! As we drew nearer together the object ahead of me split into two, and then three. It was then that I became aware that I was not seeing anything super natural at all. What I was seeing was three cyclists wearing identical long-sleeved fluorescent green shirts. As the three drew closer, two of them split off and turned onto a side road ahead of me, while the third continued in my direction. Now you must understand that I am a firm opponent of all forms of cycling snobbery. I give a friendly wave to all cyclists I meet on rides regardless of skill or style. In that spirit, as my green glowing compatriot approached, I extended my hand in a friendly wave, and was promptly snubbed. As much as I hate snobbery, I will occasionally accept it from someone riding riding a $3,000 Italian bike with shaved legs. By no means will I accept it from someone who wears a matching fluorescent jersey with his friends. I suppose that the appropriate response would have been to chase him down and make him sorry for not waving, but traffic was a bit too heavy for a quick u-turn, and it is a bit early in the season to risk life and limb over simple revenge. Instead I came up with a new punishment for that brightly colored snob. His friends would pay.

I pushed hard onto the side street and could see the fluorescent glow off on the horizon. "Don't fail me now," I quietly whispered to Pearl as I hammered away on her pedals. The glow began to get larger, and larger. Soon I could make out the riders. The one in front was a girl, but regardless, they both had impressive calves, and made me wonder if this was such a good idea after all. Then I noticed something that made me want to laugh out loud. They had rearview mirrors attached to the ends of their handle bars. Fluorescent green jerseys and rearview mirrors? I had stumbled across the cycling equivalent of Harry Potter fans! I was going to crush these nerds. I quietly slipped up behind them and matched their pace. The girl began to wave for me to pass with her hand. Wait. . . no. She was waving for an approaching car to pass. The car was still far off though. Ha!! She had opened the window for my assault. I danced on Pearl's pedals as I sailed by the duo. They faltered in surprise and could only watch as I turned off at the next intersection. Ah, sweet revenge.

So now my bloated coworker is instructing me to ignore a written government directive because somebody told him that somebody told them that we don't do that anymore. I hope I find the Fluorescent Flock again today because they are gonna get shredded.

Training For The Kestle Run.

2006-03-31T11:47:00.000-05:00

One of the perpetual questions of my life was answered last night around midnight as I was gliding around town on my newly overhauled Raleigh. Am I cursed to live my entire life staring at bicycles on the internet that are nicer than mine? Yes I am. Not because I can't afford a really nice bike. I could go out and buy my dream 2006 Raleigh Supercourse tomorrow, or I could squirrel away my money for months on end and eventually purchase some sleek Italian machine that is vastly more bicycle than I would ever need. But alas, I won't. I have fallen in love with my crusty old Raleigh. I didn't mean to fall in love. The plan was to fix her up and keep her on the road until after I got married, then I would implement one of the above plans. But sometime during the long winter months, while sanding off the rust and scrubbing away the grime, we made a connection. I've now come to the conclusion that although a brand new bike would be nice, it just wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't sit on my floor and stare at her finer points. I wouldn't tinker away for hours over some minute detail that would have no effect on riding quality whatsoever. I wouldn't waste away weekends downing Yuengling and listening to Johnny Cash while undertaking some mammoth repair that could have been solved by $10 and a trip to the bike shop. In the end I guess I just wouldn't be happy if I had a bike that I was happy with. I should say that she isn't completely finished yet. There are a few minor adjustments that need taken care off, an essential part I forgot to install, and a cosmetic item that hasn't arrived yet, but overall she is totally rideable. After all of the aforementioned are completed I plan on borrowing a digital camera from the in-laws and posting some pictures for you all. After that I will need to choose a name. She used to be called "Pearl," but some changes make that name seem a tad delicate now. Until then I will start to whittle off my winter parsecs and might take in some more midnight rides, that was fun. Here's my latest object of obsession it is widely regarded as the finest bicycle seat in the world and retails for around $60. Wedding gift anyone?

Oh, Moneypenny.

2006-03-25T08:28:00.000-05:00

I'm watching a James Bond marathon at work. Bond just got married and informed his wife that he "had the gadgets and intended to use them." I'll have to remember that one for my honeymoon. Hopefully my honeymoon doesn't end the same way Bond's did. His wife got capped by some evil henchmen. Bond seemed ok with it though. Anyway, that brings me to the point of my post. If you had to come up with a list of movies that contributed to making you the person that you are today, what would the be? Obviously the entire James Bond series plays a key role in the early life of any male in living in the free world. But what other films are out there? Here is my list.

The initial nod has got to go to Ferris Bueller's Day Off. I actually never saw this movie until my senior year of High School, oddly enough while I was home for a sick day. I couldn't help but feel that every moment of my life before that day had been wasted. Ferris taught us all that it is possible to skip a day of school without turning into a drunken deadbeat pothead. His cavalier attitude towards authority and responsibility revolutionized my worldview.

Next I am going with Navy SEALs the 1980s version starring Charlie Sheen. In a strange way Navy SEALs is similar to Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Hawkins, Sheen's character, exhibits a similar levity in attitude to Bueller's. Granted, Bueller was only dealing with a single day of High School while Hawkins was tracking Stinger missiles through the Middle East, but hey its only a movie right? Navy SEALs also taught me that shooting things could be a viable career path. Didn't work out so much in reality though.

Chariots of Fire and The Mission provide some faith based maturity to the list. Chariots deals with issues of faith and integrity, while The Mission is all about the power of forgiveness. The Mission also began my love affair with De Niro and segways nicely into the historical portion of my list.

Winds of War and War and Remembrance are excellent primers for WWII history. I was steeped in these two TV miniseries from the earliest age. They impressed upon my the epic ebb and flow of history along with the incalculable impact that WWII has had on the world, even to our current times.

Patton goes along with the historical theme. Anyone who truly watches this movie has to come away with an appreciation of Patton's impressive knowledge of history. He has helped me realize how important historical knowledge can be. We truly can learn from the mistakes of others. By far the most important thing I learned form Patton is this. When in doubt, Attack!!

I end my list with the greatest film ever made, Casablanca. Yes, I am aware that there is an alarming amount of characters on this list that just don't give a crap. What can I say about Casablanca? Humphrey Bogart is just awesome. The whole sticking it to the man theme is timeless. Add on to that the fact that "the man" is Nazi Germany. Just a great movie. It also includes the only appropriate use of the "Les Marseillaise" in all of history.

Another Story To Add To My List

2006-03-22T16:54:00.000-05:00

So I got a little lazy today and didn't want to make lunch. I decided to walk down to my local pizza place and get an Italian sub. A few minutes after taking my order the girl behind the counter looks down at my sub and says, "Hm, that smells bad."

The Witch's Curse Is Broken!!

2006-03-12T20:32:00.000-05:00

I know that Matt posted a few days ago lamenting the end of winter. I am now posting to celebrate the end of winter! My long hibernation is over! I would have posted on this earlier, but I have just been too busy. I'm racing to get my Raleigh back into riding condition, spending as much time as possible outdoors, and reveling in the annual return of F1. Incidentally, Bahrain GP results are up on Rover's Racing. But alas, spring is slowly springing. I inevitably get myself into some sort of funk over the winter, and never really feel myself until spring. Granted, we could still have a few weeks of winter left, but the writing is on the wall.

In other news, my political campaign is in full swing. I had to meet with the Bilderbergers again. Apparently I wasn't supposed to go public with the whole "invade New Jersey" thing. Those guys are so uptight. You'd think they ran the world or something. Anyway, I have also instructed my hairdresser to come up with a tactical response plan in the event that polling information shows that voters feel I would look better with a mullett. Remember, vote Rover on May 16th!

I'm Famous!!!

2006-03-02T08:39:00.000-05:00

I have received two, that's right two, emails from Scarlet Johansen. Apparently she wants to give me her Motorola SLVR phone for free! I'm not sure why exactly, but when your blog is as wildy popular as mine famous people often want to do strange things for you. I don't know if this is some bizarre attempt to ask me to dinner or what, but I'm not really interested Scarlet. However, if your phone has Lindsay Lohan's number in it we might be able to work something out.

Q Is For Qwerty Who Tells Us The Truth.

2006-03-01T14:39:00.000-05:00

The most culturally relevant statement Veggie Tales has ever made. Qwerty does tell us the truth. And while we are dropping knowledge on each other, here is a tidbit for all you single guys. Someday you will meet a nice a girl and decide that she is less aggravating than any other girl you have yet to encounter. The relationship will blossom and grow and get "serious." Marriage will be thought of, discussed, and planned. At some point in this process you will find yourself with your fiance at your place of residence and she will make a statement that sounds something like this, "After we get married you'll have to come up with a better system for determining which pile of laundry is clean and which pile is dirty." When this happens, and it will happen, do not under any circumstances respond with, "So, you mean just asking me isn't going to work for you?" Trust me, it isn't.

Also

As the relationship progresses you may find yourself in another "hypothetical" situation. You will be using the restroom (your place, her place, doesn't really matter) and she will be standing outside the door urging you to hurry because she also has to go. In this situation it may seem like a good idea to ask her to rate her current bathroom need on a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being no bathroom need at all, 10 being urinating on yourself). Trust me, this is always a good idea. However, when she answers with, "Probably a 7 or an 8" do not under any circumstances answer with, "Oh! So you still have two points to go then?"

Also

At some point in the relationship you will become bored. Not with her, just bored in general. At this time it might seem like a good idea to begin expressing your current needs in command form ended with the word "woman," stated loudly. For example:

"Get me a drink, Woman!"
"Put my shoes on for me, Woman!"
"Floss my teeth, Woman!"

While these statements do end the boredom, they seldom result in the desired actions being carried out, and in some cases lead to a direct kick to you back (ask Protienstar). Just something for you single guys to keep in mind.

Oh Jacobellis, What Were You Thinking?

2006-02-24T16:11:00.000-05:00

I just had to dedicate a post to the US Curling Team who secured a Bronze Medal this morning in Torino. Fenson, Rojeski, Shuster and Polo defied expectations of mediocrity to bring the US its first ever medal in curling. This quirky little sport caught my attention at the beginning of the year's games, and quickly had me enthralled. The game is more complex than I ever could have imagined, and has a huge international following. The Bronze Medal Round was interrupted by a streaker running across the ice, prompting a cacophony of laughter from the participants. Perhaps the best thing about the sport is that it isn't carried out by egotistical superstars. Fenson owns a pizza shop in Bemidji, Minnesota. Rojeski and Polo are engineers, and Shuster works at Home Depot. The team members, of all the teams actually, behaved a complete gentleman throughout every match I watched. At the Olympics every Curling participant wears a microphone that is turned on for the entire match. Some of those guys are downright funny. Anyway, congrats to the team and I look forward to cheering them on again in four years.

Vote Rover Update

2006-02-16T09:29:00.000-05:00

After having met with the Bilderbergers and The Skulls I have finalized my gubernatorial campaign platform. Things have changed a bit since I initially announced my candidacy. My chief selling point in the campaign was going to be my proposed invasion of New Jersey. However, early polling information shows that the average Pennsylvanian does not want New Jersey. More accurately, they do not want all of New Jersey. PA residents do want beach front property. New Jersey has a large amount of beach front property. So how do we get New Jersey's beach front property without encumbering ourselves with the rest of the state? Paratroopers. That's right, a strategic drop on the coast line would provide our residents with an island like paradise just a few hours from home. Some might ask where our state will acquire said paratroopers, as we currently don't have any. This is a good time to bring up my economic stimulus package. By increasing our manufacturing capacity to meet the needs of the new military units we can create more jobs in PA and stop the outflow to other states. Planned manufactured surplus can be sold of to small third world countries embroiled in conflicts with their own populace. How will we fund this massive industrial push? It is a bit of a complex process, but I will attempt to explain. First we will sell Philadelphia to New Jersey (we can always take it back later, if we want to). Using the funds from the "Philly Transaction" we will produce enough military units for an invasion of Maine. Why Maine? Maine in itself may appear to be a massive woodland occupied entirely of rednecks and potheads that has no actual value. This is true when we consider the values of the average hard working Pennsylvanian. However, to the Canadians Maine is a land of long lost friends and relatives. It is a veritable gold mine. We will sell Maine to the Canadians county by county. More profit that way. With these funds we will be able to complete our invasion. If elected this fall I promise the people of Pennsylvania that we will be basking on the beach by Spring!

Eventually We All Realize That We're Dorks.

2006-02-15T11:02:00.000-05:00

As much as my income and schedule permit I try to live an exciting life. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. I've willingly shared the water with a tiger shark off the coast of Mexico, and not so willingly fought a cobra for the rights to a basketball court in Nigeria. I've frequently been popular with the ladies, and seldom passed on an adventure. I always thought of myself as a pretty hip guy. That misconception came shattering to the ground this past Monday night. I found myself in the smoke-filled back room of a bar that was frighteningly close to the Three Mile Island power plant. I was there to watch a coworker's dart tournament, but quickly found myself more enthralled with the kid in the corner nursing a Miller Lite. He couldn't have been a day over fourteen. The tournament was uninspiring, and was predictably won by the pony-tailed behemoth who had to be on vacation from the WWE. Was he the best player? No, but he was the biggest. As I sat there, I began to realize that the fourteen year old in the corner was not getting the attention that I thought he may have deserved. In fact, most of the attention was directed towards me. I guess my first mistake was the Corona. If it comes from Mexico, is the color of goat urine, and must be consumed with a lime you can assume it will not be welcome at your typical "down home" bar. My next mistake? Not learning from the looks given after the first mistake. By ordering Coronas #2 and #3 I ensured that no one in the room missed noticing my drink of preference. As the room slowly chilled to my presence, my mind began to wander. Eventually my thoughts settled on my home DVD collection. If I left the bar immediately I could still get home in time to watch my newly acquired documentary on Benedict Arnold. That's when it hit me. I am a dork. I could have thrown down a twenty, order shots of Jack all around, and been a local hero by morning. Instead I threw on my jacket and rushed home to watch a video about a guy who died 200 years ago. If my fellow bar goers had only known. I deserved the looks. Not because of the Corona, but because I am a nerd, a tool, a book reader. I hang my head in shame.

Heart of Darkness On Speed.

2006-02-12T10:14:00.000-05:00

I just finished reading Ugly Americans by Ben Mezrich. Mezrich claims its the true story of John Malcolm (not the dude's real name), an American who made millions trading stocks on the Asian markets in the 1990s. On the one hand I find the story a bit hard to believe because it is just so wild. This stuff is movie material. Malcolm and his cohorts flaunted million dollar portfolios, raced Ducatis and Ferraris, dated Japanese supermodels, and didn't even blink when coworkers went down with billions in debt. The story is almost unbelievable because I just can't relate to that world. Who wrecks a Ducati at 140mph while fleeing Yakuza gangsters, returns to work in two days, and is back out racing a brand new (literally hours old) Ferrari less than a year later? These guys worked and lived by a set of rules, the final and most telling is "The ends justify the means, but there's only one end that really matters. Ending up on a beach with a bottle of champagne." On the other hand the story is incredibly believable. John Malcolm turns out to be a really good guy who got caught up in his boss's twisted variation on the American Dream. Their relationship was a painful reminder of one of my previous employers. In the end the story is about a kid from New Jersey who didn't want to lead the typical lifestyle, found out that the hotshot life isn't all its cracked up to be, and made out very well in the process. It is a very entertaining book if anyone wants to borrow it, but don't if you can't handle a smattering of profanity and immorality.

The Plane IS Guarded By Navy SEALs

2006-02-03T12:33:00.000-05:00

Last night Brechty and I were treated (?) to the film Into The Blue. Yeah. Bad. If not for the beautiful Jessica Alba the entire film seemed pointless. In fact, Jessica Alba was the only cast member that Brechty and I wouldn't have fired had we been in charge of the film. The costume director would have stayed as well. I do have to say that the cinematography was quite stunning, and not just because of Alba. I recommend this film for all to see for one reason alone. The deleted scenes. Specifically one scene entitled "Ambush at the Trailer." In this scene Alba and her beau return to their trailer to find a strange man ransacking it. There is a humorous door hitting head shot followed by a short foot chase. By short I mean about three seconds. In that amount of time the mystery attacker manages to cross about 70 feet of water, get into a boat, and start the engine before his pursuer even reaches the water's edge. The kicker? The surface of the water remains mirror calm. The creators of this film unknowingly discovered the greatest jumper of our time!!

Summer Trips

2006-01-29T13:14:00.000-05:00

If you haven't checked in awhile scroll down for new posts. I'm trying to get an email list together of people who are interested in outdoor/adventure activities this summer. If those of you that are interested could email me at hprover47@hotmail.com I will add your name to the list. Hopefully I will be able to announce activities in time for people to plan accordingly. Anyway, enjoy the new posts and always vote Rover!!

Ah, The Germans.

2006-01-29T10:05:00.000-05:00

Last night I spent the evening at a birthday party for a friend of the fiance's. Not especially bloggable in itself, but I met two new German friends at the party. For many of you the previous sentence brings about vivid (ok, very blurred) memories of a cold night in Brooklyn with two drunken Germans, a sleeping Italian, and one American loudly screaming "SCORE!!!!" The similarities were not lost on me either. My new acquaintances were named David and Marcell (which, according to David, is a dog's name). I discovered something very interesting about my two new friends. David grew up in West Germany, and Marcell in East Germany. David is a carpenter, Marcell owns a very profitable business (yeah, I know, and he's my age!). The interesting thing was that there was a very obvious role reversal. David openly criticized Marcell for his frequent vacations and "business trips" to Europe. Marcell defended that, as the owner of a company, he is working all the time (and would tap his temple every time he said this) and has much to think about. Eventually the conversation deteriorated to the point of Marcell scolding me for not being a McLaren fan, and David for being a Schalke '04 fan. David mainly scolded Marcell for having a dog's name. I just enjoyed the German beer. Anyway, fun times all around and Marcell wants to catch an F1 race sometime. Should be interesting.

Vote Rover!!!

2006-01-27T16:30:00.000-05:00

I know many of you are waiting for the results of the latest Formula De race on Rover's Racing World. I promise you I have scheduled it in after dinner so they will be up tonight. However, I now have a matter of more pressing (read entertaining) importance. A coworker has encouraged me to start a write-in campaign for Pennsylvania Governor. I figure why not? So here it is. I am officially announcing my candidacy for Pennsylvania Governor in 2006. I view myself as the people's candidate. While others are hobnobbing with the gambling lobby and other heavy hitters, I am keeping it real with my immigrant friend at the 7-11 and that lady that stamps my electric bill at the borough office. While I do not have any influential family members, and never belonged to the Free Masons, I feel that we can really make a run at this thing. So remember, write me in on May 16th!! I will provide further details on my platform in later posts.

I'm a Picker, I'm a Grinner, I'm a Lover, and I'm a Sinner.

2006-01-25T17:00:00.000-05:00

Most of you are already aware that I have a "problem" with bicycles. I guess that the basic issue is that I love bikes, they more frequently do not love me. When I was younger my BMX disobeyed a direct order and ran me into the side of a parked car. Several years ago when I was riding "professionally" my bike intentionally hit the only rock in the road, sending me sprawling down a hill at 20 mph, and leaving the driver of a minivan desperately attempting to avoid hitting me. The latter incident left me without the ability to walk for about 15 minutes (and without the desire for about 3 days), but some credit should be given to the bike. That accident set in motion events that lead me to meet my future wife. While those old stories are great, my current cycling problem involves a 1970s Raleigh road bike, and my attempts to rebuild it. Initially things went well. I began my efforts by disassembling and overhauling the hubs of the front and rear wheels. The front was easy, but to get to the hub on the rear you need to remove the cogs and freewheel (the grouping of gears on the rear wheel). This required the purchase of a special tool. Being my father's son I relish any job that requires one to buy new tools, but was greatly disappointed in the amount of time it took this tool to arrive. Needless to say, when it did arrive I began the job in earnest. The procedure was quite simple, place the tool in position, attach a suitable wrench, and apply force in a counterclockwise direction. The manual said that it might require considerable force to remove the freewheel, so I wasn't all that surprised when It didn't come off immediately. After my fourth attempt I was beginning to get a bit frustrated. The manual also suggested that, for added leverage, you could place the wheel in a vise. I do not own a vise, but my future father-in-law does. I packed up my items and headed over to the fiance's house. Upon arrival I made an interesting and, in hindsight, important discovery. The vise was not mounted on the table with bolts, but was instead held in place with "C" clamps. Undeterred, I mounted the wheel in the vise, and applied counterclockwise pressure. The freewheel did not budge, but the vise began to slide across the table under the pressure. I tightened the clamps and tried again, and again. On my third attempt I heard a loud crack, and was dismayed to find that my freewheel was still firmly affixed to the hub of my bicycle, but the force of my turning had broken one of the clamps. Embarrassed, I promised to replace the clamp and returned home. I began to wonder if I wasn't missing a step somewhere, and decided that I should disassemble the entire hub unit with the exception of the freewheel and cogs, a procedure that was not recommended in the manual. The rest of the parts came apart with ease and I was quickly looking down at the wheel's bearings. I didn't notice anything additional in the structure that would alter the removal process, but decided that I would go ahead and remove the bearings awhile while I was in there. The fact that the freewheel was still in place made it difficult to reach the bearings and I quickly found myself poking at them with a screwdriver. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed one of my favorite tools. It is one of those multi-bit screwdrivers where the end is a hexagonal hole that you can place a variety of different bits into. What caught my eye was that the hexagonal hole appeared to be about the same size as the bearings. I could slide it overtop of a bearing and then push the bearing out of position and into my awaiting grease pan! The plan worked brilliantly for the first several bearings, but as I was removing the final one I heard an ominous click. I must have an exceptional eye for size, because that bearing fit perfectly into the end of the screwdriver. The problem? I forgot that the screwdriver is magnetic. I now had a bearing stuck firmly at the far end of that hexagonal hole rendering useless the bearing, the screwdriver, and ultimately the entire rear wheel of my bicycle. I attempted to remove the bearing using some small nails, refrigerator magnets, and a tweezers with no success. Eventually I just went to bed. In one day my mechanical idiocy had destroyed a clamp, a set of bearings, a screwdriver, and my entire rebuild project. The next day things got a little better, but not great. The bearing issue was resolved by a coworker and an electromagnet (yes, we have electromagnets at work), and the freewheel was taken to my local bike shop, something I hate to do. I will keep you updated as my project further degrades toward the inevitable point of total failure.

Plain Old Funny

2006-01-19T08:43:00.000-05:00

Here is Skippy's List of things he's not allowed to do in the military. Very funny. The Game Night Crew should also explore his site because he has a great idea for a zombie survival board game.

If You Only Watch One More Movie Before You Die.

2006-01-15T10:34:00.000-05:00

Suddenly, a mob was rushing toward him, shouting and cheering and struggling
madly to reach him, to make sure that he was alive, to touch him, and from the
touch to know again the miracle of living, to be men in their own right, freed
from bondage, outcast no more, liberated, their faith in God's mercy justified,
the nobility of mankind vindicated, justice at last accomplished and tyranny
once more overcome. Men wept, unable to restrain themselves. Men with tears
streaming down their faces kissed the GI on both cheeks - the salute of
brothers.

Citizen Soldiers is finished. As it became clear to me that the end was near I began to ask myself, "What will I do now?" A question that the common WWII GI did not ask himself. He knew exactly what he would do because he had spent months and years huddled in cellars and foxholes thinking about that exact thing. The book itself is defined by the final chapters. After pages of endless combat that leave the reader feeling dirty and tired, the work ends with a distinct message of goodness and hope, making the story as a whole incredibly valuable, if not essential, to read. I recommend it to all.

Speaking of distinct messages of goodness and hope, if you can only watch one more movie in your life watch I Am David, its the story of a young boy who escapes from a Soviet concentration camp with a letter that he must get to Denmark. That's about all I can say without giving up the plot, but it is one of the best movies I have ever seen. My Dad recommended it to me and he certainly did a great job.

To answer the question of "What will I do now?" I have just started reading The Journals of Jim Elliot. I received the book as a Christmas (or should I say Holidays) present from my sister. For those of you who don't know, Jim Elliot was a missionary to the Auca Indians in Ecuador in the 1950s. The Aucas murdered Elliot, turning him into an international hero. I must say that I have been sadly disappointed with the first thirty pages. I do, however, remain optimistic. The first journals were written while Elliot was in college, and let's be honest, weren't we all a bit disappointing in college?

Hello My Pretties

2006-01-12T04:46:00.000-05:00

My enormously huge office clock now reads 0448, meaning that I am well into hour 13 of my most recent workday marathon. I have attempted to use my time to make a final push to finish off Citizen Soldiers, but my weary mind just can't make sense of the words anymore. I must hand it to Ambrose, it took my over 350 pages to find a point of contention with him. Which may be a record for me. You know, you can call George Patton a lot of things, pompous, jerk, downright strange, but please, please, don't call him chickens*#t. Other than that the book is top notch. You may wonder why I haven't finished the book yet seeing that I've been reading it for months. The answer is that I only read it at work. There are a few benefits to my job (other than the ludicrous holiday pay policy).

Also in the entertainment world, I caught a screening of Munich last weekend. I think that I was looking forward to this movie more than most since I have been a fan of the story ever since I was a young boy sitting on my Baba's knee. You see, while most young red blooded American boys were being raised on tales of famous athletes (I'd list names but I don't know any), I was raised on tales of Churchill, Ben Gurion, and the infamous "Pug" Henry. I was aware of the epic of Munich long before the story met its end in the 1990s (a fact that the film doesn't mention). The film itself was excellent. It further supports my belief that any movie under two hours long just isn't worth your time. Beyond the historical story that I feel had to be told, Munich tells of the personal cost of killing, and does it very well. If you've seen the film, and want to know more about the psychological end of things I highly recommend On Killing by Lt. Col. David Grossman. Anyway, its a great film, very dark, but great.

To top off the evening I will regale you with reports of my feats in bowling. I have reached the end of the season for my league and leave the boards behind as the proud owner of one brand-new bowling ball, and a high score of 94. I am awesome.

I Finally Gave In.

2005-12-30T19:13:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-18T07:58:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-14T23:01:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-14T17:13:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-09T11:25:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-07T11:30:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-04T08:20:00.000-05:00

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?

2005-12-02T19:06:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-01T16:37:00.000-05:00

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!

2005-11-30T19:55:00.000-05:00

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?

2005-11-26T21:52:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-23T13:15:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-11-18T00:54:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-17T00:15:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-11-11T18:38:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-03T16:45:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-10-29T19:50:00.000-04:00

And you know what I'm talking about.

Snow Day!

2005-10-26T08:54:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-10-19T17:51:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-10-19T17:16:00.000-04:00

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

2005-10-13T09:17:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-10-05T16:40:00.000-04:00

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,

2005-09-30T12:19:00.000-04:00

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?

2005-09-29T13:50:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-09-24T10:32:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-09-15T10:55:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-09-10T13:57:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-09T21:58:00.000-04:00

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!