Across the Beaten Path

So, I've been doing a lot of traveling lately, and there are a few things I've noticed.

First, flying is a pain, but I've already covered this. But what I want to know is, is flying a pain for terrorists? Besides the knowledge that the plane will explode at their own hands, which is unfortunate, with the amount of attempts they make, they have to come across the same delays the rest of us do. And whether you intend to land safely, or cause widespread panic, any delay might prove to be frustrating.

So here's my idea: Whenever the FBI, CIA, U.S. Marshals or whoever predicts a terrorist is going to blow up a plane, I don't think they should arrest him. They should certainly stop him, but not arrest him. First you have him board the plane, along with everyone else to make him think everything is fine. Then you have him sit on the tarmac for two hours. To try and alleviate any inconvenience, the plane plays one episode of "Joey" really loud over and over again. Then have all the passengers get off the plane, back into the terminal, including the terrorist. Conveniently manage it so the terrorist is sitting in the terminal somewhat isolated from everyone else. Then have someone in a clown suit come by and make balloon animals, right next to him. Try to sell him some. Then have two kids come by screaming about whatever, without any parental guidance. Preferably one of these kids should be dressed up in an American Flag. Then have someone dressed up as Muhammad walk by him, just to see if he reacts. Regardless of any reaction, have another person come up to the Muhammad lookalike dressed up as Uncle Sam. They should get into a verbal altercation until Uncle Sam pulls out two American Flags and wave them around. Then Muhammad should run away like a coward. If the terrorist ever tries to get up to move away, just have an officer come by and tell him he has to remain there due to a security threat.

Do everything you can think of to annoy the bastard. Because terrorists expect to die, or expect to get caught. But they don't expect for the ever loving piss to be annoyed out of them. We're at war with the assholes, we might as well have some fun with it.

No Smoking While Reading

I'm serious, it could be dangerous. You might get cancer.

I'm really glad I'm traveling. Over the holidays most people tend to gain weight. That was a problem I've avoided until this 25th Christmas when the pounds were slowly gaining on me. My weight loss plan is to backpack across Europe. It seems to be working.

Ireland seems to have a...not populated feel to it. And that is true. On the entire island there are six million people. They consider Dublin to be a big city, which it is to an extent. But when you've been to places like Seattle, San Francisco, New York and Atlanta, it's almost laughable. To put it in perspective, New York City has more people, than there are inhabitants on the entire island of Ireland. And there is a feel of everyone knows everyone. Dubliners don't really know each other. They have the same rate as every other person who lives in a big city. They're on there way to some place, don't bother them, but a quick question isn't too troublesome if you need help.

But in areas like Donegal County, they won't just tell you directions, they'll stick you in their car and take you there. And I get the sense that everyone knows everyone to the point that you might be talking politics and they'll say, "Yeah, I know the Prime Minister of Ireland. He's an arsehole." And they'll say that not because they disagree with his politics, but because they actually know him. That hasn't happened, but it's more imaginable here, than any other place I've been.

I heard Ricky Gervais was maybe a little too crude on The Golden Globes. First off, a lot of those jokes were really funny. Secondly, Hollywood needs a little jab now and again, and they always get pissed off when they get one. They're not above everyone else. They make mistakes. Charlie Sheen gets drunk and beats women. Who's denying that besides Charlie Sheen? And has anyone really seen The Tourist? I haven't, and my excuse is not because I'm in Europe. I heard it sucks. I'm not intrigued. And the one about the computer generation on the Sex and the City actresses on the poster? Gold!

Just because a comedian shows he has true talent does not mean everyone needs to get all up in arms. Lighten up, Hollywood. You are constantly on stage.

Perhaps Ox Power?

Horses really are quite beautiful, and powerful, animals. Whenever I get near one I can just imagine the destructive force that thing could deliver. And it seems to follow naturally that it occurred to someone thousands of years ago, that you could ride one. Horses have been tremendously useful and quite influential in our history. Imagine battles without cavalry, cowboys and Indians without horses, and let's not forget about Incitatus, the first horse to be considered a Roman Consul. At least we hope he was the first horse for that, and the last for that matter.

But there's one thing that sticks out that seems a bit odd to me. Do we really have to measure how powerful our engines are in horsepower? Isn't that just a bit redundant? I could see how back in the day it was relevant. I could see a car salesman saying, "Yeah, you got yerself a horse alright, but how about 22 horses? Ya got that? This thingamabob is equal to 22 horses, and ya don't even need to feed it!" Great sales pitch. If this was 1910.

But it is now 2010 (almost 2011). My Honda Civic has 198 horsepower. I'm really glad to know that if I strapped nearly 200 horses to the front of my car, I could save on gas and go just as fast. I hope people are beginning to see what I'm getting at. It's a useless measurement, and yet we keep using it. And it is so prevalent. Even NASA scientists still use it. Do we really need to know that the main engines of the space shuttle had 37 million horsepower? Has anyone ever seen 37 million horses at one time? What does this prove? I guess I can imagine strapping 37 million horses into a giant rubber band so I could go to space, but that's a lot of truck fulls of hay, not to mention all the horseshit. My launchpad would consist of nothing but manure. The sheer mechanics of all this is mind boggling. So why do we do it? Isn't there some other system we could come up with? How about Model T's? Or my car? Can't we just take 200 horsepower and call it 1 Car? It's a pretty even ratio. Not too hard to figure out. Easier than converting miles to kilometers.

Thingamabob is actually a word?

The Tide of My Fingers

As I'm home for awhile it's time for me to get back into the blogging habit of mine.

Now that it is the holidays I'm waiting to hear of two things: One is someone gets trampled to death because it was their life long dream to die while being the very first in a store at 6am. The second is to hear the words "war on Christmas." I'm not sure what war this is. As far as I'm aware it is simply people exercising their constitutional right for religious freedom. If Christians don't like people advocating against Christmas Trees and Santas being in department stores, then I would suggest they move to a country that does not have religious freedom. Like China. I'm sure they'll see all the Christmas trees they want while there. Or maybe not. Maybe if they want to see Christmas trees in public places, they should go to Rockefeller Center. There's a big one there.

And if someone is going to push the dilemma on me "What if the tree in Rockefeller Center was wanting to be taken down." My response to that would be if the Supreme Court deemed a tree there was unconstitutional, so be it. But for those Christians who just can't celebrate and be merry without having a tree everywhere, don't worry. The Supreme Court would never make such a liberal decision.

I'm quite tired of these commercials polluting the airwaves, taking Christmas songs that are already stuck in my head and substituting their own cheesy lyrics. "We Dish you a Merry Christmas." "Happy Honda Days." Really? Since these companies are wanting to be so clever with advertising, I've some ideas of my own.

"Do you beer what I beer?" Budweiser.
"Jingle Bells." Trojan condoms. No rewrite needed.
"Frosty the Bank Man" Chase or Bank of America foreclosing houses.
"Wreck the Halls" Any restoration/remodel company.

That's just a few, but you get the idea.

I'm told it's dinner time. That might make some of you hungry.

Blogful for the Thanks

I've been away, it is by no means Monday, a hundred things I meant to write on here but the access was not accessable.

While at the airport (a while ago at this point) I was waiting for my flight and I saw something that just barely pushed me over the edge with raising children. I saw a child attached to a lenthy nylon cord for several feet and at the other end was an incompetent adult's hand. This person has chosen that leashing their child is the only way to keep their kid from running around, scraping their knees and getting lost. Things all children should have the oppurtunity to do. This is essentially no different than treating your child like a pet in my opinion. Was this guy going to pick up his child's poop as well? This kid was probably around 5 or 6. Well within the mental capabilities to understand "sit down" or "stay here" without a leash.

I mentioned this to my wife and she defended this person's choice. She indicated the logistical nightmare of losing your child at an airport. Not only have you lost your child, but there are a thousand people around, with a thousand places they could be at and you have a flight to catch. I easily brushed that aside. "Getting lost at an airport just builds great character." I claimed. "Just look at my oldest brother. He got lost at an airport and now he's getting his PhD."
Living proof defeats theory in debate for me. Law defeats theory. And theory defeats made up stuff like religion. This is the hierarchy of debate. It works.

I would love to write some more, but I can't think of anything to say, despite all the times over the last few weeks where I thought, 'I should blog about that.'

Did I say Happy Thanksgiving? Yeah, that too.

Forensics have a clue

I've done a lot of traveling on the road lately, and I am going to share the things that I have seen. I will warn you though, if you are offended by things easily, such as images displayed in classrooms depicting anatomy of nude, faceless individuals, I would urge you to read this and eat lunch at a Hooters.

Shredded tires. I'm not really sure what to say about this. Either the roads here in Montana are unbearable on tires, or the tires are made with the thickness of rubber bands. My tires are fine, therefore I vote for the latter.

Pinecones. Stupid pinecones, you're never going to sprout there.

A fox. An odd and somewhat unsafe place to sleep. The red goo by your gut looked nice and warm though.

Rivets. When I drive over you, my car makes that ppprrrrrrrrffffffff sound. I like that sound.

Oil cans. That person must have really needed to change their oil in a jiffy. I would recommend Jiffy Lube. Otherwise that would be false advertising.

A hitchiker. You are worth 60 points. You've been warned.

Did I mention I was in Montana? Big state. Big sky. I always thought that was horseshit. But that's why I came here. I can think whatever I want, but I'll only know if I see it for myself. The sky here is indescribable. We have mountains in Washington, but they block the sky. It's rude. Here there seems to be an endless field stretching on, but before it hits the horizon a mountain rises. It is the full effect of a mountain view while seeing an enourmous amount of sky. Even while driving it seems like an ocean I'll drive into, or will something that will eventually envelope the road.

But I'm getting off the mentality of my blog. Or am I? This thing is so unknown and yet evolving, like our nation's political system. We'll never figure it out.

Realm of Unknown Ideas

Bienvenidos!

Para Español es mucho gusto de ocho hablamos.

Sorry. This damn spanish keyboard is acting up on me again. I don´t even know what it just had me type. I´m in Mexico, in case you don´t follow my other blog. But why wouldn´t you follow that? It´s full of fun, happiness, quirky stories and all round good will. This, this. . .online drivel interprets a darker chapter of a larger world.

I´m reading a book right now. That does happen from time to time. It is by far one of the most, if not the most, difficult book I´ve read. I wish I could say it was Gravity´s Rainbow, but alas it is not. This book does not seem to follow the rules of grammer I was taught as a child. I´m used to paragraphs being about one topic, one subject, not five subjects involving fifteen characters. Chapters would be nice to have as well, but those come and go as randomly as aforementioned grammatical rules do. I don´t even know if what I´m reading constitutes as English. Maybe a pigeon english. But I get by, understand a word here and there. It´s getting better.

I´m curious to know what the crime rate in Mexico is. That is non drug related crime rate, which may not be measurable. There are numerous cops here in Tulum, and the reason for the number I can only assume, is to make white people like me feel safe. Unfortunately, I´m too paranoid and untrusting to feel that way, but I´m sure it works for the other tourists, who have their hotel safes broken into. But these cops, I really don´t know what they do. They stand around, maybe eye you as you drive by. You´ll think one of them wants to pull you over, but really he´s just driving around with his lights flashing, perhaps to boost the color spectrum here in Tulum.

If you don´t know where Tulum, Mexico is, I would advise you to look at a map. I´ve always been a big proponent of looking at maps, figuring out where exactly you are. I prefer paper maps, but if you must, google maps will suffice. At least the image isn´t distorted on that. If you don´t know where Mexico is, I would advise you to read...anything. I don´t care if it´s a pamplet about Hooters. You need to grab something and stimulate that pink tissue inside your skull.

I´m sweating. Either this typing stuff is grueling work for me, or the temperature here is rising. I think it´s the typing, so I´ll stop now. Maybe it won´t be three weeks before I do this again.

Relentless and Unrelated

There is a commercial out right now that is about the joining of M&M's to a pretzel. I perceive this commercial as nothing more than an amusing anecdote about two characters not being happy about one being put inside another. However, my wife sees it as a homosexual innuendo. She claims that both characters are male. I usually don't attribute genders to snacks, but both do speak with male voices. She also pointed out that neither character is happy about this "joining." I told her in a world where bigotry and un-acceptance of minorities is increasingly looked down upon, I would be surprised if the Mars corporation would knowingly and deliberately place a commercial on the airwaves with homophobic messages. She then teased me by asking if I thought M&M's could not be homosexual. My only response was "Well, I sometimes eat reds with reds." We both laughed and never continued the topic.

I'm really not sure if that commercial is supposed to be an innuendo or not, but if it is, then, like I said, I'm surprised.

I'm just glad we now live in a world where we can openly question the sexuality of an M&M. This would've never have happened in the 1950's.

What Else for a Monday?

Out of ten different levels of difficulty, I am a natural champion of chess at level two on the computer. I hope to change this with a newly found amount of time at my disposal, and a book which supposedly teaches one how to be a better chess player.

Although I have gathered a wealth of information from the book I'm reading, applying my newly obtained knowledge has yet to show itself to a great level of observation. I continue to make ridiculous mistakes, like placing my Queen at the cross hairs of two Rooks. What was I thinking? Probably something along the lines of, "if those two Rooks weren't there, that would've been an awesome move!"

It's a tough book to read though. I've never had to multitask while reading a book. You can't learn the concepts of what the book is discussing unless you're following along with a chessboard. It's handy to have a computer with chess on it as resetting and undoing are done with the click of a button.

Any way, in time my skills will be amazing, as will my idiotic mistakes.

I heard someone died today after driving their segway off a cliff. I'm not sure if this was a suicide, or someone thought they had an updated flying version of a segway, which does not exist. I give this individual points for creativity, but dock him points for stupidity. After the tally, I see him no different in my eyes than before I heard the story.

Yes, I give points to people for their spectacular deaths. Cold? Maybe. But I learn from their failures. Or maybe I don't. It would never occur to me to be a good idea to drive a segway off a cliff.

Now I must go and pour some gasoline down my chimney to get ready for the winter.

I Would State the Obvious

One thing I have noticed about Food Network is that is doesn't really teach or show you how to cook. At least not entirely. You can certainly get a pretty good damn certainty about things and you might be able to impress your parents or your dog if cooking is not something that's a high priority in your life. What Food Network does, I think, is show who good cooks are and who bad cooks are. For example, Sandra Lee is a terrible cook.

Rachel Ray is an Oprah wannabe. Just an Oprah with food. She can't start a show called "Rachel's Vacation" put it on the air and say that is her vacation. She's working. It's not a vacation. Also she doesn't have to bore me any more by showing me these great places she's visiting and touring because she's so successful with her crappy cooking.

Someone who cooks is Alton Brown. Not only does he cook, but explains the scientific processes involved on why it tastes good. That's like having a science teacher who knows science and explains it, instead of just reading from the book and when asked, "Why?" they retort, "We'll get to that later."

As far as Anthony Bourdain, I'm pretty sure I watch him just to see if he is going to sleep with some random local. I still have to figure out why he has a disclaimer before his show. Are people who watch Food Network overly sensitive? Can they not take some gruff, older cook who detests some of the younger generation polluting his field of art?

Ina Garten can cook, but I get really tired of her walks and her friends and that garden of vegetables.

Bobby Flay. Flay? Really? That's his last name? I can't stand him. He sticks to traditional styles and loses to every competition he is in on his show. How come I can't have a show off this format?

That Hot Italian girl. That's it. I just watch her. I have no memory of what she has prepared or cooked. I remember once she licked chocolate off her fingers. That was a good episode.

Julia Child most certainly can cook but she appears to be a disaster waiting to happen, like everything is going to crash to the floor and she'll use her kitchen towel to clean everything up and throw it in the oven.

It's almost Tuesday, that was close.

Flash of Credentials

I'm not sure how much I have today.

With my my wisdom teeth removal I was graced with a prescription of Vicodin. Although I feel no pain and the buzzed feeling I get is certainly appreciated, it leaves my mind mostly empty. Although it won't say so on the bottle, I'm confident a severe side effect is playing Chess like a little girl plays with her doll house. Although I've barely written one paragraph, I've already made several mistakes.

And to think I've gone to work on this stuff. The amount I accomplished while there was impressive now that I'm reflecting upon my present state.

Don't worry, there was no driving while on Vicodin. I either took it after I got to work or after I got home. Just to suppress all the fears of those worrywarts out there.

Since Colleen and I have both had our wisdom teeth removed, the narcotics that are in our possession is the most I think either one of us have ever had. The profit value isn't nearly enough to run the risk of getting caught, so we'll most likely take it to Europe with us as a precaution. If someone sprains an ankle some Vicodin would come in handy.

I usually don't blog about work and I won't go into specifics, but for those of you who work with me, I've made a haiku to commemorate this event.

You Have Been Beat Out
Infantile Behavior
You Are Dead To Me

And with the Vicodin, I've got nothing left.

A Likeness of Differences

On my birthday I heard of a practice, or lack there of, that certain religions, or maybe just a cult of an even larger cult does not celebrate birthdays. I had to ask why. It seemed silly to me that in a world where birthdays are practically universally celebrated a certain group would choose not to do that. I was told because it was a celebration, or acknowledgment, of someone lesser than God. That's fine. As I don't believe in God, I don't really have to worry about such trifle matters. But to those who do believe in God, more specifically those who choose not to acknowledge beings before God, I think those folks are going about that practice in the wrong way.

They have a good start. But if celebrating a birthday is blasphemous because it recognizes someone before God, these people might as well go all the way with that belief. They should be just absolute complete pricks about it. They should not even say "Hello" to people upon seeing them as that is an acknowledgment, or greeting, of a being other than God. They should just pass silently through our "lesser" world, ignore us, go to church and die. It would make my life easier as they wouldn't try to convert me, or even have me be aware of their delusional beliefs.

I was thinking the other day about Dante's "Inferno." If you haven't read it, you should. "The Inferno" is a satire of sorts of modern day politics. It's hard to get a grip on the humor 700 years after the fact, but one of the things Dante writes about is how alchemists are in Hell for various reasons. Part of the reason is they try to turn various metals to gold, which is against nature. I'm not sure if it's alchemists or some other profession of that day, but people who predict the future are in Hell. Their specific punishment is their heads are on backwards in Hell as punishment as always trying to see forward in time. They can only see what's behind them, not in front of them. (you may see where the humor comes in at this point).

I was wondering if modern meteorologists, according to "The Inferno," are destined to Hell for the same reason. You may recall a previous blog of mine about weathermen. If Dante is right, I certainly have no problem with this. My reasoning is that weathermen predict the future. They may not prophesize about major political events to come but they do predict the future. A friend of mine disagreed with me. He said they gather scientific evidence to evaluate the most probable weather pattern. I wondered how that is not a prediction. I asked him how he would define "prediction" and he replied, "not in the way I responded." Naturally I disagreed. It seems to me if someone estimates an outcome that has not yet happened, then that is a prediction. Regardless of how you came about the estimation, or outcome, if it pertains to something possibly happening in the future it is a prediction.

Marriam-Webster defines "Predict" as: "to declare or indicate in advance; especially : foretell on the basis of observation, experience, or scientific reason.

I feel I have made my case to the world. I would enjoy seeing how a response to that would be formulated.

Free Blogs with Internet

I grow tired of conservatives. Specifically the neo-conservatives, not the conservatives who have logical, pre-determined ideas of what being a conservative means. Enough of this Mosque talk. If you don't agree, move to another country. If you don't understand, read the First Amendment to our Constitution. It's simple. And since the WTC or 9/11 site is so "sacred" why don't we remove all the tattoo parlors, strip joints and bars from the surrounding area? Maybe if we do that, I'll actually start to think New Yorkers and Americans will actually think this is "sacred ground" instead of just saying that for bullshit reasons.

The neo-consevatives are such a self contradicting group, that if you take everything they've said and listen to it in a one day period, an intelligent person would be left with absolutely no clue on what to do next, because everything they say they eventually go back on.

Surround yourself with smart people, you'll get a good view of the world. Surround yourself with idiots, you'll become one.

Fortunately, I have enough faith in the human race that I believe although the chatter is loud, that is pretty much all it is. Those with the loudest voice are not usually the ones representing the view of the majority. The best thing that anyone can do when they meet someone who actually believes the delusional bullshit polluting the airwaves is ask "Why do you believe that?" or "Why do you think that?" It's a simple question and it leaves those without facts completely aimless on what to say or do next. "Because Rush Limbaugh said so." is not a valid answer. Ask the person what they think for themselves and you'll find they most likely have not done such a thing for the last ten years.

This is who the Neo-conservatives prey upon. Uneducated, lower class white people who are afraid of the sharks in the neighborhood pool. There are no sharks in the pool. But their are if you tell these people that.

Iran has determined mullets to be unlawful. As silly as this is, it is a law I agree with. Good job, Iran. Way to force better hairdos and style upon your populace. The mullet is one unfortunate consequence from freedom of expression.

Blink Before You Read

I have found that my blog posts have an amazing ability. Most of the comments that I receive are from some very wonderful characters that I have previously been introduced to. Richard Kimble, Buster Bluth, even myself from the future. Up until now I have not been familiar with any device or method that could make fictional characters come to life and actually talk to me. I should be elated to make this discovery, and be the cause on why these beings are coming to life. However, these characters are not my favorites from the world of film and television. The Man With No Name from the spaghetti westerns would be interesting to talk to about his view of today's world. Hannibal Lecter would provide a great psychological/historical/philosophical dialogue before getting too hungry. Gandalf the Grey would be extremely entertaining to have around. One thing I am pleased to know is that some point in the future, I will have found a way to travel through time, at lease through cyberspace. I look forward to that day.

There is a new dog in the house for a short amount of time. This one is more pleasant due to its lack of activity. I can't even tell if the dog likes me, but she at least tolerates me sitting by her while petting her back. She's had several names at this point, but I'm calling her Keanu, after Keanu Reeves. And not because I like the actor that much, but because at any one point it is impossible to tell what exactly she is feeling. She sits on the floor, the couch, eats, sleeps, walks around and watches TV all with the exact some expression, poise, and posture. If Keanu has been successful as he has been, this dog could be a jackpot for a producer with no ideas and half a brain.

Which reminds me, I saw "The Expendables" this past weekend. Thank God someone finally knows how to make an action flick. For any one in Hollywood, watch this movie and take a hint. Also understand that when a movie is rated R, it's not because the director and editor fucked up and accidentally left too gory of a scene. It's rated R because it's action. There should be bones breaking, body parts flying and blood spraying. If you want to see a movie that squirts testosterone like an orange squirts juice, then go see this. If you're a pansy ass, I think "Salt" is still playing.

Something Weird on My Desk

This past weekend I gave a visit to my parents, reassure them that I was indeed happy with who I married. We stayed in my old room, or my brother's old room. I'm still not quite sure on how to categorize that. For years as a kid I wondered, and asked on a monthly basis, when would I get a bigger room? I was told when Luke went to college. As a six year old, you really have no concept of what that means, or how long that really is. Eventually I figured out that Luke would leave the household to seek a brighter future, thus leaving his room vacant. So I waited patiently.

When Luke left for college, I was waiting for the all clear from Mother. It never came. I waited one year, as I apparently had grown accustomed to my smaller room and toys seemed to stop flooding it every birthday and Christmas. Luke came home for summer, got himself a summer job for a few months, then went back to B-ham. I realized at this point Mother was never going to say I could move in to his old room. Something she was trying to hold on to, I guess. I decided to not even say anything. One night, I started sleeping in that bigger room with the bigger bed. A couple days passed before Mom noticed. And it wasn't my sleeping in the room that tipped her off. It was the fact she found all of my stuff suddenly moved into Luke's old room. I'm not sure what kind of shock that caused her, but if it did any, she took it really well. Which is surprising knowing how this woman reacts to finding pubic hairs on couch cushions.

Now whenever Luke visits home he'll say "my room" referring to that bigger room. And rightfully so. There was only one bedroom he ever stayed in during the nine years before he left for college, so why wouldn't he refer to it as that? The trouble is I refer to it as my room as well. The smaller room, now with a bigger bed, has been completely disowned.

All the rooms have been refurnished now to be more accommodating for guests, the sons and their spouses/significant others. What's amazing to me is every time I go to stay at my parents house, I'll go take a shower and the shampoo and conditioner are almost out. After all the remodels and refurnishing of a major portion of the house, I find it hard to believe the one area that could cause trouble for a guest is lack of hair product. I went ahead and used the rest of the conditioner. If my mother is surprised by the bottle's emptiness, I hope she isn't too upset as she only left me a teaspoon of the stuff.

I went to a bar this past weekend and among other crowds at the bar, one there was hard of hearing. Literally. They were signing to each other, some were wearing hearing aids and most must have a hobby of blocking pathways in bars. I was amazed at how many were at the bar. I figure the entire community of the hearing impaired of Vancouver had to be at this bar. I'm not entirely sure why they were there. It couldn't have been for the music. The music was karaoke and I suppose one good thing about being deaf is you don't have to listen to the bad singers who are too drunk to know better. So many songs have been ruined for that reason. Another thing is that it is hard to squeeze by someone in the middle of a signing conversation. You can't say "excuse me." I just gently nudged through. Maybe they thought it was rude. Of course it might be considered rude when you stand in the middle of an aisle way and you can't hear anyone who wants to get by. I guess that's just life.

Not to say I was left out of sorts by the hearing impaired due to their impairment. I was pleased to see them having a good time, but what else could I do?

AWOL and back again

I was talking to someone today who mentioned that they changed the oil in their car for the first time and they were late to work because of it. I've changed the oil on several cars and his dilemma peaked my interest. I asked him if he lubricated the gasket. He had no idea what I was talking about. I fear for that gentleman's car.

I changed the oil in my car awhile back. The one thing that always annoys me about changing the oil in a car is finding where the oil filter is and wondering exactly how difficult the damn thing is going to be getting the new one on there. My car was apparently designed by geniuses. The oil filter is right next to the oil pan of the car and couldn't be easier to get to (other than the fact that it is underneath the car). The real problem was getting the drain plug off.

I don't appreciate how these guys at auto repair shops using electric tools. I know its easier and makes the job faster, but when getting bolts back onto my car, do they really have to make it tighter than what I can get off? Is that some ploy to get me back into the shop? Anyway, with an excess amount of elbow grease, I got the damn thing off. Hopefully now it will be easier next time.

I know this isn't an interesting post. I'm really not sure if any of my posts are interesting, but I'm definitely not feeling this one. Some of you wanted one, especially after my absence last week, so here you are.

Just please know right now that all I have going on is work and wedding stuff. One I don't talk about and the other I just don't think would be interesting. Perhaps I'm wrong. The wedding is getting down to the wire. It's all the small things now. Writing lists, printing lists, buying groceries, thinking of the ceremony, etc. I may get a chance to post next week, but keep in mind I'll be a newly married man and Monday next week is the first full day of marriage for me. I may be preoccupied by other things. I ask for your forgiveness in advance.

They Treasure the Ginger Ale

I remember as a kid I loved to travel. I still do. But as a kid I loved every part of traveling, especially the airplane part, where you sped up real fast, felt your stomach go into your feet and watched the ground get smaller. As spoiled as I already was, everyone in the family would yield the window seat to me. I wouldn't sleep. I would just stare out the window most of the trip, but time went by like I was dreaming.

Now airline travel sucks. And its not because I'm older. I still enjoy that takeoff and landing just as much as I did when I was little. No, I'm afraid the world of aviation is likely going the way of the Hindenburg. I've flown to Atlanta several times in my life, for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, we got fed. That's right, they gave me food. And not just me, but everyone. If you were on that plane, you were going to be fed. After all it was a four and a half to a five hour flight and people might get hungry.

I caught a connection from Atlanta to Portland. No food. They gave me peanuts, which I don't like (and I thought that was stopped due to the peanut allergy). Seriously? No Food? No odd tasting, reheated meat loaf? No spaghetti noodle like carrots? No bread with ice butter? What in the hell is wrong with the airlines? I want my damn food, especially on a five hour flight. There are laws in states where if people work for more than five hours, they must be given a lunch break. Shouldn't the same apply to passengers when they're confined to a metallic cylinder filled with 200-300 other people for hours at time?

Whenever you get off the plane, you have the whole flight crew up at the front, waving good bye and saying, 'Thanks for flying with us.' If you really want to thank me for flying your shitty airline, give me some damn food.

Oh, and one more thing; When we land and they pipe in over the PA system "On behalf of Starvation Airlines we'd like to welcome you to (insert city)." I don't think they can do that, as much as they might like to. There is no way they can welcome me to a place that they themselves have just arrived at. It defies the rules of language and etiquette.

I'm starting to be less impressed with these airports as well. They do have food, so they have that going for them. But when I got off the plane, I was waiting to be picked up. The traffic outside was packed. Which wasn't surprising considering it was July 5th, but it was at a standstill. Not one car in either of the pickup lanes was moving. Because they weren't picking people up, they were waiting to pick people up. Which I thought was illegal. Maybe I misread those "No Parking" signs. My ride couldn't even merge in to get close to me. I decided to head out into the middle of the free moving traffic, load up my bags and myself and get out. It was more efficient and was less aggravating for me.

Where were the traffic cops? Shouldn't they be blowing whistles and gesticulating like they took a course on where they learned those moves? When picking my dad up from the airport on business trips cops would always tell us to move on and come around again. Today it seems they don't even need that "return to terminal" route.

And please no one tell me that the airports can't afford traffic cops. I walk in some airports that have art pieces more impressive than some museums. Why are there art pieces in airports? It's not like people are flying from all over the world to see the magnificent Lewis and Clark tile map at the Portland Airport. How much did that cost? How many traffic cops could have told all those annoying drivers outside the terminal to "get moving"?

Airports should be like Costco. Just a giant warehouse where people come in, via foot or airplane, find where they need to go and get out. It's efficient, saves money and it doesn't give me a false idea of what the city I'm in is all about.

Airports need to stop giving impressions and start ferrying people on their oblivious little way.

I Pronounce This Rodent Dead

I killed a bunny yesterday. Not that I meant to, the dumb bunny ran underneath the tire of my car, which is inadvisable to do at 30mph. The sad part is I didn't even swerve to avoid him. I typically don't swerve when I see small animals in the road. First because swerving is dangerous, and second I think the animal has more of a chance to live if I don't swerve. A car's path is usually pretty easy to predict for just about any creature. They usually go along those hard black surfaces at incredible rates, but rarely is any swerving involved. I figure if an animal is dumb enough to run in front of me, then surely they should know where my tires are, and they will continue on their present course along the road. I did just that and this rabbit exploded. I didn't just clip him or anything. It was right over the top of him. Survival of the fittest now includes cognition on the paths of large inanimate objects.

I've been trying to find which vows to use for our wedding. We're not writing our own, fortunately. We hope to find some pre-written words that jumble together to form some sappy sentiments. This will save us from the embarrassment by admitting we wrote them. My primary plan of attack is to find a nice platform to start from and tweak it slightly from there. I'm surprised at how vows are generally unoriginal. Sure, the traditional is nice, but I'm not sure about the words "till death do you part." For those who believe in the afterlife, these words make it sound like the beloved couple will not be reunited after they both die. Is this the church's attempt to let everyone know it's okay to fall in love with someone else, as long as you're dead? Love, cherish, honor and obey are all fine, but drastically overused. As someone who writes on a weekly basis, I strive to use unconventional words for something as a wedding and phrase things in the less traditional sense.

I was thinking how it would be funny to model the vows after movie speeches. You know like "You may take my heart, but you will never take my freedom." I'm not really sure how that one would go over though. In fact, of all the ones I thought, they either don't make sense, or may not go over well.

I also think there are too many vows regarding religion. I know that's the institution that has supported marriage the most for the last 1500 years or so, but some of them make it sound like the people are going to pay more attention to God than they are to each other. What a boring life that must have been.

12 Gauge Pump Action Lotion Dispenser

It seems that most of my blogs come from things that I have either seen or read. I suppose this means I am alive. I blog therefore I am. Oh Descartes, where would the blogosphere be without you? For that matter, where would Twitter be without you?

I saw a commercial about kids traveling to imaginative lands and these lands resided within the confines of Disney World. It started out with two kids holding sticks while pronouncing Latin words better than an Ancient Roman Senator. Obviously they were wizards within the Harry Potter Universe battling it out to see who would overcome, good or evil. This idea of kids reenacting scenarios from popular media is not new, but seems to have reached a great deal of safety these days. These kids were merely pointing sticks at one another and giving each other a Linguistic lesson. What a boring play time. How can one even tell who's winning when two kids are shooting imaginary spells at each other? Cops and robbers had imaginary bullets, but there seemed to be a great deal of sportsmanship between who shot who first.

Back when I was a kid Star Wars was all the rage. For lightsabers we used sticks, but instead of waving them around in the air, like we were composers at a symphony, we smacked the hell out of each other with them, because that is essentially what they do in the movie. Not only was there an added level of physical harm, but an added level of creativity as well. See, if you get hit by an imaginary spell, like Sectumsempra, all you do is fall down and pretend to wince in pain, but soon you recover and go at it again. On the other hand, if an imaginary lightsaber strikes your wrist, not only do you have a stinging sensation on your wrist, you now effectively no longer have a hand to fight with, as it has been slashed off by the imaginary lightsaber. So now you have to fight with one hand. But it wasn't always the hand, sometimes it was a leg, or an ear and occasionally the head. The point is with each missing appendage, you had to relearn how to fight your opponent.

My brothers were masters at this. They would slash at each other for hours. My oldest brother was always kind, and would let my other brother choose who he wanted to be. Of course he always chose Luke Skywalker which would make my oldest brother Darth Vader. Since Darth Vader was older, taller, stronger and more precise in his attacks than Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader would always win. It was like a remake of the lightsaber fight in Empire Strikes Back, each time a different appendage of Luke's being cut off. The hand, the leg, a stab in the abdomen, and in the extreme remakes, decapitation. The best ones were Luke getting both a hand and a leg sliced off and watching him hop around while swinging his lightsaber stick frantically, hoping for that lucky blow. Alas, our yard did not have a mock central air shaft for Luke to fall down into. I fear in those cases the Empire may have prevailed.

Firecrackergram

Rush Limbaugh is married. I can't quite conceive of the idea that someone can stand to be married to that guy, much less bear to look at him. He is so physically unattractive I can't even bring myself to consider him to be a member of the same species as myself. If a baboon's ass was it's own species, I would possibly consider him being one of those, but instead he just constantly acts like one.

I've recently been watching TV, and there is a commercial out now that attempts to gain the attention of men over the age of 45. It asks if they haven't been feeling like they used to, when they were in their 20's and 30's and wanted to have drunken wild sex and dance all night. If so, they may have something called LT, which I believe the full name is Lymphotoxin and which I can find very little information on.

I have a question about this commercial; What happened to just getting old? Does that not happen anymore? Does the medical community actually have to diagnose everything? Are you more tired than you used to be? Don't go out with your wife as frequently as you used to? Do you have gray hair? Do you have wrinkles? Of course, unless you're a corpse, this shit happens. No wonder our medical system is so far down the toilet. We waste money on finding diagnoses for symptoms that have always existed since the extinction of the dinosaurs, and dupe people into believing that they have Glutessummissus, which is a sagging of the ass. We get old, our hair grays, our skin wrinkles, and we have less energy. There is nothing wrong with you.

As a response to a comment I had in my previous post, someone, "London Caller" mentioned the correlation between divorce and the more independent women have become over the last fifty or so years. I had thought about this as well as I was writing the blog, but had decided to leave out the theory as I had not done any research on it. I still haven't as I believe the theory is pretty sound and I do not wish to pursue the matter, but I do happen to agree that women in the work force has given rise to divorce. This is to say nothing bad of women, more power to them. It's just astonishing to me how many divorces their are. But there have always been bad marriages, and most likely there always will be, so if you see a chance to get out of one, go for it.

And for one final tidbit, Helen Thomas is no longer a correspondent for the White House, due to some ill advised remarks about the Israelis in Palestine. She can say what she wants, she is entitled to that, but she shouldn't apologize for what she said. It's clear how she feels about the matter and there's no point in apologizing, especially since she retired due to the remarks.

Say what you want, Helen, no one's holding you back. Clearly Rush says what he wants and he is still employed, although I wouldn't call what he does a "living" or even an existence.