my political philosophy in light of this apocolyptic nonsense

My intent is not to add fodder to those which have already chosen a candidate. I am merely venting my disgust with our current political predicament. This is not the first, nor will it be the last, campaign based on smear and feigned hatred with the opposition in the name of political gain. However, this is a first with respect to the face of our political landscape, unique issues relating to our economy and our place in this world, and unprecedented ignorance by both parties and the American people.

I do not know any of these candidates personally, but I do know people just like them. I know people like them because I have striven to achieve, every day, a broader knowledge of life. I have done this by searching for new experiences, new relationships, and new personal growth. I have a theory that people develop through strains, or likenesses, molds of persons if you will. To flesh this concept out, think of times when you have seen someone on the street and thought "that Japanese guy looks just like my brother, except Japanese," or "that woman is the black Julia Roberts." You get my point. Well, those forms, or likenesses, apply to the mind, attitude, and personalities of people as well. Thus, if you have met a type A boss that acts exactly like the high school bully that threw you into the bathroom and gave you a good pummeling, you understand this theory. Yet another example is the conniving, gossipy ex-girlfriend of yours that harps on your faults just the same as your grandmother.

Given that foundation information, I propose the following likenesses. Sarah Palin could, arguably, be described as the half-way decent looking high-school cheerleader, student government president that was seemingly privileged for the small town she grew up in. Yet, despite comparatively meager upbringings she was still a fuckin' hateful little bully that picked on the other girls that didn't have the newest "Guess" sweatshirts and the yellow Camaro. Furthermore, this type of girl, in general terms, probably threw "it" around a little with the popular guys at school that were as equally ignorant as her, but thought that they were smarter. This type of girl, in general terms did not want other people to know of her individual relations with these "cool guys" so she would give em' the "Ol' Palin Wink" just to let them know that it was "their secret." This is a terrible and vile scene that recurs thousands upon thousands of times per year, for time immemorial in what many City-Folk refer to as "Red-neck" towns. Not all places, nor young girls, are like what I have just described. However, many places are like this, and I believe Sarah Palin to be one of those girls, from one of those places.

With respect to John McCain's mold I propose the following. Despite John McCain appearing, at present, of one of Ralph Steadman's bad acid trip looking figure of excessive, and dubious, authority with those beast-like jowls, he was not always so. John Sidney McCain III graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1958. Groomed to be a Naval man from an early age he strove to be an admiral just like his father, and his father's father before him. Everyone knows, and most respect his service to the country, but do not let his sacrifice cloud your judgments folks. This man exudes, and has always exuded, an overconfidence and an arrogance that truly says "ELITE." However, it is this same lack of humility and sense of superiority that explains his form, or likeness. The same qualities that make him the friend you used to have but could no longer hang out with because he stabbed you in the back, or two-timed with your lady. The same characteristics that drove friends who were tired of fighting for a fast-mouthed, hot-head, away, for good. McCain's disingenuous persona gives pause to millions of Americans, and others that perhaps he really died 10 years ago and was replaced by a Madame Tussaud, paranoid android, that no one can truly believe, or believe truly exists.

Now that the administrative task of describing these type, or forms, of people is finished, let's discuss some details. The format of the following text is in an organized rant. I will do my best to retain some semblance of continuity, but I can only do my best.

I. Politicians: Good God Ya'll, What Are They Good For? Absolutely Nothin' Say It Again!

First, let me begin by stating that MOST politicians are lying, cheating, stealing, mud-slinging, bastardized, shells of former human beings. These 'things' are not worthy of the title homo-sapien, or homo-sapien-sapien. It is important to remember that a privileged station in life does not necessarily imply superiority, often the opposite is true. Nevertheless, it is my staunch belief that these 'things' do not survive by the consumption of food, water, and oxygen, as we humans do. Rather, these 'things' continue in perpetuity by consuming feces, sundry biological and non-biological wastes, rodent blood, and babies. That is, until they die, as many believe John McCain has already done (is it so far fetched to believe that what we know of as John McCain is really just a humanoid replacement)? At which point the respective political parties create a replicant. Said replicant than continues to spread its message of muddled, indirect, irrelevant non-sense to our fast-food, infotainment, short-attention-span culture. (See Above).



That being said, one is charged with a civic duty to choose a candidate to elect for political positions. Thus, despite the despicable lack of option, one must participate in the process. Eventually, the process may be represented by a wider breadth of choices that espouse a more diverse array of issues. Perhaps, those candidates may even, truly, stand for your positions on two or even three issues. While I prefer the lesser of the very worst of this collection of evils it is only because that is all I am given as choices. McDonald or Burger King any one?

II. Experience? Who has it, Who needs it, Is it really that important?

While true that Barrack Obama is not the most qualified candidate for President in this here Un-United States of America is John McCain? And what of Sarah Palin. Do we really care about experience, or even issues? Or do we really only care about the talking heads that we see on television and how "cool and stylish" their glasses are or how eloquently they speak? (As an aside, the comment Un-United States is not a typo, or without significance See http://www.thedailyshow.com/ episode with Bill Maher October 2008 in which Maher explains that there are two United States, one which is more European and Progressive and one which is Redneck, Ignorant, and Hateful ---note the Author advocates neither position).

I grow weary of the comparisons between Obama's and Palin's experiences. While Sarah Palin is woefully under qualified to run this Country this is not the primary reason I am so disgusted with her. First, she does not answer questions, any of them. Her failure to answer questions is not a result of dodging issues, it is because she is ignorant. Ignorance can be cured. However, he consistent ignorance on issues reflects either the inability to learn or the arrogance that she need not learn. Both rationales are insulting and if she seeks the votes of those persons more informed or intelligent then her, she has much work ahead of her. However, with regard to the issue of experience, she is also lacking. Furthermore, contrary to Newt Gingrich’s perceptions, as he so ineloquently tries to debase reporter Ron Allen in the following video linked at You Tube, her experiences do not inspire confidence-(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8zXi90EVeg).

III. My Brief Digression to Explain to The Less-Evolved, Watermelon-Heads That
There Exist More Parties Than Republican And Democrat And That Not Being Conservative Does Not Mean You Are Communist

Now, before I continue, let me insert this disclaimer. I am not some left-leaning “commie-pinko,” liberal, that surely some mouth-breathing, redneck, racist, Ron Reagan loving, piece of mushy dog-turd, fuck-head is sure to label me as. True, I have not researched the relevant issues as deeply as say Patrick J. Buchanan or Tom Brokaw. However those ignorant bastards that will try and refute what I have said by grunting louder and erratically waiving their long arms in an effort to intimidate are without merit. Make no mistake, these mouth breathers are quick to spout from their obese McMouths this typical, nasty, unoriginal, pre-packaged tagline they have memorized only because they hear it 30 times a day from their choice of biased media.

In fact, there is no label for me, and there should be no label for me or anyone else. There should be very few labels at all. Nevertheless, I will do my very best for those who yearn and revel in these categories. I am a green, libertarian, futurist, anti-dependant on foreign fuels, small central government, proper apportionment of tax dollars to raise our collective ships-ist, non-hormone-meat eating, wine-drinking, stay-the-fuck-out-of-a-woman’s-choice-to-choose, shoot-you-if-you-come-into-my-house-uninvited, ethical and progressive constitutional interpreter who wishes for a strong focus on negotiation with regard to foreign policy.

Whatever genius can come up with that party has my vote (Sorry Bob Barr and Ron Paul you don’t cut a wide enough swath to get my vote).

I’d start my own political party, but I don’t kiss ass, am not strictly Politically Correct, and I hate politicians. Plus, a guy with views like that is definitely a strong candidate for the “most likely to get shot in the face in Dallas” Award.

IV. Race, Sex, The Opportunity For Something A Bit Different, Kool-Aid Drinking,
Ultra-Right, Religious Conservatives, And the Unwavering Ability for the Democratic Party To Ruin A Good Thing.

So where were we, sometimes I wander, OH yes! We were discussing Doo-doo Head Barbie and Robot John. As I was saying, this election is getting progressively nasty. No one wants to verbally attack the “Black Guy,” too much, and nobody really wants to go after the “Woman.” God forbid we offend somebody in the United States. Yeah, it would be horrible if people were actually honest.

Look, give this brother a chance. If Obama fucks up, than that is great for the GOP. Right, GOP? Yet another Democratic failure is not beyond the realm of imagination. At least, however, such a disaster would indicate that our entire political systems is doomed, not just faux-religious, right-wing, neo-con, Republicans. If the United States elects the chosen one, the first "Black Man," as President and he shits the proverbial Easter Basket the right-wingers are free to bask in thier “I told you so” glory.

It is hardly arguable that some extremist factions in the GOP secretly hope that Obama gets elected. If that comes to pass it will only be a matter of time before he lets his true colors as a "terrorist" shine. After all, Obama sounds like Osama right? Hopefully that is a laughable proposition to all but the most extremely ignorant cave dwellers amongst us, I hope. Nevertheless, to those voters, it is a certainty that Obama will work out a deal with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and the Grand Ayatollah Ali Khamenei to produce enriched Uranium, together, in strawberry fields forever. Ha! Then, the Far-Right dare I say Fascist, Republicans can have a field day, dancing around on the beltway with their cee-gars and their triple-malts.

But, don’t get all shit-eatin’ grin on me either you Democrats. You dumb dick-heads with your holier-than-thou attitudes have done just as much to get this country “in the shit” (See http://www.vietvet.org/glossary.htm of terms for “in the shit”) as those greedy Republicans. C’mon Kerry, did you really have to pick John Edwards? Could you not have chosen Hillary right off the bat. A “man of the people” does not pay $500 dollars for a haircut and certainly doesn’t go around fathering babies out of wedlock with a sick wife at home (villainous prick). Additionally, John Kerry, how could you let George W. Bush (and the Machiavellian Neo-Cons with personal vendettas grinding at their souls, including our good friends Wolfowitz, Rove, Rumsfeld, and Crack-shot Cheney) win a second time? In actuality, a first legitimate time, but I digress?

Contrariwise, there are those Democrats, or others, lurking in the shadows, secretly wishing that bat-shit crazy Doo-doo Head Barbie and Robot John win the election. Boy, another 4 years of the same is exactly what this ignorant Country needs. Remember folks, this isn’t even bad yet. Things can always get worse. As Lilly Tomlin once said, "things can always get worse before they get worse."

V. The Economy, Wal-Mart, And My Privilege To Buy A Foreign Car That Will Last And How That Purchase Has Less Effect On The Economy Than Your Purchase Of Goods Made In China For Wal-Mart.

What we should do is allow the millions of Americans that shop at Wal-Mart to keep shopping there as they bitch about getting laid off. I wonder if these folks are aware that the jobs that they once did for a living have been shipped to China, India, Burma, Taiwan, Canada, and Mexico, et. al. The money these consumers piss away at Wal-Mart lines the pockets of Chinese, Indian, Burmese, Taiwanese, Canadian, and Mexican distributors. The products these American consumers purchase fortify foreign markets and further erode the American manufacturing base thereby increasing the number of jobs in China, India, Burma, Taiwan, Canada, and Mexico, et. al. We can let Doo-doo Head and Robot John keep givin’ those jobs away. Or, we can hope that Obama makes good on his promise to give tax incentives and bonuses to those domestic companies that retain production facilities in the United States and return the once great manufacturing base to the United States.

Also, it is not just Appalachia and other similarly depressed communities that contribute to the Wal-Mart phenomenon. It takes all kinds to shop at Wal-Mart. The problem, however, remains the same...

Wal-Mart moves to a community. Wal-Mart's scouts travel the community and gauge the longevity of existing business (ex. that grocery will last 6 months, that hardware store, 1 year). The independent mom & pop shops go out of business because they cannot compete with Wal-Mart’s cheap prices because mom & pop bought local products at higher prices but also employee local members of the community and took care of those local community members. Mom & Pop fire all the locals that worked for em’ when they go under and those ex-employees go work for Wal-Mart. Except, where mom & pop gave the locals health care, a decent wage, and a 40+ hour work week, Wal-Mart does even better. Wal-Mart gives the local a 35 hour work week so that local can spend more time with his/her family and Wal-Mart saves money by NOT paying local’s health care and making sure that the government pays for it (welfare, Medicare, Medicaid). (See Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Pricehttp://www.walmartmovie.com/)

Giving all of our domestic jobs away to less qualified, lower quality providers, importing way more than we export, and consuming foreign fuels should certainly raise our Gross Domestic Product sufficiently strong to pull us out of the Depression that is surely around our corner. Right? Right? I wonder what Paul Volker has to say about this? (http://blogs.wsj.com/washwire/2008/01/31/volcker-joins-list-of-obama-backers/). How about Al Greenspan? (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/09/14/greenspan-this-is-the-wor_n_126274.html).

What I am trying to say, and this acrimonious diatribe sounds like the disjointed ramblings of a madman and for that I apologize, is that this country is F.U.B.A.R. If we want to fix it, let us give Obama and Biden a chance. Obama has a cool head and some street cred, which goes a long way when dealing with the crooked bastards that the President of the United States has to deal with. Note well, while William Jefferson Clinton WAS the first “Black” President of these United States he wasn’t raised by a single mother and did not have to deal with the same life experiences as Barrack “Barry” Obama. Therefore, Obama brings a new non-privileged background to a traditionally, silver-spooned seat of power that may be refreshing or disastrous. We will never know, though, if we don’t give him a chance. Trust me, we need to give this guy a whirl. I had a lot of people take chances on me, and very few of them were disappointed. Let’s do the same for Obama.

On the opposite side of the very same coin, Joe Biden is also from “the streets.” Now, he ain’t from the streets like Tupac Shakur, but he has lived in areas and at times where economic depression is “REAL.” Steal Depression of the East in the 70’s, 80’s, & 90’s anyone? Not to mention that fact that Joe Biden has very real experience with foreign affairs (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jeremy-jacquot/how-bidens-foreign-policy_b_121043.html). Now, this is a true blue American and as close as you are going to get to a human being in career politician.

Contrast that with the other ticket. A Doo-doo Head from a State with a significant percentage of inhabitants that wish to cede from the United States of America (http://newsgroups.derkeiler.com/Archive/Alt/alt.politics/2008-09/msg00006.html) and a humanoid likeness of a man with a maniacal life and actual history of flip-flopping on positions. If we want to talk about flip-flopping, just by the shear duration of political service, John McCain does have more experience (See McCain’s Now Notorious Flip-Flop List).

Some may attack this text as being overly partisan. I have tried to remain as neutral as possible given my proclivities and my choice for the next President. Additionally, some may attack this as not as well researched as it could have been. For that, I apologize. However, at least I am not voting like some of the mentally underdeveloped knuckle-draggers that are casting their vote based on the fact that they would rather, in the most infamous words of my friend A.C. “f*&^ the dog-Sh*&$% out of Sarah Palin” than do the same to Slick Joe Biden.”

Furthermore, despite the fact that every damn news channel you watch is awash in superficial, image spinning, dialogue, I have tried to be as brutally honest as my own mental censors would allow in writing this document. If that is not good enough for some critics I urge them to get off their fat asses, put the remote down, cozy up to their machine and respond with something at least as intelligible as this, hopefully more so.

In closing, I should mention that we are at a pivotal time in human nature and the existence of this planet. If a cynical romantic like me can couch my apathy, for at least the most fleeting of moments, some of you optimistic, sitcom-watching, base-heads can do the same. Get involved, have a discussion, find someone you disagree with to have a debate. After all, most of your friends probably agree with you. What fun is that?

Go do something!

WE are taking steps to view life through different spectacles

To All...

Here Ye, Here Ye, Here Ye... I decree that this blog has become a new forum with which to review "things" of this world. Meaning, I will be using this forum to review products, including food, music, books and other literature, film, and people. I have spoken with the wife about this for some time and have decided that ACTION speaks LOUDER than words, particularly if you have pans and spatulas and no megaphone. Therefore, today will usher in the new era of WeAreAllMachines and I will begin to provide useful data to the machines so that we can hopefully make more informed, efficient, and a little less stupid decisions.

On this day March 23, 2007 I will review two things...

1) The album, "The Good, The Bad, and The Queen" by Damon Albarn of Blur and the Gorillaz fame, Tony Allen, often drumming with Fela Kuti, and a fantastic Afrobeat percussionist, Clash bassist Paul Simonon, and former verve guitarist Simon Tong. Now, we can get into some pissing match about how, and if, these so-called super groups even exist, but I would rather just say that fantastic and ground breaking musicians hang out with one another just like any other professionals do. This is for several reasons. 1) People like to hang out with other high end professionals because they know that when they talk shop they want to have their limits pushed to the brink and not speak with some fool that thinks they know everything, and therefore what they are talking about; 2) These guys are not good at what they do, they are great at it. They kick beats off of bass lines off of vocal harmonies off of grooves and then they meet back in the middle for slow build ups that crescendo into moments where you want to close your eyes and let the jam carry you away, but you also want to stay alive, stay out of jail, and keep your car in one piece so if the music has this effect on you, LISTEN AT HOME; and 3) These fellas have met, and likely exceeded, the expectations of listeners since the second album that each has contributed to, which is to say, when an individual has their music and are heard the first time people are either blown away or they are not. Interest grows and then you become attached to a style, a bass line, a groove that these people produce. Eventually, these artists become a part of your life and you anticipate, sometimes with great anxiety, their next product. Now, the famous sophomore slump can dismay even the greatest fans, but these folks had you waiting in line like a crack head waiting for their confederate to come out of the house that they went into with Aunt Mabel's television to come out with that little baggie. Therefore, we knew that this group was technically sound and at least moderately diverse and visionary in their respective styles...

What we did not expect, at least most of us, was this album.

Supposedly a concept album whose songs are themed around modern life in London, this means fuck all if you are ignorant of what really goes down in the seedy underbelly of London life. Watching "Lock Stock" F.Y.I., does not make you an expert. My point is this. You needn't know Lilly Allen from Parliament to understand that this album is straight off the chain and tighter than X-hibits whips.

The initial track off this album, and I will not bore you will minutae from each track, about break downs, and buildups, but the "History Song" starts us off with slow jamminess like malt-o meal on a cold wintry morning. There is a solid bass line that could zone you out like passing out on the bathroom floor warm with wine to the hum off your washer and drier. Moreover, you hear the sweet grinding slide of finger prints against guitar strings that you rarely hear these days. If you expect to hear the later electronica of Blur or the trip-hop-hip-hoppiness of the Gorillaz go buy some new R& B version of some shitty soft-cell remix, cause this album ain't the one. Don't get me wrong, there is a time and place for this type of tune, and I love the stuff myself, but Damon has grown, grown, grown. Listen for Damon's "Ahhh AHHHHHH if you don't know now."

The next track, "80's Song," is more like the 60's song and has a doo-wop feel to it. Did you think in one million years that I would say that? It is true. That is growth, or sweet regression, either way, who cares, the song is groovy. Frankie Vallie would shit his pants. That would be funny.

And finally, because I told you that I would not bore with each individual track's content I will simply tell you that "Herculean" is musically genius. I find myself singing falsetto lines while my wife hums the bass line from this track. I am constantly looking for musical stylings. I then take my inspirations which I record on a handheld tape recorder, then put down when I get home. If this song doesn't inspire musicians, they should stop making music. Plus, the big Plus, is Tony Allen's broken afrobeat in this track. Man o Man is it choppy, funky, groovy, and smooth like the surface of the Caribbean in a Puerto Rican cove.

All in all, stop what your doin' cuz this album is about to ruin, the image and the style that you are used to, and hey, it was produced by Danger Mouse, Grey Album anyone, not to mention 1/2 of Gnarls Barkley (oh Snap!). So, to get you to buy this I will give you the obligatory comparisons with the P.i.M.P. twist...

This album is 2 parts "English Beat" particularly "Mirror in the Bathroom" pitched down and funked up, 1 part "Thievery Corporation," a dash of "Stereo M.C.'s" for taste, A Gilberto Gil, Sly Stone, Bootsy Collins, Fela Kuti, and Afrika Bambaataa low key beach front pig roast, and a handheld walk through the park with Sid Vicious and Nancy Sinatra. Yeah, I might be crazy...crazy like a fox, and crazy like this album is good. Go buy it or download the whole thing, this week, from I-tunes for $7.99 it is on sale.

Damon keeps getting funkier and for people who try to make music, like me, is surpassing the level of inspiration by growing from brit-pop, to funk electronica, to ground-breaking trip-hip-hop to THIS, just plain old, home grown, good-ass music.

And, if you do like the Gorillaz, which maybe you should, check out their live in Harlem DVD. Bomb musique.



My second review for the day is "Stupidity." Yes, as we have seen in the last couple of months, with the help of years of historical data, the analysts are right. Stupidity is on the rise with growth somewhere in the range of 273% +/- 3 basis points. It is a bull market and we expect more growth indirectly proportionate to crude prices. Now is the time to invest in stupidity because we don't expect a decrease in the near future. In fact, as the population continues to grow we expect stupidity to rise at exponential rates. For, the smart investors, however, despite massive expected growth, we advise to dispense with as much as you can, as soon as possible. Therefore, we review stupidity as just plain stupid.

See you soon.

WE are taking steps to view life through different spectacles

To All...

Here Ye, Here Ye, Here Ye... I decree that this blog has become a new forum with which to review "things" of this world. Meaning, I will be using this forum to review products, including food, music, books and other literature, film, and people. I have spoken with the wife about this for some time and have decided that ACTION speaks LOUDER than words, particularly if you have pans and spatulas and no megaphone. Therefore, today will usher in the new era of WeAreAllMachines and I will begin to provide useful data to the machines so that we can hopefully make more informed, efficient, and a little less stupid decisions.

On this day March 23, 2007 I will review two things...

1) The album is "The Good, The Bad, and The Queen" by Damon Albarn of Blur and the Gorillaz fame, Tony Allen often drumming with Fela Kuti, and a fantastic Afrobeat percussionist, Clash bassist Paul Simonon, and former verve guitarist Simon Tong. Now, we can get into some pissing match about how, and if, these so-called super groups even exist, but I would rather just say that fantastic and ground breaking musicians hang out with one another just like any other professionals do. This is for several reasons. 1) People like to hang out with other high end professionals because they know that when they talk shop they want to have their limits pushed to the brink and not speak with some fool that thinks they know everything, and therefore what they are talking about; 2) These guys are not good at what they do, they are great at it. They kick beats off of bass lines off of vocal harmonies off of grooves and then they meet back in the middle for slow build ups that crescendo into moments where you want to close your eyes and let the jam carry you away, but you also want to stay alive, stay out of jail, and keep your car in one piece so if the music has this effect on you, LISTEN AT HOME; and 3) These fellas have met, and likely exceeded, the expectations of listeners since the second album that each has contributed to, which is to say, when an individual has their music and are heard the first time people are either blown away or they are not. Interest grows and then you become attached to a style, a bass line, a groove that these people produce. Eventually, these artists become a part of your life and you anticipate, sometimes with great anxiety, their next product. Now, the famous sophomore slump can dismay even the greatest fans, but these folks had you waiting in line like a crack head waiting for their confederate to come out of the house that they went into with Aunt Mabel's television to come out with that little baggie. Therefore, we knew that this group was technically sound and at least moderately diverse and visionary in their respective styles...

What we did not expect, at least most of us, was this album.

Supposedly a concept album whose songs are themed around modern life in London, this means fuck all if you are ignorant of what really goes down in the seedy underbelly of London life. Watching "Lock Stock" F.Y.I., does not make you an expert. My point is this. You needn't know Lilly Allen from Parliament to understand that this album is straight off the chain and tighter than X-hibits whips.

The initial track off this album, and I will not bore you will minutae from each track, about break downs, and buildups, but the "History Song" starts us off with slow jamminess like malt-o meal on a cold wintry morning. There is a solid bass line that could zone you out like passing out on the bathroom floor warm with wine to the hum off your washer and drier. Moreover, you hear the sweet grinding slide of finger prints against guitar strings that you rarely hear these days. If you expect to hear the later electronica of Blur or the trip-hop-hip-hoppiness of the Gorillaz go buy some new R& B version of some shitty soft-cell remix, cause this album ain't the one. Don't get me wrong, there is a time and place for this type of tune, and I love the stuff myself, but Damon has grown, grown, grown. Listen for Damon's "Ahhh AHHHHHH if you don't know now."

The next track, "80's Song," is more like the 60's song and has a doo-wop feel to it. Did you think in one million years that I would say that? It is true. That is growth, or sweet regression, either way, who cares, the song is groovy. Frankie Vallie would shit his pants. That would be funny.

And finally, because I told you that I would not bore with each individual track's content I will simply tell you that "Herculean" is musically genius. I find myself singing falsetto lines while my wife hums the bass line from this track. I am constantly looking for musical stylings. I then take my inspirations which I record on a handheld tape recorder, then put down when I get home. If this song doesn't inspire musicians, they should stop making music. Plus, the big Plus, is Tony Allen's broken afrobeat in this track. Man o Man is it choppy, funky, groovy, and smooth like the surface of the Caribbean in a Puerto Rican cove.

All in all, stop what your doin' cuz this album is about to ruin, the image and the style that you are used to, and hey, it was produced by Danger Mouse, Grey Album anyone, not to mention 1/2 of Gnarls Barkley (oh Snap!). So, to get you to buy this I will give you the obligatory comparisons with the P.i.M.P. twist...

This album is 2 parts "English Beat" particularly "Mirror in the Bathroom" pitched down and funked up, 1 part "Thievery Corporation," a dash of "Stereo M.C.'s" for taste, A Gilberto Gil, Sly Stone, Bootsy Collins, Fela Kuti, and Afrika Bambaataa low key beach front pig roast, and a handheld walk through the park with Sid Vicious and Nancy Sinatra. Yeah, I might be crazy...crazy like a fox, and crazy like this album is good. Go buy it or download the whole thing, this week, from I-tunes for $7.99 it is on sale.

Damon keeps getting funkier and for people who try to make music, like me, is surpassing the level of inspiration by growing from brit-pop, to funk electronica, to ground-breaking trip-hip-hop to THIS, just plain old, home grown, good-ass music.

And, if you do like the Gorillaz, which maybe you should, check out their live in Harlem DVD. Bomb musique.



My second review for the day is "Stupidity." Yes, as we have seen in the last couple of months, with the help of years of historical data, the analysts are right. Stupidity is on the rise with growth somewhere in the range of 273% +/- 3 basis points. It is a bull market and we expect more growth indirectly proportionate to crude prices. Now is the time to invest in stupidity because we don't expect a decrease in the near future. In fact, as the population continues to grow we expect stupidity to rise at exponential rates. For, the smart investors, however, despite massive expected growth, we advise to dispense with as much as you can, as soon as possible. Therefore, we review stupidity as just plain stupid.

See you soon.

The more that I think of it....

The more our fucked up, unwieldy Federal Government needs to be overhauled. Each State within the Union should be given more individual rights. Look at Europe. My father and mother will not be able to a vacation in Belize and will undoubtedly lose their money because the damned government cannot coordinate multiple departments. Burn them down to the ground and start fresh. The government is dead, long live the government (under new terms).

O.K., the last time I remember my parents taking a vacation, without us kids, is well, I cannot remember them going on vacation period. They took me to Sea World when I was 5 and we went to D.C. when I was 15. Dragging a couple of asshole kids around to the Smithsonian is not, however, my parents idea of a good time. Well, maybe the museum. That would be fun for me at least. Asshole kids I could take or leave. The real rub is that some dickweed aide for Senator Carl Levin promised that he would do what he could to help out. Well, I don't see the proper documentation in the mail, and subsequently, I don't see my parents waiving to me from the wild blue yonder heading off to their anxiously anticipated, long awaited, over needed vacation. Therefore, the crux of this problem, and I will put some onus on my parents for being dilatory in addition to misplacing naturalization papers, but the crux of this problem is the government. Ah, yes...the government.

Our brilliant government. Unlike lawyer's whom everyone hates until they need them, the government is mostly hated by everyone, almost all of the time. My hatred for the government is not borne of jealously nor ignorance. I know my enemy, and this knowledge spurs the hatred.

Want to get something done? Don't ask the government.

Wanna know how much is costs a fella or lady to run for the House or Senate?
http://www.sunlightfoundation.com/watchdogging101/answer/1423

Want some reform in government, limiting expenditures for campaigns is a good start. The McCain/Feingold Campaign Finance Reform Bill did something, but these assholes found ways to make some soft money, instead of hard money. Bunch of pricks found the loopholes, are you surprised, they wrote the laws.

Soft money= money that may indirectly influence federal election but is raised and spend outside the purview of federal law and would be illegal IF spent directly on a federal election.

The idea is that these politicians get soft money which is outside the regulatory reach. Can you believe that I got this tangential on this topic. My apologies. I will tie this back into the topic rather quickly. My point is that these crooked mother fuckers are running the show and don't give a shit about us. Moreover, the legislature drafts these laws by trading clauses with one another and end up convoluted the entire bill which then becomes a law. By the time these bills get passed, if at all, the end result is such a bastardization of the original idea that the idiocy and confusion simply compounds on itself creating a nasty little beast.

Guess what happens next?

Oh this one is a real doozy. These laws, if you want to see how they really get fucked up, are promulgated to the real world by a government agency. Sometimes, these agencies are created by Presidential fiat, sometimes the agencies are further extensions of Congressional Committee, sometimes these agencies are created by Congressional and Presidential appointees. Now, the Supreme Court is the final arbiter of the law, at least they have declared themselves to be the final interpreter since a little case called Marbury vs. Madison. So that means that hundreds of cases come before the Supreme Court with the sole issue of who which branch of government has fucked up and encroached upon the other. The point here is that the President and Congress cannot even always sort out which job they should be doing without accidentally doing the job of the other. This is called Separation of Powers. If the President and Congress cannot even figure out, surprisingly more often than not, who should and should not be doing a specific job, how in the hell are appointees and Federal Agencies with attenuated links to the two groups of ding dongs (Pres. and Con.) supposed to figure it out. Imagine trying to coordinate a bunch of government agencies full of government workers whose motto is "Manana." It ain't going to happen quickly, I can assure you this.

Sound muddy yet? Try getting some answers from some dick, who works for some bigger dick, who has to call a group of dicks, who work in a back room for another dick, working for some dick, appointed to his job by some dick he went to Yale with, who was appointed by our dick of a President. Sounds like to many dicks to get anything done except, no pun intended, pointing a dick at another dick, while both dicks say "Not our job."

So, you see my frustration. And I don't even get to go on Holiday. I do apologize for all of the cursing. I read a quote once that said something to the effect of "Swearing is the ignorant man’s way of getting his point across. Limited vocabulary breeds swearing as there is no other way that the person can express themselves."

However, another brilliant gentleman and scholar, a fellow by the name of Mark Twain said, " Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer."

To those who tout the ills of profanity I can only tell you that today and these last two weeks, have certainly qualified at "certain circumstances."

So with that, I feel much better, but I can assure you that my parents to do not. I hope that no one reading these words ever has to deal with the government for any extended period. Good day and good luck.

S&^%, F$%#, S$^&, F$#$%, S@#%, F#$%#

F. I have had the worst F'ing, F'ing week. The older I get the more diminished my tolerance for dumb mother f'ers gets. Unbelievable. Now, I have categorized a new style of poetry entitled the "anger-vent, hate sans-hate, haiku." Before I share my composition with you, there are some qualifiers to this dialogue of which you must be aware...

1. I am of mixed heritage. One part Mexican, two parts tomato juice, a part lime, three parts vodka. Shake and drink. Delicious.

2. My family is Catholic. I try, but I am not very good at it. "They" say it is like riding a bike. Someone stole my bike. That does not bode well.

3. I am really a good person who simply gets stuck in "bad" situations. I feel like bad situations are like stray dogs. They just spring up and it seems like they are always hungry. Dammit.

4. I have an extremely low tolerance for stupidity and, begrudgingly accept when I, myself, have done something stupid.

5. I am an optimist at heart.

6. My heart is buried deep within a blackened chest of rock and oak.

7. One of my most favorite things is to see people get hurt when they do something stupid.
Unless, Unless, Unless, they hurt themselves really badly, in which case we all have a good laugh once the bleeding stops. Have you ever stepped on a tack? Wow, that little tack hurts BIG time.

Good, now that we have clarified these minor housekeeping issues, let us proceed to the artistic medium of poetry discussed above.

I present to you my first ever "anger-vent, hate sans-hate, haiku"...

Motherfucker You
you cause me much pain and grief
I don't know you Pigs!

Sabes Que? My Man!
Ash Wednesday Was the day,
you prevented me!

From leaving my work?
You blocked my car in the lot.
I forgot one thing.

Silly me, buddy!
That's right. Jesus loves you more.
Know why that is guy?

Oh yeah, I know why!
Because you're more Mexican,
than I look to you.

Sabes Que, Asshole?
God and Jesus are color blind!
That is what I'm told.

At least I try to...
understand where you come from,
reciprocated?

I think not my man!
don't give a shit about Man?
entiendes? Guess not!

Check out this next one
try to secure the passport,
but Pops lost his docs

Talk to Senator,
well, at least his aides. Oh yeah!
came to fruition?

Not likely. Not yet.
Try to call. Aide won't Answer!
That dumb ass bastard.

Yes, I have been calm.
The Yoga has assured that.
I remain myself.

That passport had better,
be in my father's hands soon.
If not, oh hells bells!

Politicians, man.
Always writing checks with mouths
that asses can't cash.

Fast mouth Politics
Fat mouth Politicians, too.
The best are all gone.

Sabes Que? No, what?
Speaky Spanis? Si, pero,
You speaky Inglis?

Sorry lady, but...
You gotta call back later.
y sabes por que?

Por que, I am mad!
I speaky spanis, but you...
You no speak Inglis!

I am mad as hell.
I do not have to take it.
At least not sitting.

I will stand. I will.
And you can push me down, down.
But I will get up.

You will tire first.
I will stand just to beat you.
My will is stronger.

Will is principle.
I am a principled man.
You, you have nothing!

Yet another sir.
Lest I leave you sour, my friend.
the wife and the dog.

Those two, if non others.
They two are of principle.
A dog you ask? Yes.

The wife and the dog.
Principle is in the eyes,
and the way they walk.

You too, would be wise,
to find a map leading to,
a finely hid spot.

dig and you may find,
gilded, brass, boxes filled with
principles and gold.

The message disguised,
but not completely obscured,
instructs to search well.

For principle will...
among many other things,
not seek you out friend!

You must find it and,
trap it, and hold it tightly.
It will escape you.

Once trapped, lock it up.
Use it every day, and oft.
and do you know why?

Consideration,
and peace, come from principle.
Now do you see why?

Our cups runneth over,
we are at capacity,
with idiocy.

So, tell me something,
that I know not yet my friend.
That one I have heard.

I leave you with this.
help people always, because
it is the right thing!


Well, that was my foray into the venting haiku. I hope you like it. I am unsure if the proper haiku form is expected to be connected by thought throughout a whole 5-7-5 unit, or if the lines are to be independent of one another? Well, I will disclaim any knowledge of being a haiku grandmaster, but I am getting quite good at Su Doku. No relation? Sorry, I thought you guys might be cousins.

Despite the haikuisms, I have to tell you, I feel infinitely better after that composition. Now, if I can just get this Measles inoculation out of the way I can relax a little bit. As I sit here, I wonder if the weather in Algeria is relatively the same as that in Texas. It sounds odd, yes, I know. If you look at a map, however, you may just say, "hey, I wonder that too!"

Well, if anyone out there is in fact reading my anonymous blog, which is done for my safety and that of all the children and the blind, I thank you. I do intend to keep writing more often, as it saves me the money from going to a psychologist. Anyway, a psychologist would just tell me that I am either fucked up, or normal, which, I already know. So thank you for your patronage. Perhaps soon I will have enough patronage to get that boat to travel to the new world for spices. I do like marjoram and paprika.

So, if anyone has anything to tell me, submit a response. I intend to put some links to some friend's blogs and other such things very soon, so stay posted.

Enjoy your end of the Weeks and have some chocolate or pie. You will, undoubtedly, feel better.

Supposed To?

Supposed to! Supposed, as defined by the so-called "experts," whatever that title entails, or requires, is defined as (1)(a) Pretended, or (b) Alleged; and (2)(a) Believed or Imagined, or (b) Considered probable or certain, expected, or (c) Understood; and finally, (3) Permitted.

Who, exactly, is doing this pretending, alleging, believing, expecting, understanding, or permitting?

I am 'supposed' to behave. I am 'supposed' to act as a proper adult. I am 'supposed' to head to bed at some reasonable hour. Who is doing this supposing? Suppose, for a moment, that I do not wish to do as I am supposed. Seems a little circular I suppose. I suppose that I will try eliminate the word from my vocabulary. I suppose you should as well, do you not suppose that may be helpful. Some suppose that it would.

I have grown, in the past few days that I have been pondering this word, perhaps one of the great imponderables, to hate this word. I simply do not like the way it rolls off the tongue, nor the way it looks. I believe the root of this anger and frustration is not with the word itself, so much as what the word connotes.

Think about it! Does anyone present you with hypotheticals when something good happens? I suppose not! People present hypotheticals, most often in my experience, when trying to make you either (1) see an example of how you should have done something absent your proper execution of a particular task or (2) when you have done something that they disapprove of. For example, "Suppose you had use dish soap to clean that 'Pepsi' from that DVD instead of High Abrasive 'Ajax' cleanser. Don't you Suppose that would have been better?" You see my point. Well maybe you don't but with a pinch of time and a scintilla of effort, I Suppose that you could.

I just do not like the fact that there are people who are Supposed to Suppose how I should act.

I expect that you will consider it probable and understand if I will no longer permit the usage of the word Suppose in my company any longer considering this sentence contains four alternatives, perhaps maybe more I believe (5), of the word Suppose.

Good luck and enjoy the rest of your day.

Until next time when we will lament the word 'used.' Does anyone really think that getting used to something is a good thing in most circumstances? 'Used' to it? Say it out loud and see how odd it really sounds!

I really should write more!

I experienced synchronicity on Monday February 12, 2007 at approximately 11:00 a.m. I had not had such an experience in some time, so I thought it curious. I walked passed an informational board, in my school. The board listed staff and faculty. Immediately upon looking at the board I saw the President of the University's name. I saw only that name as my inspection of the board was cursory. I opened the door to the restroom some 3 to 4 seconds later and nearly bashed the President of the University with the door.

As an aside I suspect that some readers are wondering, "Wow, you piss in the same spot as the President of the University." To which I would respond, "He is not that big of a deal, and If I could just as easily piss on him,...well I probably would not. It is, however, worth noting that I have not yet graduated. Because of this non-graduate status and the unknown result of my studies, we should not rule out the 'pissing on the President policy.'"

Back to the synchronicity. I almost bashed him in the head. At nearly the same time I thought, "damn, I just read his name {the President}. Upon feeling and thinking [how does one describe experiencing and experience without saying 'I experienced and experience' anyway] this synchronicity I thought of the 'Police' (not the police) because of their song, and later double album, "Synchronicity." That made me think of writing songs, which I also do, and just writing in general. That has lead me to write, and you to later read, these words before you.

Therefore, I would like to thank 1) Me, for reading the President's name, on Monday February 12, 2007 at approximately 11:00 a.m. and all subsequent, associated thoughts; 2) the President for almost getting his head bashed in, and moreover, for initiating a urination at some point just before 11:00 a.m. on that very same day; 3) the 'Police,' and certainly not the police for writing and performing "Synchroncity" and finally; 4) Carl Jung for giving what I felt a name.

Thanks.

Not since July? This is ridiculous!

I suck... I am so content and familiar and I feel fucking depressed. I am playing a party tomorrow, spinning. I also told this woman in the bar that I would build her a record case for her husband. That is a nice thing to do. She was an attorney named Jenny, at a place called Underbar, and what a FINE bar I might add. VEry cozy locale, decorated in the traditional North North-American fall colors (greens, yellows, reds, and oranges, muted not gloss. But I digress. Wait, no, there's more. The bartender reminded me of Michael Dew, the dew man. This fella hails by the name o' Reverend JEffrey, a purveyor of only the finest ales, beers, and down key beats in relaxing Rythyms, the likes of Eno making that Airport music. Again, I digress, here in earnest.

I decided to do another good deed (the record rack for Jenny's husband), I fret to say another lest I be beaten again by the powers that be, yet I oft do good things for others. These acts are partially selfless with the other motivating portions offered to the keepers of Karma. Well, today, after much goodness from a streak of undetermined times, God, or whomever, has given me another pillowbiting experience without properly providing a good pull on the frontside. Some beast hither hath thieved mine bicylcle! No seriously, someone stole my fuckin' bike. I suspect foul play perpetrated by the filth living below me (co-habitants of this dwelling, un-related to me). These people are in the middle of a divore and she lives in the basement and he lives on the first floor. I apologize for the disjointed message, "a convoluted story, I'll admit" but I need to get this of my chest before I commit some drastic act in a blind passion.

So, we were to the clowns downstairs correct? Aye, I thought so... Despite my lack of drama due to me constant efforts to uncreate drama It so boldly sought me out Today.

As I struck off for the home of a friend I descend my stairs to bust out the ol' bicycle, much easier to ride there on the twos than the fours. What to my dismay did I find in the place I keep my bicycle? A great emptiness where usually some gears, grease, and aluminum lie. My great pissiness boiling up to the big browns, this cannot be!!!!! But alas, it was, and here I am. 5 hours, 4 beers, and two glasses of wine later I am agravated, but only slighly. A skeeter bite on the ankle on a day too hot to mind, only this is fall and a skeeter bite today throbs like a hammer on the thumb or a bike stolen on an October day. GOD DAMMIT. I want to destroy. This is the 2ND bike in 5 years. Can't this low-rent, two-bit, half-rate, gawl-dang, mother-fucking, sons of bitches go buy their own bike?

BAck to the divorcees. They ain't getting of that easy. Well as I said, he lives above her, probably because neither was getting above either, for some time, but this is irrelevant, neither here, nor there, as it were. So, his fellas come over for the poker about once a week and they carry on til all hours, they start late so it does not wakes us up Gov' ner, but they carry, and they carry. Well, me thinks one of his fella split off with my bike. That, again, neither here, nor there, leads me to the ultimate point. I have to file a police report, get the multiple acct. #s for this and that and sort these fucker's flotsam and jetsam out.

God bless you and yours, and if you see a "joy thief" which is different than a "necesity thief"...shoot the fucker in the face. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrr
!!!!!

More wine!

I was Robbie Williams and I forgot my song?

Last night I awoke at 1:00 a.m., not long after I had initially fallen asleep.

Now, I rarely remember my dreams. However, I am remembering them with greater frequency as I advance in days and years. Last night I was Robbie Williams, English PoP Singer. I have never heard a Robbie Williams song in my life. Why was I Robbie Williams? Anyway, I show up to this high school like ampitheater to do a show, a small show. The type of show like a junior high talent show or small town fund raiser.

I show up with Posh Spice, or Vicky as I call her and then it starts to get really weird. I am hanging out back stage and this is the point where I realize that I am not me, but rather Robbie Williams. The organizers tell me that I will be singing "Such and Such song" of mine of which I have no recollection of, nor any idea how to sing. They tell me that I go on in 2 hours. I start to freak out and Vicky is totally no help, just as she seems that she would not be. I tell her that I have to get out of there when guess who magically appears...Donald Sutherland.

Sutherland, of all people, calms me down. I mean, listen to the guys voice. Anyone that can make me feel like buying O.J. can get me to calm down. He says "hell yes, let's get out of here, we can fix this, we just need some time."

So Sutherland, Posh, and Me, me, but really Robbie Williams head off in the station wagon and end up at TJ MAXX. I know. SO we go in and try to find a CD of the song, so that I can figure the song out and successfully sing this ditty at the talent show, fundraiser, whatever. Except that Sutherland keeps putting on items of clothing whilst the security officer is watching him blatantly burgle the store of its wares. I buy the CD, Sutherland is wearing a hat, vest, and scarf, all of which he has not paid for, and walks right out of the store. Vicky...well, she just kind of follows us out. The security guard manhandles Sutherland, yelling "hey, you have to stay here" and "you can't just walk out with this stuff."

This is when Sutherland pulls out his piece and starts waiving the gun in the security guards face. W.T.F. I know. So we get in the car and start speeding down the roadway, listening to Robbie Williams, ME, back to the gig. Vicky is not saying much, Sutherland is calmly giving tips on how to execute the song with grace during my performance, and I have relaxed realizing that Sutherland has saved, Robby's, MY, gig.

That is when I woke up, freaked out that I was Robby Williams.............

So, I never, ever have listened to Robbie Williams and have not seen a film with Donald Sutherland in a great while. Can anyone explain this dream to me. I have never had a dream where I was someone else. What could have triggered this?

Dude, I am freaked out a little bit.

Wow. So I am off to find a connection between Robbie, Beckham, any Sutherland, Posh, and myself. wish me luck.

Pulled Ham, not Pulled Pork; + the numbers support viewership; and the demise of a course!

Since I have spoken to you, the viewer, last several things have transpired. As one would suspect that things have always and will continue to transpire this is no new concept. However, I say this in the sense of things worth mentioning have transpired rather than merely the prosaic.

My friend and class mate destroyed a vase that I purchased whilst (my wife and cousin will appreciate this) on holiday in Costa Rica. I predicted that this event would occur, with what has been described as unparalled prescience by another friend and classmate. I told "the breaker" a week prior to the "breaking" that he should closely maintain his bony elbows as to prevent the destruction of the vase that would happen a week later. Thank heavens we purchased two vases or we would be Costa Rican vaseless. I was not horribly upset, but mildly somber. It was more of a slow cooking anger. I think that henceforth I shall refer to this variety of anger as "crock pot pissed." Anyway, I was supposed to be studying with these fellas and ended up answering flash cards during the relatively fruitless process of re-assembling this clay item with both crazy and gorilla glues which cleary, upon viewing this vase, did not work as I had intended it would within my minds eye. The "breaker" assured me, more for the alleviation of his guilt than for my edification, that the vase looked almost as good as it had pre-disintegration.

SIDEBAR: Think of the word disintegration for a moment. Integration is 1 : the act or process or an instance of integrating : as a : incorporation as equals into society or an organization of individuals of different groups (as races) b : coordination of mental processes into a normal effective personality or with the individual's environment
2 a : the operation of finding a function whose differential is known b : the operation of solving a differential equation.

However, Disintegration is the blowing into smithereens of some item into a state of complete destruction.

Obviously the vase was not disintegrated because we reassembled many small pieces in something that more or less resembled the original piece, but not really.

Anyway, I should have been studying and this is what I did. Then, the other study buddy and I quizzed each other with more of these surprising and fascinatingly entertaining educational flashcards. I then went to futbol practice in the stiffling 98 degree heat where only 6 fellas showed up. 6 guys. W.T.F. It is hot, but what the F? happened to the love of the game? I was straight up P.O.ed. We played 3 on 3 until my body felt chilled and tingly. Cleary not a good sensation when the whether is hot enough for cities to promulgate warnings to monitor the elderly and the young.

Moving on, I came home and dined at a rib shack favorite of mine with the wife and Non-Breaker study buddy. Delicious and insiteful. We spoke about how we aren't scenesters and how delighted we were all by this fact. It must cost an awful lot of money to go "out" all of the time just so people will think that you go "out" all of the time. If this makes sense than listen to this one. I am an internal scenester. This is why my wife thinks that I am so fucking cool, and I her. WE STAY IN ALL THE TIME SO THAT PEOPLE KNOW THAT WE STAY IN ALL OF THE TIME. soooooo COOL. Anyway, things were starting to look up right?

I had gotten over the broken vase and my growing feeling that I may be underprepared for this stupid damn test that I had to take on Monday.

Sunday we woke up quite early to get breakfast before my first futbol game in a long time, a long time. Well, the first proper game in a long time. We had a wonderful, well, pretty good breakfast. The conversation is always good when I dine with my wife. I think when I dine with her, I am distracted by her good stuff and then rate the edibles perhaps with a higher regard than I should. Despite this breakfast was good. I then suited up for my game. Butterflies a little, but they disappear once I start. I was fucking rocking it. I am a defensive fortress and it takes about 5 minutes for whatever team I am playing with to say "[my name here] starts back center and comes out only for death or severe injury. He is an animal and we are glad that he is on our team. He will stop a ball with his crotch, face, knee, etc." Well guess what happens? 7 minutes before the half, fighting dispicable heat and an opposing team full of dickheads, I make a fast break and POP!

You know when you are watching a game and you see a player succumb to his own body and you watch in slow motion as it looks like an invisible monster is attacking a players body parts. You know what I mean? When the guy takes off and you see him fall because those invisible hands crush an invisible 2 x 4 into the back of his thigh. He drops and rolls still moved by the momentum he gained before diving. Well that happened to me for the first time in a long while. Usually I stand up and shake it off, but this pain was deep in my right hamstring. It felt like a bowling ball dipped in honey and rolled in broken glass was fighting its way out of my thigh from within and it fucking hurt, FUCKING hurt. I gave the hand signal for subbing out and looked like a one legged California Raisin doing that stupid dance where they move their hands around each other hobbling to "I heard it through the grape vine" with a stupid look on my face.

I hurt like a mo-fo, but being not only proud but thinking if I use the leg it will hurt less later I wrapped my thigh in a role of sports tape and went back out for the rest of the game. YOu know what? I was damn proud to do that and I felt a sense of self respect and gratification that I don't think I have felt in about 2 years. I have felt as though I have met little milestones and small measurables I have set for myself. I was proud of my 'B' in a difficult law school class. I was happy when my wife loved her Christmas present and I knew that she really was. But to have a team of 11 strangers that I met online and began to play futbol with look at me, knowing I was in severe pain, and see me wrap my leg and limp back out to that field and say "Damn, that is a hard mother," well that was just a palpable sweetness that I could taste and smell.........

And then I went to school to study. How anticlimactic! Anyway, after things were seemingly on the upswing, a proverbial punch to the balls.

Let us review the score.

Broken vase, impending final, the job that doesn't pay which leads to the running out of hard currency, and the recent hamstring injury that could rob me of my sweetness on the field VS. the great wife, the mild euphoria from almost winning the game, and the thought that the course is nearing end.

So, I study at school and bring the "breaker" and the other study buddy home to review for several more hours on the Sunday before the final. We review as I look for my power cable to my laptop. Where is the power cable to my laptop? Have you seen the power cable to my laptop? Have YOU?

WIFE: "No, I have not seen it. Where did you have it last?"
Me: "You know I love you right?"
WIFE: "Of course, I love you too."
Me: "Well, with that in mind, If I knew the last place I had it, why the hell would I ask you?"
WIFE: "You don't have to be an asshole you know."
Me: "Whatever, SORRY"
____

Me: "How about you study buddy?"
Study Buddy: "fuck you dude! Why don't you check "breakers" bag, he breaks shit and loses his shit all of the time, maybe he has it."
Me: "Fair enough, you don't have to be an asshole you know."
Study Buddy: "fuck you."
Me: "OK... dick" [under my breath]

Me: "How about you, is it in your bag?"
Breaker: "What?"
Me: "Forget it."

Anyway, I can't find the thing. I knew I had it at school, but thought it was in the house. It was in none of the usual places and so I call school. They don't know where it is.

Add this to my ass and thigh on fire and I am getting pretty P.O.ed. Needless to say it is now Tuesday. Again, I should be doing work but am not. I have since 1) taken the final, upon which I hope I did not shit the bed; 2) found my cable with the assistance of the wonderful Mary at the library of my school. I told her that I loved her and that her thouroughness had rejuvinated my hopes for humanity and saved me 79.95 in cold, hard, U.S. curreny, excluding opportunity cost and shipping; 3) realized that my hamstring injury is much better than I had hoped, as if I had torn muscle it would look as described by a teammate, as if "a bull had rammed its head into my ass,"; and finally, have gotten an 180 gram vinyl double pack record as a temporary sign of good faith by the "breaker" who feels more guilty than he should and is also having his mother, the wonderful woman that she is, purchase us something grand and ethnic from Egypt to replace the Costa Rican vase. Word up.

Final Score. GOOD. Leg is healing, class is done, broken item replaced, cable found, 80 dollars saved, "breaker's" guilt alleviated, I am attending a Chicago Fire Futbol game in lieu of practice which will force me to work on strategy whilst resting my leg, and I saw a friend that I have not seen in some months on the train last night.

I know that this has something to do with those lucky pennies that I found.

HECK YEAH.

I will talk to you loyal readers again in the near future.
I hope my cousin has her baby soon. She is patient, but this is ridiculous.
I will have pizza with my wife tonight.
I can ride my bike in the interim to strengthen my injury.

All is well with the world and 42 people have read my blog thus far. I think it is my wife just refreshing my page to make me feel good.
If you stop in leave a message for me.

Therefore,

Working without pay only works if you give a shit!

I am anonymous. I wish to remain anonymous.

I am like most people in this world...essentially anonymous.

Get on the web and it's like advertising all of your faults, emotions, sentiments, etc. to the world. One big fat, self-incriminating broadcast. Sure, you are purveying your finest and purest of thoughts, unadulterated and honest. I appreciate this. My employers, past, present, and future may not. I don't really care what those people think. They, however, do care what I think, and how I act, and how I represent them as an organizational entity.

Remember your mother smacking the shit out of you in the middle of a shopping mall for acting like a huge twat. It's not because you were acting like a huge twat. You got wacked for acting like a huge twat next to her and therefore, for making her look like a huge twat that has no control over her spoiled, rotten, and uncontrollable brat. A poor reflection on the management skills of the organizational entity. This is the analogy. Fitting I think. So this is where we begin today, with anonymity.

ZINEDINE ZIDANE.

Not anonymous. Anything but. This man is still a class act in my book. Zinedine Zidane did to Marco Materazzi what I would have done. However, Zidane exercised self restraint. You do not see Coach Raymond Domenach chastizing his player. You do not see Jaque Chirac chastizing his countryman. You do not see the likes of Makelele, Thuram, Ribery, Henry, and the rest of Zidane's brothers blaming the loss on Zidane. THE ITALIANS DID NOT WIN THE 2006 WORLD CUP. THE FRENCH MERELY LOST. PENALTY KICKS ARE SHITE, and no one likes to see a game end this way. Moving on. Had that been me on the pitch, I would not have abided by the FIFA rules of the game. Zidane did. He did not employ the use of his hands to exact cold revenge on the Materazzi. He used his head. I too have been red carded. Upon 70 minutes or so of continuous rough play, disrespect, and the acte finalment of some words spoke regarding my mother I grab an opposing player by the head, gripping a white knuckled hand full of hair and pulled that cheating and lying bastards face into my other hand. The ball was at the opposite end of the pitch. The lying and cheating bastards bloodied face kissed the moist grass. The official pulled his red card from his pocket and placed the card in my face. Unacceptable? Certainly. Excusable? Only by some. Deserved? Absolutely.

When I did this, when I committed that foul, I knew the repurcussions. Perhaps Zidane, blinded by a momentary overtaking of blind fury did not fully understand such repurcussions. Perhaps it was a mistake to commit such a foul with ten minutes left of overtime. Let me direct the following statements to all of the other people out there with their opinions. I will say only this. Maybe it was a mistake, but it was Zidane's to make. His countrymen, his national leader, his coach, and most certainly his family stick by him. For you, it is none of your business. Eric Wynalda, the writers and editors at "Le Monde," Giorgio Chinaglia, and the rest of the World, I don't think that you need me, some anonymous person, of anonymous age and education to tell you that "it was not you on the pitch, head butting a potentially facist in a moment of rage," so kindly keep your comments to yourself. Zinedine has enough to live with. Maybe he regrets his act, maybe he doesn't. That is for him to live with, not you.

That is my first complaint of this week.

Moving on.

I had a wonderful weekend. Full of wine, sport, cinema, conversation, and grand gastronomic fare. Well, I guess not all of the food was that grand. But much of what was consumed was quite delicious. Two Cheese flights, curried and pan seared scallops, grilled lamb loin, honey and cumin cubed chicken, garbanzo and spinich pasta, grape leaves and hummous. Simply delicious. Dined with the wife, had futbol practice, saw and excellent animated film based on a Phillip K. Dick novel. Just enjoyable the entire time. So why don't more people do these types of things. Why can't we have good conversation with other people like I do with my wife. People only want to take about the mundane and the vulgar. Aggravating. Despite all of this I am completely happy at present.

Here is a valid complaint. I will take this to the ombusman/person, my apologies. I have an examination on Monday. I have read every assignment, and missed only two classes. I have put the work in. I will study diligently for the entire week so that I can, with any hope in addition to my hard work, reap what I have sown. There are those among us, out there, that are our doctors, lawyers, dentists, psychologists, butchers, train conductors etc, that do not study like I do. Which is to say that many study perhaps more efficient that I. Others do nothing. They simply do nothing. They fly by night, get the materials for the examination and sweep on past me, doing less work and finally surpass my scores through back door dealings. I don't know how these people acquire these materials and I don't know what they do with all of the time that they are not studying. I know where you think this complaint is going... but you are incorrect. I am upset with myself for allowing them to get to me. I am not upset with them. I am not upset with these people because I know more than them. I am more fit and qualified than most of the people to be a practioner in whatever vocation or challenge I am posed against them in. Do you understand what I am saying. I put the work in to put the work in. For the sake of the experience. I may perform worse then them on the examination. I may be seen as a lesser competitor. When the wind has blown and the debris has settled. I feel whole. I am a complete human being. I have survived the experience and have grown as a result of that experience. I care not how I rank in comparison with those people. I have reached a point in my life where I can honestly say that I, in more instances than not, do not compare myself to others. There will always be those both greater and lesser than I based on a multitude of measurables. I, however, am confident in saying that I am improving. I, inside my mind and body, am improving and becoming a more complete human being. GO ME!

Oh, yes. DO you know something? I am upset about relationships. They just don't seem to be working out for a host of my friends as of late. Is it the alignment of the planets? Are we do for a total solar eclipse in the near future. IS the planet swinging off orbit? I am concerned about these people. I think that they have done some things, subconsciously, that may have jeopardized their relationships. These people are good people and they deserve second chances. They have recognized that they scrabled their priorities and are sincerely penitent. I hope the best for these people. One a woman, the other a man. If I could put them together, I would. I think that they, in another life, would be a great couple. I sincerely empathize with M y S. They feel like they are too old to be messing around with such sloppy relationship woes. You are never to old for anything unless you are dead. Important to recognize.

OH. YOU know what puts me into a tizzy. People who constantly tell you that they want to hang out with you, but never call. Fuck them. I don't mean that. Yes I do. But don't worry. I will get over it. Tomorrow...Not Fuck you.

Saw a couple of severely balance challenged people on the train this morning. Train, not like the Orient Express or the Hiram Bingham to Machu but rather the Chicago EL, or the Tube if you are ignorant and hail from across the pond. So, this dude, parallel to the front of the train must be completely devoid of any knowledge of physics. This is a sad fact. After all, physics is the science of life. Perhaps he is the walking dead. He didn't seem starved for human brains so perhaps there is some other rational excuse. So, anyway. The train moves forward, rapidly. If you stand with your feet shoulder width apart, perpendicular to the front of the train, it is as if you were standing in your living room, feet two feet apart and had your friend push you in the chest. Do you know what would happen? That is right. You would fall flat on your dumb ass. You ride a train as if you were on a snowboard, skateboard, etc. You can almost ride the train in this manner without holding on to the multitude of metal handles provided by the architects of the train cars. Bend the knees a little to absorb the shock. More bend in the front as you travel, less bend in the front as you stop. Lock the opposite leg of the direction you are traveling and voila!!!! No spills, no mess, no interference into the personal space of others. I am going to explain this to those folks in the very near future. Someone could get hurt.

Speaking of HURT. Have you all seen the "Elephant Man" starring Anthony Hopkins and John Hurt as John Merrick, in real life Joseph Merrick. This is the story of a man horribly disfigured by a disease which causes him to have bone disfigurement, elephantitis, unable to use certain body parts, etc. Mr. Merrick, in the beginning of the film is found by the good Doctor, Anthony Hopkins, at a side show. The Doctor, rescuing Mr. Merrick from this side show life soon feels that he has just displaced Mr. Merrick from one side show to another, that of the medical commmunity. After a short time the Doctor finds that Mr. Merrick is not mentally deficient, but merely deformed. This is a great story of the power of friendship and that books should certainly not be judged by their covers. I like to think that I would be able to see past such deformities to find the beauty inside another human being. I think that I could. I have done it before, but one never knows.

The line from this film that is most striking is when Mr. Merrick accidentally knocks over a child and is pursued through the train station only to be disroped and have all of his deformities shown to the riotous and unreasonable public. He shouts to them in despair, fear, and anger that "I am not an animal, I am a human being."

Very poignant in today's climate of xenophobia and paranoia.

Speaking of Paranoia. This film that I spoke of earlier, the Phillip K. Dick novel. That is a true display of paranoia gracefully conveyed by the artist to those with a mind open enough to appreciate the medium and style with which Dick offers up this story. The film, almost always less fulfilling than the book, was quite good. There seemed to be some in the audience, which was quite mixed, that were on some mind altering substances. They laughed at times when only a psychedelic causes an inside joke to force a conspicous and collective laugh. The real pinch in this case is that if you have not read this book of technology, drugs, law enforcement, conspiracy, and the ultimate dementia, then you don't know how the story ends, and this particular story does not end well my friend. So these junkies are slowly declining into a likely near vegetative state or just outright death. The film seemed to glorify this drug use, which clearly, the book did not. So I hope that those kids weren't tripping out because the common ending of the book and the film was Phillip K. Dicks dedication to his friends who have been lost or severely impaired due to drug use, listing the names followed by one of four potential fates. Those names were followed by either a DECEASED, PERMANENT PSYCHOSIS, PERMANENT BRAIN DAMAGE, or PERMANENT LIVER DAMAGE. Not a message to have the mind soak up during a trip. Hope they are OK...


Well, it seems, children, that I have run out of time for this broadcast. Hope to have the counter up soon when I get to a terminal that will allow me to modify cookie settings.

Until then...Auf Wiedersehen. Oh, that reminds me. Heidi is on tomorrow. SWEEEEET!

so what I was trying to say

So anyway, from the last post, what I was trying to say is that I know two little fellows who are so smart and got it going on. One kid is 3 years old and the other 2. They are so cool and smart and have such great parents that you just hate to see other children who don't have the means. Therefore, their parents, if they cannot take care of these children should not have children. Not these kids though, and certainly not their parents. If you cannot devote the time and resources to raising great kids, don't have them. That is it.

Curbs and Gutters

Curbs and Gutters. Barriers and Runoff. I have been thinking a great deal about what is really going on in life. Seems an awful short run of living to be preoccupied with so much non-sensical bullshit, don't ya' think?

I mean, I have been having waking dreams of instances from my childhood and just past memories lately. It has been fantastic, but time seems to be speeding up. Kind of a drag when you think about it, so I have decided to meditate, and meditate more. My world is my world, my words my words. I can try and explain such things to other people but no one, no one will ever truly understand the full significance of how I see and feel things. No one can. It is not because we don't understand each other, it is simply because human limitations prevent such adequate communication. Until minds can meld, or some similar process where you see the world, YOUR WORLD, from another person's complete bio-mental-physical viewpoint, communication will be less than 100% efficient. Once we get to such a point I believe the human life will progress. Because the person on the ground who watched their child, father, sister, wife, etc. die will be able to put the person who killed them into the shoes of the bereaved. That kind of feeling and sentiment is some pretty powerful stuff. The whole collective level of consideration, compassion, empathy will increase exponentially among the whole populous. Wouldn't that be nice? I think that it would be.

Despite our current inefficient state, things seem to be getting better. At least among my circle. But chew on this. We think that the world is becoming more progressive, however, it seems that the people [many people and in a general sense] that are spawning more people are from less educated, more supersticious, less wealthy, more populated areas. The population is declining in the more rationale [supposedly] and more developed states, or regions. The more rationale is a debatable description, but essentially a general truth for our purposes.

For example, East Timor is growing at 2.08% but is the poorest country in the world with a GDP per capita is $400-500 and their unemployment is at 50%

Further, Somalia is at 2.75% growth with GDP hovering at a blustery $500-600.

2-3% doesn't seem like much, and after infant mortality and life expectancy figured in, well it really ain't much. But look at some of these numbers...

U.S. is growing at a whopping, .91% with a GDP of $41,800. Germany's growth is -.02%, yes that is a minus, they are actually shrinking, their GDP is at $30,400. These countries contain, but are certainly and not necessarily run by un-self-serving and rational leaders. These countries have high levels of secondary and tertiary education such that people from all over the world, many elite, send their children here to be educated.

My point, and I will support this theory with additional resources, is that the world of more easily swayed people to fanaticism is on the growth, while those more rational, finding that less children is the answer, or in some cases no children, for them. The world is growing less capable of supporting habitability for increasing populations. We know that the world is warming, however, we don't know if the effects of that warming will be a massive and gradual cooling, a rapid cooling, a massive and irreversible warming, or what. We just don't know. What they do know, what we know, is that we had better make some changes. Having more children in over-populated areas, consuming more energy, giving less back, is not the answer.

Moving forward... on to the predominatly Catholic countries we can see some interesting results.

The Philipines-Growth: 1.8%, GDP: $5,100, Religion: 89% Roman Catholic
Mexico-Growth: 1.16%, GDP: $10,000, Religion: 80.9% Roman Catholic
Ireland-Growth: 1.15%, GDP: $41,000, Religion: 88.4% Roman Catholic
Guatemala-Growth: 2.27%, GDP: $4,700, Religion: Almost entirely Roman Catholic.

Basically, if I had more time today, and when I have more time later I will project further numbers to show that the Catholic church's current move to relax their long standing policy against the use of contraception {see also CFFC[Catholics for a Free Choice]} not only necessary to long term sustainability of the planet, but it is rational for people to do more than just procreate. Think about how much happier Hitler and Saddam would have been with a little hot lovin', am I right?

So, anyway, I have to split. I have a motion for summary judgment to discuss with a colleague and a sandwich to pick up for my wife.

I would also like to thank Hasselhof for the sweet line...
"Kickin' Ass with Class!"

Ayuvedra, Futbol, and Beats

"Ayurveda is a Sanskrit word that means "the science of lifespan." The word ayurveda is made up of two roots: ayur means life and veda means knowledge. According to ayurveda, every human being was created by the cosmos as either male energy, Purusha, or female energy, Prakruti. Purusha is choiceless passive awareness, while Prakruti is choiceful active consciousness. A person's self-identify, called Ahamkara, is affected by three universal qualities: satva, rajas, and tamas. Satva equips an individual with the ability to have clarity of perception. Conversely, tamas is responsible for periods of confusion and deep sleep, as well as the tendency towards inertia and darkness. Rajas causes movement, sensations, feelings and emotions, everything that makes us human beings."

Thanks to ***http://library.thinkquest.org/24206/ayurveda-medicine.html

So basically, the human body is made of five elements: Space, Air, Water, Fire, and Earth. While man, and woman, are essentially, a microcosm of nature, three distinct body types exist among humans. Those body types are called DOSHAS. Those doshas explain movement, gesturing, and the metabolic functions of the person. The three doshas are comparable to the pyshchosomatic bodytypes of endomorph, mesomorph, and ectomorph. Now we get into what two friends have either in the passed or are currently studying as they relate to ayuvedra. I have an friend name Wayne, he should be safe because only his parents call him that, but he studies some far out things. Shamanism, Ayuvedric Medicine, Organic Foods, Meditation, Trancendental Meditation, Yogic Studies, etc. My friend Dee, as I will call her, is studying to help people look and feel beautiful, from the inside out. They call her studies Esthiology and Wellness. She is kinda far out as well. I should introduce them. My wife thinks that It would be hilarious to put them in a room together. They might just float away. They are kind of Airy, or can be. This is a complement. Trust me.

Moving on, the comparable body types in Ayuvedra are Vata ( Sounds like Vah-Tah), Pitta (Sounds like Pih-Tah), and Kapha (Sounds like Kah-Fa). Vata is comprised of Ehter and Air; Pitta of Fire and Water; and Kapha of Water and Earth. According to the religion, or philosophy, or studies, or however, and to what extent
YOU buy into these thoughts, you should lend some creedence to these ideas. Once explained they make a great deal of sense. While each of Vata, Pitta, and Kapha, exist in every cell and organ, including the male sperm and female egg, and most people have a mix of doshas, one type is predominant in all humans.

"All in all, while there are only three doshas, there are really seven body types in ayurveda: mono-types (vata, pitta, or kapha predominate), dual-types (vata-pitta, kapha-pitta, or vata-kapha), and equal types (vata, pitta, and kapha in equal proportions). Health occurs in an individual when he or she develops a balance or equilibrium among the three doshas. This equilibium prevents disease and gives the individual a peace of mind."

So, last Saturday, Dee says to me "I think that you are a Pitta." "I say why," and then we got off of topic. But last night, as I sat with Wayne and the wife, after some quite delicious Korean food, I had Bulgogi, they had Bi Bim Bop, Wayne says, "Dude, you are a total Pitta" Well, my intrigue was struck like a heavy minor chord at a 'Slayer' show. So here I am. Let me explain the Pitta body type to you, and those of you that have some idea of who I am can decide.

PITTA: This metabolic type is rather predictable, especially in comparison to the Vata type. A person with a dominant Pitta body type usually has a medium build, is strong, has stamina and endurance, and maintains a stable body weight. Pittas are generally very intelligent (questionable), quick-witted (possibly), and overly critical (fuck you if you think so) : ). They posses little patience (are we done yet?), a short temper (not so much anymore, wanna fight about it?), and may erupt from time to time. Now, the things that are generally going to set our blood to boil and cause us the most aggravation are those things that have a kernal of truth to them. This Pitta thing is a helluva lot closer to describing me than any kind of pseudo new-age star reading bullshit. Any Ayuvedra is probably about 5,000 years old, so hey, they might be on to something. Wayne tells me that I should lay off the salty and spicy foods. As you can guess, they likely exaccerbate any conditions that may result from being a Pitta, hypertension, anxiety, etc. I no longer erupt, that sounds kind of naughty, no? But I do not get so angry anymore. I know people are assholes, why be surprised? But, I have to work on the overly critical. As my loyal 2 readers will attest to, this has a great deal to do with being the "OK" guy, as opposed to the 'awesome,' 'fantastic,' 'sweet' guy. Perhaps if I lower my standards a pinch, I wouldn't be overly critical. I don't demand success, I don't demand perfection. What I do expect is that people try as hard as they can If they are doing something for me, and to a greater extent if they are doing something that they are passionate about. Otherwise, what the fuck is the point. There is a fella that I am related to through two marriages. He is as standup as they come. He just did a triathalon. I don't know why he did it. I guess he was trying to push himself. He damn near came in dead last. But he finished. He took that bastard by the horns and shook its head into submission and he finished. That was awesome, not just ok. So, you see, I am getting much better.

Even with my wife. She is the best lady on the planet. I know that SHE knows that is how I feel, deep down, but she likes to hear me say. Look, I am a man of few words. I didn't used to be, but then I realized that the more people say, in a majority of cirumstances, the dumber they sound. That is not true for some people, but it may very well be true for me, so don't take offense.

Moving on to Futbol. Righteous stuff. I have had the unique opportunity to see many games this cup. The work gig, pretty all right for no pay. the School shit, exactly that. Despite all of this I have watched damn near every 2:00 game. Sweden v. England, Germany v. Poland, Brazil v. Australia, Czech v. Ghana, Italy v. U.S. FUCKING AWESOME. I usually have One Guiness with each game. ONLY 125 calories. BRILLIANT. Anyway, this has been fantastic. I am on a new training kick and I Have found a team. My goal: to qualify for the U.S. 2010 Team and play in South Africa. Yes, I am fully aware of the daunting loftiness of my goal. However, if I train that hard, something good will come of it. Worst case scenario, I become as fit as I was at 17, which is really going to hurt the wife's eyes and my heart. Best case, I am playing in South Africa. That would suck!

Now, and finally. I have been making some music. I am about to have my humdinger of an Ableton box live. Transfering synths to a massive box and midi-synched to all of my gear. I want to play that music so loud that it creates a 'disturbance in the force.' What I really want to tell you all is to go buy the Gnarls Barkley album "St. Elsewhere." It is the BOMB, the Shit, or whatever, people be sayin' these days. Cee-Lo from Goodie Mob and Dangermouse. Off the chain. Buy it.


Konichiwa and Sayonara................................................................................................................................................................................................................Bitches.

Nobody Knows Who I Am

Nobody knows who I am. The fault lies not with them, but with me. My mind is not lazy, but my mouth is. My body is not lazy, but my eyes and ears are. I just don't want to look for the answer or listen to somebody try and explain or justify their actions to me. I just want them to do whatever it is that they think they need to do or want to do. I don't want to talk about things, I want to do those things.

My wife will tell you that I am an "OK" guy. Rarely is something 'awesome,' 'fantastic,' 'superp,' or whatever. I am an "OK" guy because I have refined my tastes over years and things just don't exite me that easily anymore. Things that I love or have a great deal of passion invested in exite me more than the inadequacy of the English language, or likely any other language, can describe. I could explain to you what those things that ignite my passion are but I am afraid that they will lose some of their punch if I share them with you...so I will keep them for me. Just for me.

Despite all of this, I am a happy person. I do let many things slide by me without causing aggravation. When we can make these aggravations gnats instead of lions the world becomes happier. The world becomes happier because one person becomes happier. Sure, the increase may be negligible, but the ocean gains size with every drop. There are far too many stubborn and ignorant people in this world who cannot recognize that they know nothing. I know nothing. In the grand scheme of things, many of us know nothing. I would love to give you a great quote, but not today, some other time. The crux of this thought is that it is impossible to know everything, even a percentage of a fraction of everything. So be wary of those people that claim to know much, and even more wary of those who claim to know more. Those people cannot be trusted, and often, when it comes down to necessity, those people never seem to come through in moments that demand courage or compassion. So there, you ignorant phuckos out there.

I am at work right now. I am supposed to be working right now. I guess that I am working right now. Just not doing work suited to this environment. "Yes, I am doing work...I am blogging. Hopefully I am making someone else's day better by writing something that they felt, and thought that no one else felt like that. Hopefully." So I guess that this, what I am doing, as compared to what I should be doing, may very well be the more important work. Look, It is not as if I have a pile of time sensitive work staring me in the face, scornfully taunting..."finish me, finish me now, or your life." I don't have anything. Everything they ask that I do, I do. Apparently I do it well, or so they tell me. I attribute the lulls in work to a lack of time or organization on their behalf. Of course it may not be their fault, but it also MAY be their fault. I am in no position to speculate on the reasons for gaps in the assignments that they give to me. There are 3 other summer employees at my place of business and not all of them seem to be getting as much work as I. It should be noted, and noted well, that those 3 are paid employees, whereas I am not. Additionally, those 3 have progressed, or scratch that, are merely further along in their educations than I. In the grand scheme, back to this grand scheme, what is this grand scheme? We will discuss the grand scheme shortly, this advanced educational position means very little. I suspect that I can do the same things and types of tasks that these others can do, but for their additional year of education on me. In fact, I am probably 4 or 5 years older than them. Which means that I have 4 to 5 years of LIFE EDUCATION on them where they have 1 year of LAW SCHOOL on me. WHOA, stop the presses, hold the phones, and call the fucking President. These guys have a year of school on me. A year of awful, dreadful, monotonous law school. YOU SIMPLY CANNOT BELIEVE HOW MUCH SMARTER THAT YEAR OF EDUCATION HAS MADE THEM. They might be geniuses. The shear expansion of their brains may have given them mind control powers. We had better make some hats of tin foil to protect ourselves from their penetrating mind control waves.

Sorry, gotta little out of control there. Wild Rants, Just Wild Rants. Anyway, my point is that...

1. Working for free is just lame. I cannot explain to you how difficult it is to put your best foot forward, do all of the work, do it well, and then just not give a shit. In fact, I really couldn't care much less. The worst of it is, that these people cannot believe how hard I work. I truly believe that if most of them, the lawyers that give me work, were in my position they would have quite a severe case of the 'fuckits.' But that is neither here nor there, because I am in the hot seat and they hold the lever.

2. Back to the whole 'I know more than you,' issue. Well, you probably don't know more than me. We might just be on an even keel. Wouldn't that just piss you off? What stings those people's egos the most is that I may very well know more than them, and I don't know anything at all. OUCH!!! That smarts. The damn voodoo that people try and sell to you on a daily basis is unbelievable. This culture, our culture, not the global culture, but there are some culprits out there among the usual suspects (you know who you are England and China), forces people to work and over work and be workaholics. The problem is that education is shit, many teachers are shit, math and science are shit. And people just don't give a shit. They needn't have to. We have plenty to go around, what with the state of education and teachers. We are working more, to produce less quality, to buy stuff that we don't need. I cannot speak to this issue any longer. I have nothing left to say about this without digressing into a massive diatribe that people have neither the patience nor the inclination to read.

3. What is life? What is our definition of life? What is your definition of life? What quality of life do you seek? The chain? The repeating chain? Does that really make people happy? What could you do different starting right now? What would you do differently if you could do it again? Me, myself, I don't have the answers. What I do know is this. My grandparents had their children, my parents. Now I will have a child...someday. Would I like more than one child? I don't know. But we keep making children, and the planet keeps turning. But if I am all right, and I have a decent moral sense, no my role in a global world, respect differences of culture and religion, and treat other humans with decency that treat me with decency then why are there so many damn ASSHOLES out there?

Here is one possibility. The people who treat others with respect like I do are not the people making babies because they realize that their progeny will have little chance of getting on well and be outnumbered by all of those creating asshole babies.

The second possibility. The people making babies that are all right human beings are on the increase and we have to wait and see maybe two generations down the effects of the increase in overall goodness in the world. I would like to place all of my faith in this option, I hope that I am not merely deluding myself.

The third possibility. We are just a race of slightly rational, warrior monkeys and we are all fucked. The Earth cannot sustain our populous because we take and take and take and give nothing back to the planet. There is no point. There is nothing but this. I hope this is not the outcome. But everything in my gut tells me that this is what is happening. Wars, fighting, over population, wage enslavement, and workaholism. Wow. not a good scene.






Anyway, I don't know why I started this blog today. I just felt like, i don't know. I guess that I just didn't really feel anything.

I have this class that I have been going to for school. Nothing fun, like music or gong fu, just law. The class could be exciting. Guess what though? could be and are are a world apart. I don't want to go. I will go, I will also watch Netherlands play Argentina at 2:00 as well. I hope that lifts my spirits a bit, because despite my good fortune as of late, I still feel numb. I feel like I am watching my life like a show, rather than participating in it. If you know me, OH, I forgot, NOBODY KNOWS WHO i AM. Well, I don't believe in fate. I can do whatever I want to do. That is one thing that everyone should know earlier on in their lives, that way we would not have to say "IF i could go back" because we would not have to. Anyway, I don't believe in fate, which makes the whole living thing kind of a heavy drag lately. Because If you feel like you are watching your life, then you don't have much control. I guess that I will just have to try harder.




On a lighter note I have been told that I am a Pita, through and through. Pita is a body, mind, personality, skin, innards, type of person in the Ayuvedric studies. I am going to start a new post to describe the lighter stuff. That ought to be something. Stay tuned.

Oh F It.

Fear is not the source of all love.

Organization and minimalist redaction is quite likely the way to happiness.

A clear head is often overrated. A clear body is not.

I called my father for father's day and my brother for his birthday. It felt good. My other brother won't call back. I wish that he would. Apparently his phone is not working, he is living in a distant city away from where he usually lives and has not contacted anyone. He was supposed to join the Army, which is a FUCKING mistake. I don't know what his deal is. I don't know what my deal is. My deal is not great, but it seems better than his at this point. Shit.

Things that make other people happy often make me sad. The rationale behind this opposite effect is simple. When I think of those happy things I immediately think of mine or other people's deaths. Morbid, I know. However, I guess that I am preparing myself for the inevitable. That got me to thinking that maybe I should stop drinking.
Not water and juice, but the booze. Maybe I will just stick to wine. It seems to treat me pretty well. What can I say?

Anyway, I have been doing a great deal of introspective thinking lately. I don't think that I will like working on the weekends very much. It is damn near impossible to work as much as our businesses and firms expect us to. It is bred within the culture to work work and work. Because we work so much, others have to work that much because that is what is expected. It seems however, that the people not working so much are the same folks that bullshit their afternoons away. Do you know what the hard workers get for their efforts? More work and the responsibility to carry the social loafing losers through their careers. Well, I propose that we cut out the fat, find more quality workers, and tighten up the teams with those that can carry their weight. We would have more responsible and responsive workforces and we would have to work less because we would be more efficient in less time.

I just think that I am in kind of a bad place right now and I shouldn't be. Things are going relatively well for me. I am working, for free. Well that is not so great, but the experience is good. I have been training and playing soccer. I have been watching world cup action. Fantastic. I have been hanging out with my wife. But, I cannot help but feel melancholic lately despite these great things...

I told my wife that I want to sell most of my stuff and start training even more. No more cigarettes, less booze, all organic food. I just want to change my life, but I don't want to add anything. I only want to rid myself of what I already have. I don't feel the need to use something external as a crutch for the strength that I have within myself.


I think that is about enough for today.