Sunday Mornings at the Henne house

at around 9am you would hear power tools of some sort going off, most likely an air compressor if my brother Kevin is up working on cars or the radial saw if Dad is up making cabinets. Mom will take Nina to agility training and obedience classes around this time....

let me start over.

My alarm wails at 9am to get up. Through the open windows above my bed I can hear Dad's new table saw cutting through oak plywood in long sections to make a book shelf. It makes me want to get up and watch. I say watch but what I really mean is smell. The smell of the oak sawdust makes me feel comfortable and safe. Probably because Dad has been making things out of wood forever and I would watch and play with the dust and smell it. He is a craftsman specializing in Greene and Greene style wood working. As a result he has created beautiful wooden things like lamps, tables, shelves, cabinets and etc. Pretty much all of the wooden things in our house were made by him. I like the smell of ebony and teak especially, an ancient quality to the smell. The smell. It reminds me to crawl out of bed to smell the fresh cut oak. I step out of bed, slide my glasses on. Than I look outside to see the blue sky without a hint of clouds and dress warmly, an orange Hawaiian shirt and thin beige shorts. It will be another hot one today. I walk across the work clothes I dropped on the floor last night and step on my cellphone, which I pull out of my work pants and slip into my shorts pocket.

On my way down the hallway Roomba, the robot vacuum cleaner, diligently cleans the carpet under the watchful eyes of our little cat Murrs. Her original name was Jasmine, which was shortened to Jazz, which was shortened to lil miss murrs because of the incomplete meow sound she makes: Mmmmm.....rrr. Lil miss murrs was shorted to Murrs and when called she makes the same sound.

Stepping over Roomba and then Murrs I walk passed the brick hearth where our most unique pictures are gathered, including me as a kid with blue pool-stick chalk all over my face hugging my dad.

Past the hearth the front door is open and I see a row of pvc pipes set up with Mom directing Nina,our Rottweiler, through them and than clearing a hurdle-like jump at the end. After a success Mom says, "Great Job Nina. What a good girl. Good girl," in obvious happiness. Nina reflects this happiness by wagging her whole body and licking Mom's hand.

Straight ahead I hear the garage door close as my brother Kevin walks inside. He has his red Hilti drill in his hand. I greet him on my way to the coffe maker in the kitchen. When I walk around the corner to the tiled kitchen I see Scooba, the floor mopping robot, mopping the dining room floor. Kevin has a plastic bowl of unmixed pancake batter in front of him.

"Morning, Kev," I say as I pull a mug I made from the cabinet.

"Morning," he says spinning the Hilti drill to its widest size and sticking a whisk in the chuck before tightening it down.

"What are you doing?" I ask, gesturing with the mug in my hand at his drill with a whisk sticking out of it.

"Mixing," he says as he places the drill-whisk in the batter and pulls the trigger. As I turn on the coffee maker I am surprised by how quick and easy the Hilti mixes the batter. Not only can the red drill bore holes in reinforced concrete and chromoly steel, it can thoroughly mix pancake batter, and better than any mixer I have seen at that.

"You ready to help with breakfast," he says in a nonquestioning way.

"You are asking me BC, Kev. Gimme a second."

"Before Coffee, yeah, you're right, my bad," he says. He laughs.

I open the top of the Keurig coffee maker and remove the old k-cup and throw it away. I look at the coffee carosel and the variety of flavors. Towards the end of the month there are only two: Rainforest Espresso Extra Bold Trés Intense and Doughnut Shop Coffee with a chocolate sprinkle doughnut on the foil seal. I feel like doughnut coffee today so I snap that plastic cup in there, close the lid, check my mug to make sure it is right side up (after poking fun at Loo for making that mistake a couple times I can't make the mistake myself) and push the button. As the coffee stream trickles into the mug I hear Kevin greet Buddy, our chocolate lab, Rhodesian Ridge back, rescue-mutt cross. I bend down and rub Buddy's face and neck while Kevin pounds Buddy's chest like a kettledrum. Buddy wags his whole body in response.

After Coffee, or AC, I started cooking the bacon and sausage for breakfast as well as setting the table for everyone. Once breakfast is ready I round everyone up. I walk out the front door to see Mom walking around the yard looking for something while Nina sits perfectly still. I walk passed Nina, pat her head as I walk by, and walk behind Mom. I place my hand on her shoulder and say, "Breakfast," using my diaphragm and speaking clearly because she lost her hearing suddenly about a year ago. She thanked me and than told Nina she was a good girl. Nina came running towards her and slammed into my leg at half speed. It didn't faze her in the slightest. I limped to the table saw to find dad.

He had his ear muffs on and was ready to cut long sheets of oak into three inch by seventy four inch sections. He turned the saw on before I reached him. When i did I put my hand on his shoulder and he turned to face me with the saw spinning. I pantomimed eating with a fork, more like shoveling food into my mouth. He nodded. I walked back inside the fresh cut sawdust smell following me inside to be greeted by the smell of breakfast. I pulled the milk out of the fridge while everyone showed up around the table. Kevin brought the pancakes, I brought the bacon and sausage and jam and butter and syrup.

Then we all sat down and talked about what we had planned for the day. This lead to a discussion of the preview I saw last night for District 9, which lead to a discussion about apartheid, which lead to a discussion of the similarities between South African apartheid and Palestine, which was compared and contrasted to Darfur by Kevin. Then we talked about how funny the show Firefly was, and how Mal was going to a very special Hell.

Only at the Henne house.

updates

I been in a rut as far as writing goes and things in general I suppose. I just got back from a work training seminar thing all expenses paidfor three days o better serve customers and make more monies and so on. We learned about how important active listening is (everyone thought it was act of listening) when a customer says something like, "I have a 2000 Ford Ranger" and you say, "cool. Can I get the year make and model of the vehicle?" Customers feel like they aren't important and are much less likely to part with their money. It sounds straightforward enough, doesn't it? The thing is employees greet and talk to over a hundred customers a day and we get burned out of pretending to be interested in every one of them after years of work. SO we learned how you have to stop pretending and start caring, picking up on the things that customers think are important and using them to sell tires to them.

We also learned about positive attitude, and I learned that I dont have that. And I was surprised because I thought I was a positive guy. And I am in certain areas, but deep down I'm not. A great example of that is when my mom showed me an article in the Ojai newsabout a class mate of mine from highschool who published a book. My immediate thoughts were: I bet it's lame, and he published it througha website which will publish anything, even lame stuff. It sounds boring. I bet I could write something better. And then a little voice in my head said, "whoa whoa whoa Brian! What a shitty attitude that was. Look how negative you are. You should be happy a class mate published a book. And it should encourage you, mr fancy pants writer to write your own book and get published instead of whining about it. If all you do is whine and complain about how everybody else's stuff sucks and you could do better, and yet you dont write anything. Don't worry about everyone else. Stop whining and get writing! The only person responsible for not being published is you. So lets go!" That voice had a lot to say.

Than today my Grandma called and asked what I was doing, and I told her about the work training seminar thing and how work was going and she said, "oh great. Now listen here. I want you to read a book called the last lecture by Randy Pausch."
"Ok, I'll check it out."
"No, I want you to read it right now. I am serious."
"Oh. Um. Ok."
"And I want your brother to read it, and your mother and your father."
"I'll tell them."
"You better. You can check it out from the library or even go to the internet and watch the lecture there, but the book is better."
"Alright I will do that now."
"Alright. Have a great day."
"Thanks, you too."

so I checked out the lecture on youtube which had 10million views about this computer science professor at carnegie mellon university who has 1 month to live on account of his pancreatic/liver cancer. He died last year.

Anyway I couldn't finish it today because I have work but I got 10 mins into it and he said something That hit me especially hard. He said: We cannot change the cards we are dealt, only how we play them.

Time for work. Have a great day!

Which is it

I did a lot of reading and research about breasts recently. As a side note did you know that your self exam should include the area around the clavicle, and under it and such? I didn't know that. Anyway, that is not the topic of this post.

And discovered this ...war?...struggle? something over whether breast are for babies or sex. And some people say they are sex organs, sensitive overtly sexual that's why you got to cover up outside or face legal action. The other side says breasts are for feeding children and have only been sexualized by men with mommie issues. In other countries the taboo doesn't exist as much and in 3rd world places they think its funny how we are obsessed with breasts, cause they are for babies only. There is literature and arguments and scientists and sociologists and all these peope going back and forth; breasts are sexual, breasts are for babies, yadda yadda.

So which is it?

Maybe I am missing something here, but can't the breasts be both? It seems to me that any body part can be sexualized because of a fetish or something. It could be ears or feet or fingers or whatever. But that may be a slippery slope, I think, because breasts predominately factor in to advertising and movies and stuff, whereas feet and stuff, not so much.

So what am I trying to say?

It doesn't make any sense to me to argue about the purpose of breasts because whatever the reason that everyone may agree with or not, there they are, and here to stay regardless of what is decided.

Now, I can agree and disagree with both sides of this issue because things are rarely absolute and a middle ground usually exists.

I will never forget something Erin said: "Ok, look, like, ok you see, there is this blade of grass and I can tell you what color I think it is, and you can explain what color you think it is but in between those two ways is what it REALLY is." Which is really intelligent because the grass isn't green, it isn't even a color at all. It reflects all other visible spectrums of light except green, and our brain fills in the rest, which makes us see green. How can we be sure that how one's brain interprets chemical reflection is the same as anothers? What was I saying? ...Breasts, right.

Those people that think breasts are for babies only should work on unsexualizing breasts and the way to do that is reveal breasts in nonsexual situations. So walk around with the girls hanging out and in a few years the breast taboo will fade away. The insistance of this "controversy" fuels the taboo. Those are my two cents and if you collect enough of them you can buy yourself a cheeseburger.

How gross is gross?

This post is disgusting.

People are disgusting. And they are disgusting to one another. But what happens when people do disgusting things out of love?

They are still disgusting to people who aren't part of the love.

Case in point is the internet phenomena called "Two Girls, One Cup."

DO NOT search for it.

I heard about it from the guys at work. They said it was the most disgusting thing they had ever seen. And I am interested in that, cause I have seen a lot of disgusting stuff in real life and pictures and videos. It takes a lot to disgust me. So I checked it out. Real briefly I will summarize what it is. One girl defecates into a cup and they take turns eating it and regurgitating it on each other.

Pooping and puking. Hardly anybody wants to see either one of those things separate. Together they are enough to trigger some of the most resolute gag reflexes. While I watched, I wondered how and why anybody would do this, and film it and post it online. It was considered legally obscene by the US Government and websites can no longer hold the video. What you can see now is people's reactions to the footage, not the footage itself. I saw it before it was pulled.

Anyway, the interesting thing about all this is the mentality that goes with it. These two Latina girls could have been tripping out of their minds on acid or something but most likely it was in vein of scat based porn. Whats the attraction to poo play right?

Some people (myself EXCLUDED) find it incredible because it means the other person loves ALL of you, even what other people think is gross. So you have the pooer wanting love and the pooee giving love by loving ALL of their partner.

Both these two people are psychologically damaged individuals. One was physically/mentally/emotionally abused, the other had no loving parents/guardians. One person told repeatedly they are worthless, or that no one could love them; another wishing for love until they give it out to compensate for the lack of love received . So when they see someone who needs love it triggers a response based on how they felt when they had no love and they try to love the other to make up for the lack of love from others, if that makes any sense. When you don't get love you love others more to make up for the love you didn't get so they will love you back. It's psychology stuff, our brains are messed up.

You can also see this type of super love for others in sex surrogates (people, usually women, that have sex with other people who were abused to teach them how to have sex with another person, for therapy.) Or pregnancy surrogates, women who will give birth to your baby if you are unable to. Really giving people.

Anyway, people who do this in real life feel that way, people in porn who do it are filling a niche market for those people who play with poo in real life.

Whats interesting, at least to me, is that the women took this idea from men. Two guys made a video called, "Two Guys, One Glass."

Similar things happen, but the guys got carried away and one guy put the glass up his rectum and it shatters while inside. So it becomes this horrifying, screaming, bloody mess. But oddly the feeling I got was, "You shouldn't play with poo and put glass up your ass, dude."

So these two girls, in typical female fashion, learn from the mistakes of men and used a plastic cup. And the whole thing goes without a hitch -- and oddly winds up being more disgusting for it.

So lets hear it for the girls.

And to think that at one point I thought guys could be more disgusting than girls...lost my thread...train of thought... is now leaving the station...

Areopogetica! There we go. Areopogetica was the name a pamphlet illegally printed in England by John Milton criticizing the new censorship law England had enacted. His point, if I recall correctly was not to censor stuff because censors get use to messed up stuff and can't accurately represent the population. The best thing to do is let it out and let society crush it. Which is why we can still read Hitler's Mein Kampf (sp). So we can see how messed up a person, or in the case of these two girls, how messed up people can become and establish a line of "ok that is freaky gross disgusting side and my side is not."

So in sumation 'Two Girls, One Cup' would have disgusted Hitler.

10 mins at the speed of thought

6:12 pm: So I noticed a lot of my previous posts were really didactic and I dont like that it seems as though I am trying to teach people stuff I have an urge to show them something anything but the urge to do so makes me think it unhealthy as though need to have people say wow look how smart he is or something--its like I need to have that so I find stuff that is complicate dor interesting and write about it in a way as to explain it and it really isn't the kind of writing I WANT TO DO OOPS caps lock got on somehow anyway its not the kind of writing I want to do because its boring to write my heart isn't in it it isn't fun but i still feel like I need to do it maybe even to get it off my chest whatever I have on my chest I dont have anything on my chest right now to get off so there's that--so didactic is ok sometimes but I realized recently that most posts recently and even the stuff I think about is really didactic and I dont enjoy writing it but the thing is my brain is really smart and it holds onto stuff and when someobody somewhere shows me they dont know what I am talking about I have an urge to come online and explain it all away i dont know why that is but I am convinced it doesn't help my writing out because it isn't the kind 9of writing I want to do -- so anyway I graduated UCR wahoo and now I see how scary it is to be out in the world because there are so many distractions and fun stuff to do I could play video games or watch movies or read for fun--I havent done that in years--the sky is the limit as they say which is a cliched metaphor of dastardly proportions because the sky is not thelimit we can go beyond the sky now and our limits seem to be as far as our space ships can travel so the real thing to say would be andromeda galaxy is the limit because we havent been there yet but I am sure we will someday anyway whewrre was I---------------- right so today I worked a full day and my legs hurt cause I been standing kneeling crouching leaning for the last 9 hrs and it feels so good to just sit and take the load off my legs---thinik of something to write about write about write about write about write about I got a new phone because my old phone stopped working properly the microphone broke so I could hear the caller clearly but they couldn't hear me so I got a new one and all of it was 100 bucks but as soon as I fill out the rebate it will be 20$ so i should do that and not be a statistic which is silly because no matter which way you go you will always be a statistic pass or fail you know? and that is 10 mins. That felt good to get out

aw shucks peace keeps me awake at night

I was gonna go to bed but I accidentally looked at a picture that said "women say no to war." and I was filled with ire. First of all, does that mean somebody, somewhere has a banner that says, "Women say yes to war." Who does that? Is it a peace organization's best imterest to state the obvious?

OK America/society: many people do not like war. Many people want peace. But my problem with all of that is: 'desires' and 'wants' do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for peace or war. So all you people out there that get shirts made and buttons and stickers to put on your Prius that say "PEACE" you are doing nothing for peace. What you are doing is broadcasting your desires, which is selfish. You don't want to truly have peace, you want people to know how you feel about peace. I could go on and on about this, and maybe I will when I am not so tired. But what do you hope to accomplish with all those stickers?

If only Osama Bin Laden had seen your bumper sticker, maybe than he wouldnt have been such a bad man.

All this time when people threatened America we could have just dropped airplanes full of peace stickers on them rather than bombs.

Peace stickers and rallys and shirts and all that stuff serve one purpose which has nothing to do with peace; and that is it makes you feel good. Because true peacemaking is uncomfortable. And I would argue it is impossible. What I recommend you peace advocates do is get a book called, "The Prince" by Niccolo Machiavelli. For two reasons, one: This is the book that governments operate by (especially ours, but the Russians are better at it). And two it explains why peace cannot work. (and three I guess is because it talks about a lot of really cool stuff that once you learn it you can see our own Government doing it, and you can follow along in the prince to find out why they do what they do.)

And for those of you who wont read the book I will sum up chapter 16 which is 2 pages: Peace cannot work; you can place the most gentle peace loving human in existence in charge, but for a price, a trusted official can put a killer in the same room with him.

One man can change the world with a bullet in the right place.

its getting late. more on this later when my mind is awake, and im not sick.

PEACE Y'ALL!

Squeeze the paw to hear the sweet sounds of cleaning

I have a lot on my mind.

So most importantly my woman was accepted to Western Michigan University, which is 10 mins from her original home in Kalamazoo, MI. She is on her way there now. I just got off the phone with her, she is in Colorado. She decided to drive there, rather than fly because she didn't have enough money to fly to MI with all the stuff she had accumulated in CA for the last five years she lived here with me. So we loaded her car up, she bought a car-top-carrier that I filled with those vacuum-seal bags (which do work, incredibly well in fact) and than I stuffed it full of her teddy bears. She has quite a collection. Her teddy bears, ah yes.

At first, I did not like the idea of sharing my bed or my room with her teddy bear collection. I don't like stuffed animals on my bed. But like any good boy I compromised. ONE BEAR ONLY. Than one added a friend, and so on and so forth. A few people said, "maybe she has some kinda kiddy thing going on in her brain that makes her want to have a lot of toys?" maybe so, but no. The real reason she has so many bears is because she associates memories, places, events, people with each individual bear. (kinda like people do with photos) I found this out later on. So being the awesome boy that I am, I went to the build a bear workshop to build her a bear to give to her while I went away to college at UC Riverside. They have this lil recorder thing you press and speak into and than it saves the sound and later when she presses it, it plays back. GENIUS.

So I thought about something really naughty to say, so that when she squezzed the paw the sweet sounds of my soothing voice would make her weak in the knees. But than I saw the bear maker guy test pressing the sound maker to make sure it worked on each bear under completion. I didn't want my naughty message to be heard by anyone but Loo. So I played it safe and said, "Everything is going to be ok Loo. I'll be back in your arms quickly. Until than hug this bear." When I handed the bear builder guy the noise thing, he slipped it in the paw and filled the bear full of fluff. He didn't test push it. Like he is supposed to. To make sure it sounds the way you want it to. Anyway, I gave the bear to Loo and she was so happy and smiled great big and even cried a little at my thoughtfulness. And than I said:
"Squeze the paw."

And she did. And I heard my voice start strong and than get drowned out by someone vacuuming closeby. You can barely hear me. And she looked at me like, "wtf is this?" and I said, "it's supposed to say: [typed above] but I guess the vacuuming drowned it out." and she said, "aww, thats sweet. At least you tried. Next time look out for vacuumers."

so now, when she is sad, and thinking of me she can squeeze the bears paw and she can listen to the sweet sounds of me being drowned out by a vacuum cleaner.

The point is I gave the perfect thoughtful gift for going away...3 years ago now I guess... but botched the presentation so to speak, which makes it better I think. It's something funny she can rip on me about. "Hey, they're vacuuming over there, you want to go record something for me?" "No, I already recored one near a belt sander." "Sweet."

I remeber once when we were manuvering under the covers (which were a tangeled mess) I kneed the paw and the vacuum sound started up, but muffled under covers. My dad was wishing us goodnight and he stopped and asked, "what the hell is that?" Before Loo could explain I quickly said, "one of loo's bears makes noise when you squeeze the paw." and he said, "Oh" and went to bed. Embarassment avoided.

END.

bienvenido a mi ceso

[inspired by Erin]

At work the other day someone wrote up on the white board: TGIF and I thought in the following order:

1) its thursday
2) TGIF: does that mean Thank God It's Friday or the PC version Thank Goodness It's Friday
3) if it is Thank God Its Friday, which god should be thanked?
4) and if I were to suggest a goddess I would suggest Frigga, whom Friday is named after anyway.

And after the thought came the action. I picked up the dry erase marker and drew a blue line down from the "G" and wrote "which one?"

Nobody got it.
***
A customer who was in love with his BMW was boasting about how well and inexpensive it had been to him to maintain it for the last 80k miles and than he said the following:

"Yep, she purrs like a kitten, runs like clock work, every 20k miles or so something important breaks and it has to go back to the shop."
thought in order:
1) purrs like a kitten is cliche
2) so is runs like clock work
3) breaking seems counter to the metaphor/cliche of running like clock work
4) doesn't clock work mean it just keeps going like a fancy clock or watch?
5) even the fanciest most expensive time keeping devices need maintenance and repairs sometime in their life.

and than I said,

"That's a horrible metaphor."

and than my thoughts were:

1) I shouldn't have said that
2) I shouldn't have said that
3) why did I say that?
4) how do I save the sale?
5) apologize for being a writer, or a college student or having your mind elsewhere

and he said, "Why is that?"

and I said, "Sorry, I have a midterm in Shakespeare tomorrow, im rather mindful of language construction right now. You were saying?"

but he wouldn't relent: "What do you mean, 'that's a horrible metaphor?'"

before I could break down what was going on in my head my mouth opened and let loose:
" if something runs like clock work that is supposed to mean it keeps ticking, it keeps going, over and over. Your BMW breaks catastrophically every 20k miles, while that is timely in itself it does not run like clock work. I understand what you are trying to say, but the metaphor is a bad one. I suggest, set your watch to it, or set your finances to it or something to do with time, rather than a clock. Time is a notion, clock is machinery-- It's not important. Anyway, you were saying?"
***
somebody was talking about basketball or something (i don't pay attention to sports) and they talked about one play that one player did that was godly and amazing.
thoughts:
1) do gods play sports?
2) if a woman did the same thing, would she be goddessly?
3) goddessly isn't a word
4) isnt the last word amazing doing nothing for the sentence? How can it follow godly?
***
end

Earthquake!

There was an earthquake in Ojai May 8. It was a lousy 4.2 (which I think is the Absolute Magnitude scale) earthquake but the epicenter was 2 miles away from my house, but like 19 miles below the surface of the street upon which we live. It really is amazing. The earth rubs tectonic plates together briefly 19 miles below the surface, maybe just for half a second, and we feel it vibrate. I didn't feel it, I was at UCR at the time, but my mom felt it.

There has been a lot of seismic activity recently, and by recently I mean recent by human standards, because geological standards take thousands of years. There was another earthquake last week in Oxnard and one recently in the IE somewhere.

Two things, first: I am kinda bummed I didn't feel any of the earthquakes and neither did Laura (she is from Michigan and is terrified of Earthquakes, never having experienced one herself); I wish I could have felt it because I like feeling insignificant, it helps me gain perspective. All my problems, all my concerns everything I care about could all end if the Earth rubs itself 19 miles below the surface. It is also kinda fun when it doesn't break your stuff.

And second: I have heard a lot of people talk about "The Big One" which is due anyday now. They talk about it as though it will never happen, as though this recent piddly rock rubbing is the maximum the earth can dish out to us surface parasites living in her skin.

Let me tell you about "The Big One." First of all there are two. Yes Two Big Ones. One that truly is THE Big One, the one from the tectonic plate of the pacific that collided with the north american plate towards the coast of california. SanFran is actually on the pacific plate and is moving northward and pressing into the north american plate which is moving southward. They collided and are putting tremendous pressure on one another and have halted their movement, as though they are "hung-up" on one another, hooked you could say.

Imagine these two circular saw blades as the two plates. Now, these two saw blades are slowly spinning in opposite directions, until they touch and the clock-wise ocean wave part hooks into the other saws' counter-clock-wise ocean wave part (imagine these two things touching, can you see where they snag one another?). Eventually this snag will have so much force put to it that it will break, and all that force will be released and those two plates will relieve their tension miles below the surface. That is the Big One, and it will come; more and more energy is being placed on these two plates and something has to give.

The second Big One happens every 77 years or so, and we are a hundred something years since our last one, coming up on round two.

If we are really lucky we will get both the big ones on the same day! And maybe, just maybe we would see the theoretical maximum value on the Absolute Magnitude Scale (the Richter scale depends on an actual Richter scale machine which wasn't very accurate, and has become ubiquitous, like Kleenex for face tissue, and etc. but I digress). That value has never been achieved, and if it was reached it would liquefy rock and all our buildings would sink into the ground, which would be just like water. It would be a real calm and gradual sink.

That, however is highly unlikely. Similar to Absolute Zero (the temperature at which everything, even electricity, freezes, approximately -459.67 degrees Fahrenheit) it has never been achieved, though we get close.

What was I saying?

Oh yeah, The Big One, when it hits, will be the most devastating natural disaster humankind has ever experienced. It will make Katrina seem insignificant, and likewise Californians will be destroyed by it. However any aid from the gov, FEMA, or other countries will be insignificant because there will be no usable roads(!), electricity or running water. Water pipes will break, electrical lines will snap, roads will separate/shift/crumble and be unusable by emergency crews. Which means all aid will need to be airlifted in by helicopter, as no runways will survive. Also broken gas and oil lines would vent to the surface where downed power lines would start fires. (fires and earthquakes work together, historically) A chunk of California, with a huge population density, would be trapped in the rubble of a destroyed city on fire without anyway to put it out. The pressurized water pipes for fire fighting will be broken and drained. California will be begging for aid without a chance of receiving it. Motorcades miles long comprised of emergency motor crews will wait at the edge of broken freeway overpasses and gaping gashes that slash the surface of the earth. There they will wait, wondering, hoping there will be some way to help us out before we die from lack of food and water or any injuries we might have suffered as they look out into the brutal landscape of a once proud city on fire.

*Abstinence Only Sex Education Dies.

I would say RIP Abstinence Only Education, but I cannot deny how I feel about you. I think you were a blight upon our nation and I am glad to see you go. President Obama killed you, and will not be tried by the law --that's how bad you were. You know what else Abstinence Only Education? You just don't work, and you never have, but the last guy protected you, kept you alive, and now he is gone, and you got what you deserve.

For years I heard your pithy slogans, slogans like, "Abstinence is the only 100% sure way to not get pregnant." and a variation replacing pregnant with "AIDS" and "STD's." Well, no shit Abstinence Only Education, did you know that not eating is the only 100% sure way to not get food poisoning too? (Some of you may be asking, "Did he just compare the desire to have sex with the desire to eat, as though they are equally important to the human body?" Or, "Did he just compare pregnancy with food poisoning as though a baby can ruin your day like food posioning?" And some of you may be thinking, "Yeah, he did.")

And even after study after study came to light (though you tried to squelch it) about how You, Abstinence Only Education, actually caused more teen pregnancy and unprotected sex than the normal "flying by the seat of our pants" way. You caused a generation--or two--to view sex with such nerosis that it will be years before we right ourselves and create happy, healthy, and safe sexual relationships with one another. Not to mention all the pedophiles and rapists you raised we still have to catch [and hopefully castrate].

So overall you were pretty shitty to America, Abstinence Only Education, which makes you un-American. Shame on you.

"Fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice...shame on Ghost"

Obama administration: hit and miss

The Obama administration lifted the ban on funding for stem cell research. YaY!

The Obama administration put all our nations veterans on the Terrorist Watch List. Boo!

The Obama administration disbanded Guantanamo Bay and outlawed torture. YaY!

The Obama administration overturned a Bush policy for off shore drilling in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. YaY!

The Obama Administration forgot about its transparency pledge and slipped some paper under the radar "on accident." Boo!

Final score: 3/5 = 60% = D-

Break down:

90-100 A
89-80 B
79-70 C
69-60 D
59-50 E

Comments: Study this Mr. President; the final exam is cumulative.

Keeping minorities down: The truth

OK minorities, I am going to spill the beans.

For years you have implied, and often stated, that we white people have a club or organization where all the white people get together and discuss how to keep you down. And we white people have denied the allegation ad nauseum.

Well no more, the truth is you have been absolutely right. We White People is the name of the organization (WWP), and we rarely meet in person, but when we do it is usually during the time you minorities do ethnic things, things WWP doesn't bother to learn about unless it is disruptive to our suburban way if life.

We also have a hand book in case we ever wonder what way would be the best to keep You Minorities (YM) down in a given situation. I'd like to share with you our Pyramid of Supression. This is where we place each minority in terms of favor, and is subtitled "who would you want to move in next door." It shows the break down of who WWP, if the neighbor's house became vacant, we would like to move in next door. Obviously other members of WWP would be ideal, but this is a worst case scenario.

On the top you have WWP, who all work together to stay on top and keep YM down. The next tier below WWP would be the asian people. They are our favorite minority for many reasons, some of which are: Asians are quiet, asians assimilate into society easily without fussing, many are white like us, and they want to learn english and be like us. WWP likes that, so if someone besides another member of WWP wants to move in, an asian would be the next best thing.

Next tier below the Asians would be the Latinos. They are louder than asians, don't asimilate into our society as easily, if at all, don't want to learn english as badly as asians do, and bring a lot of their loud culture with them. They also rally together and demand change in society, usually involving little things like more schools, better pay etc. Those things are relatively easy things for WWP to fix however. We just make a big deal about it, fight, kick, scream and give a little raise or build a cheap school, to make you think that you got a good deal, but you really didn't and we double our efforts to keep the next generation down.

On the bottom of the pyramid are Black people. (Who didn't see that coming, right? Yeah.) Black people make WWP nervous because they are so different than us, and they don't want to be like us, they want to be individuals. What's with that? Don't you know that its better to just fit in? And whats with your hair? Don't you know how WWP hair looks like? And you make WWP feel guilty about enslaving your people. Luckily WWP's efforts to keep you down are the easiest to achieve. Hardly any black people go on to higher education, and the ones that do seem to be more white, so thats ok.

Also, among each tier is a color continuum white on the good side, dark on the other. So each tier is broken up by color as well. In the asian tier the worst would be the pacific islanders who are pretty dark, and make great scapegoats, even for asian people. On the Latino tier the worst are El Salvidorians, who are pretty dark and seem to be the scapegoats for latinos as well. And on the bottom are the black people who are like crayon black, or charcoal black. Light skinned black people are the best. Of course that can be countered by intelligence and politicol activism. WWP prefers the black people to be locked in prison, thus our desire to build more prisons, and laws focusing on the black demograhic. Because the worst to move in next door would be a dark skinned black man. We just don't have anything in common, being on the opposite side of the color spectrum and all.

WWP works with Government to make sure YM stay down. Asians we hardly spend any money or effot on because they assume the role we want them to, they immulate WWP: soccer games, church, skin color, clothes, skin color, and their food is tasty, did I mention their skin color is similar to the members of WWP?

Latinos on the other hand WWP spends the most time keeping down; we don't want another Che. So to keep Latinos down we do things like have English Learner classes and make spanish language higschool exit exams. A lot of people think that is great. The real genius about it is it keeps Latinos down, while they think they are moving up. Because latinos learn all this infomarion in spanish and take the exit exam in spanish, and graduate and get out into the world where they can talk about the things they learned, but in spanish only--get it? They don't learn english well enough to talk to us, just well enough to pay taxes. They can't talk to WWP about the things they learned, and thus have no opinion, but they get a Good Enough Degree. So they fit nicely into the labor work force because they don't speak english and can't complain about how hard life is, well maybe they do but WWP don't understand them, so it's ok.

Now, black people keep themselves down. WWP simply allows them to live in bad places and they rarely get out, but the ones that do allow WWP to have an unending supply of entertainers, athletes, comedians and actors, which we like. WWP also uses their own music 'Hip-bop' or something, to make WWP rich. WWP than makes publications focusing on the way they live to encourage other black people to take their rightful place in WWP society: making us laugh and entertaing us with their physical prowess in sports. Not hockey though, WWP don't care about hockey.

Anyway, that about sums it up.

WWP Inc. Will probably revoke my membership after this, but I think it was worth telling.

Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

AIDS Victim 00

Today I learned something new:

AIDS came from a dude in the Congo that had sex with a chimpanzee.

Then he had sex with a human, he/she was victim 01. And then it spread all over the world.

I also learned that Small pox, if released would destroy the population on earth because we don't have protection against it. There are two remaining virus in the world, on in New York and the other in Russia.

Many people want those two stores to be killed, so we never have to deal with it again. Trouble is, that is a naturally occurring virus that exists somewhere in the world right now, and we could stumble upon it again, just like it was originally.

It's hard to weaponize because virus' are delicate. The best biological weapon is Anthrax, a spore that is very tough and easy dispersed.

Enjoy your day!

*Formal Critique of Poker Face by Lady Gaga

[This is part of the Seven Challenge]
(This is broken up into three pieces, the 1st is the original piece, the 2nd is my line by line edits/thoughts, and 3rd is an overall critique, all separated by: ***)

Poker Face
by Lady Gaga
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAoPJxTvZOQ)

I wanna hold em like they do in Texas Plays
Fold em let em hit me raise it baby stay with me, I love it
Luck and intuition play the cards with spades to start
and after he’s hooked I’ll play the one thats on his heart
[A]
Oh, oh, oh
I’ll get him hot, show him what I’ve got
{X2}
[B]
Can’t read my, can’t read my
no he can’t read my poker face
(She’s got to love nobody)
{X2}
[C]
P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(mum mum mum mah)
{X2}

I wanna roll with him a hard pair we will be
a little gambling is fun when you’re with me, I love it
russian roulette is not the same without a gun
and baby when it’s love if it’s not rough it isn’t fun
[A]
[B]
[C]

I wont tell you that I love you
Kiss or hug you
Cause im bluffin’ with my muffin
I’m not lying I’m just stunnin’ with my love-glue-gunning

Just like a chick in the casino
Take your bank before I pay you out
I promise this, promise this
Check this hand cause I’m marvelous
[B]
[B]
[B]
[C]
[C]
[C]
***

"I wanna hold em like they do in Texas Plays/" -- As in 'plays' with actors on a stage? How can you hold them (whoever them are) like a play, and a Texas play specifically? Going by the title this would be Texas Gambling, i.e. Texas Hold 'em, and ' 'em' would be cards. Do the Texans hold their cards differently than other gamblers not native to Texas? I don't know that much about gambling--Texan gamblers especially-- but even if they do is this a good line to start with? Is this piece about how the speaker likes to hold her cards while she gambles?

"Fold em let em hit me raise it baby stay with me, I love it/" -- This line can be taken two ways, both of which would be improved by the inclusion of punctuation. The first way is the most obvious: going by the title, which would be poker terminology. That would mean that the speaker makes her opponents fold, lets them hit, and raise against her cards, and her pleading for her opponents to keep up with her, assuming she is a card shark, and that she loves the game and its process. The other way to take this line is by sexual innuendo using slang. That would mean Fold the bodies up (as in sexual positions in which people, usually women are folded up i.e. "fold her legs behind her head") let them (presumably men) have vigourous sex with her, raise it (their penises) baby stay with me (don't come before I do, no premature ejaculation) and she loves it. This line almost works both ways, if you want the innuendo to work better perhaps say ,"Let em hit me, fold me, raise it baby..." but this would imply that the speaker loses once in a while, which is an impression I don't get from the rest of the piece. I get the impression she always wins, which I doubt--she has to lose once in a while, yeah? Why not here? It would give an impression of fun, of chance, if she always wins the game it isn't fun (especially for her opponents). The possibility of loosing is part of the thrill of gambling, and I think it should be included somewhere, and here would be a good place.

"Luck and intuition play the cards with spades to start/" -- Why spades to start? Are you playing Hearts? Hearts is not a gambling game to my knowledge, but then again I don't know that much about gambling. Maybe you are right. Because luck and intuition are (obviously?) the things that steer the card game, this line seems to be used solely to get the end word 'start' to rhyme with the next line's end word 'heart.'

"And after he's hooked I'll play the one thats on his heart/" -- The first use of the word 'he,' Who is 'he,' what is 'he' hooked on, and what is on 'his' heart that you can play? I assume 'he' is the most attractive of the speaker's opponents, and 'he' is hooked on the speaker's... gambling prowess? Good looks? Winning streak? What? I don't know because it isn't written in this piece. And I don't know what is on his heart, but whatever it is the speaker can play it like a hand of cards, which hints that 'he' is powerless to whatever it is 'she' is doing. This line is unclear to me because of who 'he' is, what 'he' is hooked on, and what is on 'his' heart. I think if you clear this up it could be a powerful line, but as it is now it sounds like it is trying to sound profound, and it misses the mark because the rest of the line is unclear.

[Chorus A] "Oh, oh, oh/" I assume this is used for the sake of musicality, and adds to the innuendo of sex because "Oh" is often times the vocal expression of impending climax.

"I'll get him hot, show him what I've got/" I assume 'him' is the same 'he' from above. And using slang, 'get him hot,' means make him aroused for sex. And if the speaker shows him what she has that would mean either she would show him her naked body, or during intercourse she would show him her sexual prowess, perhaps to rival his. I think the speaker means the second option. But why is she trying to compete against 'him' in this way? I guess this could also refer to poker, where 'he' is actually sweating because 'he' is about to find out if 'he' is winning or losing this round as she reveals her cards to the table. (In the video for this she throws a single pelvic thrust to the sky while laying on her back every time this line occurs. And the written word 'hot' sounds like 'hard,' which is even less innuendo, and more obvert, leaving little room to ponder the meaning.)

[Chorus B] "Can't read my, can't read my/ No he can't read my poker face" --Why repeated? Does the speaker stutter/have a verbal tic? If she does, this could be really strong because people who stutter/tic do so when they are nervous, so if the speaker only stutters here it would mean she is nervous about presenting a false face to 'him' (I will assume from now on that 'he' and 'him' all refer to the same undescribed individual from above), a front, a mask, a façade, a dishonest, unreadable face meant to deceive.

“(She’s got to love nobody)/” -- Who says this? Assuming this is true, why must she love nobody? Has she been hurt in previous relationships? If she has, it would be good to know, yeah?

[Chorus C] “P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face/” -- more stutters about the poker face, the speaker must have issues with being dishonest in her heterosexual relationships (whoever short they may be), but not at cards. (Interestingly, the written part, ‘p-p-poker face’ sounds like ‘f-f-fuck her face’ when it is vocalized. This sounds deliberate because the actual sounds are different, the first being “poe-ker fais” the second being “puh-ker fais,” and if you can read lips you can see she makes a “u” sound instead of an “o” sound the second time.)

“(Mum mum mum mah)/” Who makes these noises? They sound like kiss noises, like when actors on the read carpet kiss their hand to the crowd they say ,”mwua, mwua” with their lips. Is this sound doing much for this piece? I guess if “f-f-fuck her face” is used, these sounds would be face-fucking sounds, but even if that’s the case, who is her? The speaker? Or another nameless, undescribed individual?

“I wanna roll with him a hard pair we will be/” -- The speaker wants to be around the ‘him,’ which I am tired of writing, so I am going to make up a name for him, ‘he’ and ‘him’ will refer to an imaginary guy named ‘David’ from now on. She wants to be around David, and the two of them will be ‘hard’. I can only guess that hard in this case means strong, or in some way positive. So the two of them together would be good, they would make a good couple, David and her. She doesn’t go into detail here, which is problematic because David has no descriptions to his name (not even a name to his name). Why would the speaker and David be ‘hard’ together? What is it about David and her that allows for a beneficial relationship? Does the speaker want a relationship?

“A little gambling is fun when you’re with me, I love it/” -- Is this true? If she always wins at poker, her opponents lose every time and losing isn’t fun, is it? If the speaker hints throughout this piece that sometimes she does in fact lose once in awhile, this line would work, but as it is now I doubt the validity of this line, which pulls me out of the piece to question it rather than flow over to the next stanza.

“Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun” -- Russian Roulette is not Russian Roulette without a gun. A gun in essential to Russian Roulette, as is a baseball bat to baseball or ice skates to ice skating or a soccer ball to soccer. Essentially what is said here is “Baseball is not the same without a bat,” which is so obvious that calling attention to it is redundant, and pointless. This line means nothing to me. I think this is a throw away line used to rhyme the word “gun” with the end word of the next line “fun.” If this is true, that’s weak, and a waste of words. Surely something poignant could be said here, maybe keep gun if it’s important. If it is important, than expand on this, does the speaker carry a gun? Why would she need a gun?

“And baby when it’s love if it’s not rough it isn’t fun” -- The speaker likes rough love. And by love I assume she means sex based on the previous lines, so she prefers rough sex from David. I guess the innuendo is gone now, which is a shame because innuendo is more fun than overtly stating things. She doesn’t seem to be informing David of this, but rather she is making a universal statement. And while it may be true that rough sex is more fun for her and a lot of people, it can’t be true for everyone, be careful with universal statements. More than that though, this whole stanza seems really staccato to me and doesn’t make much sense. Rolling together, gambling, russian roulette, rough sex, I think there is something important the speaker is trying to say, but she presents it unclearly. Perhaps Russian Roulette here is being used figuratively to mean risky behavior: risky behavior is not the same without a gun? I don’t know. I would work on clearing this whole stanza up.

[A]
[B]
[C]

“I wont tell you that I love you/” -- She won’t tell David she loves him. Why? David follows her around, gives her the rough sex she loves, and plays poker with her (even though he loses every-single-time, and has a lot of money to keep losing) if there was a guy who deserved to be loved it should be him, yeah?

“Kiss or hug you/” -- Poor David. No love, no kisses, no hugs, just lots of rough sex. Some men may be ok with that, but how do we know David is ok with that? Maybe David wants to be kissed and hugged and told that she loves him and appreciates him for all that he does for her. I suggest describing David somewhere, otherwise he is a faceless throw away character, a piece of meat, if you will.

“Cause I’m bluffin’ with my muffin/” --While the internal rhyme is cute, muffin is slang for vagina, so this line means: I am deceiving [you, David] with my vagina (in the video she points directly to her vagina at this part). Which doesn’t make much sense if she is getting folded up and rough-sexed by David from the above lines. It sounds like her vagina isn’t deceiving anyone, and David continues to “call her bluff with her muff,” if you will by a constant supply of rough sex, which she loves, she said so.

“I’m not lying I’m just stunnin’ with my love-glue-gunning/” -- Love-glue sounds like a euphemism for the clear vaginal discharge that lubricates the vagina during sex, and I have heard it used that way before. I am confused by ‘love-glue-gunning’ though, I don’t know what that is--unless she means gunning in the informal sense of gunning an engine, which would mean causing the engine to race, so figuratively/informally this means her love-glue is racing, which makes her ‘extremely impressive or attractive.’ Ok, so from the beginning: ‘I am not deceiving you (David?), I am just extremely attractive with my racing (free-flowing?) vaginal discharge.’ While it may be true that free-flowing vaginal discharge--i.e. visibly vagina-soaked clothing-- is extremely attractive to an aroused heterosexual man, this counters the previous line however. You can not bluff with a vagina if its dripping wet in a state of arousal. That is like: I can deceive you about how attracted to you I am with my deceptively erect penis. That just doesn’t work, and has never worked. However I like the gender role reversal the speaker plays with here, it is usually the male that cannot hide how he feels about an attractive female. Because a female can hide how she feels about an attractive male, which leads to the whole obvious/hard/male and secretive/soft/female dichotomy in art, film and dance. I would reword these two lines so they don’t counter one another though, and play with the gender role reversal/dichotomy more.

“Just like a chick in the casino/” -- Who is? The speaker? Isn’t the speaker female? Is the speaker referring to David here? Is David transgendered? If he/she is, perhaps hint at that earlier? Or is she referring to herself stereotypically? If she is, isn't that strange?

“Take your bank before I pay you out/” -- Bank is slang for money as in “I make bank at my job,” meaning “I make a lot of money at my job.” So the speaker will take David’s money before she pays him out. “Pay you out” means pay a large sum of money from funds under one’s control or let out a rope. Although pay you out could also be informal for put out, as in sex. So, this could mean: [someone is] Just like a woman in the casino to take all your money (David) before she lets out a rope or; just like a woman in the casino to take your money before she returns your money from her own large fund or; just like a woman to take your money before she is willing to have sexual intercourse with you. I don’t know if this means the speaker is really nice and gives David all his money back after winning all the time (I doubt it, judging from the above lines) or if she is making a statement about how women in casinos stereotypically are, that you need to spend a lot of money on casino women before they are willing to have sex with you. The way in which this is said reminds me of when Humphrey Bogart says, “Just like a dame to do... (something)” thus making a statement about women stereotypically. It seems strange to me that the speaker, a woman, would make a stereotypical statement about women in this way, and a negative statement at that. It leads me to believe the speaker is confused about her role in a heterosexual relationship, as though she wants to be both chased and chaser, the dominate and passive one, and then make disparaging comments about her own sex, as a man might say in frustration.

“I promise this, promise this/” -- Another stutter/tic, I think we know by now that the speaker is lying and nervous. She can’t be trusted when she promises, and she knows that and is nervous. Is she starting to have feelings for David other than biological ones? Does she not want to be hurt emotionally again? This is interesting and a great place to expand.

“Check this hand cause I’m marvelous/” -- This seemingly deliberate shift back to the card game, and the assertion that the speaker is marvelous sounds like she has some trauma involved with hetero-relationships and returning back to cards is ‘safe ground’ so to speak. It’s like a defense mechanism in the brain, when things are too painful it changes the subject or jumps back to familiar or safe topics. The assertion that the speaker is marvelous, seems like a bravado statement to convince herself that she is a good woman. Like before someone does some tough physical task they might tell themselves “I can do this, I can do this. I am a great runner/jumper/climber/whatever, here I go.”

[B]
[B]
[B]
[C]
[C]
[C]
***
Before I start on the overall critique, the etymology of Poker: Poker of mid 19th century US origin, perhaps related to German pochen “to brag,” pochspiel “bragging game.”

A poker face is an unreadable face used in gambling games to hide what the players truly have, because if you could see they are sad or happy or unsure you can use that to your advantage and win the game. The use of poker face in this piece however seems to imply that the speaker utilizes a poker face when she is in relationships with men, implying that she hides her true intentions from the man with whom she has a relationship with. Throughout the piece the speaker says she wont tell him she loves him, and must maintain her “p-p-p-poker face,” thus hiding her true intentions.

I think the project of this poem is to show how the speaker lives. She seems to spend most of her time in the casino, and seems to win all the time at cards, while she searches for rich, presumably attractive men to play cards against, cleaning their bank accounts out of their money. She uses her body to manipulate them into having rough sex with her, which they are helpless to defend against. Even though the speaker seems to be female, she speaks from a seemingly male perspective. She talks about a woman’s role in the casino, her role: take a lot of his money before having sex with him. And then to compete against him sexually, that is to compete to see who has more sexual prowess. She promises things to the men, but quickly changes her thoughts to the card game at hand. All of these things together describe a psychologically damaged speaker, one who doesn’t want to get emotionally involved with anyone. The way she talks about the ‘other’ in this piece (I called him David) rings of her being a sociopath. And her desire to compete against David sexually makes me think she has Asberger’s, or autism. So essentially what the speaker is, is an extremely attractive Sociopath with autism who spends most of her time in a casino being used as a sperm receptacle, while she thinks she is “winning” against the men she “gets.” This is a really sad and tragic character. I think it is ok that some stanzas are staccato, and don’t make much sense, because she is a damaged/fractured woman and that would express her broken/fractured nature. This also explains why the ‘other’ is never described, only “tricked” into having rough sex with her.

This is really powerful stuff, but it took me a few reads to get it. Perhaps using more punctuation would help, as well as cutting down on ambiguous slang words with many meanings. Instead of adding to the understanding of the piece these words often detracted understanding from the piece, pulling me right out and wondering which meaning is the true one. I think using more specific words could be utilized to get the tragic story of the speaker across better.

The economy of words in this piece seems a little heavy, mainly because of the repeated stanzas of the chorus. I am not sure repeating chorus B and C three times each at the end is really doing much for this piece. I would end it right at “marvelous” because it would be so powerful for her to end on her self delusion, i think, if you want a tragic piece. Some lines rhyme and some don’t, and some lines seem to exist solely for the end word rhyme. I would say that while rhyming is nice sometimes, this piece doesn’t need it. That would free up a couple lines where more understanding could be added. I suggest the Russian Roulette line should go, and maybe combine the muffin and love-glue-gunning lines allowing for two new lines to be added to clear up some confusion. Other than that Lady Gaga, thanks for sharing. You are almost there!
~Brian

Spring break day 1

I read a book for fun today. It was amazing; to be able to read for the sake of reading is a new thing for me. I have a sizable (HUGE) reading list. Under the 'en medias res' thing you can see what I am currently reading. I usually bounce around between books, unless one is really good and I read it exclusively.

Anyway when my dad came home from work and asked what I did today I thought for awhile before answering, "Not a Goddamn thing," which was true.

I always dislike that question though. The question isn't really asking what I did today because it would be difficult to recount everything I did every second I did it. What that question really means when someone asks it is, "What did you do today that I would care about or be interested in?"

So the answer depends on the questioner. This may sound obvious, but when you think about it, it's a surprisingly complicated mental process, like a different language that nobody speaks but a lot of people know what is meant--even when the right words aren't said. I think it's interesting.

Anyway I went outside and read Tommy Frank's Memoir. It was suggested to me by a friend at work named Van. Tommy Franks was the general in charge of operation Iraqi Freedom (I think) that got pinned as the fall guy for the blunders in Iraq. I haven't gotten to that part yet, I am on page 189 and he was just about to fall asleep when the gulf war ended.

It's really interesting. I am surprised by how well it is written, not that Generals can't write well or anything. I was being prejudiced towards grunts is all, which is disappointing to learn about myself.

Anyway, while I was reading that our dog Sasha came up to me and stood next to me so I could pet her. Sasha is an Akita, a big thick Japanese bear dog. She is really old and has hip problems and is incontinent so she spends a lot of her time outside. Hers is a really interesting story. She was without a home for 5 years living on our street and everyone, myself included, thought she belonged to some negligent neighbor who I am sure everyone wanted to reprimand for being so negligent. What had happened was her owner moved away and left their dog behind. And Sasha walked the street up and down--it was her street, her home. She watched us when we played, she watched us when we jogged she walked with us when we walked. She was this chill dog. She rarely barked, except at Mormons and Jehova's Witnesses early weekend mornings.

One day my brother was walking and Sasha joined him, just matched his stride after stepping out behind some bushy trees and he noticed her front paws were all red and inflamed and without fur and there were bugs on them. They were mites and tics and other parasites, they made her tremble when she stopped. She was really a scruffy, mangy, ugly blond dog, but my brother took pity on her. He walked the whole street and asked everyone that lived on it if the dog was theirs. They all said no. He asked them if they knew who the owner was, they all said no. The whole walk Sasha walked with him trembling nearby, and scratching her front paws and face. After the discovery that she had no family and survived by the generosity of people on the street, Kevin asked mom and dad if he could take the dog in and take care of it because it wasn't right. We do this, take animals in, and people know it and leave us their animals: kittens in a box in the flower bed, puppies at the door step. We are pet people, and all we had to do was see Sasha trembling with bugs and infection. We took her to the vet.

She had Mange, tics, fleas, lice and other bugs. She was given lots of antibiotics, bug killers and immune boosters because she in effect had doggy AIDS, possessing no immune system. After that we took her home and cleaned her up. She tolerated that, and left a thick ring of dirt and dead skin in the tub. Then came the difficult process of keeping her off the street. Our home was not her home, the streets were her home and she was exceptionally good at escaping. She demanded regular walks, which were more like guard patrols. People saw her on a leash for the first time and went out of their way to confront and scold us for neglecting Sasha for all these years. We had to explain, may times to irate people, that Sasha hadn't had a home, but now she belonged to us. They changed their tune so quick. It was interesting for me to see them go out of their way to confront us, oftentimes with the same angry words, only to learn we were taking Sasha in because no one else would. And to hear almost identical apologies and thanks.

People told us stories about Sasha, things they had seen first hand or heard. Sasha patrolled the streets before we picked her up and scared away other animals. One night she was attacked by a pack of coyotes--which are the bane to animals around here. Attacking her was a mistake. The coyotes must have thought they could kill her, and obviously didn't know the Akita Inu breed was one of the oldest canine breeds ever and regularly hunted huge game, like bears and elk. The pack of 15 or so small coyotes circled her and took turns yipping and snapping, going for the throat, working together to bring her down, as they do with larger animals, such as cows (there is a pasture nearby where they brought a cow down--there were probably 30 of them). Sasha wasted no time and charged into them ferociously attacking the pack which attacked her. Fur flew, yipes and cries echoed and at the end of a minute struggle she was bleeding out of her lip and shoulder, 3 coyotes were dead 2 more limped away as Sasha pursued. The guy that saw this took her to the vet to get stitches, she came when he called.

I remeber a year ago I was walking her and a pair of coyotes were in the creek that runs along side our road and Sasha was going nuts! She wanted to get those coyotes so bad, it was all I could do to hold her back. Luckily I have a lot of exerience with massive dogs...

Which reminds me of a time when I was 14 and walking our dog Slugger (not pictured here), a Newfoundland /chow/sheapard cross. He was a massive black dog that looked super scary, but that's as far as it went. He was a giant puppy, and wanted to play tug of war all day, everyday. He had a deep growl which he always used in play, but scared strangers. Anyway one day I was walking him and he saw a squirrel. The squirrel saw him and the squirrel turned to run away, bushy tail switching side to side. Slugger charged. 112 pounds of 14 year old boy tried to stop 130 pounds of 1 year old dog and failed. I was pulled to the ground and dragged though the pine needles and sticks for what felt like a mile. Eventually, thank God, the squirrel ran up a tree and Slugger couldn't follow and I could unwrap the leash from my hand and pull the pine needles out of my face.

Anyway, Sasha sat next to me outside while I read my book. And I looked at her, not to observe, but to know (conocer). She met me with gentle eyes and an easy pant. Years after we took her in we all kind of lost interest in her because she got old and we got tired of cleaning up her messes, which I maintain she can't help. She is an old dog. I have to say that while everyone else lost interest I gained interest. She reminds me of my own mortality. Age is much more noticeable in dogs, from puppies to strong bodied diligent pets that we take camping and hiking and swimming, and everywhere really, until she can't stand for too long before her rear legs fail on her, or they get osteosarcoma, or renal failure and have to be put down. Sasha is probably not too far from that herself, but while everyone is inside doing homework/work and paying attention to the newer Rottweiler puppy Nina, I am outside with Sasha's head on my lap stroking her face. She just lets me do it. I don't have to tell you what a loyal, trusting dog is like. But this dog is more like a cat than a dog as far as her personality goes. She is quiet, aloof, distant and when she shows any affection we all stop what we are doing and marvel in the rare occurence. Which is why I was content to just pet her outside instead of read or something, her sweet moments are rare I may not experience another.

When I think about her life, I wonder what she thinks about us taking her off the street and keeping her inside on a doggy bed. I can't be sure of what she dislikes, but I can be sure she loves to 'patrol' her street and we take her out every day.

If there is a heaven, and it is run by dogs (or cats, iguanas, snakes or fish) my family will jump to the front of the line.

Finals week reprieve--Pulitzer prize winning journalist attacks atheism.

Chris Hedges is writing a book called, "I don't believe in atheists." Which is going to be similar to his book about the Christian Right, attacking the movement and the ideology of fundamental Christianity.

So, after having debated Christopher Hitchens and Sam Harris, Chris Hedges, a Christian himself, is now afraid of Atheism. As an Atheist myself, this is alarming. As thought there wasn't enough ire for atheists already. Speaking for myself and not all atheists, I desire nothing more than to be left alone to believe whatever I want without fear.

For awhile it was scary to be an atheist, but thanks to the "Four Horsemen" Daniel Dennet, Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, and Christopher Hitchens, that has changed and it was tolerable to be an atheist. Chris Hedges book may reverse that. Goody.

Here are some excerpts from a 3 min talking point:

Atheists are incredibly similar to fundamentalists they attack.

They utilize the same methods as the Religious Right: sloganeering, jingoism, characteristic of the hollowness of the Religious Right

They have created a secular religion, like the Religious right, and put people on a moral plane, allowing for an US vs THEM.

They believe in violence as a way to solve problems.

They are as Utopian as Religious Right, and believe in a collective moral human progress.

It doesn't matter what you believe about the apocalypse or that science will create the perfect world, both of those are delusion.

Thus he starts his assault on atheism because...

atheism is dangerous, intolerant, and frightening.
***

I saw the debate he had with Sam Harris, and he didn't do well. He made a lot of strong points, very few of which were positions held by Sam Harris who remained consistent the whole way through. I only know that because I study philosophy. The audience, not so much, and cheered and clapped when Chris Hedges made a random point (indefensible by anyone) and attributed it to Sam Harris. In Logic they call that A straw man Fallacy where you invent your opponents position as something really easy to beat up and then beat it up. A fallacy is a flaw in logic that is simultaneously psychologically suggestive, and the audience bought it. It makes me sad that even though he used all these fallacies against Sam Harris, the crowd, or most of it (the loudest part) bought it, even though Sam had to repeat, "That is not my argument/ that is not my position."

I can only imagine how Christopher Hitchens and Chris Hedges debated, as Hitchens is much more aggressive and analytical, and he has that British delivery.

Anyway, I have a lot to say/think because it is something I care about, it's my life, and I study religion and science both because it's important, I think. Even more so now because religion has power to influence laws and science and bilogy and people and their bodies and sex and all kinds of things it shouldn't have any influence over.

While a part of me is thinking, "Great. All these Christians are going to go out and buy this new book about how Atheism is eViL, and I will have to watch what I say, and what I do."

But another part of me remebers watching "the four horsemen" talking about religion and science and all manner of things and they said that eventually atheism will get attacked by some powerful guy, and not to be afriad of it because it is the natural progression of ideas, that they rattle the cage enough to get a response. And with that new response comes new argument and new areas to shine light upon. So it's a good thing, says them. A sign of progress.

I can't help but feel that this will only divide science and religion/ us and them even more, and Atheism, which is incredibly hated around the world, gets more hate.

To all those theists out there, I don't hate you, and I hope you don't hate me either.
***

It's like everyone is part of a club that I can't be a part of. The fairy tale salvation club. Where the members continue to further their fairy tales and influence medicine and science.

Off the top of my head: Stem Cell Research is a blanket term for the many research methods of stem cells, be they embryonic, or umbilical or placenta.

Here is the issue. Some of the cells in our body do not grow back, namely nerve cells. You are born with one set that grows your whole life, where as skin cells keep growing and dying as long as you live. If you damage a nerve cell, or sever it, it is unrepairable. If you break your neck or back and sever the nerves there you lose function to your body, paralysis. Everything is connected to a nerve cell in some way, any one of which can become damaged and you can lose feeling and function to that one area, be it part of the face, arm or body.

If only there was a way to regrow a damaged nerve cell...

That's where stem cells come in. Stem cells are the cells in a developing human embryo. Remember in 7th grade where the sperm and the egg join, and then divided a bunch of times? Those are stem cells, cells that all other cells stem from: teeth, brain, muscles, skin, all of it.

Now, the issue arises when a human embryo is used/killed to get stem cells that can be grown into any cell needed. That is controversial because one can argue that you are taking one life to save another. One could also argue that life begins at conception, and that is murder.

I could argue with you about those points, and we could get no where. So I have a much simpler solution.

Stem Cells can be gathered from umbilical cords and placenta. Umbilical cords are removed and incinerated after every birth. The placenta is likewise removed and destroyed. I say, if the human embryo is controversial, how about the umbilical cord? Or the placenta? Or the birthing blood? Stem cells are in those things, and we just throw them away after every birth.

***IF***
it is possible to gather stem cells from these things and repair damaged nerves and lost limbs, and eyes and organs and whatever cell you want, wouldn't you want to do SOME (any) research? Wouldn't you want to at least ALLOW scientists to see if it can be used to help us or not?

Also, as a side note, we incinerate embryos all the time. After abortions certainly, but more than that sometimes an embryo adheres to the fallopian tube, rather than the uterus. And it will break the fallopian tube and kill the baby and the mommy. Those have to be removed and incinerated.

And my position is, since it is being killed anyway (by God no less, if you believe that sort of thing, adhering it to the fallopian tube rather than the uterine wall) why not utilize it to cure someone with muscular dystrophy, or paralysis, or 3rd degree burns over most of their body (rather than use a pig's skin, or a motorist who is a donor--we use their parts when they die without much thought.)

It just seems like there is SOME WAY to do SOME research on ANY bit of stem cells, right? Rather than label the whole thing an ABOMINATION, or murder or whatever else, I mean. Surely, there is some way. Be reasonable.

Finals week reprieve--Roomba

This is Roomba. I love Roomba. Roomba is a robotic vacuum cleaner that you set up and walk away from and it cleans a room in about a half hour. Now that may seem like a long time, surely a regular human directed vacuum is faster. And it is, but you have to push it around. Roomba on the other hand, pushes itself around and does a thorough job leaving you to go do whatever you want.

This is how it works: You take "light towers" and place them to set up a perimeter that Roomba stays within. You set Roomba down and push the button that blinks and plays a little happy chime. "Do do de DO" and it starts cleaning.

It is such a cool thing. And its totally mental, we had a vacuum already that worked pretty well--a fancy one. Roomba was about the same price and Kevin pushed for it, "Think about it, you set it and forget it, no more pushing a vacuum around. You can read while it cleans your house." That is what sold Mom I think, she likes reading.

We have a lot of animals, half of them have fur. Our house is always furry, so we vacuum at least once a week, usually on the weekend.

But Roomba does it for us. We are free to do something else, anything else. Its really great and I recommend it to you because vacuuming is lame.

Don't watch Roomba! You will go mental. Roomba doesn't clean like a human, it goes all over, seemingly at random but it moves in the most energy efficient manner.

We liked Roomba so much we got Scooba. Scooba mops the floors, by itself, without human interaction. We cook a lot and make messes a lot and our dog Nina can't seem to keep her mouth closed after drinking and slops water everywhere. The kitchen gets dirty fast and Roomba gets all the dry stuff like hair and rice and whatever else, and Scooba gets the sticky, caked on stuff.

Together they keep the house clean, so we don't have to.

The coolest thing about Robot house cleaners is how sophisticated we feel about it.

"Oh you still push a vacuum around do you? People still do that?"

If Roomba gets stuck or sucks up a sock or something it stops and emits a sad, tragic chime: Bee DOO.

It is the sadest two tone noise I have ever heard and fit easily into our regular conversation.

"Has anyone seen the left over Steak from last night?" asks Dad.

"Oh, I ate it for breakfast," says Kevin.

"Oh, Bee DOO," says Dad

And Bee DOO has popped up in other owners vocabulary as well. Its the epitome of sadness and helplessness and all things tragic.

When Roomba hits a wall it stops, turns and trys another direction and can fit under cupboards and navigate obstructions.

Do your family a favor and get a Roomba, it's worth it.

And finally, Jazzy cat doesn't like Roomba and runs and hides from it, which makes this video of "Roomba Driver" that much more funny.

Enjoy! : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQ-jv8g1YVI

Finals week reprieve--Music

I normally write with music. I have a play list for creative work, and another for editing, and another for critiquing, and another for reading and another for boring homework requiring little brain power.

When I write poetry I listen to classical music, the more dynamic the better. I like the music to go fast and slow and rise high and sink low. It makes pictures in my head. There is a Mussorgsky thing called pictures in an exhibit, and each one is distinct and I see what the song is titled. There is one called catacombs, and its all dark and underground sounding. When I listen to it I see the catacombs, like I am moving through it in a movie and the soundtrack moves with me.

When I edit my work I like to listen to wordy songs, like Bad Religion (my bro's fav, its growing on me slowly) Sublime, and Pepper.

Since I was a little kid I listened to Metallica. I was really drawn to the guitar solos and the words. Now I listen to it as comfort music, even the fast, loud, hard ones. Metallica is my favorite band. And I tried listening to other metal bands, but its been slow going. I don't like screaming, or stupid words or unskilled thrashing, which is most of it.

I can write with Metallica blaring without any adverse effects on my writing, because Metallica has become familiar. New music I can't write with because its too distracting, I listen to the music rather than write words. I think I use it to drown out other sounds, because I am always like, "What was that noise," as though I have to investigate everything. So the music keeps me focused.

Also, in psychology I learned if you do something for 6 months it becomes a habit. I listen to certain songs when I write, so now when the music comes on I get in a writing mood and just HAVE to write. It works pretty well, but there were a few times when I couldn't have music and it was a little more difficult , but not enough to make me realize I was a weirdo.

Looking at my play list now I see my top song is Metallica's "My Friend Of Misery" at 319 times. That song isn't considered their best, (that would be "One") but the beginning bass riff draws you in. Here it is, just the bass part, 1 min: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDyT0LIYr6c

"One" is like an experience and I got to be ready for it, or in some kind of mood to appreciate it fully. The first guitar solo is CrAzY and makes me want to air guitar it, which is good cause I don't know how to play a real guitar, yet.

Once I was driving with Loo, Mike, and Kev and Loo was selecting tracks and she came to One which starts out with machine gun fire and explosions, and she skipped it. We were all like, "What are you doing!? You can't skip One!" and we had to hear it for her sake so she would know when One was coming on for next time. Here is One: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aSNJ00iAZ7I

Next on the top of the play list at 267 is Harmageddon by Apocalyptica--a finnish cello quartet that started with Metallica covers, this I like for the sounds that a cello can make: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qx4XNxHkMuc

Next at 254 is another Metallica song "Call of Ktulu" which is an instrumental and just really cool, it starts off with wind and then opens with nice easy guitar and transitions into the other instruments. It is almost 9 mins long: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sWGOEWdV13M

Next at 201 is the Moldau (Vlatava) Smetana Symphonic Poem by Antonin Dvorak "From The New World." It is really pretty and starts light and easy and gets heavier and more dynamic. It was the basis for the Batman Theme.

Its late, so good night.

I have to take the dog to the vet tomorrow cause she probably has a bladder infection.

Poor Ninners.

Finals week reprieve--The Omen

One day in the heart of winter in Big Bear I walked to my car. I wore 9 layers of warm clothes and two hats because it was lightly snowing and it was 17 degrees out.

Everything was white. Kinda like the rolling stones song Paint it Black, but the opposite. White. And remove the emotion in the song, because nobody died on my way to school. I mean 6390 Americans die every hour, but I didn't know them, so I didn't care. I mean I say I do in social settings to not sound like a monster, but I don't really.

That's 107 Americans that die every minute of every day. The amount of humans that die around the world every second is probably around 3 or 4. The amount of life that ends per second is probably around 1,107 including bugs and whales and fish. I totally made that number up. You get the idea. Death happens all the time, every second of every day, but I don't pay any attention to it. I doubt you do either. Unless one of those 107 per minute is a friend or relative, then I am sorry for you loss.

This post is not about death. What follows actually happened.

Anyway, as I walked to my car through the winter wonderland, with crystal crusted pine needles and frosted tree trunks, there was a single raven in the scrub oak near my snow covered car.

Amidst all this white, that raven stood out as the antithesis of this monochromatic world. I stopped and looked directly at the raven. The raven looked directly at me. The wind stopped blowing, the trees stopped swaying, the snow stopped falling and for a brief moment all sound ceased. In that moment the raven cawed a piercing powerful caw that seemed to thunder throughout the silent world.

Maybe you heard it.

Maybe you didn't.

It froze me in my tracks. Bundled up with my books and bags I could only stare at the raven who held me with its gaze, its deep, dark onyx eyes looking not at me, but to me, into me.

As far as I could tell, the raven and I were the only two living things at this moment. Then the wind started up again, and the other noises resumed. The raven flew away.

I thought that this moment was significant at the time because it effected me for the rest of the day, and I write about it now.

After school I looked through my many books to see if I could find the reason this felt so familiar a situation. It felt like a Viking symbol for something, but the raven is a loaded symbol.

The raven is a powerful image. This could have been a crow, I can't tell the difference unless they are next to one another. (ravens are bigger, and smarter--but you can't tell by looking at them) Anyway, there is Edgar Allan Poe's Raven, there is the Sioux belief that the raven created the world and is a symbol of rebirth (the Sioux people saw ravens leap out of the corpses of fallen animals and didn't know they were eating and though they must sprouted out, similarly to the magical power of women who could spontaneously create life--man's input was not known to be needed for this.)

Odin/Woden/Wotan is the Scandinavian/German God referred to as the All-Father. He is a warrior/poet/sage. He is really interesting, take my word for it. He has an eight legged horse named Sleipnir (Slippy) who is black like the night sky with stars twinkling (literally). He has two wolves that follow him everywhere he goes named Geri (Greedy) and Freki (Ravenous). And he has two ravens that fly around the world at dawn named Huginn (Thought) and Muninn (Memory) and return to Woden's shoulders at dusk and whisper into his ear what they have seen.

(Here is a poem about it from Grímnismál:

Old Norse:

Huginn ok Muninn fliúga hverian dag

iörmungrund yfir;

óomk ek of Huginn, at hann aptr ne komit,

þó siámk meirr um Muninn.

English:

The whole world wide, every day,

fly Huginn and Muninn;

I worry lest Huginn should fall in flight,

yet more I fear for Muninn.

The play on words is better seen with a variant translation: Every morning the two ravens Huginn and Muninn, are loosed and fly over Midgard (Earth, lit: Middle Earth) I always fear that Thought may not wing his way home, but my fear for Memory is greater.)

They also bring omens.

To see either of them is good tidings. To have one of them look directly at you and caw once in the absence of sound is something entirely different.

That is an omen.

And the moment of the caw is supposed to be Woden's agreement with what you are thinking, if you were thinking.

What was I thinking? Was I thinking?

I had something on my mind, a quandary. Two difficult choices, and one of them received Woden's personal pledge as the correct thing to do. I can't remember what it was. Figures.

If it were 1200 CE and I was German/Scandinavian I would know exactly what that meant. I would probably get promoted to high priest status, having been chosen by Odin. And get extra mead and Viking babes.

But in 2009, what am I supposed to do with that?

I should share it.

I know what you are thinking.

"D00d, it was just a bird that cawed at you. Crows/ravens do that. It just so happens that the wind stopped and all noise ceased at the exact same time to make the caw seem more resonant to you. It was just a bird. It was not Huginn or Muninn because there is no Odin. There never was an Odin. You were trippin.'"

Now that I typed that I see the parallels when I argue with people of faith. If I believed in anything, it would be in Odin. And if I did, your words would have no effect on me. I see now how silly it was of me to convince people their belief in an imaginary person is misplaced.

He is the only God that cares about me. He sent me a sign. He loves me and wants me to be happy. Isn't it obvious?

I just wish I could remember what it was he thought I should do.

Finals week reprieve--Workshop

The creative writing workshop is a strange place.

If you are presenting you sit in silence and write down what the other people say that you think is important. I usually write it all down, which is difficult when people talk fast.

But this only works if the people do what they are supposed to do, namely read my story/poem before workshop, think about it, and write comments and ask questions.

Oftentimes that doesn't happen, they read it 5 mins before class, underline a word or two, write "That's dope" or put a star next to a line or something. I use to just shrug it off: whatever, you didn't read my poem, maybe you'll read the next one.

But when I look over the critiques I get back, where people have doodled all over my papers, I see how the vast majority of people did it 5 mins before class, or during the workshop. When I go to write a second draft useful critiques are in short supply and its very unhelpful to have so little. It bothers me, a lot. But it doesn't bother me because I am inconvenienced.

The reasons it bothers me: 1st, I take my writing seriously, and I take the writing of other seriously. 2nd, those slackers expect me to give them a thorough critique, which I do because it is required. But I think what bothers me the most is that those people get a passing grade just like I do, and they are ok with that, allowing mediocrity to flourish.

My advanced poetry workshop this quarter was awesomes. It was eight people and about 4 hours. They got into the nitty gritty and really ripped it apart. It was great.

Prose poetry on the other hand had about 15 people, 3 of which read my poem before class and wrote meaningful comments. The rest wrote down the things that the professor said. Like he said, "A prose poem has to get beyond it's subject, Brian." and 12 papers get returned to me that say, "A prose poem has to get beyond it's subject, Brian."

I guess I take objection with the mindset that that is an ok thing to do.

There is no story here.

I guess I am just whining.

Sorry.

Finals week reprieve--Strengths

As I understand it form my peers:

As a writer, my strength lies in description and attention to detail. I really focus on things, often times to the detriment of a story. I know this, and I don't know why I do it. I have to consciously reign it in, because people don't want to read that unless it is pertinent to the story.

Left to my own devices I would just describe the hell out of something and have the glimmer of a plot that would tie multiple descriptions together, and the flow of the language and words would be enough to enjoy.

I don't know why I am interested in describing things. It's the poet in me I guess. I have mostly written poetry recently with Advanced poetry and Prose poetry both this quarter, which would mean I have taken mostly poetry classes overall despite my nonfiction emphasis. And as it turns out prose poetry is really good for meditations, descriptions and sounds. So I can get my kicks with prose poetry and write other things.

Another strength I have is my intellect. I am not saying this to brag. I have a high intelligent quotient which allows me to learn new things quickly and remember a lot of stuff. The trick is to take that stuff and present it in simple terms to share with a reader how/why it matters. I oftentimes use my knowledge and intellect to place things in my writing to distract from the fact that I don't have much to say. I use this often, and I have gotten into this habit so much that I use it in social situations and around people. I do it to add to the conversation, not to be pretentious and say, "Hey look what I know that you don't," for example I was talking poetic theory with a friend and I quoted Aristotle's Poetics to make a point, and my friend said it was really cool that I was able to accurately quote Aristotle poignantly because it added to the conversation. One time in advanced fiction class we did an exercise where we given words and had to write a story. One of my words was "Wolf" Earlier that day I had learned there were less than 250k wolves left in the wild, so I put that in there and Erin said, "Only Brian would know something like that. It's totally him." Later we talked about it and I said it was this thing that I milk, like an udder, to fill my story up. She said hers was digressions. I like her digressions, she likes my random ass knowledge, so I guess I should embrace it as distinctly mine and incorporate it more often. Some people, Erin included, like to learn stuff when they read. I do too, so I regularly include stuff that I think most people don't know. Which causes me to over look or pass things up that I think aren't interesting enough to write about and find things that are eccentric and eclectic and oftentimes obscure.

Couple all this with my desire to have a lot of love and attention and you have my reason for writing. I write to entertain, to teach, and to have people tell me how cool it was, or how much they enjoyed it. I don't know why I do this. I must be odd. I want to be the smart guy in the room, but not the asshole smart guy.

It can be a fine line and I am good at walking it.