Feelin' refweshed

If you've seen the film Blazing Saddles, then Madeline Kahn's faux-Dietrich accent in the title will make sense. Once again I've neglected my blog. I was giving thought of shutting it down come January, 2009. It seems that the shelf life of your typical blog is three years, so it seemed natural to pull the plug on this distraction at that point. But something wonderful happened to me this past weekend. Being off from work for two weeks has allowed me to go to bed much later than usual. And as luck would have it, I caught a few minutes of a truly awful movie called, "Blood Freak." To sum up the whole plot in a sentence, a guy is turned into a giant turkey who then goes after drug dealers. No clue why the major studios turned this script down. To see a guy wandering around wearing a giant turkey mask, well, makes me believe in mankind again and realize that there are things still out there that need to be brought to the publics attention.

Holy crap!

The frequency at which I've been blogging has decreased quite a bit over the past year. This is due in large part because I've been focusing more time on my Flickr account and trying (trying is the key word here) to become a better photographer. I have a shotgun philosophy when it comes to taking pictures: point and shoot everything you see, then decide later on what's worth keeping. There are a few pictures in my collection that I'm genuinely pleased with; for the most part I think I could've taken most of my pictures better, either in composition or in exposure levels. But it seems the goofy shots are the ones people lock in on. At the moment there is one such goofy shot in the first page of my pictures. I posted it last Wednesday, and since then it has had, at last count, round 7,570 views. Consider that for the most part my pictures average between 20-40 views, with a couple in the 400-700 range. That I have a picture with over seven thousand views boggles my mind. But it's also pretty cool insofar that people are looking at my pictures. If you know me, then you know how to contact me for my Flickr account address.

Sarah Palin - Socialist

Hypocrisy...it tastes just like chickenhawk.

Full court press

With the Election Day less than a week away now, the frequency and negativity of political advertisements have picked up dramatically. That's really been the case in the senatorial race between incumbent Saxby Chambliss and Democratic challenger Jim Martin. Things have taken a turn for the ugly between the two campaigns, with allegations flying back and forth every 60 seconds. I'm assuming the Chambliss campaign didn't take Martin too seriously at first, as they originally aired advertisements that were weak and ineffective, to say the least. But Martin closed the gap and the polls show the race to be very close.

What's more interesting to me are not the commercials both candidates are running on television right now, but the increasing number of commercials being run that are sponsored by national organizations outside of Georgia. It would seem both parties have woken up and realized that Georgia may not be the red state that they thought it would be and are now fighting it out. In order for the Democrats to establish a veto-proof majority in the Senate, they have to win one of the seats up for grabs in the south, and Saxby's looking like a boxer who's been bloodied and bruised, but not beaten. We'll know this time next week whether Jim Martin can pull the upset or not, and whether the Democrats further secure Congress.

But until then, six more days of these damned political ads on television.

That long?

You mean to say that it's been over a month since I last posted a blog entry? Geez. Not sure what I should write about. I could write about the U.S. presidential campaign, but I'm getting kind of tired of it. I've cast my vote already, so be done with it. I could write about the 10% budget cuts we're expecting at work for next year, and how unsuspecting students are about to get waylaid by a serious recession of approximately one-third in classes and seats in our schedule next year. I could write about the two toilets in our restrooms on this floor, one of which can barely flush water while the other one has such power that I think it actually creates a black hole around the seat; nothing escapes, not light, matter, or some poor unsuspecting dope who stands too close to the bowl.

As of this January I will have been blogging for three years. My goal is to make it that far at least before quitting this hobby.

Hypocracy...it's what's for dinner.

Can you smell the hypocracy? Can you taste the double standard? This election is about issues, folks. Don't fall for manufactured circus sideshows.

Aim high

I recently took my family out to dinner at a local restaurant. From a neighboring table I overheard one of the more ridiculous comments I've heard of late. A young man with his girlfriend and his mother dining with him said, "One of the things I really want to do before I die is go to Vegas and lose $1,000."

Such aspirations! Still, it doesn't top the comment made by a girl I worked with 15 years ago. She told me she wanted to be a Hooters girl (she definitely had the bust for it) because they got into NASCAR races for free. But she also used to abbreviate the word "associates" as "ass." Imagine receiving a letter addressed to "Emergency Medicine Ass." Now I'm wondering if I pissed away four years of my life and thousands of dollars to get a college education.

It ain't amazing

Have you ever wanted to know what a garbage truck full of kittens sounds like when you drop the truck off the Empire State Building? Here ya go. Enjoy...or not.

Keeping watch

With the remnants of Tropical Storm Fay loitering around the Southeast, dropping lots of rain on the region, they've issued a flash flood watch for a goodly portion of northeast Georgia. In response I say, it's about goddamn time we got some rain. Bring it on...six inches, eight, twelve...it's doesn't matter, we need it. The main river through town which is our primary source for drinking water is way, way, way, way down. It's more of a creek than a river at the moment.

Things don't always go as planned

Recently I took a longer and more scenic route to work, as I needed to put gas in my car and the bank having just approved my small business loan, everything was a go to put half a tank in. Unfortunately on this particular day, I was frequently delayed in going from gas station to the deck where I park my car. On this morning the sororities on campus were starting their Panhellenic festivities, the process where girls visit different houses in hopes one will offer them a bid to pledge. I was about two car lengths behind a campus bus when it stopped in front of a sorority house. A long line of girls proceeded across the street, gathering on the walk leading up to the house. At the end of the line was a girl who stood out amongst the rest. I wouldn't say she was fat, but it this were a personal ad she'd fall into the "few extra pounds" category. Her physical frame was definitely larger than the rest of the bleached-blonde, sun-dress wearing preying mantis' who had gotten off the bus before her. She wasn't unattractive by no means, she just stood out from the rest, which isn't always a good thing in these types of circumstances. I hoped for the best for her, but it occurred to me that things don't always go as you plan them.

And that's been the case for me of late. For many months I had been looking forward to my trip to New York, my first visit back since 1978. I was concerned about a great many things leading up to the trip, such as trying to drive around an area that I really wasn't familiar with, the traffic, running out of money. For the past several years I've been thinking more and more of New York, my family there, and what my life would've been like if my family hadn't up and moved to Georgia many years ago. I was sure the trip would result in my thinking, it's a nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there.

We flew into LaGuardia on a Thursday morning, caught a shuttle to the Enterprise car rental facility just outside the airport, where we were pleased to find out that our reservation had been upgraded because they were out of compact cars. We'd be traveling around Long Island in a Toyota Rav4, which was nice because it had plenty of room inside. I told myself to avoid the Long Island Expressway at all costs because of some pretty horrible accidents I've read about on there, but before I knew it I found myself driving on the LIE. Uh, oh.

But I managed to navigate me and the family out to Uniondale, where I used to live. I got to show my daughter the house where my family used to live, and was able to introduce her to a former neighbor who still lives in the same house after all these years. The next week was spent visiting stores looking for NY Giants and Islanders apparel, visiting cemeteries to pay my respects to my grandparents and great-grandparents, traveling into Manhattan and seeing Ellis Island and Times Square. During our trip we stayed with my aunt and her family on the north shore of Long Island. For the first couple of days there my uncle and his wife traveled up from Virginia to see us. It was as close to a family reunion as I could hope for, and it was great. All the while, I never felt like a pilgrim setting foot in a new land. I felt like I was home. As much as I thought this would be the trip that made me glad I didn't live there, it didn't work out that way. It was a wonderful visit, and it won't be thirty years before I go back, that's for certain. When I got back home I started checking job listings for the area, but moving back isn't really an option; it's just too expensive to live there.

A few days after we got back from our New York trip, my wife and I headed out of town again to attend my 25th high school reunion. My observations from my 20th reunion comprise one of my first blog posts. I can't say the event was very enjoyable for me. The planners chose to include three graduating classes--82, 83, & 84--to help spread the costs, which is a good idea. A few people whom I was hoping would show up didn't. On the other hand, I got to see a friend of mine who I hadn't seen in twenty-six years. In addition to high school, we were also in Cub Scouts together and played rec league soccer as well. It was good seeing him again and meeting his wife. But other than that, I didn't enjoy myself at all. I don't do well in groups of people I don't know, so all I wanted was to get out of there, which we did about an hour and a half after arriving. My wife was disappointed that I didn't have fun, but she understood completely why I wanted to leave.

In five years our 30th reunion will be coming up, but I'm not planning on attending. I'm in touch with the people I want to be in touch with. As for the rest, I'm sure you're good people but there's nothing connecting us other than we went to the same school. I'm not looking back anymore, and I'm okay with that.

Losing Faith

I'll admit to being a bit surprised and disappointed to read that my friend Todd Mitchell decided to close up shop at his Article of Faith blog. I really can't say I blame him, though. For three years he frequently posted his running commentary on the political issue of the day, and did so in a much more eloquent manner than I could. So that's one less blog I'll have to look forward to. Still, I'm sure I'll be seeing Todd again in the future. Actually, I know I will--he has monthly payments to make as I still have those incriminating photo negatives.

Sometimes it's not interesting

I've blogged before about how, to drown out the background, I listen to the local police scanner while at work. It can be very interesting, especially listening to transmissions during foot chases. Right now is not one of those interesting times.

About an hour before I wrote this the police received a call from someone who claimed that he had hurt his wife and was threatening to hurt himself. To make matters worse, this was in relation to an ongoing divorce proceeding. Long story short, the police made entry to the house a short while ago and reported two people with fatal headshot wounds. They're now in the process of contacting the next of kin. It pains me to know that in a little while someone will have their life thrown into upheaval as they find out their son or daughter was a victim of a murder -suicide. And then it will be splashed all over the front page of tomorrow's newspaper.

You might be a Redneck if...

...if you take your wife and kids to Chuck E. Cheese while wearing a shirt bearing a happy face and the caption, "Smile if you swallow." Yeah, I did see that this evening.

Shimajiro and the Toilets

I don't know which is more disturbing: the Japanese penchant for violent, anime porn, or this video.

So wrong on so many levels

Sometimes I'm dumbfounded at the toys that make it to market, though I'm not sure this one's legit. This one's just wrong, and dad looks a little too eager to get peed on.

Why DHL Sucks

I've ordered a number of things online over the past several years, and generally have had good experiences with both vendors and shipping services. As a rule, I usually will have things delivered to me at my work address so that an unattended box is not sitting on my front porch during the day, just waiting for some little shit to come steal it. That's not very likely in the neighborhood where we live now, but when I first started ordering online back in 2001, having a box stolen off our porch was very likely where we were living at the time.

After the New York Giants won the Super Bowl this year, I waited a few days before going online to order up a t-shirt commemorating their victory. It's a tradition in this country to attach our egos to sporting teams by wearing shirts like that, and this was one of those occasions where I fully wanted to participate in that tradition. The Wednesday after the Super Bowl I went the Giants' online store and ordered a championship t-shirt. I chose the shipping option that should have it in my hands in about ten days, and I wanted it delivered to my work address. My online order done, I patiently waited for my order.

And waited.

And waited.

After 10 days I logged back on the Giants' store to check the status of my order. It had shipped a couple of days after I had placed my order. To my dismay, the shipper was DHL. The tracking link gave even more bad news. My order had been delivered two days prior.

Of all the shipping services I've been subjected to, DHL totally sucks. When my sister-in-law signed me up for a microbrew beer club a couple of Christmases ago, it was DHL who delivered the boxes of beer--or tried to at least. Because of the nature of the packages, my beer deliveries required an adult signature. Did DHL attempt to deliver after 5 pm when an adult would be home? Hell, no! They tried to deliver most of my boxes around 11:30 in the morning. Farktards!

So with no t-shirt delivered to me but with a status stating that it had, I called DHL to find out where the hell my package was. The customer service rep was marginally cordial, and but surprised when I countered her claim that the package had been delivered and signed for. I had done my homework. Prior to calling them I had contacted the unit on campus that receives deliveries from various shipping companies. They had not received anything for me, and not only did the person who allegedly signed for the package not work there, there's no such person at all employed on this campus.

The next step was being transferred to the local office and a conversation with the manager there. He would contact the driver who delivered it and get back with me. A week later, I get a call back with an explanation that he delivered it to the central receiving office--the same people who had already told me they never received it. Then comes the kicker: he tells me they have to deliver there because they're not allowed to deliver on campus.

In the spirit of football, I'm throwing a flag on that play, the call: Bullshit! Twenty minutes ago we received in our department a shipment of four boxes. The company that delivered it? DHL. So much for not being allowed on campus. Crappy service and they lie like a cheap, seven dollar WalMart rug.

Eventually I got my money back, but the moral of the story here is, if you're ordering something online, make sure they don't ship via DHL. I'll never order from anyone who uses them. Now I have to go to New York to get my damned Giants Super Bowl championship t-shirt.

It's not always intuitive

Sometimes things are just not as they appear. Sometimes our intuition says that something must be so, but it just doesn't turn out as we expect. I was reminded about that recently in a story that a friend of mine told me. He and his wife are on a mission to get back in shape this year, and so have purchased all the accoutrement's necessary for exercising. One evening his wife was online and wanted to go to the website for Dicks Sporting Goods. Naturally her intuition told her that the web addy should, by all accounts, be www.dicks.com. Don't go to that address as it's not the URL for Dick's Sporting Goods. Rather than being greeted by a site full of listings for sporting goods, she was treated to a site displaying penises, nothing but penises and lots of them. Needless to say she was really embarrassed by what she saw and immediately went to another website. Clearly she wasn't looking for golf or badminton equipment, as I'm sure there were plenty of shafts and shuttlecocks ready for her perusal.

I'm an idiot

Or so my boss apparently thinks I am. This morning I had to distribute info sheets to my fellow staffers with our raises for next year. To describe our raises as a pittance would be an understated insult to the word, "pittance." What we'll do with the extra $50 a month (after taxes) we'll never know...perhaps purchase half a tank of gas?

But what irked me was the cover memo my boss included with our info sheets. The raises for staff were a meek 3%, to which the memo reminded us that our higher paid faculty, including my boss, were also held to that 3% standard. Now, I didn't earn membership in five different academic honorary societies because I'm a complete and total farktard. A quick calculation of a 3% raise for my boss reveals that his salary increase in total is five times what mine is. The poor baby! He already makes plenty of money doing God knows what (I do a lot of his work for him), so I certainly hope he can make ends meet with his raise. But I'm an idiot...what do I know?

Democracy v. Communism

Thank goodness the Cold War geo-political chessboard wasn't decided by breakdancing. Otherwise, we'd have received a serious smackdown by the Soviets.

Bad album covers

They're all over the internet--digital images of bad album covers. The imagery runs from outright laughable to what-the-hell-were-they-thinking. I thought I had seen all of the bad covers out there, but I found a few recently that deserve commentary.

Buy my record or I will eat you. Little David Wilkins, king of all the taverns. At first glance I thought perhaps he was British, but the lack of bad teeth indicated that he wasn't. Turns out he's from Nashville, Tennessee (go figure). Despite the fact the he's clutching his chest as a pork roast tries to make its way through his ascending aorta, this guy is still alive. He has his own website here, though the music that plays when the site loads has him singing about food. Stay away from the ham sandwiches, David. You remember how that worked out for Mama Cass.



When he's not beating his girlfriend or playing chicken with trains, RayBob here is making records. This is a true WTF album cover if I've ever seen one. I don't think I've ever heard his smash hit, "I Seen Her First," but it's a safe guess it was quickly followed up with his next smash hit, "You Sure Got a Perty Mouth." And that mullet...holy shit! If you've got more hair on the back of your head than on the sides, you're doing it wrong. Fail!





Let's make a record, Mr. Hat. Not since Mr. Garrison on South Park has there been such a successful man-puppet tag team duo in the entertainment world. Kind of hard to play guitar with a puppet on your fret board hand, isn't it, Don? Or are you Seymour? Fuck, guys, wear nametags or something so we know who's who! It's distinctly possible that the puppet has a better agent and thus wound up with top billing in this act.

That special feeling

One of the downsides of getting older is that some of your bad habits from your younger days begin to manifest themselves. In my case it has been my diet, or lack there of, which was made even worse during my college days when I had to eat what I could when I could, convenience over quality.

At my last doctor's appointment this past November he noted that my bad cholesterol was kind of high. Of course he recommended watching my diet (don't they all) and to start taking fish oil caplets for the Omega-3 compound that helps bring cholesterol and triglyceride levels down. The news worked out well, as I had braces put on my teeth just a few weeks before and my whole diet changed to accommodate them. In the time since the braces went on my teeth my weight is down about 10-15 pounds. On the down side of my doctor's recommendation were the caplets.

I've never been really good at taking pills, which bodes poorly for me if I ever become a celebrity. Fish oil caplets are horse pills, in my opinion. They're about three-quarters of an inch long, so the only way I'm going to be able to take a horse pill is by having one fired down my throat using a bolus gun. Compounding my problem swallowing pills is the brace-related wire that's on the roof of my mouth. Not being able to get my tongue to reach the roof of my mouth affects how I swallow not just pills, but food as well (pizza is an especially risky food for me).

An alternative to the fish oil caplets has been flaxseed oil, but I hadn't been able to find it in a form I could ingest. Until today, that is. The family and I traveled north to Commerce, Georgia, to get a gift certificate as a Mother's Day present for my mom at a store she loves to shop at. As we walked along the storefronts at an outlet mall, we passed one for a place called Vitamin World. On a whim I decided to go in and see what they had in the fish oil category. Once again, they had the caplets the size of horse pills. Damn! But wait...near the top shelf were bottles of flaxseed oil. At first glance all I saw were bottles of pills, but moving down one shelf there were bottles containing flaxseed oil in liquid and in ground form. Huzzah! Finally, flaxseed oil in a form I can take.

I grabbed a bottle of liquid off the shelf and made my way to the register. The Asian couple ahead of me in line seemed to be buying everything that caught their eye. Their final total was over $500. I can imagine that their breakfast each morning consists of a plate of pills and a cup of coffee; if they're hungry enough they'll chase the pills with perhaps some eggs or pancakes. Eventually I was able to shell out $13 for the bottle of flaxseed oil and leave the store.

I started reading the label once we got home and opened the bottle to see what the oil smelled like. No discernible smell, a positive sign as I was worried that it would smell awful. The label called for a teaspoon twice a day, preferable with a meal. I've already eaten, I rationalized, so I opened the bottle and grabbed a teaspoon from a kitchen drawer. No better time than the present, I thought. With some trepidation I poured the yellowish liquid into the spoon, put the spoon in my mouth, and....

Holy crap! For the record flaxseed oil really doesn't have much of a taste but the texture leaves much to be desired. It was like doing a shooter full of Wesson cooking oil. Blah! I grabbed for my water bottle to wash the residue out of my mouth. When they said flaxseed "oil" they weren't kidding. So now I'll be taking the stuff twice a day for a while. But why is it that everything that's good for you tastes like crap?

Breakin' & poppin'

Listen my children and you shall hear, a nightmarish tale (or video in this case) from the 1980s: actor Alfonso Ribiero hawking his "Breakin' & Poppin'" video. Welcome to Hell, kids, and it's only $19.99 plus shipping and handling.

Countdown

Five weeks. Thirty-five days. Eight hundred and forty hours. Fifty thousand and four hundred minutes. That’s how long before the family and I head off to New York for my first visit there in thirty years (I’ll spare you the weeks/days/hours/minutes break down of thirty years). But who’s counting? I am! It was roughly this time back in 1978 when my dad received a phone call from my uncle letting him know that my grandmother had passed away. Funerals are never fun for twelve year olds, and it's not fun to visit a place under such pretexts.

So I’m looking forward to going back to Long Island to visit old stomping grounds, hanging out with family, visiting Manhattan. My daughter insists on seeing the city and I’m okay with that—any opportunity to let her see the Empire State Building &Times Square, and dine on authentic New York thin crust pizza (not the crap that passes for NY style cuisine around here). What I'm really looking forward to is shooting pictures in Manhattan, especially the many examples of architecture to be found there. It'll be hard not to overwhelm my Flickr account after the trip is over.

At the same time I’m a little nervous about the trip. This will be the first time I’ve been to Long Island as a licensed driver, so some of my time of late has been trying to learn the major routes in order to navigate around the place. Although I’ve driven in the very scary traffic around Atlanta on a number of occasions, I’m wondering how well I’ll do in New York traffic on LI. I do plan on avoiding the Long Island Expressway if at all possible, and riding the railroad to travel into Manhattan. My maternal grandfather and my great grandparents are buried in a cemetery in the East Flatbush section of Brooklyn. I’d like to go pay my respects but I don’t know what kind of neighborhood is around there.

Nonetheless, this will be a good trip. And it’s only five weeks away!

LOL (Ha, ha)

The funniest thing I've seen in a while on You Tube. It's a clip from Detroit's Fox affiliate of one of their on-air talents reading text messages sent by Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick to his chief of staff, Christine Beatty (despite the fact that he's married). Kilpatrick is facing multiple felony charges of perjury, misconduct in office, and obstruction of justice. The only thing missing from the reading of these text messages is a softcore porn soundtrack.

Luck of the one-quarter Irish

Hello, blog. I've been neglecting you again and I'm sorry. Life's been busy lately and, well, it's been hard for me to see the humor in things. Not to mention there hasn't been much time to take a simple idea and try to develop it into a full blog entry. No promises, but I'll try to do better.

Life's been kind of a drag of late, but it hasn't been without its surprises. Work has been really friggin' busy, as it usually is at the end of a semester. But everything seemed to hit at once this time and I can't figure out why. Actually I can. The usual housekeeping stuff I have to do at the end of a semester normally keeps be busy enough for a while, but this semester we had the extra bonuses of a faculty third year review, another faculty member starting the process for promotion and tenure, and a spousal hire for someone being offered a job in another department. It's times like these when an effective department head can offer leadership to get things done in a timely manner. Unfortunately, we lack that sort of thing here. I've said it before and I'll say it again: my boss is a nice guy, but he's a dink. I hesitate to use the term "empty suit," but I can't think of a more apt description. And as my boss is in his last year as head, I fully expect him to be "phoning in" his job as he writes more books while he can still use the department as a cheap marketing firm. The end result will be I'll wind up being the defacto head while only looking forward to a whopping $600 raise next year, which, after taxes and increased fees on campus, comes out to around $210. And I don't even get a kiss and dinner before I get screwed.

On the other hand, some of the faculty around here have been very kind to me. I get along quite well with them so that's often not a big deal. But what they did for Administrative Professionals Day was very cool, even if I think it was a bit too much. On the phone one morning a few weeks ago with one of our faculty members I was asked what I wanted for Admin Profs day. Jokingly I blurted out, "A Playstation 3." When the next question was how much they cost, I insisted that I was just kidding and that I'd have one of my own next year. And what should be delivered to my office a few days after April 23? Yeah, a Playstation 3. I work with some good people.

My family ancestry is three-quarters German and one-quarter Irish, and I'll gladly take the luck that comes with the one-quarter of my lineage. Sure, my life will get even busier over the next year but at least it comes with job security. And at least I'll have some shoot-em-up games on the PS3 to take my frustrations out with.

Oh..my..Gawd

Mr. Sulu, set phasers to kill it with fire and eliminate it from our collective memory!!!

Thud

Introducing the Thudguard, the "Infant Protective Safety Hat." When I was a kid we called these things "helmets." From their website: "Learning to walk in a world of hard surfaces can turn a special moment into a heart rendering incident in a flash. It's normal for young children to sustain bumps and bruises occasionally as part of exploring; the problem is this kind of fall is very common in even the safest of homes and gardens."

Kids fall down all the time when they're learning to walk. I did, my daughter did, hell, we all did. While the idea of a protective helmet is a novel notion, honestly, if you've properly child-proofed your home a head injury caused by falling while trying to walk isn't very likely. Other injuries are more common in these types of falls. My daughter fell asleep in my arms one more than one occasion after falling down and hurting herself, her blood on my shirt from where she bit her lip.

This is one of the most pointless inventions since Ronco's Spray-On Hair or the Shower Microphone sponge.

F the Pious

I try to maintain a laid back lifestyle and personality. I don't wear my heart or my politics or my personal beliefs on my sleeve, and I certainly don't try to ram them down someone else's throat. Live and let live; what may be okay to me may not be so for someone else. But not everyone lives by that viewpoint.

Yesterday after work I had to walk downtown to take care of some minor business, with a side agenda of perhaps taking some pictures. Once again, the sky was nothing but overcast and glare, not exactly the ideal conditions for shooting photos. It's been about 10 days since we've really seen the sun, though in a few months we'll have nothing but sun and we'll be cursing it for making things so damned hot and evaporating what water we have left in these here parts.

On my way to my car I made what I considered an outstanding textbook maneuver to avoid a homeless looking lady panhandling for money. However, karma's payback was quick and annoying. As I crossed the street another lady comes up to me.

"Good afternoon, sir. I'm Blahblahblah (I didn't catch her name). Are you aware that God loves you?"

Shit, I thought, another proletyzing Jesus krispy. These people bug me about as much as the idiots who try to sell me newspaper subscriptions or hand me coupons in case I'm interested in eating at the latest overpriced restaurant downtown which will be closed within six months.

"Well," I replied, "that's what I've been told but I don't believe it's true."

I kept walking and avoiding eye contact, hoping against hope that she'd take the clue and leave me the hell alone. She kept walking with me, and then upped the ante.

"If you died today do you think you'd go to Heaven?"

Enough of this. Time to put an end to this one-way conversation. I stopped and turned toward her.

"There is no Heaven. Our consciousness is a result of complex chemical reactions in our brains. Heaven is our brain cells and synapses misfiring as our brains die from lack of oxygen. Any questions?"

A few seconds of silence, followed by, "Thank you, sir, have a nice day."

Mission accomplished. And I went on my unholier than thou way.

Going home

Wow! For whatever reason it appears that the number of visits to this blog has spiked of late. I've no clue as to why that may be, so I guess that less attention should be paid to my Flickr account and more time spent writing.

Despite all the bullshit I've had to deal with lately, I'm in a good mood. My braces have been a mixed blessing, as I've lost around 10-15 pounds (it fluctuates) since they were put on. On the flip side, I've had two of the brackets come off in the past few weeks. One of my faculty members has been dismissed for engaging in ill-advised bad behavior. This past weekend I had the displeasure of going to an Easter Egg Hunt featuring some big prizes, such as a PS3 and a Nintendo Wii, and rude people, kids and adults alike. When the horn started the hunt the kids starting pushing and shoving in an attempt to find the eggs bearing the certificates for the major prizes. In the area set aside for small children, parents were able to accompany their kids. My wife kept an eye on our friend's daughter. At one point, two parents, in their over zealous attempts to get as many eggs as possible, crushed this little girl between their generous, corn-fed buttocks when they bent over. It was like swimming at the Great Barrier Reef as your friends throw bloodied fish heads into the water around you.

But it's all good. In a couple of months I'm going home for a visit. Sure, I've called Georgia home for the past 33 years, but I'm from Long Island, New York. And soon I'll be back there for my first visit home in 30 years, and only my second visit since my family moved away. And now this time I'll be bringing my own family along with me. For the longest time my daughter has wanted to go to New York, as she's heard me say so much about it and wanted to see the places where I spent the early part of my childhood. She also motivated by my aunt who has already stated that she'd love to take my daughter out for a day of shopping, and nothing gets my daughter motivated like a shopping spree (and she's only 8!!).

The underlying reason for the trip is simple: the high school my grandfather played football for in the 1930s gives an award out in his name each year at their athletic association's annual banquet. It's the last and most prestigious award (their words, not mine) given out and is apparently quite coveted. My aunt has invited me up the past couple of years to attend the banquet, but scheduled family vacations have interfered with the dates. Not this time; I emailed the school's athletic direction last September to inquire when the banquet was this time, so I made sure I had cleared the calender so I could go.

My airfare has been taken care of, and I'm looking forward to flying up there. My brain has been damaged by trying to think of all the things I want the family to do and see while we're up there (and I'm hoping a week long trip will be enough time). Mandatory agenda items include visiting my old neighborhood, the elementary school I went to, see the park where the school I attended kindergarten used to stand (it's now a park but the clubhouse has pictures of the old building), and going to the cemeteries where my grandparents are buried. Things I hope to do are head to the NY Islanders store in the Broadway Mall, take the family into Manhattan of a day, and go to Modells and buy a replica Brooklyn Dodgers cap.

You can't go home again, so the saying goes. And I'm sure this upcoming trip will affirm my belief that New York is a fine place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Life in Georgia really sets well with me. While I'm looking forward to the trip, I do not relish the prospect of eating at restaurants that don't serve sweet tea--those uncultured barbarians!

Erin go Barf

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Letting go

Yesterday I had the most unpleasant task for a pet owner, that being making the decision to put down a suffering animal. My dog Zachary had been in my family since December of 1992, an addition to the household after losing two dogs the year prior. A few minutes before midnight on New Years Eve 1991, the dog I had had for almost 16 years died. I gave myself a few months to get over that loss before getting another dog. That dog died at the beginning of December 1992 when he went for a neutering procedure. An allergic reaction, according to the vet, though I still suspect that they gave him the wrong dosage of Pentathol. The next night I brought Zachary home.

I could describe Zachary in one word: spoiled. But he was also loved. For fifteen years he was around during a multitude of landmarks in my life, and he often shared in those events. He quickly warmed up to my infant daughter at their first meeting. Zachary had spent much of the past ten years with my mom, my wife having a bunch of cats when we moved in together. Zach and cats were an ill-advised combination. Even as the years passed, he behaved like he was a puppy. That is until recently.

The last time I saw him a couple of weeks ago he was not his usual, vibrant self. He was very low key, very subdued. I didn't think much of it at the time. This past Saturday morning he crashed, not being able to walk or even stand. My mom took him to the vet where the initial tests showed is liver enzymes were really elevated, into the range that's considered irreversible. The vet suggested a weekend of fluids and medication and see how he was feeling come Monday. Yesterday morning came and his condition had worsened.

I got a phone call from my sister about 9:30 yesterday morning apprising me of the situation. It wasn't a hard decision to make from a practical perspective; the odds of him making a recovery were very remote, and he was clearly suffering. Making the decision to let him go was hard, but I loved him enough to make that decision and put an end to his misery.

Initially I had decided to let the vets office handle his remains, but I reconsidered. As his owner, his playmate, his chew toy, and purveyor of belly rubs, I owed it to him to bring him home. And that I did. He now rests in the shade of a dogwood tree in my backyard. He's home now, right where he needs to be, my reward to him for 15 years of loyalty and friendship.

Marching

A friend of mine just sent me a link to an article that included this video. Texas Republicans set up the voting districts so that the one for Prairie View A&M University was several miles away from the campus. A number of students from that school, wanting to participate in the state's early voting, did what anyone else would do: they marched several miles down the highway, blocking traffic, to cast their votes. Good job, folks!

Stupid is as stupid does

The human race never ceases to amaze me. Its capacity for good and evil, giving and taking, and every other point in between, it is just goes to show the range our species is capable of. For an untold number of months now I've been listening to a streaming online scanner for the local police department. It serves a two-fold purpose: letting me know if there have been any serious car accidents on my route home, and as background noise helping to dull the monotony of a typical work day.

This afternoon there was a most unusual dispatch. In the not too distant past someone broke into a local home, the thief making off with a number of owners' possessions. As they are wont to do, the burglar quickly sold off his ill-gotten booty and made a few bucks on his endeavour. Then the guilt set in (must be an amateur). Trying to make amends for his actions, Mr. Burglar took the money he made on the stolen goods and bought replacements for everything he stole.

However, Mr. Burglar, sensing a happy ending for all involved, horribly miscalculated. Rather than anonymously leaving the replacements for the stolen goods and by association his guilt for having taken them on the doorstep of the house he broke into, he calls the police to tell them what he's done and that he wants to make good. Of course, the police are more than happy to help him deliver his guilt to the homeowner's doorstep, and Mr. Burglar has learned that trying to make amends does not negate the fact that he actually committed a crime. He's currently 10-95 (in custody) and soon will be learning another valuable lesson, that being not to drop the soap.

I ♥ Huckabees

Have you ever seen a more motley crew than Mike Huckabee and his family? They should be tried for war crimes against humanity for the striped shirts alone. And here they sit, filled with God's love...and the all-you-can-eat Ryan's megabar. I'll bet they ate that dog, too, once this photo session was over. Wonder which one of those fat bastards in the back abused the animals at camp. Is it me or does the fat kid in the middle look like a real-life Eric Cartman from South Park?

Go Giants!!

My NY Giants won the game they weren't supposed to by beating the Patriots last night in the Super Bowl. So suck on that, Bill Belichick and Tom Brady.

Desert getaway

President Dipshit pays a visit to the kingdom of Saudi Arabia during his Middle East tour to bring peace and democracy to that region. Oh, and to beg for some oil too, because folks in the U.S. haven't been fleeced enough and the oil companies haven't made enough money yet. Personally I think his real reason for the trip is that he has a year left in office and really wanted to visit the Holy Land on taxpayer expense.

Does the idea of bush visiting Saudi Arabia give anyone else the impression of a junkie visiting his dealer looking for another fix?

I wonder

Ever feel like telling your boss to take your job and shove it up his ass so far that it becomes his new brain stem? Yeah, me too.

And while I'm wondering, do Christian elementary schools teach science, and if so, why?

Caucus

I know I've been neglecting my blog of late. I've no excuse other than I've been distracting myself with my Flickr account and practicing photography. I think I'm a better photographer than a writer, anyway.

For my first post of 2008, some comments on the Iowa caucus, the results of which I am watching as I write this. For the past couple of weeks my wife has been asking me who I would be voting for in the Georgia primary, and I'm still undecided right now. My initial choice was Hillary Clinton, but the more I heard her and the other Democratic candidates speak, the more undecided I became. Of late I've been giving more attention to what John Edwards and Barack Obama have been preaching. I've given no thought whatsoever to the Republican candidates. From what I've observed the GOP candidates have been running on who's closer to Godliness, who's the true Christian, who's more moral and upstanding, rather than running on issues. Fuck that.

As far as the results from Iowa are concerned, I'm surprised but not surprised. No surprise to me to see Mike Huckabee win the GOP, though I was hoping to see him finish third or worse. I am surprised to see Rudy Giuliani get beaten like a drum, finishing near the bottom of the pack. I guess Rudy's 9/11 platform didn't play well in Iowa.

I'm also surprised to see Obama finish at the top of the Democratic contenders, and as I write this Edwards is declaring himself the second place finisher. Third place is not a good result for Hillary for all the money spent in just this one state.

But for now, I'm still undecided but a few of the candidates now have my attention. And remember, this is just Iowa. There is a long road ahead for all the candidates