At the Buzzer

IT'S RARE!

2009-12-31T00:01:00.001-07:00

Why is it that when something is no longer produced because it is inferior, but someone who was duped into buying it new (good marketing--can you say AOL?) tries to sell it by calling it "RARE?"

Christmas is coming

2009-12-18T21:31:00.001-07:00

Santa just came to visit my kids. What a treat! I love my neighbors!

2009-11-29T01:16:00.001-07:00

There are always two ways to look at everything.

A Rare Political Post

2009-11-25T00:24:00.004-07:00

I rarely post anything political, mostly because I have such a narrow grasp on politics that I end up sounding foolish. However, I find myself given to ruminating on the situation in Afghanistan.

I will make it short and (hopefully) sweet: sending additional troops to Afghanistan will do absolutely no good whatsoever until the ROE is amended to allow them to do their job. When we first went into Afghanistan, there were immediate strides made, and many battles won. High-Value Targets were taken down, and morale among the troops was as high as it can be when they are in combat.

Then, the brass came in. Units in the field were not allowed the autonomy they once had. HVT were identified, but were usually allowed to escape, as the approval procedure to mount an operation was ponderous and time-consuming. This has not improved in the five years since I was there.

No, sending additional troops won't help. Not until they are allowed to fight the right fight. They should be fighting the Taliban and Al Quaeda, not their own government and leadership.

Thanksgiving

2009-11-23T22:56:00.002-07:00

Well, it's Thanksgiving time again. How many of us will eat themselves into a stupor this year? I suspect I will. In the meantime, we should all take a few minutes to count our blessings.

What are YOU thankful for?

Happy Birthday

2009-11-10T23:46:00.002-07:00

Today is the Birthday of the United States Marine Corps. Whether you call them Leathernecks, Jarheads, Uncle Sam's Misguided Children or Teufelhunden, Americans from sea to sea should find one and thank him or her for standing on that wall, facing our enemies and preserving our way of life in this country.

Semper Fidelis, Devil Dogs. God Bless.

2009-10-24T08:25:00.001-06:00

I called a psychic sex line; she told me what I was wearing.

2009-10-22T18:21:00.004-06:00

The first thing I noticed was the smell. You know how smells trigger memories better than most other things? Maybe you don't.

Anyway, I had just spent the last fourteen hours or so in the back of a C-17, smelling the oily, greasy smell of jet fuel and hydraulic fluid and the stale smell of body odor, multiplied by 65 men. I thought I would never smell anything worse.

Then the tailgate opened. Burning plastic and probably feces mixed with the previously described smells. Heat from numerous jet exhausts. Unidentifiable other smells. For cryin' out loud, they sprayed the used shower water from 15,000 Infantrymen on the roads to keep down the dust. I don't think I was able to hold an impassive exterior.

Stephens appeared in the door. His face split into a characteristic grin. "Welcome to Afghanistan, Buzz."

2009-10-21T18:49:00.003-06:00

OK, if they don't charge those dough-heads for wasting my tax dollars, taking up the valuable time of emergency responders unnecessarily and being a general public nuisance, then they ought to charge them for naming their kid "Falcon." That kid will probably get his @$$ kicked on the playground at least once a week.

2009-10-21T17:27:00.002-06:00

Because obviously Pluggers don't understand the vagaries of modern capitalism and retail sales of electronic hardware, and believe that only a store that is old enough to be condemned by the safety commission is likely to have a vacuum tube. Heaven forbid that some vast electronic super-store be able to stock such a thing.

Never Forget

2009-09-10T20:47:00.002-06:00

We all need to pray for this country. God Bless America.

I'm back

2009-09-08T00:14:00.003-06:00

At least temporarily. I have not written here in nearly a year. I am frankly surprised that my blog is still even active, though i guess it doesn't take much to not shut it down.

Anyway, I had my appendix out about two weeks ago.

Here's how it went down: About 2 AM I woke in my bed with severe pain in my abdominal region. I laid there in pain until I could legitimately call my co-rider in my carpool, (Actually, I texted him) and told him to leave me. I think it is indicative of how much pain I was actually in that during this time, first I mentally hoped that no one else who ate my wife's pizza was as sick as I was (I was assuming food poisoning at this point), and then, when I texted my ride, I used the words "Leave me." I was immediately reminded of the scene in the movie Chicken Little, where Runt tells his friends to leave him in the alien vessel. "Just leave me," he says. "Let me have a little water, some ammo, and some chips if you got 'em."

I was fairly delirious at this point.

When it was closer to the actual time I was supposed to be at work, I called three different people, finally got someone and told them I was not feeling well, and that I would not be coming in to work. I didn't say what the problem was, as I was still assuming food poisoning and didn't want to slander Mrs. Carter. This was about 7 AM. I had been in severe pain for about 5 hours.

The rest of the day was fairly blurry. I didn't take any pain pills, as I was nauseated and feared vomiting if I took anything that would upset my stomach. As it turned out, I did eventually throw up, and nothing came out but a little bile. That was as unpleasant an experience as I have ever had. I remember sleeping some, not a lot. I came to at one point, and I was moaning out loud. It seemed to help the pain if I tensed my stomach and made noises that were supported by my diaphragm. I don't know if anyone heard me, but I am sure it was not pleasant to listen to.

At one point, I got out of bed to go to the bathroom, and couldn't get back into the bed. My 16-year-old son had to help me.

Bear in mind, during this ordeal, appendicitis was the farthest thing from my mind. I didn't have a fever, my pain was never localised to any region of my abdomen, and I was nauseated, but not severely so. I only ever threw up the one time.

Finally, after a prayer, Mrs. Carter pulled up appendicitis online and did a quick research of the symptoms. When they indicated that it could, indeed, be appendicitis, we decided to go to the hospital. This was about 7 PM. I had been in unchanging and severe pain for about 17 hours.

At the hospital, they started an IV (blessed morphine, take me away), took some blood to check my white cell count, and took me in for a CT Scan. Following these procedures, the doc came in and announced, "Congratulations, you have appendicitis."

I was relieved. Not because I was going to have surgery, but because I knew that I actually had something wrong with me, and it was not just in my head (or my abdomen). I was actually a little apprehensive about the surgery. I had never had any major surgery. The only other time I was ever put completely under for any procedure, it was my wisdom teeth, and I was 17 years old. I was not used to being the one in the hospital bed. I was used to being the one next to the bed, where Mrs Carter currently was. I was frankly scared.

But apparently, the surgery went just fine, and also apparently, I am freakin' hilarious coming out of anesthesia. Ha, ha. Cameras, including camera phones, should not be allowed in recovery rooms. Very Funny.

My appendix had burst several hours previous to my going to the hospital, so I credit prayer and Mrs. Carter with saving my life. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't looked up those symptoms, and I don't know that she would have done that without the prayer.

For two days in the hospital, I had a drain in my belly. It was kind of gross (there's a reason I am not an Army medic, but rather a Supply Clerk--gooky stuff like this is part of it). It consisted of a tube about 9mm in diameter, and a rubber bulb. They would collapse the bulb and seal it, so that it provided suction from inside my abdominal cavity. This was because my appendix actually ruptured. They had me on massive doses of IV antibiotics, and sent me home with more of them to take orally. I was able to then get convalescent leave from work, and spent the next two weeks recovering.

I have my follow-up appointment tomorrow, and it's back to work on Wednesday. (Actually, as I write this, I am noticing that it is past midnight--my appointment is today ) I am still not operating up to full strength, but I should be okay to work.

My sons and daughter were greatly concerned. As was my wife. But I am well enough, and grateful that I am still here to hug them each day.

Are you a nerd? I am

2008-11-28T01:20:00.002-07:00

Click on the title of this entry to take the quiz. Actually, my title is "Dorky Nerd." I am not sure if that means that among nerds I am a dork, or if the world views me as dorky in my nerdness.

State of Things

2008-11-20T00:35:00.002-07:00

If the Founding Fathers were alive today,

they would probably be pounding on the insides of their coffins, trying to attract someone's attention to let them out.

Post Election, 2008

2008-11-04T23:41:00.002-07:00

I have avoided being political on this blog, on the rare times when I actually make an effort to post. That is because I intended this to be an outlet for my own creativity, such as it is.

However, in the light of the elections just finished in the United States, let me please say that I am above all disappointed in the results. Not necessarily disappointed that Barack Obama won, but that so many people who should know better are still under the impression that there is substance to the man. Never once during his campaign, nor during the time leading up to his campaign, did he outline a substantial indication as to what he truly believes in or plans to do for this country. He is a fine orator, and charismatic. But his record speaks for itself, and the few times he has allowed anything to be broadcast about his beliefs, it has come across, at least to me, as socialist.

Now, it's done. Time to buckle down and make whatever government we have work. Thomas Jefferson, in the Declaration of Independence, said this: "Governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed." (emphasis added) It is time for us as citizens to consent to that which is just,and not allow the government to have so much power that we are swept along for the ride, out of control, tyrannized. Make the voices heard for justice and freedom.

God Bless The United States of America. We're gonna need it.

Humor

2008-09-30T21:44:00.001-06:00

The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think.

Horace Walpole (1717 - 1797)

Which is why those who lean toward the liberal side of politics and society are often railing on the tragedy of life, while those of us who are more conservative laugh at them.

Just to make sure my blog doesn't lapse from inactivity

2008-09-30T16:27:00.003-06:00

My little girl, Elljae, emailed me a joke today. I laughed, but that was partly because she is such a sweetie, and she was using Mrs. Carter's email to send it. It was so sweet. She misses me, and I miss her.

But the joke still made me laugh. Maybe I just have a soft spot fot inane elementary schoolyard jokes.

Why is Cinderella so bad at soccer?

Because she runs away from the ball.

Ha ha ha.

I still smile, just thinking of it. Thanks, Elljae.

Catching Up

2008-07-27T13:44:00.002-06:00

So, I have not written since Ireland. Wow. It seems like forever ago, and yet I can hardly believe that I have been gone on this deployment for nearly half a year. I miss my family a lot. This deployment is different from my last one, and I can’t place my finger on exactly why. Maybe it’s because I was deployed before and now, I know what to expect, so it is like anticipating something that you know is going to hurt.

Perhaps part of it is that my first son has married, and now has a child of his own. Yes, that’s right, I am a Grandpa. Before any of you get any ideas, let me quote from the movie We Were Soldiers: “Any of you sumbitches calls me grampa—I’ll kill ya.” I have not seen the child except in pictures and once on a webcam (he was sleeping). He is a cute thing, though. Hopefully, they’ll have him potty-trained by the time I return—I’m through with changing diapers. I changed my two little sisters’ diapers when I was a boy, and did plenty of my share on 5 of the 7 kids I have now. But I digress. I miss seeing my family, especially as it is still expanding.

Perhaps it is because my second son has gone and left on a mission to spread the Gospel in faraway lands. He is in the Philippine Islands. Recently, there was a typhoon there, and it centered on the area in which he is living. We worried, to say the least. He is fine, and though the water in his area got to be as deep as knee height (mid-thigh for the locals), his apartment didn’t get flooded, and he and his companion were fine. The Lord blesses us all in his own way. Anyway, now I know what it is like to be on the waiting for a loved one to come home. Previously, I have always been the leaver, not the leavee (MS Word tells me that “leavee” is not a word—whatever. English is a living language, right?).

Whatever the reason, I am feeling differently about this deployment than I did about the last one. It is more difficult in some ways, easier in others. But still, I hope to be able to return safely. I am not in a war zone, but one never knows. The drivers in Kuwait are not licensed. All you have to have to be able to drive here is a vehicle—and it shows. I have already witnessed one accident in which there was almost undoubtedly a fatality. It occurred directly across from the van I was traveling in, in the opposite lane of traffic. It happened so quickly that when I looked back (I wasn’t driving, so it was safe for me to do that), all I saw was the large 2-ton flatbed truck rolling back onto its wheels. I observed what appeared to be a body flopping out of the cab window. The cab itself was crushed over the driver’s seat. Also, there was a large SUV, perhaps a Suburban, spinning out, almost but not quite tipping over. I am certain that if the driver of that truck is not dead that he certainly spent a lot of time in the hospital. So there are dangers here that have nothing to do with war or combat. But, I am confident that I will return home safely. Then, I can see my grandson for the first time, hug my little girl, who keeps telling Mrs. Carter that I will be home when she is 7 years old, and in general get back to life as I believe it is meant to be: family gathered around, and peace and contentment in the general atmosphere.

I dunno, maybe it was Utah.

Layover

2008-05-13T02:18:00.002-06:00

Here I stand, in front of The SHeridan Food Pub, in Shannon, Ireland, waiting to get beck on the plane to continue my trip to Kuwait. I will post further updates as appropriate and interesting.

Top o' the morning to ya.

Interesting Premise

2008-05-01T23:05:00.000-06:00

The Shot Heard 'Round the World

2008-04-19T20:45:00.003-06:00

Never forget.

Americans, Never Forget that on this day, 233 years ago, somewhere between 50 and 70 militiamen (farmers, shopkeepers, tradesmen--nothing more) took up arms, and with a courage that I may never know stood muzzle to muzzle with arguably the finest and best trained army in the world.

They didn't stand a chance. But that didn't matter to them.

All that mattered was that a tyrant stood with his boot on their necks, and they would no longer take it lying down.

So they stood, shoulder to shoulder with their neighbors and friends, facing columns of tautly-drilled, red-coated Infantrymen, who could load and fire their shiny muskets three times every minute. That may not seem like a lot today, but then, it was faster than any other army in the world. Imagine a thousand men in a line, firing every twenty seconds. That is a lot of lead flying downrange.

Yet these militiamen reached down inside themselves, and found the courage to face this army, and on that day, the world heard more than that one shot. They heard a new nation cry out with one voice, "We will not go down without a fight!"

And though those 50 to 70 men were brushed aside like so many gnats from a horse's brow, that cry was echoed throughout the countryside, until after many years of battle and toil, America emerged to be the beacon of freedom for all to see.

God Bless America, and Never Forget

Freedom is Never Free.

Deployed

2008-04-09T10:09:00.001-06:00

Fort Sill is not my first choice for vacations.

Announcement

2008-02-11T19:13:00.000-07:00

I am leaving. I will undoubtedly attempt to keep up with the events of the day, but I am being deployed again. This time, I am going to Kuwait. A little safer than Afghanistan, perhaps, but hotter.

Anyway, I am leaving. Wish me luck.

Well, that's that

2008-02-05T21:11:00.000-07:00

I have been away for a while.

OK, that isn't true. I have just been really lazy. I wish I could say that I have been working on my novel, or even a short story or two.

Uh-uh.

Just lazy.

BUT I'M BACK, BABY.

I thought I would start off my return with a good joke, but I couldn't think of one. SO how about a bad one instead?

John the farmer was in the fertilized egg business. He had several hundred young layers, called "pullets," and ten roosters, whose job it was to fertilize the eggs.

The farmer kept records and any rooster that didn't perform went into the soup pot and was replaced. That took an awful lot of his time, so he bought a set of tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone so John could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report simply by listening to the bells.

The farmer's favorite rooster was old Butch, a very fine specimen he was, too. But on this particular morning John noticed old Butch's bell hadn't rung at all!

John went to investigate. The other roosters were chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing. The pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover.

But to Farmer John's amazement, old Butch had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one. John was so proud of old Butch, he entered him in the County Fair and he became an instant sensation among the judges.

The result........The judges not only awarded old Butch the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pullet Surprise as well.

Hey, I warned you it was bad. If you still read it, that's on you.

Steroids and Sports

2007-08-31T11:37:00.001-06:00

Sports organizations worldwide are concerned with their athletes using performance-enhancing substances. The Tour de France, the NFL, NBA, MLB, all of them. And all of them have had some kind of confrontation with significantly important individuals within their organizations: Lance Armstrong, Barry Bonds, Mark MacGwire, etc. I am worried too, actually. Many of these individuals are heroes, role models for young people everywhere. What kind of damage can be done by such role models who use or abuse controlled substances? Incalculable.

However, I am baffled by the news from the Associated Press. World Wrestling Entertainment has suspended 10 wrestlers for using steroids. Wow. 10, huh? 10 whole wrestlers.

I suspect that there are more. And you know what?

No.
One.
Cares.

The important thing about pro wrestling is the posturing, the taunting, the jibes, not the jabs.

They are an ENTERTAINMENT organization.

They may be fit. They may be muscled. Ripped. Built. Pumped.

But no one cares if they use steroids, because the contests are not real. The contests are staged, scripted, planned.

The only reason it is important for the "wrestlers" to be fit is to put on a good show. And for that, who cares if they ruin their lives and bodies by injecting steroids, who cares if they "dope?" If that makes a better show, do it. If "'roid rage" makes the bad guy more hateful, go for it.

I would never opine that you should not watch wrestling on television. Watch what you want. but when a corporation like WWE tries to be serious, I have a hard time even wanting to call their performers "athletes."

Our Day at the Water Park

2007-08-18T19:13:00.000-06:00

So, Mrs. Carter and I took the kids to the local water park, and wouldn't you know it, lightning and thunder closed it down.

OK, technically, the park was still open, but none of the slides or pools were open. We could have stayed there until the rain went away, which in this part of the world, could have been about five minutes. However, we chose to come home and cook up some brats and burgers on the grill instead. Then, the weather cleared up, so Mrs. Carter took the little Carters back. I don't do water parks very well, so I stayed home.

Anyway, not very interesting, but that is what life is all about.

Funny Joke

2007-08-12T20:11:00.000-06:00

A young polar bear came into his den and asked his mother, "Mommy, am I a real polar bear?"

"Of course you are." His mother replied.

The young polar bear asked his father. "Dad, am I a real polar bear?"

"Yes, you are a real polar bear."

A week passed and the young polar bear asked his parents, "Are grandma and grandpa real polar bears?"

"Yes" said his parents.

Another week passed and the young polar bear asked his parents, "Are all my relatives real polar bears?"

"Yes, they are all real polar bears." Said his parents.

"Why do you ask?" replied his mother.

"Because," said the young polar bear, "I'm freezing!"

What are they thinking?

2007-07-20T22:38:00.000-06:00

So, I was watching late night television, folding laundry. I do that on occasion.

They have the stupidest commercials on late night television. I went through a whole day a week or so ago, with the jingle for Enzyte(r) Natural Male Enhancement Formula running through my mind. Let me tell you, that hurt. But not as bad as seeing "Smilin' Bob" in my mind's eye. EWWWWW!

But the worst ones are the ones for dating services. You know the ones: You meet the nicest guys, and they're all local, and it's FREE TO TRY!!!

Umm. Yeah. Does anyone else see the problem here?

This is a recipe for disaster.

Can anyone else say, "meat market?"

Criminently, people. There are thousands of perverts, rapists, and sexual predators out there in every area of the country. And here they are asking girls (and guys--I am an equal opportunity cynic) to give away their personal information over the phone. They even stress that everyone is local. Jeez! There are warnings all over the place about not giving away personal information over the internet, not responding to phishing schemes, and God forbid that anyone should ever volunteer to help out any Nigerian prince launder money. But here they are telling everyone that it's OK if you're local. That just makes it easier for the predator to find his or her victims. There is even one that specifically shows guys being invited over to the girls' home, and all the girls can say is, "I bet they're just as cute as the last 'Red Hot' guys." This type of scenario almost gives credence to the argument put forward by some sleazebag rapists that "she was askin' for it." (Almost. I said almost. Rape is rape. It is never right. No woman EVER asks for it. Please don't give me hate mail.) But seriously, how many of you would ever invite strangers to your home? I hope no one I know is that stupid.

But enough of that. How was your day?

So Much for my New Year's Resolutions

2007-07-19T23:04:00.000-06:00

I haven't published anything since 31 March. Wow.

I guess I better get on the stick.

Wow.

History in the Making

2007-03-31T16:35:00.000-06:00

Ballard Street

0600 hrs.

Martin stood poised on the brink of greatness. He always stood on the brink. He had yet to make his mark, but today was the day.

No one was stirring along the whole street. Why should they be—it was a Saturday morning, July 17. Not a day which had any historical significance, at least not any that Martin knew of. Martin wasn’t concerned with what significance the day used to have, however. He was set to make history.

He bent down, tightened his skates on his feet. He checked the fuel level in the tank. He plucked a few blades of grass, checked the wind shear. Light, perhaps two or three knots. Barely a breeze crossing from the left to right.

One hundred yards of clear smooth road stretched out before him.

He inserted his earplugs.

He reached for the pull cord.

The small engine sputtered, coughed, then, on the second pull, started.

Agatha appeared on their porch, near the end of the street. She appeared agitated. Martin could not hear what she was yelling—the engine, combined with the earplugs, made that impossible.

Martin took a deep breath, reached over to release the already straining anchor ropes. His eye twitched.

Real Life Adventures

2007-03-28T22:52:00.001-06:00

Real Life Adventures

Randy crunched his cereal methodically, a thousand-yard stare firmly set upon his face. Another day begun, another day to be endured at work. “I really hate my job,” he thought. “At least I only have fifteen more months before I retire.”

He poured another bowl and topped off the milk. The snow pattered softly on the windowpane and the sky lightened slowly with the coming dawn. Though the kitchen was warm, he shivered as he watched the snow fall. Snow always depressed him. Maybe he should go see a therapist. Without looking, he thrust another bite into his mouth.

crunch, crunch, crunch.

Sometimes, Randy wondered if the sound of chewing was damaging to his hearing, or if the sound was merely amplified by being literally connected to his ears. Another bite—something wasn’t quite the same with this

crunch.

He looked down at the bowl. “What the hell?” he thought. Myrtle came into the kitchen carrying the newspaper.

Little Girls are too much fun

2007-03-25T21:49:00.000-06:00

I sit here tonight with my daughter, who will be five years old in two days. She is such a little princess. She loves all things pink.

Currently, she is "working" on her Barbie(r) laptop, while I work on mine. Of course, mine is not from Mattel. There are several games she plays, mostly about spelling. She is so smart. She gets shy when I look at her, but she already knows how to read, and won't start kindergarten until the fall. Mrs. Carter enrolled her in a dance class with her cousin recently, and she loves that as well. I am not really sure what to do about a little girl, but I do love her, and she is so much fun just to watch.

One day, I suppose she'll grow up, and then I won't have her around to watch. Until then, I keep her close to my heart.

Boarders Away!

2007-03-19T23:33:00.000-06:00

Ballard Street

The sea air was crisp, and the spray tossed up by the bow of the Smiling Dutchman blew back into Russell’s face. It was good to be free and in command of his own ship. Too much time had passed since he crossed sabers with anyone of mettle, and the merchantman two hundred yards off the starboard bow had led them in a merry chase. Russell was anxious to close the deal, so to speak.

Soon the distance closed to one hundred and fifty yards, then one hundred. In a matter of minutes, they would be close enough to board her. Russell’s heart was pounding, and he trembled in anticipation. Fifty yards. Twenty-five. The Smiling Dutchman swept alongside the slower, smaller ship, her twenty-six twelve pound cannons at the ready. At point blank range, each ship raked the other with a deafening broadside volley. The smaller ship, with only half the cannons, and smaller, eight-pound shot, reeled at the impact, and by the time the guns of the Smiling Dutchman were reloaded, was already listing slightly to port. The merchantman’s next, much feebler volley was wasted by firing into the water just short of the hull of the larger pirate ship.

Russell shouted an order, and grapples sailed through the air, snaring the merchantman and pulling her into contact with the Smiling Dutchman’s hull. Russell bared his teeth in a frightening grimace and yelled at the top of is lungs, “Boarders away! Take no prisoners, boys. Take their food, powder, shot and everything else you can carry, and throw the rest overboard!”

The throaty roar of three dozen hardened buccaneers was suddenly drowned out by Matilda, the page of her magazine rustling as she turned it. “Sit down, Russell. You know how the neighbors complained the last time you kicked their door in. If you do it again, they won’t have to call the cops; I’ll do it for them.”

Radio Commercials

2007-02-13T22:48:00.000-07:00

So, I'm listening to a radio spot about Challenger Schools, and it involves a boy who sounds about 6 years old, waking his parents in the middle of the night. He is, apparently, worried that he will miss school by oversleeping. The point is, that the school is apparently so good that he can't wait to go.

I say, "If it is so good, and if the kid is so smart, why the poof can't he tell time?!? Now, trust your mommy and daddy, and let us get back to sleep, or we will oversleep because our internal clocks are shot."

Another one is about a girl who corrects her father's grammar at the dinner table. "Could I have the potatoes?" he asked.

"May I have the potatoes?" she corrected.

Wise acre little poop. Shut your piehole and pass the taters. And Honor thy Father and Mother, or your days may not be quite as long as you would like them to be.

I was taught a long time ago that no one can teach a person who does not want to learn. I recognize the value of having educators who can motivate their pupils to want that, but just because someone can sing the States of the Union and tell you innumerable facts about potatoes doesn't mean they are learning about life skills, or that they enjoy learning.

Socrates, in his dialogue with Meno, demonstrated that it is possible that we actually don't learn. His theory showed that Meno's slave boy, with minimal education, was able to remember how to determine a geometrical calculation for doubling the area of a square. The moment of learning came when the boy said, "Upon my word, Socrates, I do not know!" This with minimal coaching and no actual dispensing of facts or information to the boy.
The point here is that it does not really matter what the learning environment is, the learning desire lies with the learner. As a rifle instructor, as a mentor of Boy Scouts, as a father, I have learned myself, that until the learner approaches the situation with their mind open, they simply cannot be taught. As a young boy, my eldest son used to regularly come home with information gleaned from the playground or a friend, and dispense it himself as gospel truth. Then, when confronted with accurate information, would adamantly defend his own source.

In any case, this rant began as a diatribe against inane radio ads, and I still get frustrated with them. Does that make me a bad person?

I hope not.

55 Words

2007-01-24T21:32:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Carter gave me a couple of books for Christmas. They are collections of short stories--very short stories. In fact, they have only 55 words each. Well, no more than 55 words.

They are very interesting, to say the least. It is a good exercise in writing to try to get a plot, characters and conflict to be interesting and complete in 55 words.

I tried, though. See what you think.

The Fourth Horseman

Plague.

Pestilence.

Famine.

Me.

Crosshairs are still visible when I close my eyes, now. So are my enemies.

Not enemies—targets.

There's one (so far, I can still tell which ones are real) now.

Breathe—stop—squeeze...

<<"CRACK!">>

The target is down, head obliterated.

The recoil offers no comfort. I need none.

I am Death.

Happy New Year

2007-01-02T10:29:00.000-07:00

So, 2007 is here.

New Year's Eve is always a little anticlimactic, for me. I mean, we spend the evening partying (such as it is) with friends and family, and then, the proverbial ball drops. Then what?

Some party poppers, fireworks, toasts, kissing my beloved, blah, blah, blah. Then, I wake up the next morning. The only plus there is that since I don't drink, at least I can't be hung over.

But what does the new year really mean?

Resolutions. That's what.

I hereby resolve the following:

1. Lose weight. Lots of it. (Seriously, I need to.)
1a. Get back in shape. This is merely a sub-resolution, as part of losing weight is a fitness and exercise regimen. I realize that this seems trite, canned or unoriginal, but if the shoe fits, I say put it on your stupid foot, even if it's ugly. Not that I care about what my shoes look like.

2. Read my scriptures every day. Every day. At least something from Holy Writ.

3. Never, never never, take my family for granted. I have seen many examples in recent times of people I know losing family members to death, bad life choices, or other circumstances which preclude being with them. I love my children and wife too much to do that. I will hug each of them every day, and tell them I love them.

4. Did I mention Lose Weight?

5. Write something for others to read at least every week. I recently was introduced to a writing form of extreme short stories. These stories are 55 words or less. Fun stuff! Perhaps I will post my first attempt at this genre here.

This list is not nearly comprehensive. I am going to be refining it in the coming days, and throughout the year.

I hope you all are doing something like this, though. Good luck, and God Bless You all.

Remember Pearl Harbor

2006-12-07T21:55:00.000-07:00

7 December 1941—60 years ago today.

On that day, at 7:55 in the morning, airplanes from the Imperial Japanese Navy dropped bombs on the naval forces of the United States of America, at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. That began the single greatest military defeat ever suffered by the United States. The attack only lasted about two hours, but in that two hours the losses were staggering:

Five battleships sunk, including the USS Arizona

Three destroyers damaged

Three light cruisers damaged

One hundred sixty-four aircraft were destroyed, nearly all of them on the ground

One hundred fifty-nine more damaged

Finally, 2,403 American servicemen were dead, nearly half from the Arizona. Total casualties, including the wounded, but not counting civilian losses, numbered almost 3,500.

The Japanese had hoped to destroy or at the very least cripple the US Fleet in the Pacific, but they badly miscalculated. For one thing, although the battleships of “Battleship Row” were nearly all destroyed (and indeed heads rolled over that mistake), the aircraft carriers of the Fleet were not in Pearl Harbor. They were out to sea with their escorting ships, and consequently were able to wage the immediately declared war on Japan. For another, just like the Alamo, the destruction at Pearl Harbor triggered a fervor and fury which drove the forces of the United States military long after the salvage operations were completed in Pearl Harbor proper. The rallying cry “Remember Pearl Harbor!” rang our throughout the breadth of the nation. And, within six months, the Fleet was back to full attack strength.

So, today, I remember Pearl Harbor. There is a Memorial built, over the superstructure of the Arizona, never raised from her watery grave. The brave sailors and Marines who went down with her remain entombed within. Traces of oil still leak from her bowels, staining the surface of the water with shimmering, iridescent pools, swirling with the tides, while the flag of the United States whips in the ever-present breeze overhead. The names of all the dead are inscribed there in marble, a remembrance of their sacrifice. The sacrifice they gave so that we could sit here in the comfort of our homes, reading a computer screen in relative safety and peace. The same sacrifice that eight members of the American Militia made on April 19, 1775. The same sacrifice that 183 men made at the Alamo. The same sacrifice that thousands of men made on the beaches of Normandy, Iwo Jima and Okinawa. The same sacrifice that Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and Airmen have been making for generations, and continue to make, so that America can be free.

We Americans owe them our respect. We owe them support, moral and emotional. We owe them the memory.

Never Forget.

Remember Pearl Harbor. And God Bless the United States of America.

Election Day

2006-11-03T14:34:00.000-07:00

Election Day is really a misnomer, as they are instituting "early voting" at selected polling locations. So it is election week or so. They are closing the polls for a couple of days between the early voting period and Election Day. This is, as near as I can tell, so that they can still keep the illusion of an actual election day to make our "democratic process" seem real.

In reality, I believe that it is as unreal as any other abstraction.

Some of you are no doubt saying, "Duh! Of course it's an abstraction. Hellooo! YOU'RE A FRAUD!"

To which I respond, "If you were looking to me for new ideas, then you should look in the mirror to see the real moron. I never claimed to have new and original thoughts, I just have my own blog. That's what matters. You want to express your own ORIGINAL ideas and thoughts, you get a blog."

But I digress.

Democratic process is the fallacy under which the American public has been operating since the birth of this great nation. The founding fathers never intended for the country to be a democracy, but rather a democratically elected representative republic. But since that time, the fact remains that a minority of the population has chosen the elected representatives of the government every time.

In other words, most people don't vote.

Now, if most people don't vote, how is it that so many people protest the outcome of the elections?

They do it because they have the right to do it.

But if the people don't vote, can it be called a democratic process? Is this truly a government "of the people, by the people, for the people" as Lincoln put it?

Perhaps not.

But hey, they are still living in the greatest country in the world.

And this has to be one of the most disjointed posts I have ever written. Sorry, but like I said, if you don't like it, get your own blog.

Wouldn't it be great...

2006-10-13T17:28:00.000-06:00

I received this recently in an email, and though I have seen this before, and somewhat agree with the overall sentiment, I felt like I should address this little piece of patriotic glurge.

WOULDN'T IT BE GREAT TO TURN ON THE TV AND HEAR ANY U.S. PRESIDENT, DEMOCRAT OR REPUBLICAN GIVE THE FOLLOWING SPEECH?

Sure it would, but it’s about as likely as finding intelligent life on Mars. I would be extremely impressed if ANY politician, whether liberal or conservative, would sound off like this. But politicians are also diplomats, and the United States is not alone in the world, no matter who would like to think so.

My Fellow Americans: As you all know, the defeat of Iraq regime has been completed. Since congress does not want to spend any more money on this war, our mission in Iraq is complete.

See above. Not likely that we are going to be done soon, anyway.

This morning I gave the order for a complete removal of all American forces from Iraq. This action will be complete within 30 days. It is now to begin the reckoning.

Before me, I have two lists. One list contains the names of countries which have stood by our side during the Iraq conflict. This list is short. The United Kingdom, Spain, Bulgaria, Australia, and Poland are some of the countries listed there.

This list is actually shorter by at least one—Spain bailed when they were terrorized on their home soil.

The other list contains everyone not on the first list. Most of the world's nations are on that list. My press secretary will be distributing copies of both lists later this evening.

Let me start by saying that effective immediately, foreign aid to those nations on List 2 ceases immediately and indefinitely. The money saved during the first year alone will pretty much pay for the costs of the Iraqi war. The American people are no longer going to pour money into third world Hellholes and watch those government leaders grow fat on corruption.

Need help with a famine? Wrestling with an epidemic? Call France.

OK, so I agree that this should actually start now, anyway. Victory and the “mission accomplished” in Iraq notwithstanding. How anyone would lend us anything is a mystery anyway. If I was as deeply in debt, even proportionally, as the U.S. is, there is not a banker in the entire American Southwest or anywhere who would continue to finance my operations.

In the future, together with Congress, I will work to redirect this money toward solving the vexing social problems we still have at home. On that note, a word to terrorist organizations: Screw with us and we will hunt you down and eliminate you and all your friends from the face of the earth. Thirsting for a gutsy country to terrorize? Try France, or maybe

China.

Again, this should be our actions for all terrorists. Unfortunately, I have seen the policy and procedures for engaging the enemy on the battlefield. I have watched as high value targets were within the grasp of Special Forces teams, but because of the procedures required by the Military Machine, by the time action could be taken, the opportunity had escaped.

I am ordering the immediate severing of diplomatic relations with France, Germany, and Russia. Thanks for all your help, comrades. We are retiring from NATO as well. Bon chance, mes amis. I have instructed the Mayor of New York City to begin towing the many UN diplomatic vehicles located in Manhattan with more than two unpaid parking tickets to sites where those vehicles will be stripped, shredded and crushed. I don't care about whatever treaty pertains to this. You creeps have tens of thousands of unpaid tickets. Pay those

tickets tomorrow or watch your precious Benzes, Beamers and limos be turned over to some of the finest chop shops in the world. I love New York.

Now we are into some of the meat of this issue. Here we go: Tow the diplomatic vehicles, stop giving diplomatic immunity to violent felons and habitual offenders. Get the UN out of the U.S., and stop funding that organization. If there is a group of nations that wish to ally themselves with each other, they should fund the organization equally, or they should get authority requisite with their contribution. What I mean is, if the U.S. funds 25% of the budget of the UN, then the U.S. should get 25% of the representation and voting power of the organization. One vote from America would take us halfway to a majority vote. If any other nations had a problem with that let them put their money where their protests are.

BUT, we cannot sever all diplomatic ties with those with whom we do not agree. France, Germany and Russia need to know that we are still around, and they need to know we mean business. We need to have at least enough diplomacy to tell them to buzz off when they ask for something. And we also need to remember that NATO includes a lot of those countries on list number 1.

A special note to our neighbors. Canada is on List 2. Since we are likely to be seeing a lot more of each other, you folks might want to try not pissing us off for a change.

Mexico is also on List 2. President Fox and his entire corrupt government really need an attitude adjustment. I will have a couple extra tank and infantry divisions sitting around. Guess where I am going to put em? Yep, border security. Oh, by the way, the United States is abrogating the NAFTA treaty - starting now. We are tired of the one-way highway.

Federal Troops on the border, north AND south, would be welcomed by most of the population of the United States. But it won’t stop the flow of illegals. The only thing that will stop the flow of illegals is drying up the reason they come here. Businesses must penalized for REPEATEDLY HIRING illegal immigrants. Case #1: a friend, who we’ll call Brody, works in a machine shop. One Friday, the shop was raided by the INS, and several of their personnel were rounded up to be deported. One of them, Jose, turned to his supervisor, (also Cody’s Supervisor) and said, “please don’t fill my position—I’ll be back on Monday in time for work.” And, he WAS! The company had to pay a fine for each illegal, but it was negligible. No lasting or meaningful penalty was imposed on that company, therefore when Jose showed up for work on Monday, nothing was done, except to possibly give the company a reason to hire more Joses. In fact, given the savings in wages that the company experiences, the fine was probably still a savings. If we remove the jobs that the illegals do, then they will stop coming here. See “Historical Perspective” for more on that.

Immediately, we'll be drilling for oil in Alaska - which will take care of this country's oil needs for decades to come. If you're an environmentalist who opposes this decision, I refer you to List 2 above: pick a country and move there. They care.

DRILL IN ALASKA ALREADY. We should have been doing that for years. Also, build some new refineries. Spend some of that money from the foreign aid program on research into new methods of energy generation. Wind power in NOT infeasible. Build windmills where the wind blows, and if it blocks someone’s view of the Harbor, let that be part of the price they pay for clean energy.

It is time for America to focus on its own welfare and its own citizens. Some will accuse us of isolationism. I answer them by saying, "darn tootin."

Strengthen our borders, increase national security, but, as Donne said, “No [country] is an island…” OK, Australia is, and so is Samoa, Fiji, etc. But metaphorically, we simply cannot live in the world without interacting with the world. We can, however, hold ourselves above the petty political squabbles, and only get directly involved when we have to.

Nearly a century of trying to help folks live a decent life around the world has only earned us the undying enmity of just about everyone on the planet. It is time to eliminate hunger in America. It is time to eliminate homelessness in America. To the nations on List 1, a

final thought. Thank you. We owe you and we won't forget.

Yes, lets. Eliminate hunger in America, that is. Hire those on welfare to do the jobs that illegals are currently doing. Of course, they will have to be paid a living wage, not that pittance that the illegals get paid.

To the nations on List 2, a final thought: You might want to learn to speak Arabic.

God bless America. Thank you and good night.

Don’t bother to learn Arabic—they won’t leave you alive. If they win, it will mean ethnic cleansing on a scale that makes the Holocaust look like a twelve-car pileup on the freeway. That is one of the things about liberals that I just do not understand. They think that if they resist efforts to eradicate the terrorist threat, the terrorists will start to like us. The terrorists are so conservative that they don’t let women vote, own property or even show their faces in public, let alone be unaccompanied in public. Being nice to them will only make them think we are weak. And, we would be. We have to fight with fire, if I may be cliché.

If you can read this, thank a teacher. If you are reading it in English, thank a soldier.

This little adage reminds me of a bumper sticker I saw: “If the Democrats were in charge, the war on Terror would be over—and this sticker would be written in Arabic.”

(Please forward this to at least ten friends and see what happens! Let's get this to every USA computer!)

This may be the most insidious part of this whole message. I HATE SPAM! (Not the canned type—that is actually pretty good, fried lightly and with cheese on a toasted sandwich. MMM!) But I refuse, on principle, to forward most things, and have ever since I first got the email telling me that Bill Gates and AOL would give me incredible wealth just to forward this email. (I called AOL my d--- self! It’s real! If they don’t pay, they will face serious litigation!) Please don’t forward this. If you want to tell people to come here and read it, along with my commentary, such as it is, feel free. But don’t—DON’T—forward it!

Musing

2006-10-11T21:52:00.000-06:00

I don't know about you, but I would never pay $750.00 to see Barbra Streisand in concert.

I don't agree with her politics, (I don't even think that she should be involved in politics) but I like her singing. I thoroughly enjoy her movies. I loved Yentl. I would even laugh at a properly executed parody of the President, all things considered. I mean, who wouldn't?

However, I simply could not justify ever paying $750.00 to hearANYONE. Not even Billy Joel. Not even the Super Bowl. I don't know if I could justify paying that much for any single entertainment experience.

I am reminded of a joke I heard in my youth:
A young man met a young woman whose voice was angelic. When she sang, his heart melted with desire. He felt that he could not live without her.
But her face left something to be desired. She looked like she fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.
The young man finally decided that he could overlook her physical appearance, and asked her to marry him. She agreed, and they were wed.
On the morning after the ceremony, the young man rolled over in bed and looked at his sleeping bride.

After a moment, he nudged her awake.
"Yes?" she asked sleepily, smiling.
"I need you to do something for me," he said.
"Anything," she replied.
"Wake up and sing!" he yelled.

So, in the unlikely event that I did pay that much, then dangit, she better sing. And if I did pay that much, then she better keep a civil tongue in her head, too.

Ouch!

2006-09-28T22:49:00.000-06:00

So, I bent over today to pick up my pants and WHAM! I felt like someone poleaxed me in the lower back.

OK, so I have no idea what it actually feels like to be poleaxed. I suspect I would not have felt a whole lot in truth, if someone had actually swung a 7' long medievel axe and hit me in the lumbar area.

But it still hurt.

On a completely unrelated note, I have updated my links in the right-hand column. Specifically, I have added a link to a blog written by a very close friend, whose opinions and convictions are very close to my own. You might enjoy his POV, you might not, but you will definitely be enlightened by reading it.

http://historicalperspective.blogspot.com/

I saw this on Freecycle

2006-09-22T23:08:00.000-06:00

and had to laugh.

Offer: Large, Neglected Aloe Vera plant

Posted by: "xxxxxbradleys" xxxxxbradleys@aol.com

Fri Sep 22, 2006 8:57 pm (PST)

I have a huge aloe vera plant (about 3 feet across and the same high) that is badly in need of a loving home. Both my cats and my children seem to have something personal against this poor plant, so it has been battered. Someone with a little patience, or a lot of sunburns, would be a great "parent" for this plant. Please help me find it a good Home!

Mrs. Carter said, "I always wanted an Aloe plant. Respond to that one and tell them we'll take it."

I said, "They want it to have a good home. If it comes here, it will only be neglected some more."

"Thanks a lot. You're just judging me on my past record."

"What am I supposed to judge you on?"

"Shut up. It's not like you take care of the plants."

"Precisely my point."

"Forget it."

But, I still think it's funny.

What I would do

2006-09-22T14:09:00.000-06:00

if I didn't have a conscience, or ethics and morals.

I would start up a franchise of one of those check-cashing places. I have owned my own business, and one of my workers used to regularly take his check to Check Smart to cash it, even after I told him that my bank would cash it for free. They took about 20% of his money to cash it for him at Check Smart. What a racket!

In my youth, I once availed myself of the services of one of these places, and vowed to never return. I cashed a personal check, and they took about 10%. Ouch!

Anyway, if I had the capital, low moral and ethical values, and no conscience, that's was I would do. Car title loans, payroll advances, etc. Great money to be had fleecing the stupid out of their income.

Man,

2006-09-22T14:08:00.000-06:00

The Redskins really stink this year, don't they? At least so far.

What is it all about?

2006-09-19T20:29:00.000-06:00

I listen to talk radio.

OK, that may not make me a freak, but it doesn’t make me especially popular in the carpool either. Anyway, I was listening today, and heard something that I couldn’t accept. I was listening to a famous radio show host, who I won’t name here, but his name rhymes with “Bon Frannity.”

Anyway, paraphrasing what he said, it was something like, “This war is not about Islam—it’s about Fascism and Terrorism.” He was echoing the words of our illustrious President, who this morning spoke in front of the United Nations and told the world that the U.S. was not at war with Islam. However, he (our celebrated host) spoke those words with conviction. He believed them, and most likely still does—at least for the purposes of his show. Perhaps he is just playing a role, a part to entertain his listenership. He is, after all, the “second most listened to talk-show host” in the country. But I don’t think so; I think he believes what he says.

But he was wrong.

I would like for him to be right, but I simply can't accept that he was. You see, those who are fighting against us are Muslim. Radical Muslims, the press tells us. The danger is that Radicals have twisted the true nature of the “Religion of Peace.” True Islam doesn’t condone violence. Heck, Muslims can even get out of being drafted into the Army in times of war. It worked for Cassius Clay, right? That should prove that Muslims as a whole don’t approve of violence or terrorism.

But my wanting Mr. Frannity to be right and believing him to be wrong is not what makes this about Islam. What makes it about Islam is that the Imams and Mullahs of mainstream Islam are remarkably silent. Where is the outrage? Where is the indignation? Where is the irritation at those so-called “Radicals?” They are destroying the very foundation of this “religion of peace.” Why are they not clamoring around the world for cessation of such activities as suicide bombings, kidnapping and killing journalists and government officials with whom they don’t agree, and last but not least, flying large jetliners into skyscrapers?

The reason why is apparent, at least to me.

It IS about Islam. It is about the proliferation of Islam all over the world by a people and culture who believe that only those who believe the way they do deserve to live. I use the word “live” with some reservation, as even among mainstream Muslims, women are second-class citizens, and children are routinely abused. Stories were told to me by the Battalion medics in Afghanistan during my tenure there, of Muslim men bringing their wives and children to the clinic operated by the Army for treatment. The reason for this was because even though there were local clinics operated by local doctors, those cost money. Wives and children were not worth the expense of taking them to the local clinic, so they would travel to the Army bases and avail themselves of “free” treatment, for their families, while they would use the local clinics for themselves. Of course, the joke was on them—the treatment at the Army clinic was easily superior to the locals. But the fact was that it was all a matter of economics. Money was to be spent on the adult males, not the women and children.

So, essentially, those mainstream imams and mullahs are simply allowing their religion to be subverted by extremists, in a way that they cannot do themselves. And that allowance is tacitly condoning the actions of the extremists. It has become, not subversion, but outright uprising. An anonymous caller on today's show pout it quite succinctly, when he said, and I paraphrase again, that the fact was that the Radicals were not fighting for the right to worship as they wished. They already have that. What they are fighting for is to make others believe the same way they do, and destroy those who will not convert, or whom they believe have “offended” Allah, or Mohammed, or Islam itself. “Kill those who insult Islam!” “Behead offenders of Allah!” the signs proclaim. Does this sound like a religion of peace? Tell Daniel Pearl and Nick Berg that Islam is a peaceful religion.

Recently, Pope Benedict gave a speech at a university, and referenced a 14th Century Byzantine Emperor. The emperor had said that Mohammed had produced nothing in his life but violence and destruction, and that Islam had not changed since that time. Since the Pope spoke, he has had his life threatened, and was forced to increase his personal security in order to protect his life. He also apologized for giving offense, though I don't think he should have had to do so. Yet, following his remarks, a 65-year-old Italian nun in Somalia, who taught and worked at a pediatric hospital in Mogadishu, was gunned down in the streets—murdered alongside her bodyguard. Was it a Muslim hospital? No, it was run by Austians—charitably—to benefit the citizens of Somalia. Does this sound like a religion of peace? Tell Sister Leonella Islam is a religion of peace. Her final words were, “I forgive—I forgive!”

Seems to me that if you want to convince someone that you are not violent, you should stop committing acts of violence whenever you decide to take offense at some perceived slight. But not the “religion of peace.” Muslims will riot worldwide over CARTOONS, published months prior to the rioting, if the cartoons depict the prophet Mohammed in a somewhat unwholesome light. I don't recall riots in the streets when Universal Studios released The Last Temptation of Christ. That film upset a lot of people, yet no embassies were burned and looted, no one died. Christ himself taught that we should turn the other cheek, and forgive our enemies. Which is the religion of peace?

It is about Islam. We can call them Islamofascists, extremists, terrorists or whatever we want. But it does not change the facts. Until the “mainstream” leaders of the “Religion of Peace” start publicly condemning the actions of the extremists who execute violence upon the world, it will remain about Islam. And that makes it a Holy War, a Crusade if you will, or, if you are Muslim, Jihad.

And no one wins a Holy War.

Where were you?

2006-09-11T22:02:00.000-06:00

It seems like there are events in history which affect the human psyche such that people remember where they were at that time. The assassination of President Kennedy was one of these events. So was (for me) the shooting and attempted assassination of President Reagan. The Space Shuttle Columbia, and later the Challenger. If you don't remember these last, obviously they didn't affect you as they did me.

But if you were able to remember anything, you most likely remember exactly where you were and what you were doing on September 11, 2001.

I was in an office, in a building older than my father in Fort Polk, Louisiana. It was part of a training compound, originally for troops preparing for World War II, now for Special Forces troops preparing for missions all over the world. I had been involved in an exercise, a war gaming exercise, and it had ended the night before at about midnight. We were due to climb on a chartered aircraft later that day, and were packing up the office in anticipation.

Then, SFC Mac, my NCOIC, got a phone call from his wife, who told him to turn on a TV. We had not packed it yet (yes, we had a TV with us--what do you expect? It was a Special Forces unit), so we plugged it back in and tuned in the news, a grainy broadcast from a local LA station. It was there that we all were able to witness the impact of the second airliner, and the subsequent collapse of one of the most recognizable landmarks in the world, and the deaths of 2500 people.

We didn't leave Louisiana that day. Or the next. Or the next.

We finally left on the fourth day, after flights nationwide had been resumed. Not in a comfortable chartered aircraft, but in the cargo/passenger bay of a C-141 Starlifter. I didn't care. I wanted to be home. I didn't know if I would get to stay there very long, and I wanted to hug my kids. I only had the six boys then, and the twins were 4 years old. Mrs. Carter was expecting my little Princess, and had already had a few health issues while I was gone, and I was anxious. Due to restrictions placed on aircraft by the federal government, our plane landed at the local Air Force Base, rather than the commercial international airport. And because I knew it would cause fewer problems, I asked my sister, Michelangela, to pick me up. Her Husband was in the AF, stationed at the base, and I knew she would be able to get onto the post. Thankfully, she was glad to do it. Thanks, M.

I did not get deployed until much later, in the fall of 2003. Interestingly, I was back in Ft. Polk when we were told that we would be deployed. But that is a tale for another time.

Anyway, that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

What's yours?

Ugh

2006-09-10T18:18:00.000-06:00

I was sipping a cup of refreshing Dr. Pepper(r) just now, and as I was slurping the very last of the liquid from the dregs of the crushed ice, I noticed a short brown hair adhering to the inside of the cup. Probably one of my own, from me running my hands through my stylish mop (ha!) while I relaxed, but still...

EWWWW!

Why do we have such diametrically opposed emotions about hair? I run my hands through my own hair, and especially through my wife's gorgeous red tresses, and my daughter's golden locks. I ave been known to kiss my wife and daughter, and even my sons (when they were younger and let me do such blatantly affectionate things) ON THE HAIR. I have combed my children's hair, and my wife's on occasion as well.

I even pet the cat.

My sister, the Frog, has two dogs. I would bet money that she has petted them--they are like her children. In fact, I bet she has issed them, too. My mother has a dog, too. Her dog has full run of the house, and a shaggy coat. Who here thinks that mammals don't shed? There is undoubtedly canine hair all over the house.

But the moment that the hair leaves the body, or at least breaks contact with it, the hair becomes something at which we turn up our noses. "Eww! look what was on your shirt. Don't worry, I'll throw it away."

I don't know. It just seems weird.

Funny!

2006-09-05T19:22:00.000-06:00

Funny?

My twin boys, Flim and Flam, acquired a book of jokes, clean jokes for kiddies, or some such thing. They are all the corny ones that we all heard and told when we were kiddies, I guess. Like this one:

Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Atch.
Atch who?
Sorry you have a cold!

Did you laugh? I did. Oh, not at the joke, but at the boys. They told that joke to everyone they met for two days! Then, upon each telling, they burst into paroxysms of laughter. It was upon that burst of laughter that I also laughed. It was unavoidable.

So, what jokes do you remember from your childhood? The cornier the better.

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Depends on who you ask.

Saturday

2006-09-02T10:20:00.000-06:00

So, it's Saturday Morning, and I am watching my sister and my brother-in-law (not married to each other--it's her brother-in-law, too) play Dance Revolution with Mario Brothers on the TV. Personally, I hate video games. Perhaps part of that comes from my not being good at them. Part of that comes from my not being able to hear well enough. If there is too much background noise, I can't hear conversation. But in any case, I am here, and they appear to be having fun. I could stand to have more of that, I suppose.

Last night, we went out to Wingers. I love Wingers. I had the Sticky Fingers Dinner. Delicious.

The Terrorists Have Won

2006-08-22T16:59:00.000-06:00

The terrorists have won.

Dateline, Costa del Sol. An Airbus A320 was delayed until two “Asian” passengers were removed from the flight. This following the arrest in Britain of some 20 people who were allegedly planning a September 11th-style attack. The twist of this story is that it was the other passengers who initiated the removal.

CHRISTOPHER LEAKE and ANDREW CHAPMAN of the UK Daily Mail wrote, “Passengers told cabin crew they feared for their safety and demanded police action. Some stormed off the Monarch Airlines Airbus A320 minutes before it was due to leave the Costa del Sol at 3am. Others waiting for Flight ZB 613 in the departure lounge refused to board it.” (emphasis added) and “Worries spread after a female passenger said she had heard something that alarmed her.”

Sigh.

So, here’s my point, such as it is. If I was late to a flight, they would leave without me. In fact, I would expect them to do so. I have almost been left by a flight because I was late. Like wise, I would expect that if I left the aircraft, I would not expect to be waited upon. Yet, that is exactly what happened here.

So, why are these people given such special dispensation that they are able to dictate to the airline not only when the flight will leave, but also who will be on it?

The Daily Mail story also said, “The Monarch pilot - a highly experienced captain - accompanied by armed Civil Guard police and airport security staff, approached the two men and took their passports.

Half an hour later, police returned and escorted the two Asian passengers off the jet.”

What the crap?

OK, I understand people’s insecurities, and I understand fear. But I have to chalk this one as a victory for the terrorists. Those people were terrorized into acting irrationally, and causing unwarranted discrimination against two blameless men. Terrorists win when they force the rest of us to change our daily lives. They don’t have to bomb every plane, because we act as if they already did.

Don’t you think it might have been better, if someone was acting suspiciously, to seat them in a place where they could be watched by the Air Marshalls? Or, if the Brits don’t have Air Marshalls (or the equivalent) then by a couple of burly passengers, or several not-so-burly passengers. Remember Richard Reid? He got the stuffing beaten out of him by – get this – other passengers. All because he had an ill-conceived plan to light his shoe on fire and blow up a plane. Flight 93 was crashed into a field in Pennsylvania because the passengers rose up together against the hijackers. Though it was too late to save the plane and its passengers, they save probably hundreds of other lives through their actions. There is no end to what can be accomplished if large groups of people work together.

I guess I am trying to say that this whole situation was handled badly, and not just by the airlines. Until we as citizens of the United States, even the World, are able to say to the terrorists, “Not on my watch!” and continue living our lives, not without fear, but in spite of it, then the terrorists have won. To have regular passengers, regular people, leave the aircraft and impose their fears and insecurities upon the rest of us is a form of terrorism in its own right. There is a time to run away from a fight. There is a time to be a peacemaker. There is a time to turn the other cheek.

This is not that time. It is time now to kick ass and take names. It is time now to defend our homes, families and way of life. It is time now to not allow the terrorists the ability to remove us from airliners in fear. It is time now to make sure that the terrorists who do manage to get on board never get a chance to perform another act of atrocity like the one perpetrated on September 11, 2001. The way to safety and security is not to run at the first sign of attack. It is by first recognizing a threat, and then acting, sometimes preemptively, to stop the threat. There was no threat here, only fear of the same.

I say, “I refuse to let the fear that I might die today prevent me from acting any differently than I would normally.” I won’t let the terrorists win.

My Favorite Magazine

2006-07-30T21:55:00.000-06:00

I remember as a child that my mother told me that when she met my father, she thought he was the smartest guy she had ever known. Turns out, he had simply read each and every issue of The Reader’s Digest that his mother had stored, going back many years. He therefore had a lot of trivial knowledge on many different subjects, but that was all. He was able to “baffle with BS” pretty well.

Don’t get me wrong—my father is easily one of the most intelligent men in the world, though it took me until I was well into my twenties to realize that. I don’t mean to belittle his intelligence at all. After all, he was able to convince my mother that he was worthy of her, and that was no mean feat. My purpose for writing that above was to introduce my love affair with The Reader’s Digest.

Throughout my life, it has been the one constant. No matter where I lived as a child, my parents always subscribed to it. I read many of the back issues that my father once read in his childhood. I read stories there that I would never read anywhere else. One of my favorites was the story of the rubber-band gun shootout between two rival gangs of pre-teen children. I think that one was called, "Shoot-out at the Red Horse Barn." I looked forward to reading "Life in These United States," "Humor in Uniform," "All in a Day’s Work" and "Laughter, The Best Medicine." I even liked the book features, as they were the condensed versions of stories that otherwise I would probably not read. Today, I subscribe to The Reader's Digest myself, and still look forward to all the regular features. Mary Roach’s column is easily one of the best things in print today, in my never-to-be-humble opinion. I regularly read “That’s Outrageous!” and “Heroes for Today.” The book features are still a favorite, too.

However, I have to say, that in spite of it all, I can’t stand the new artist they have doing the covers. I suppose “new” is not the right word, as he has been doing them for a couple of years at least. I also realize that in order to keep current, and appeal to the broadest segment of society possible (The Digest’s best feature), they have to change their “look” periodically. I remember when they used to have classic pictures, or at least classically influenced pictures, on the cover. For a while, they used pertinent photographs on the cover, like a picture of the young woman who overcame her poverty and racial discrimination to win national recognition for scholarship. I use that last as an example only, I don’t actually remember specific photos. But the photos always had something to do with a story inside. They used to have the entire contents of the issue on the front, too. I liked that. Now, their front cover is not much dissimilar from other mainstream magazines, with blurbs designed to get your attention, and photographs of celebrities whose interviews are inside.

But this new artist—he caricatures Americana. I have nothing against that in and of itself, but for some reason, his style just turns me off. Maybe it is because he is so mainstream that if there is anything that is slightly controversial, he makes sure to include it in his pictures. He had an ethnically diverse crowd of people donating to Hurricane relief. A white suburban male installing a fish-shaped mailbox. A young couple jogging past a health club, with the man looking wistfully at the shapely young women working out in the warm, inviting gym, while the shrewish woman leads him inexorably onward. His pictures manage to address these controversial issues while being so cliché that it is disgusting to view. I am sure he means to be at the very least though-provoking, but ends up being trite.

Or, I may be simply a jerk on a rant.

Favorite movie quotes

2006-07-20T20:09:00.000-06:00

So, I was thinking the other day that the best movies to quote are not necessarily the best movies to watch, though you should never generalize.

But my point is what are your favorite movie quotes? Go ahead and post some in the comments, if you like. No fair cheating and looking up the accurate version on the internet—just give it to me straight from your head.

I like the Monty Python movies, myself. OK, I really just like The Holy Grail. I sort of like a couple of others, and I do like the Flying Circus TV series, but it is mostly the Holy Grail.

Some of my favorite lines:

"Oh, Lord, bless this thy Hand Grenade, that with it thou mayest blow thine enemies to tiny bits, in thy mercy."

"I soiled my armor I was so scared!" "I did it again!"

"Some call me...Tim?"

Arthur: "Look you stupid B*****d, you've got no arms left!"
Black Knight: "Yes I have!"
A: "Look!"
BK: "It's just a flesh wound."

"Message for you, sir!"

And of course the classic,
"This is supposed to be a 'appy occasion! Let's not bicker and argue about 'oo killed 'oo."

There are dozens of others as well, but I don't want to spend this whole entry on that movie when there are so many other movies to quote from.

The Princess Bride

"You have fallen for one of the classic blunders of all time! The first is 'Never get involved in a land war in Asia,' but the second and only slightly less well-known is, 'Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line!' HA HA HA"--thunk.

"No more rhymes now--I mean it!
Anybody want a peanut?"

Inigo: "I confess, you are better than I am."
Man in Black: "Then, why are you smiling?"
I: "Because I know something you do not."
MiB: "Oh? And what is that?"
I: "I am not left-handed."

MiB: "There is something you should know."
I: "What is it?"
MiB: "I'm not left-handed either."

(Yes, I know that Westley is the man in black, but you didn't know it at that time. OK, you did, but no one in the movie did, and that’s what is important.)

"As it happens, he's only 'mostly dead.' Mostly dead means partly alive. Partly alive we can work with."

"I'm not a witch, I’m your wife!"

"Have fun storming the castle!" (This was the farewell of choice any time one of my buddies left for guard or convoy duty while in Afghanistan.)

"Let me explain--no, there is too much--I will sum up."

"Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

"I want my father back, you son of a b***h!"

Undercover Blues

Muerte: “My nem iss Muerte!”
Jeff: “Pleased to meet you, Morty.”

“Look, don’t call here again, unless you’re ready to have, like, a serious conversation, OK?”

Jane: “I love you very much.”
Jeff: “You really do?”
Jane: “More and more and more every day.”
Jeff: “You know what’s funny? That’s exactly how I feel about you.”

And so many more!

Galaxy Quest

“Did any of you ever watch the show?”

“Never give up! Never Surrender!”

Brandon: “Look I’m not a total space case, you know? I know it’s just a show, and you’re just actors, and all that—
Jason: “It’s all real!”
Brandon: “I knew it!”

“Well, s**** that! I’m not going! This episode was badly written!”

“Let’s get out of here before one of those things kills Guy!”

So, what about it? Like I said, some of the best movies to quote from are not the best movies to watch. You have to watch them occasionally, if only to refresh your memory. All of the above quotes were done from my own memory, I promise, so any mistakes were the mistakes of me, not the movies.

C,mon, do it!

Running with the Bulls

2006-07-07T12:49:00.000-06:00

Have you ever wanted to? I tend toward more conservative adventures, like firing rifles and shotguns at stuffed animals.

But for those of you who have considered it, here are a few facts about the festival, from BBC News.

* Runners often consume copious amounts of alcohol the night before the early morning run. I don't think they do an IQ test for the runners.
* The route is 900 meters alongside 6 half-tonne fighting bulls. See comment in the first fact.
* Then the bulls are led to the fighting ring, where they are ceremoniously tortured and killed. I am not an animal rights activist, but to call it bullfighting is somewhat of a misnomer. While it is true that someone is fighting a bull, the plain fact is that no matter what, the bull loses. Even if he kills the Matador. Seems rather unsporting to me. At least when you are deer hunting, no one calles it "deer fighting."
* Running with the bulls is only one part, albeit the most famous part, of a nine-day festival, honoring San Fermin, patron saint of Pamplona.
* Since 1924 when they began keeping records of the event, 13 people have been killed, though many others have been injured. This year, for instance, a New York man was paralysed from the waist down, though I don't know for sure how he was injured. It was fairly certain that he was not gored while running.
* Bullfighting in general draws significant animal rights protests, but at the Pamplona festival, they traditionally protest in the nude. I wonder if they are really trying to stop the animal abuses. If I was doing something, and a group of people wanted to stop the activity, so they took their clothes off to stop me, I don't think that would deter me, depending upon what they looked like naked.
* On 14 July, the revelers end the festivities with a traditional Spanish song entitled Pobre de mi (PoorMe).

In any case, good luck to those who participate. Perhaps it is merely natural selection at work, who knows?

2006-07-06T13:32:00.000-06:00

NEWPORT NEWS, Va. - A woman who tried to extort money from the Cracker Barrel restaurant chain by putting a dead mouse in a bowl of soup was sentenced to a year in jail.
Carla Patterson, 38, and her 22-year-old son, Ricky Patterson, sought $500,000 from the chain after claiming they found the rodent in the vegetable soup the woman ordered at a Newport News restaurant on Mother's Day weekend in 2004.
A jury convicted the Pattersons of conspiracy to commit extortion in April. The Pattersons maintained their innocence, but evidence included tests show[ing] the mouse had not been cooked and had not drowned but instead died of a fractured skull. (emphasis added)
Carla Patterson wept Wednesday as a judge imposed the jail sentence and a $2,500 fine. Defense lawyer Michael Woods said Patterson plans to appeal.
Ricky Patterson's sentencing, which had been scheduled for Wednesday, was postponed until Sept. 14. He is at Virginia Peninsula Regional Jail in Williamsburg after pleading guilty to forgery in an unrelated check-fraud case.

Is it just me, or does it seem weird that someone conducted what amounts to an autopsy on a mouse? I mean, I guess if my business was at stake, I would gladly fork over the dough to have it done, but it just struck me as somewhat funny that apparently there are facilities that do this. It makes more sense for there to befacilities for the testing of human remains, such as the finger that was allegedly found in a bowl of chili at Wendy's, but a mouse?

I guess there is money to be made, and that's the American Way.

Disjointed thoughts, or miscellaneous wisdom

2006-07-06T11:20:00.000-06:00

Whichever sounds better.

* I have always wondered, why do people perform hunger strikes? I mean, really, if someone or some regime is doing things that you disagree with, what makes you think that starving yourself is going to change their mind? Would it/they not rather just wait until you died of hunger? That way, you would no longer be around to cause them trouble. They could even say that they tried to help you eat. They could provide all kinds of food for you all the while continuing the things that caused you to begin your hunger strike in the first place, thus ensuring that you will continue your hunger strike. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.

* If I was ever going to take over the universe as evil overlord, there are a few things that I would do. First, if I ever had my only nemesis in my power, I would immediately shoot him in the head. Following that, I would personally supervise his body being put into an incinerator and being consumed by the flames until he was only so much ash and bone fragments. Then, I would scatter half of the ashes over the ocean, and the other half I would keep in my possession, to ensure that nothing would ever happen to it. I would also never explain my plan to the my enemies, especially not right before they were about to be killed by me. If they asked why or how I could do such a thing, I would say, “Let me explain,” and then I would shoot them. More evil overlords have been dethroned for wanting their enemies to understand than for any other reason.

* Another thing: Why do the evil overlords always treat their own men like disposable trash? If I was evil overlord, my soldiers would live like kings. People would be lining up to join the elite corps of my personal body guard, because they would have everything they wanted, whenever they wanted it—women, wine, song, whatever. I would never kill any of them myself, and would never give them a chance to ever be bribed or otherwise influenced to betray me.

* I saw something on another blog today purporting to be a version of the infamous “Nigerian Scam,” only from the widow of Enron CEO Kenneth Lay. It was, however, quite possibly a joke, albeit not very funny. More ironic than funny—or would that be enronic?

A Fable for life

2006-06-30T16:34:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time, a small bird began his trip south for the winter. He was not a very smart little bird, and he had procrastinated his trip. It got very cold and he was finally unable to continue. He fell to the ground, nearly frozen.
He lay there for some time, and his life flashed before his mind’s eye. He was just about to give up all hope when a cow ambled by, narrowly missing the little bird with her hooves. She did not miss, however, with the cow pie that she let go just above the bird, and he was entirely covered in manure.
For a moment, he was distressed beyond all he had ever been before. “Why did this have to happen to me?” he wondered. Then, he noticed that he was warming up. The manure was steaming hot from the inside of the oblivious bovine and the little bird’s core temperature began to rise.
This made him so happy, he began to sing. Soon he would be on his way to warmer climes in the south, and he could hardly wait. Unfortunately, a passing cat heard him singing, dug him out of the manure and ate him.
The moral of this story is threefold:
1. Not everyone who dumps poop on you is your enemy.
2. Not everyone who digs you out of the poop is your friend.
And 3. When you are warm and happy in a pile of poop, shut the heck up!

How about a Joke?

2006-06-28T21:04:00.000-06:00

Philip decided he would like a pet, but he was on a budget. He perused the classified ads in the newspaper every day, hoping to find a good dog or cat he could bring home and make his own. One day, he saw the following ad:

Talking Dog--$10.00--and then the address.

"this I have to see," Philip thought. So he went to the address listed in the ad.

When a man answered the door, Philip asked if he could see the dog. "Sure," the man said. "He's in the back room watching TV."

Philip went back and sure enough, the dog sat there, remote in one hand, beer in the other, watching television. "Hey, how ya doin'?" asked the dog.

"Wow!" cried Philip. "You really can speak!"

"Of course I can," said the dog. "I speak very well."

"Well," Philip said, "I am looking for a pet. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

"All right," said the dog. "I spent the early years of my life amusing my first owner, until he realized my potential. Then we spent several years touring the world, hitting the talk show circuit, carnivals, circuses and the like. When 9-11 happened, I felt the need to give back something to the community. I enlisted in the K9 Corps, training to be a bomb-sniffing dog. I spent about 18 months over in Afghanistan and Iraq, working with EOD and the 3rd and 10th Infantry Divisions. I was decorated several times, including the 3 Silver Stars. But I burned out pretty quickly, and after I was wounded by a roadside bomb, I was medically discharged, came here and hooked up with my current owner. I live off my disability income, so as not to be a burden to anyone."

"That's amazing!" Philip said. He walked out into the front room to talk to the man at the door. "I want to buy your dog," he said, "but I have to know one thing: why are you selling him for only $10.00?"

The man replied, projecting his voice into the back room, "Because he's a BIG LIAR!"

Graduation

2006-06-21T20:15:00.000-06:00

OK, so I think that most high school graduation ceremonies have already happened. I know I was not invited to be the commencement speaker anywhere. Of course I am not famous, nor even extremely accomplished. I am still trying to get my undergraduate degree, and usually they like the commencement speaker to be a little more educated than the graduates they are speaking to.

So I didn't get the invite to speak this year. Perhaps I never will. That's probably just as well, but just in case there is a graduating class out there, or even an individual graduate, that has not been inspired by the speaker they heard, here are the tiny pearls of wisdom from the mind of Buzz Carter.

1. Do something for someone else for a while. What I mean by that is not that I want you to go down and volunteer at the food bank or the homeless shelter, although that would not be a bad idea. I mean that you should look for something to do that will serve your fellow man, as a priority, rather than as a secondary consideration. Join the military. Find a job at a nursing home or rehabilitation center. Go ask your old high school janitor for a job. (That should open your eyes to the mess he's had to deal with for the last three to four years of your life.) I happen to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints--the Mormons--and if you are too, then go on a mission. But serve your fellow man. Try several different jobs, and see what you like.

2. Learn to take responsibility for your own actions. Be accountable. If you screw up, fess up. Conversely, stand up for yourself: don’t be anyone’s fall guy.

3. When you turn 18, if you haven’t already, register to vote. Learn who your local and national leaders are, and become more than passingly informed on important issues of the day. Then, VOTE. Don’t let the elections pass you by. Don’t vote the way your parents do just because you don’t know what else to do. And don’t let smooth talking politicians sway you with glib voices and clever ads. Do some independent research and some soul-searching pondering. Pray about it, to see if God has anything he can let you know about it. You might be surprised.

4. Take care of your body. Surprisingly, (this part is that new “sarcasm” you may have heard about) after high school is when the adult body can begin to become complacent and lose its youthful vigor and muscle tone. Turn off the X-Box and GET OFF THE DARN COUCH. Put away the PC games and exercise, eat right, don’t drink alcohol or use tobacco. Stay away from illegal drugs. Meth, crack, ecstasy, marijuana and the like are prevalent among America’s youth, but they need not be part of your life. Preventing them from being part of your life will ensure that they are not part of your death.

5. Go to college. Plan to go to college. You should already have applied to several post-secondary schools, and I hope you have chosen one to attend. Take classes you will enjoy, not just ones you will need to graduate. Take fencing, and tumbling, and underwater basket-weaving. Take the ones you need, too. Math, chemistry, biology, English and all the rest. Get good grades. Study. Make friends. Date. College is a whole life experience, not just a school. If you don’t learn anything that you think will help you in your desired career field, do one of two things: change your career field, or chalk it up as a lesson learned that won’t help you in your career field. Just because it won’t help you there does not mean that it won’t help you anywhere else.

6. Don’t live with your parents indefinitely. Move out. Get an apartment or live in a dormitory.

7. Don’t let your parents buy you a car for graduation. Buy your own. But don’t go into debt to do it. Save your money and buy a good used car. Find it in the newspaper, or online. Haggle over the price.

8. Don’t let your parents send you on a trip to some exotic, far-away place for a graduation present. This doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t go to Europe or Aruba, but pay your own way, or at least part of it. And if you do go, don’t spend your time drinking yourself into oblivion, associating with people of questionable character. Remember Natalee Holloway. I place neither judgment nor blame upon anyone in her case, but if she had stayed with a group of known friends, or had not indulged in fraternizing with persons of questionable moral fiber, chances are she would still be with her family.

Your parents will be understandably proud of you, and they will want to get you a gift. Just talk it out with them and don’t’ let it be one of the above things.

I don’t know if these things are worth your time to read or not, but they are some thoughts I think are valuable for young people. Besides, if I can affect even one person positively, then it was worth my time to write it.

Maybe one day, I will actually get to be the speaker.

Nah. Probably not.

Father's Day

2006-06-20T21:36:00.000-06:00

Wow. It has been some time, has it not? I would like to say that it is not my fault, or that I have been very busy, or something like that, but it simply would not be true.

I have just been slacking off.

Anyway, I just about blew my top with the kids today. I'm human—sue me. Father's Day was last Sunday, and on Saturday, Mrs. Carter asked me if I would like to go to The Home Depot to pick out my FD present.

This was something of a quandary with me, as I have long been of the opinion that Father's Day is the most made up holiday of them all. Worse than Groundhog Day. I picture some limp-wristed, lily-livered father complaining that “Gee, mothers get a holiday; why don’t fathers?” Suck it up, you pansy. You bring home the bacon, and the kids are happy to be with you whenever you can tear yourself away from the office or the shop. They are continually asking you to play catch, or to go with you when you go to the hardware store. My kids like to go to the driving range with me, and hit a couple of buckets. So qwitcherbitchin, and deal with it.

But the little woman said she wanted to buy me a barbecue grill. I have wanted one of those for a while, and we had looked at some previously and I had already decided which one I wanted. So, in spite of my personal feelings, I decided to humor her and accompany her to the store.

Sigh. I wish it had gone as smoothly as I had planned.

When we got to the store, the model I had previously chosen was out of stock, except for the ones in the box, unassembled. I have some experience assembling such things, and I would rather sever one of my toes than do it myself. So I asked how long it would take for someone to assemble one. Turns out that no one in the store wants to assemble them, either. They have professional assemblers come to the store from the vendor to do that. They come twice a week, Monday and Friday. “Friday,” I said, “That was yesterday! Where are all the ones they assembled yesterday?”

“Sold out,” came the answer. “Tomorrow is Father's Day, after all, and all grills are 10% off.”

Well, the discount was the only good news that day. I bought the grill anyway, and told them I would be back on Monday.

Monday came, and I called Home Depot. See, I’m a cynical man. “Sorry,” they said, “but the assembler called in sick today.” Some professional.

Tuesday came. I called Home Depot. “All done!” they exclaimed. “Come and get it!”

Isn't that my line, after my first cookout?

Anyway, I got off work and came home, a little later than usual, as I had to drop off my carpool buddy, and traffic was heavy. When I got home, Mrs. Carter had to leave, and I had 3 kids to take with me, two of them eight years old, and one four. I got their dinner, and asked who wanted to go to the store. It was a ruse, as all of them had to go regardless. I couldn't leave them home alone, after all. After they ate, I sent them to get ready, which they all can do on their own, and the twins helped their sister as well.

When we got to the store, the younger twin said, “I have to go.” Turns out, so did his sister. After some fuming about not having gone prior to getting into the van, we went to the restrooms. I spent more time there than at the customer service counter. The second twin did not have to go yet. I made my way to the customer service counter, and I signed for the grill. Fortunately, there was someone available to help me load it into the van. After all that, the grill was too tall to fit through the door. Had to remove the lid. Fortunately, it was just two screws. Then I had to remove the other seat. (I had removed one on Saturday, in anticipation of loading the grill. ) I finally got the grill situated, and got both side doors shut, and then I noticed that the ground in front of the van was flooded with coolant. AAAARRRGH! I thought that was fixed. I am not sure what the problem is, but I suspect that the thermostat needs replacing. I can probably do that myself. I kept an eye on the temperature gauge on the ride home, and it stayed at the proper operating temperature the whole way. I just dunno.

On the ride home, one of the twins was making weird noises with his mouth, and his brother was threatening him with bodily harm if he didn’t quit. He didn’t quit. Next thing I hear is “Dad! He punched me!”

I said, “Of course he punched you. He told you he would if you didn’t zip it.” I couldn’t reach anyone in the back seat—the grill was in the way.

Then, the other twin said, “I have to go to the bathroom.” I almost pulled over and had him go on the side of the road. I asked, “Why did you not go in the store, when your brother and sister had to go?”

“I didn’t have to go then.”

GAK! PHHT! THPPPT! I think I popped a vein.

Deep breaths. Relax. Control your hands on the steering wheel. Better.

Then the Princess started to cry. One of the twins had taken her toy cell phone. I am in so much trouble when she is a teenager if she is already reacting to having her phone taken away like that. I did pull over for that one, and confiscated the phone.

Anyway, I got the grill home, replaced the lid and wheeled it into the garage. Now all I need is a propane tank and I'll be set.

I'll invite you to the barbecue when it happens.

Another Hmmm...

2006-05-05T21:07:00.000-06:00

Why, if the Autumnal Equinox marks the beginning of Autumn, does the Vernal Equinox not mark the beginning of Vern?

Woman Charged in Protest Against Hu?

2006-04-21T23:15:00.000-06:00

Associated Press, WASHINGTON - A woman accused of heckling Chinese President Hu Jintao during a White House appearance this week was charged Friday in federal court with a misdemeanor of willfully intimidating, coercing, threatening and harassing a foreign official.

Click on the following link for the complete AP Story:

http://news.yahoo.com/fc/World/China

Let me get this straight.

The president of China, which is the last bastion of pure communism of any import on the planet, and one of the most infamous countries in the world when it comes to violating human civil rights, comes to Washington D.C. He has a speech to give. He is in the United States, the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. He starts his speech. A woman begins to heckle him, saying things like, "Stop killing the Falun Gong," and "Your time is running out." (The Falun gong is a religious sect in China, outlawed by the communist government.) So, she is arrested.

Wait. Isn't this the land of the free? How is it that Hu's security could arrest this woman in the United States?

What's that? What's that you say? She was not arrested by Chinese Security, but rather by the United States Secret Service? Ah! I see now.

Wait. No I don't. I don't see at all.

I don't see why the United States is even being polite to this man, this purveyor of hypocrisy, this promoter of evil in the world. His country is one of the most despicable nations in the world. I still remember seeing Chinese tanks roll over the protesters in Beijing. I remember the lying and thieving that this country has perpetrated against MY country.

This woman has been arrested for willfully intimidating, coercing, threatening and harassing a foreign official. What is HE guilty of? Why can't action be taken against him?

Because he is a DIPLOMAT. A head of State. He deserves special consideration.

Why are we kowtowing to him, when we should be demanding explanations at the very least?

And most of all, why are we allowing this woman, who only wants to be free in her own country, be charged with a crime in our country, when we allow hundreds of thousands of Mexican Illegal Immigrants go scot-free?

You know, a little consistency would be nice.

My Easter Entry

2006-04-13T20:25:00.000-06:00

Easter is this weekend. Many people will attend church this Sunday, for the first time this year, possibly one of two times total that they will darken the doorway of the church at all this year.

Others will watch while children scramble after brightly colored eggs, barely obscured by shrubbery and new-mown grass. They will fill these same children’s heads with visions of a cute little rodent hopping around, incongruously distributing these eggs. (Why an Easter Bunny? Why not an Easter Chicken?)

Some Pagans will be celebrating new life, the emergence of spring, and growth of Nature, a rebirth.

Oddly enough, these last are celebrating a holiday closest in meaning to what I, as a Christian, consider to be the real meaning of this Holiday. Before the other Christians out there castigate me, permit me to explain.

Easter is, in my never-to-be-humble opinion, the most important holiday, or Holy Day, in Christianity. It is this day which is the culmination of all of the work that Jesus did while he was living His mortal life here on Earth, and prior to that as well. For thousands of years He has been preparing for this one event. He has given revelation to prophets throughout history, from the time of Adam, concerning His eventual Earthly mission. He has been misunderstood by most of humanity during all that time. When He finally got here, He was not just misunderstood; He was rejected by those who should have been there to welcome Him with open arms. He spent the first thirty some-odd years of his mortal life preparing himself to perform His ministry, which began with His purifying fast and subsequent temptation by Lucifer, and culminating in the events which we celebrate on Easter.

The thing is, even though I think on these events with some sadness, I can’t help but feel joy. You see, without the events of Easter morning and the few days that preceded them, the whole concept of Christianity would be useless. Allow me to elaborate.

On the Sunday prior to Easter, Jesus came riding into Jerusalem on the back of an ass’s colt. He was walking into the city, and He sent some of his disciples on ahead, telling them where they would find this creature. They did as He told them to do, and found the beast as He said they would. As He entered the city, the people, the common people, paved the way with their cloaks and waved palm fronds and shouted “Hallelujah!” He was celebrated and welcomed as the King of the Jews. There were various other events which happened during that week, such as the cleansing of the Temple, Mary washing his feet, several parables taught and confrontations with the Pharisees and Sadducees. Finally, He retired into an upper room, and in accordance with the traditions of the Jews, celebrated the Passover. Then, in a sacred and solemn ceremony, He washed the feet of His Apostles, and instituted the sacred ordinance of the Sacrament, saying, “…this do in remembrance of me.”

Later, He journeyed to the Garden of Gethsemane, and there, while His weary disciples slept, He prayed. He prayed for you, and He prayed for me. And not just for you and me alone, but for all mankind. For His sleeping disciples, for you, for me and for Saddam Hussein. For everyone. There He prayed, and in a way I will never understand, He took upon Himself all of our sins. His blood pressure must have skyrocketed then, under the stress of that burden, for we read in Holy Writ that He bled from every pore. Every microscopic opening in His skin oozed blood, soaking His clothing, probably running into His eyes, the way sweat runs into yours when you run a marathon. Only the marathon He was running was not as easy as running 26.2 miles. Yes, it was during this time that you and I were saved, if only we will accept Him into our lives. It was during this time that an angel from God appeared and supported Him. It was during this time that He submitted wholly to the will of the Father, and said, “Thy will be done.”

Then, the soldiers came. Led by a traitor, (notwithstanding the ancient texts that have been found recently) the soldiers came and after He was betrayed and identified with a kiss, the kiss of a once-trusted disciple, He was led away to be tried by His enemies.

Brought before Annas, who had retired and by Jewish Law no longer had any authority, He was first beaten, then “examined.” According to that same Jewish Law, the whole examination was illegal, being done at night. Then was He brought before Caiaphas, the current High Priest and son-in-law to Annas, and He was examined again. False witnesses were brought, and once again in direct contravention to the Law, He was then condemned by the words of His own mouth, when He declared to those assembled that He was, indeed, the Christ. Declaiming the need for further witnesses, they convicted Him of blasphemy.

Yes, Jesus, the Son of God, was convicted of blasphemy.

He was turned over to the Romans. Pilate, the Governor of Judea, found no fault in Him. After all, blasphemy against the God of the Jews was no concern to Rome. “Try again,” the enemies of Jesus said. “He is a seditionist.” Weak-willed and ambitious, Pilate did as they requested. Then, he presented both Jesus and Barabbas, who was a robber, to the multitude. On this holy day, he would release one prisoner to be pardoned of his crimes. The other would be crucified.

“Release the robber!” came the cry. The same voices which had earlier in the week proclaimed His divinity were now roaring with the cry, “Crucify Him!”

So, the Romans beat Him. They flogged Him with a whip with shards of stone, metal and other sharp objects braided into the lash. They flayed the skin off His body. One of them took some thorny vines and plaited a wreath. This he pressed down on Jesus’ head, forcing the thorns into the skin. Jeering, mocking, the Romans called Him “King of the Jews.” To them, this was a significant insult. Little did they know, He was.

Loading a heavy cross onto His shoulders, the Romans forced Jesus to walk through the streets of Jerusalem on his way to Golgotha, The Place of the Skull, also called Calvary. On the way, weary after a sleepless night, and the weight of the sins of humanity upon Him, He collapsed. One of the watchers, Simon from Cyrene, was compelled to carry the cross the rest of the way.

On the barren hilltop, He was thrown down on the cross, and there, using a method which they had perfected over hundreds if not thousands of instances, the Romans nailed His hands and feet to the wood. Long, thin nails were used, one driven into each of His hands through the palms, and then through the great median nerves in each wrist. Excruciating pain must have coursed through His entire body when they did that. (Try this: take the point of your thumb, place it on the tendons on the inside of your wrist, and press. Now imagine that your thumb is a nail, and you cannot stop someone from driving that nail all the way through.) Then through His feet, or really through His ankles, in such a way that He could relieve the weight of His body hanging on His arms only by putting all that weight on the nail through His feet.

Hanging there on the cross, He forgave those who drove the nails. He pledged Salvation to a thief, and gave over the protection of His mother to one of His disciples. He spoke only once about his own discomfort, saying “I thirst.” In the final moments of his torture, He cried out that even God the Father had abandoned Him. Then, after all that, He said, “It is finished” and “Father, into thy hands I commend my Spirit.”

Then he died.

The Romans were surprised. Usually, a man, especially a strong and healthy man like Jesus, would last several days on a cross. When the end came in a crucifixion, it was usually due to sheer exhaustion, asphyxiation, or sometimes dehydration. But Jesus died in only a few hours. So, the Roman soldier who was responsible for this particular crucifixion, in order to ascertain that Jesus was truly dead, pierced Jesus’ side with his spear. Blood and body fluids, the fluids that had built up in His chest cavity during the agonizing hours hanging on the cross, gushed out.

Jesus, the Son of God, was dead.

The sky darkened, stones cracked and the Earth trembled in shame. The veil in the temple was torn down the middle.

The Centurion exclaimed, “Truly this was the Son of God!”

Joseph of Arimathaea went and begged Pilate to let him have the body of Jesus, which Pilate did. It seems Pilate had no will of his own, when strong men required things of him. Joseph took the body and entombed it in a sepulcher he had purchased against his own demise, wrapped in a linen shroud and anointed in scented oil.

Then, it was the Sabbath, which for the Jews, starts on Friday night at sundown. The burial preparations were not complete, but according to Jewish Law, no further preparations for interment could be accomplished that day. Jesus body lay in the tomb, undisturbed, during the whole day of the Sabbath.

The morning after the Sabbath, Sunday, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, and an undetermined number of other women went to the tomb to complete the anointing of Jesus’ body. They were concerned, because Caiaphas had set a guard over the tomb and sealed the tomb with a stone, ostensibly to prevent Jesus’ followers from stealing His body, thereby being able to claim that Jesus had risen from the dead.

This is significant, by the way. It proves that Caiaphas understood and knew exactly what Jesus was preaching when He was living. It also shows even more of the character of Caiaphas. Just as the habitual liar continually suspects others of lying, and the thief is always the first to accuse others of stealing, Caiaphas, who would have stolen the body to prove his own beliefs, suspected that the disciples of Jesus would do the same. So he placed the guard and had a huge stone rolled in front of the tomb as well.

So while the two Marys and the others walked to the tomb, “they said among themselves, Who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the sepulcher?” They assumed that the guards set by Caiaphas would be little help. And they still went, feeling deep sorrow and the need to finish the burial preparations which had been begun two nights earlier.

But when they reached the tomb, the stone was already moved. At first, they must have celebrated their good fortune, but when they entered the sepulcher, that feeling was dashed: the body of The Master was gone. The burial clothes that he had been wrapped in were there, the linen robe in one place and the napkin which had shrouded his head in another.

While they sat wondering what had happened, two men appeared suddenly, wearing shining garments. They were angels, special messengers from the Lord. “Why seek you the living among the dead?” they asked. “He is not here, but is risen!” They instructed the women to go and tell the other disciples. They ran to do just that, all of them except Mary Magdalene. She must have had a special relationship with Jesus, for she sat at the door of the tomb, weeping, tears blurring her eyes, sobs racking her body.

Then, a voice asked her, “Woman, why weepest thou?” It was Jesus, risen from the dead as the angels had said. Through her tear-blurred vision, she assumed that He was a groundskeeper for the garden in which the tomb was situated, and replied, “Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him and I will take him away.”

Jesus said, “Mary.” Such love in that simple name. When He spoke that word, she knew who He was. How many times had she sat at His feet, heard Him speak her name, listened to His voice. She knew Him. That is all He has ever asked of us, you know. To know Him.

Then she was instructed to go and tell the other disciples that Jesus had indeed risen, and that He was going to be with His Father.

Of course she did just that, and following this there were several other events in which Jesus appeared to His faithful disciples. But the simple fact is this glorious message: He is Risen.

He is risen, and will never die again. He is risen and has made it so that we all will rise again. He is risen and has prepared the way for us to return to our Father. He is risen and showed us the way to live. He is risen and has saved us from our own sins, if we will just follow Him. This is the message we should celebrate on Easter. Not bunnies and eggs. Not candy. Not baskets and new dresses and bonnets. Not the first of two times you will attend church this year, but a justification for you to attend every week, and work towards your own salvation through Christ.

He is Risen!

Haven't written anything in while

2006-03-31T14:25:00.000-07:00

I've been busy with school and work.

Anyway, I wanted to make sure that anyone out there who is a regular reader didn't think that I had fallen off the edge of the world.

Speaking of which, I heard recently that there are people out there who are trying to further the notion that the Copernican theory is incorrect, and that the Earth is at the center of the universe. They say that the world is flat, the sun orbits the Earth and all that jazz.

The best part is, they are serious. I mock and ridicule them.

I wonder what would happen if I tried to further some logically insane notion like that, in the face of all reason. I mean, what if I tried to start a religion, or something, based on the visitation of space aliens to this planet. Then what if I became a famous movie star, and married (in succession, not all at the same time) three insanely beautiful women, and jumped on a white couch on a nationally syndicated television talk show. How would people treat me? Would anonymous bloggers mock me? Would nationally syndicated hosts from other talk shows play my footage over and over again? Would less attractive men the world over feel jealous of me?

Who knows? Will the world ever know? Will the world ever care?

In the meantime, I am going to go on quietly living with the one insanely beautiful woman I have been blessed to marry, living the religion I was raised in, in which the central character was arrested, condemned, tortured, ridiculed, killed, buried, and then came back from the dead. He also speaks to living, breathing prophets today, guiding His people using continuous revelation. One day, I hope to be able to return to live with Him. In a world where there are ridiculous things happening all around us, I am glad that I have something normal like this to fall back on.

Space Aliens! Sheesh!

It's the weekend. Whatever your religion, whatever your beliefs, practice them. Go to church, temple, synogogue, mosque, or home, but practice your religion. Make it your life, not your lifestyle.

Thanks for reading.

Bad advertising

2006-03-24T12:34:00.000-07:00

There is a car dealership in the area where I live. They are actually a series of dealerships, under the same name, you know ________ ________ Toyota, ______ _______ Dodge Chrysler, etc. They also sell a lot of trucks, Dodge, Ford and the rest. They call themselves the Truck HQ. I won't tell you the name, but it rhymes with Zen Barff. (which is not what emotionally well-balanced supermodels do to lose weight.)

They also raise my hackles every time I hear one of their ads on the radio. I listen to a lot of radio during the day, as I work at a desk job. They have several different commercials, but all of them feature one device: they "call" someone and brag about how good they are. The someone that they call is most often a "competitor" named Marty, whose dealership apparently is so well known that it has no name, it is simply "Dodge Trucks," and he answers the phone himself. Yet it is so inferior to Zen Barff Dodge Truck HQ that it is continually being undersold by them.

The other "calls" that Zen Barff people make are to customers of other dealerships. These are customers who have recently bought a vehicle that is identical to one that is currently being sold by ZB at a lower price that the customer paid. The ZB people call up and tell these ostensible customers what a rotten deal they got, and what a much better deal awaited them at ZB, if only they had come there, not to X dealership.

I guess my problem is that I was taught that it was not polite to mock others for being stupid, or incompetent, or whatever. I might have a responsibility to teach someone in those cases, but even if I don't, it is not right to literally try to profit from the mistakes of others. Now, these "others" are fictional, but the premise is not. When I hear one of these commercials, I want to change the station, not buy a Dodge truck from Zen Barff.

Whatever happened to advertising where the ad merely showcased the benefits of the product? What happened to advertising that Ivory soap is 99.44% Pure, so pure it floats!? No matter that it floats because of the extra air whipped into it during manufacturing. At least they tout only the positive about their product, they don't start telling everyone that Lava doesn't work as well because it is made with pumice, so it won't float.

It reminds me of political ads, in which the only recognizable theme is "My Opponent Stinks! I have it on good authority that he never bathes and only rarely changes his clothes. He even sleeps in them!" I despise this type of advertising in politics, too.

I don't have all the answers, but someone needs to tell Zen Barff that these ads are offensive. If I ever got a call from someone like that, my first impulse would be to ask where they had been while I was buying, as it does little good to call me aftery my purchase and berate me for having gotten a worse deal that what they were offering. Second, I would inform Zen Barff that I would not only never buy a car there, but that I would recommend that none of my friends ever shop there, all because of the offensive nature of this phone call!

The whole thing just irritates the heck out of me.

OK, Rant Off. Besides, everyone I have spoklen to about this tells me they think I am crazy.
So you get it, since if you are reading this, you probably have to.

Rejection

2006-03-17T11:25:00.000-07:00

I got my first rejection letter from a publisher yesterday.

I wrote a short story, you see. It is a suspense/crime/thriller story. Well, that's what it's supposed to be, anyway. I don't know if that's what it ended up being. But whatever it was, Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine didn't want it. The form letter was very encouraging, though. I have never been rejected so politely.

Now that I have my first one, I can get over the fact that I don't write very well yet, and perhaps get on with writing prolifically.

We'll see how that goes.

By the way, I have seen only one other person respond to my challenge to write an entry for the Bulwer-Lytton contest. What's up with that?

Oh, and Happy St. Patrick's Day. May you always be green and not with envy. Top of the morning to you, and all that jazz.

Here is a joke, to celebrate the day:

Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.

"What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.

"Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.

"O'Conner! But he's just a wee thing!" says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."

"That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."

"Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?"

"That I did," said Paddy ... "Mrs. O'Conner, and a thing of beauty she is, but useless in a fight."

My Bulwer-Lytton Entry

2006-03-10T20:28:00.000-07:00

So how is this for a beginning:

The tears burned in Stella's eyes like that time last summer when she was making nachos and got some jalapeno juice on her hand and then rubbed her eyes, making them burn like acid and almost blinding her in the process, although this time there was no real danger of being blinded, since these tears were only from the shame and guilt Stella felt from having been at a movie, not even a good one, when her mother died, and not at her mother's bedside until the end.

Now, your turn.

What do you do?

2006-03-09T21:02:00.000-07:00

People often ask me, "what do you do if you can't think of a good idea to write about?"

This entry would be a good example.

At least people would ask me, if I was famous, or something, and giving interviews to people who would ask questions like, "Where do you get your ideas?" or "What do you do if you can't think of anything to write about?" But I'm not famous, so I have to resort to making up hypothetical interview questions of my own and writing really poor blog entries about them.

I could try to spark a debate by making absolute and insulting statements to see if anyone would respond. I mean, if I said "All Democrats are morons, and should be stripped of their voting rights, except that would not give the Republicans anyone to spar with."

How about that?

Actually, I don't think that, so don't flame me, or anything. I was just trying to come up with something.

This is going to ramble a bit, so if you don't read it, that's fine.

Every year (since 1982, in which year the contest drew 3 entries total), San Jose State University holds the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. The idea is to write the worst opening line to a work of fiction, specifically a novel, you can think of. The contest is named for Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, who published the novel Paul Clifford in 1830. That novel begins with the famous line, "It was a dark and stormy night..." I wonder if the point of the contest has been lost over the years. Some of the winners this year (2005) are quite clever and imaginative. I suppose it is true that beginning a work of fiction with one of them would probably not be advisable, but they are clever and funny nonetheless.

Here are a few of my favorites, shamelessly harvested from the Bulwer-Lytton website. They are not my original work, and credit for the entries belongs to those who wrote them and San Jose State University.

Runner-Up:
When Detective Riggs was called to investigate the theft of a trainload of Native American fish broth concentrate bound for market, he solved the case almost immediately, being that the trail of clues led straight to the trainmaster, who had both the locomotive and the Hopi tuna tea.

Mitsy Rae
Danbury, NE

I liked this one better than the winner, though that one was very good too. But I like word play, and the winner had nothing on this one in that area.

Runner-Up
It was high noon in the jungles of South India when I began to recognize that if we didn't find water for our emus soon, it wouldn't be long before we would be traveling by foot; and with the guerilla warriors fast on our heals, I was starting to regret my decision to use poultry for transportation.

Eric Winter
Minneapolis, MN

This one just made me laugh out loud.

Winner: Historical Fiction
Sphincter, the gladiator, girded his loins in preparation for today's games, glad to be part of the season opener since he hadn't been sure until yesterday that his contract would be renewed, given his slump during the Germans-versus-lions series but he knew that swatting Germans into the lion's pit was trickier than it looked and he told the officials that they should look at his other stats, not just Huns batted in.

Robert Peltzer
Baltimore, MD

OK, here's another one with a pun. Or should I say, Hun. Hee hee.

Is it wrong that I love that name for a gladiator?

Dishonorable Mentions
"The night resembled nothing so much as the nose of a giant Labrador in excellent health: cold, black, and wet."

Devery Doleman
Brooklyn, NY

I have felt this way. Hasn't everyone?

Coincidentally, just as Rose hung out the third sheet out to dry, it started to rain down in sheets and not the soft kind like a fine 400-count Egyptian cotton, but more harsh like a cheap poly blend but even so, Rose didn't notice as she was three sheets to the wind.

Barbara Bridges
Sierra Madre, CA

Aaand another pun bites the dust.

I think that's enough for now. The full text of the winners can be viewed at the Bulwer-Lytton web site, which is at http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/#To%20inflict. If you would like to try your pen at the contest, the rules are posted there as well, or you can snail-mail your entry to the following address:

Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest
Department of English
San Jose State University
San Jose, CA 95192-0090

We could have a small contest of our own, if you want to respond with some entries in the comments. I will try to have some of my own, too.

More on the Constitution

2006-03-03T12:03:00.000-07:00

Here are a couple of interesting items. I had actually some information that these existed, so I am not surprised, but these are the first two Amendments to the Constitution that were proposed by Congress to the States. They were the first of twelve Amendments. After they were removed, not ratified, the Bill of Rights only included the Ten Amendments with which we are familiar. (Or are we? Who knows them from memory? I don't, but I know where to look them up.) Perhaps they were felt to be redundant, but I wonder if we should have kept the second one, at least.

Amendments Agreed to After Conference and Proposed by Congress to the States September 25, 1789

Article the first: After the first enumeration required by the first Article of the Constitution, there shall be one Representative for every thirty thousand, until the number shall amount to one hundred, after which, the proportion shall be so regulated by Congress, that there shall be not less than one hundred Representatives, nor less than one Representative for every forty thousand persons, until the number of Representatives shall amount to two hundred, after which the proportion shall be so regulated by Congress, that there shall not be less than two hundred Representatives, nor more than one Representative for every fifty thousand persons.

Article the second: No law, varying the compensation for the services of the Senators and Representatives, shall take effect, until an election of Representatives shall have intervened.

Here is the source website for the above.

http://www.constitution.org/dhbr.htm

How much do you know?

2006-03-02T21:30:00.000-07:00

I heard on a radio talk show yesterday that most Americans know more about The Simpsons than they do about the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States. At first, I scoffed, saying to myself, “Surely, everyone knows the First Amendment!”

Then, I said, “Who are you calling Shirley? And I don’t know the First Amendment, either. I know that there are five members of the Simpson family, (Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa and Maggie) and I can name at least five other characters on the show (Moe, Barney, Smithers, Mr. Burns, and Ned Flanders). I find this distressing, to say the least. I don’t even watch that much television. If you don’t believe that, ask my wife.

So, I looked up the Bill of Rights. In case you don’t know what that is, it is a list of Ten Amendments to the U.S. Constitution, specifically the first ten Amendments. I discovered that there are actually five different rights guaranteed in the First Amendment. This was a surprise to me, since I had always assumed that the first amendment was just the Freedom of Speech and Press Amendment. Actually, it is both more and less complicated than that. Here it is, for your perusal:

Amendment I
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

According to this, citizens of the U.S. are guaranteed the following:
1. Freedom to establish or join a religion of their own choice, without interference or coercion from the Government
2. Freedom of Speech, namely the freedom to speak out in criticism of the government without fear of reprisal.
3. Freedom of the Press, meaning that I can write anything I want here, and no one from the Government can censor me.
4. Freedom to Peaceable Assembly, specifically to protest. The key word here is “peaceable.” No right is guaranteed for assembling to protest, if your idea of protesting is hurling rocks and Molotov cocktails. In my not-so-humble opinion, hurling words can also be non-peaceable.
5. Freedom to Petition for Redress. I had to do further research on this one. I wasn’t sure what “redress” meant. But it boils down to this: if you have been wronged or injured, especially by the government, you have the right to ask for it to be made right, or at least to be compensated for it. Note that the right to Petition has been guaranteed, not the right to receive.

Now, I might not be a world-renowned Constitutional Scholar, but it only took me about 15 minutes to get this. I might also be wrong in my interpretation, but I don’t think so. I urge all of you to take a look at your life. What TV show do you know more about than the Constitution? How long would it take to learn more?

2006-02-28T00:24:00.000-07:00

Test Firing

Monday, Monday

2006-02-27T22:11:00.000-07:00

I started jogging again today. I actually run somewhat regularly, but have not for a while, since where I live it has been rather cold out. The weather today was glorious, if windy. i started out the run with two colleagues from work, but they quickly left me behind. I may run slow, but I never quit.

The wind was at my back when we started. The trail runs along the river, and there are always ducks in the river. I like to run there. It is rather pleasant, as pleasant as it can be with my lungs wanting to climb out of my chest. The ducks quietly quacked as I ran by, maintaining their position in the river. This was the easy part.

The hard part came when I turned around. Facing the wind is not only a physical barrier with me, but it is also a psychological one. My legs were leaden; the wind made my eyes water and tears streamed down my cheeks. "Really," I told my buddies, "I'm not crying." But I pushed on. And on. And on.

I have learned not to hate running, but not by much. I do it to stay fit, and because the Army says I have to. Personally, I think learning to run breeds cowardice. The British conquered most of the known world in their heyday without a recognizable Physical Training regimen. Of course they also walked everywhere they went, and stood in lines to let the enemy shoot at them. Cowardice to them was flinching when a musket ball came too close. Whatever. I guess the trade-off is worth it, right? I keep telling myself that.

I also told myself that I will try for the Freedom Festival 10K again this year. I have done it a couple of times in the past, and always cherished the tee-shirt I got. I had to: it was all I got, except aches and pains. I never even came close to placing high enough to get any medals or recognition. But I might one day actually enjoy running if I keep it up. Right?

Right.

Maybe.

Hmmm?

2006-02-26T12:17:00.000-07:00

If sesame seeds don't have any arms or legs, how do they cling to the bun?

My Pets

2006-02-24T14:10:00.000-07:00

Do you have a pet? I do. He is a cat named Arab (ay'-rab). Arab has been with us a long time, through three moves and half a dozen other cats. He would have been the progenitor of a long line of other cats, had we not had the foresight to have him fixed in his infancy. I know this because even though he had no need to defend his territory agains other toms, he still became the "LeRoy Brown" of cats in our neighborhoods. ("Badder than old King Kong, Meaner than a junkyard dog" -- Apologies to Jim Croce)

At least one child I know now has a phobia of cats because of Arab. He would sit on her (outside) bedroom windowsill at night, and when cars drove by, the headlights would cast the shadow of a huge cat on the opposite wall of her bedroom. She still has problems whenever she sees a cat.

He is loving, caring and doting on all of his personal care items. The humans in his life he treats with a certain amount of disdain, depending upon how much they can do for him. He will run to the kitchen if he hears a can being opened, and want at least a taste of what is there, regardless of what it is in the can. Tuna is his favorite, though.

He loves to have his fur combed, and he likes his head and ears scratched. He does not like to have our daughter sit on him. She tries that a lot. He is grumpy when she does that, and usually bites, though only to warn, never to hurt. Arab has learned a great deal about what can hurt a child. He used to hamstring my second son, and bring him down like a lion on a wildebeest. This when my son was five and Arab only about seven months.

Now, Arab likes to sit in the sunbeams as they come through the windows on sunny days. He sleeps most of the day and night. He can hardly jump up on a regular bed, when he used to sleep on the top bunkbed. He probably does not have much longer in this world, and I'll miss him when he is gone.

I think everyone should have a pet like Arab.

Your Comments are welcome

2006-02-24T13:06:00.000-07:00

I realized, after someone close to me said something, that I had created this forum with the provision for others to make comments. However, the comment feature was open only to those who had blogs of their own. As I did not think that making members of my family or my friends create their own blogs simply to respond to mine was a great idea, I have changed it to allow others outside of the blog to comment.

So, feel free to do so. If you want to.

I feel the need to explain

2006-02-22T20:46:00.000-07:00

The poem I wrote for my beloved wife is taken from an experience we both had while in Hawaii. The incongruity of some of the lines is exactly how we both felt having observed the phenomenon described. Have you ever wanted to gouge out your mind's eye? OUCH!

My Valentine's Day Poem for My Wife

2006-02-22T20:25:00.000-07:00

Beauty stands on the rocks,
Waves crash on the shore.
The tides rush the channels
Filling the bowl, flooding out
The crabs and washing clean the stone
In and out, up and down,
With her hair flowing in the wind,
In her gauzy gown she appears to soar
On currents of air like water.
Copper, golden tresses, caressing
Her face, heaven jealous of her splendor.
The setting sun highlights her summer-
Sun-bleached locks. She is Beauty.
She is Love.
She is Alive.
Oh!—My!—Gosh!
Don’t!
Look now! But there is a naked
Fat man under the highway.
What in the world is he doing?
Tending his fire? Who knows?
Beauty turns away;
She doesn’t care—she is with her lover.
And that is all that matters.