Thursday, April 16, 2009
Tea Party - Little Rock Arkansas - April 15, 2009
I arrived at the Little Rock Tea Party right at 4:00, it having started at 3:30. I figure a lot of people had not arrived yet, waiting until they got off from work to go. I had to leave at 4:30 to make an appointment, and there were streams of people still coming. (Don't forget, clicky the picky to make them bigger...)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
This Is Not A Gloat
There’s a saying on the interweb bulletin boards that “if you don’t have pictures, it didn’t happen.” Therefore, this is entirely a work of fiction.
One of my best buddies called me up the other night and was all excited. He told me about a cache of hardwood lumber, stacked and stored in a garage of a retired furniture maker in an elegant lake community home. Almost 3,200 board feet of random width, ten foot lengths of maple. And it could be had for a mere $450.00 or about fifteen cents a board foot. Quite the deal since it normally sells for around four dollars a board foot. Did I want to go in halves with him he asked? Way too much wood for one person and probably for two, but I had visions of just building all kinds of crap out of this stuff because it would be cheaper than pine. I could build tool cabinets in my shop that would be the envy of woodworkers everywhere. I could replace all the kitchen cabinets cheaper than I could buy plywood. I could build some little pieces of furniture and get some practice with my hand tools. This is going to be great. Of course I said yes.
We made arrangements to take off work a little early the next day and make the hour or so drive up to the lake community near Heber Springs. “These kinds of deals never happen to me,” my buddy grinned at me. He and I shared the same vision of a carefully swept garage stacked with pristine planks of rough sawn maple, dutifully watched over by a bespectacled, white haired gentleman who had sold all of his tools some time back and now just needed someone to haul off the leftover materials from a lifetime of craftsmanship. Maybe his wife told him he had to clear out the garage so she could park in it. It was an intriguing thought.
We crested a hill and saw the sparkling water of Greers Ferry Lake in the distance, and turned into a well manicured road of elegant two story houses. Which one is it? We thought as we counted down the addresses on the rural mail boxes. Ninety-nine, One Hundred and Ten, One Forty-four… we looked at each other, puzzled, when we saw the mail box for One Eighty. It stood at the opening between the dense copse of trees with just a glimmer of what appeared to be a pile of junk in the distance. We turned into the lane.
A pot bellied man with a long white beard and a fierce stare came out of the ramshackle “house” with the slap of a screen door. Dressed in flannel and wearing a wide brimmed hat, I began to flash back to the scene in Deliverance… well, you get the idea. Piles of trash and junk adorned the porch and front yard. He motioned to a small, lean-to garage covered with a blue tarp. We stumbled across rotting piles of fence posts and clapboards to peek in.
And there inside were two saw horses with a small stack of boards on them. Lots of small cut-offs on top, a couple of pine 2x4’s sticking out, and a few nice wide and long maple boards. My buddy shook his head and muttered, “These kinds of deals never happen to me.”
How did you figure the board feet on this, he asked. The old man produced a tattered notebook with a column of figures on it. “Here’s the figures the guy wrote down when he delivered it to me.” We peered over them and took a few minutes to realize that these were the calculations for square inches of lumber. And yes, there were thousands. But when you divide that by 144 to get board feet, well… it turns out you only have about two hundred and twenty board feet. Less whatever the dude used out of it. And scarcely a pick-up truck load.
We wound up striking a deal amidst our dashed hopes and loaded up the lumber and headed back home. No, we won’t be replacing the kitchen cabinets. Probably won’t build all those nifty tool cabinets for my shop. I might build that little table I’ve been wanting to build.
As we wheeled back up onto the highway, I heard a mutter, “These kinds of deals never happen to me…”
One of my best buddies called me up the other night and was all excited. He told me about a cache of hardwood lumber, stacked and stored in a garage of a retired furniture maker in an elegant lake community home. Almost 3,200 board feet of random width, ten foot lengths of maple. And it could be had for a mere $450.00 or about fifteen cents a board foot. Quite the deal since it normally sells for around four dollars a board foot. Did I want to go in halves with him he asked? Way too much wood for one person and probably for two, but I had visions of just building all kinds of crap out of this stuff because it would be cheaper than pine. I could build tool cabinets in my shop that would be the envy of woodworkers everywhere. I could replace all the kitchen cabinets cheaper than I could buy plywood. I could build some little pieces of furniture and get some practice with my hand tools. This is going to be great. Of course I said yes.
We made arrangements to take off work a little early the next day and make the hour or so drive up to the lake community near Heber Springs. “These kinds of deals never happen to me,” my buddy grinned at me. He and I shared the same vision of a carefully swept garage stacked with pristine planks of rough sawn maple, dutifully watched over by a bespectacled, white haired gentleman who had sold all of his tools some time back and now just needed someone to haul off the leftover materials from a lifetime of craftsmanship. Maybe his wife told him he had to clear out the garage so she could park in it. It was an intriguing thought.
We crested a hill and saw the sparkling water of Greers Ferry Lake in the distance, and turned into a well manicured road of elegant two story houses. Which one is it? We thought as we counted down the addresses on the rural mail boxes. Ninety-nine, One Hundred and Ten, One Forty-four… we looked at each other, puzzled, when we saw the mail box for One Eighty. It stood at the opening between the dense copse of trees with just a glimmer of what appeared to be a pile of junk in the distance. We turned into the lane.
A pot bellied man with a long white beard and a fierce stare came out of the ramshackle “house” with the slap of a screen door. Dressed in flannel and wearing a wide brimmed hat, I began to flash back to the scene in Deliverance… well, you get the idea. Piles of trash and junk adorned the porch and front yard. He motioned to a small, lean-to garage covered with a blue tarp. We stumbled across rotting piles of fence posts and clapboards to peek in.
And there inside were two saw horses with a small stack of boards on them. Lots of small cut-offs on top, a couple of pine 2x4’s sticking out, and a few nice wide and long maple boards. My buddy shook his head and muttered, “These kinds of deals never happen to me.”
How did you figure the board feet on this, he asked. The old man produced a tattered notebook with a column of figures on it. “Here’s the figures the guy wrote down when he delivered it to me.” We peered over them and took a few minutes to realize that these were the calculations for square inches of lumber. And yes, there were thousands. But when you divide that by 144 to get board feet, well… it turns out you only have about two hundred and twenty board feet. Less whatever the dude used out of it. And scarcely a pick-up truck load.
We wound up striking a deal amidst our dashed hopes and loaded up the lumber and headed back home. No, we won’t be replacing the kitchen cabinets. Probably won’t build all those nifty tool cabinets for my shop. I might build that little table I’ve been wanting to build.
As we wheeled back up onto the highway, I heard a mutter, “These kinds of deals never happen to me…”
Monday, April 06, 2009
Maybe It Really Is All Bush's Fault
I’ve always been a curious person. I have a need to know as much as I can about life and the world around me. This runs the gamut from science to politics. And I guess I just don’t understand people that aren’t curious. Knowing the truth, the real story, that’s always been important to me. I’ve admitted that as a young man I was adamantly against the Viet Nam War. I wore long hair, peace symbols and bell-bottom jeans. I told anyone that would listen that the war was wrong and that we had no business in that part of the world.
It wasn’t until years later that I read about documents, declassified by the Vietnamese, that showed just how close we were to winning that war when we pulled out. [If you are a Democrat you will probably bail out right here because this is not sounding like something that makes you feel good.] You know, when we abandoned those that we had promised to help and left hundreds of thousands to die and millions others to languish in re-education camps. It made me ashamed.
I love reading both sides of the evolution theory. (Yes, there really are two sides). [Oops, bye-bye Liberals] I’m fascinated by the idea of extraterrestrial visitation even though I don’t believe it has happened (yet). [Gee, never thought I'd alienate the Ron Paul crowd] I’ve read the Gnostic Gospels. [Mainstream news reporters, sorry dudes, you'll be missed the rest of the essay...] I’ve read the Koran. I’ve chanted in a Buddhist temple. Even though I’ve always been drawn back to Christ for my faith I find no harm in learning about other religions.
What causes people to not be curious? Or to even stop being curious when confronted with ideas that don’t jibe with their own? I consider myself to be conservative in my politics and my lifestyle. But I listen intently to the words and arguments from the far-left and from the middle and from the far-right. And while I consider the far-right to be a little on the goofy side, the words of the far-left have so far always reinforced my core beliefs. I cannot for the life of me find anything in them that makes enough sense to change my mind. But I keep listening just in case. Well, and you pretty much can’t help but listen since that’s pretty much all you’re going to hear on NPR, CBS, ABC, NBC, CNN and just about any other news channels you turn to. Even FOX tends to spout some of that ideology from time to time.
So why would someone fix on a political ideology and not want to hear anything that disagrees with it? What makes one of your best friends, a person whom you endured listening to spew hatred and disdain during years of a certain past administration, suddenly have no interest in politics now that it’s a new administration? When you try to talk calmly and rationally about current events, what makes a co-worker threaten you with violence because they deem you too stupid to live? Why is it that when asked the difficult questions, they resort to shouting you down as if talking louder makes what they say a fact? Especially when presented with facts that dispute it…
What makes friends reply “unsubscribe Republican propaganda” when barbed in a friendly way about their politics? Why won’t anyone discuss this with me? I really want to know what’s real.
It wasn’t until years later that I read about documents, declassified by the Vietnamese, that showed just how close we were to winning that war when we pulled out. [If you are a Democrat you will probably bail out right here because this is not sounding like something that makes you feel good.] You know, when we abandoned those that we had promised to help and left hundreds of thousands to die and millions others to languish in re-education camps. It made me ashamed.
I love reading both sides of the evolution theory. (Yes, there really are two sides). [Oops, bye-bye Liberals] I’m fascinated by the idea of extraterrestrial visitation even though I don’t believe it has happened (yet). [Gee, never thought I'd alienate the Ron Paul crowd] I’ve read the Gnostic Gospels. [Mainstream news reporters, sorry dudes, you'll be missed the rest of the essay...] I’ve read the Koran. I’ve chanted in a Buddhist temple. Even though I’ve always been drawn back to Christ for my faith I find no harm in learning about other religions.
What causes people to not be curious? Or to even stop being curious when confronted with ideas that don’t jibe with their own? I consider myself to be conservative in my politics and my lifestyle. But I listen intently to the words and arguments from the far-left and from the middle and from the far-right. And while I consider the far-right to be a little on the goofy side, the words of the far-left have so far always reinforced my core beliefs. I cannot for the life of me find anything in them that makes enough sense to change my mind. But I keep listening just in case. Well, and you pretty much can’t help but listen since that’s pretty much all you’re going to hear on NPR, CBS, ABC, NBC, CNN and just about any other news channels you turn to. Even FOX tends to spout some of that ideology from time to time.
So why would someone fix on a political ideology and not want to hear anything that disagrees with it? What makes one of your best friends, a person whom you endured listening to spew hatred and disdain during years of a certain past administration, suddenly have no interest in politics now that it’s a new administration? When you try to talk calmly and rationally about current events, what makes a co-worker threaten you with violence because they deem you too stupid to live? Why is it that when asked the difficult questions, they resort to shouting you down as if talking louder makes what they say a fact? Especially when presented with facts that dispute it…
What makes friends reply “unsubscribe Republican propaganda” when barbed in a friendly way about their politics? Why won’t anyone discuss this with me? I really want to know what’s real.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Patron Saint of Real Estate
John over at Devil Queen begs the question as to whether burying a little statue of St. Joseph really works when trying to sell your house. And when we were selling our last house it really did seem to help. But I can't help thinking about burying the little statue without thinking of fish sauce.
Some of you know that I am a real fan of southeast Asian cuisine. And I had decided that I would try making it myself since there's not a lot of choices around here for such fare. So I got a cookbook and started to collect the ingredients. I dutifully went to the Asian store and asked the clerk to show me their finest bottle of fish sauce. And she showed me the most ornately decorated, largest and prettiest bottle of brown liquid you could ever imagine for $1.99. I bought it and took it home.
I was so anxious to see what this sparkling little beauty had in store for me, so first thing when I got home, I opened it for a taste.
It smelled so bad that I thought I was going to get sick. Panic hit me as I realized that our agent could schedule a showing of the house at any time. And having something that foul in the house almost guaranteed sooner rather than later. This stuff could not stay.
And if I threw it in the trash, the garage would smell like rotten fish, so I did the only thing a sane person would do. I buried the bottle in the flower garden out front.
Some months later after the new owners had settled in, I noticed driving by that they were having all new landscaping done in the yard. I couldn’t help but smile as I passed, thinking of young Jorge digging up my buried treasure and thinking it was some long lost bottle of fine booze. I’d pay for the experience of seeing his face when he un-capped that bad boy.
It wasn’t until later when I read Kasma Loha-unchit’s book on Thai cooking, Dancing Shrimp that I found out that a good fish sauce doesn’t smell like that. It smells like walking on the beach. And the brand I use now, Squid Brand Fish Sauce, smells just like that.
Some of you know that I am a real fan of southeast Asian cuisine. And I had decided that I would try making it myself since there's not a lot of choices around here for such fare. So I got a cookbook and started to collect the ingredients. I dutifully went to the Asian store and asked the clerk to show me their finest bottle of fish sauce. And she showed me the most ornately decorated, largest and prettiest bottle of brown liquid you could ever imagine for $1.99. I bought it and took it home.
I was so anxious to see what this sparkling little beauty had in store for me, so first thing when I got home, I opened it for a taste.
It smelled so bad that I thought I was going to get sick. Panic hit me as I realized that our agent could schedule a showing of the house at any time. And having something that foul in the house almost guaranteed sooner rather than later. This stuff could not stay.
And if I threw it in the trash, the garage would smell like rotten fish, so I did the only thing a sane person would do. I buried the bottle in the flower garden out front.
Some months later after the new owners had settled in, I noticed driving by that they were having all new landscaping done in the yard. I couldn’t help but smile as I passed, thinking of young Jorge digging up my buried treasure and thinking it was some long lost bottle of fine booze. I’d pay for the experience of seeing his face when he un-capped that bad boy.
It wasn’t until later when I read Kasma Loha-unchit’s book on Thai cooking, Dancing Shrimp that I found out that a good fish sauce doesn’t smell like that. It smells like walking on the beach. And the brand I use now, Squid Brand Fish Sauce, smells just like that.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Things I Have Learned By Being Stubborn
1. Schoolteachers will always win, even when they're wrong.
2. Girls worth having won't beg you to come back.
3. The boss at work will always win, even when he's wrong.
4. Other folks will pay a little more for something while you wait for a seller to come down on his price.
5. The cop that pulls you over will always win, even when he's wrong.
6. Your kids are going to become what they are no matter how hard you try to push them the other way.
7. You can tear a hole in your shirt trying to twist the cap off of a Heineken.
8. Your wife will always win, even when she's wrong.
2. Girls worth having won't beg you to come back.
3. The boss at work will always win, even when he's wrong.
4. Other folks will pay a little more for something while you wait for a seller to come down on his price.
5. The cop that pulls you over will always win, even when he's wrong.
6. Your kids are going to become what they are no matter how hard you try to push them the other way.
7. You can tear a hole in your shirt trying to twist the cap off of a Heineken.
8. Your wife will always win, even when she's wrong.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Going West, Young Man
Left the East, traveling West last night. Back from whence I came lo one year ago...
It's been a great year and I really enjoyed the "hot seat."
It's been a great year and I really enjoyed the "hot seat."
Monday, December 03, 2007
I Smoked Too Many Cigarettes This Weekend
"But you don't smoke," I can imagine you saying. And mostly you'd be right.
After a few years hiatus my Civil War selling partner and I decided to go to the Nashville show this weekend. I guess I haven't gone to one with him since I quit smoking in '02. And riding in a truck for five-plus hours, staying in a hotel room, and riding back with a chain smoker proved to be a little more stressful than I anticipated. I am so congested this morning, I can't quit blowing my nose and coughing. And my jacket smells like smoke. I wonder if I tumble it in the dryer with a static sheet if it will freshen it up?
I didn't buy anything at the show, but selling out of a briefcase turns out to be a pretty good strategy. In the past we'd always set up as dealers. And that makes for a long weekend, driving over, setting up on Friday and then manning the tables for two days, tearing down and driving back on Sunday. This time we decided to be "floor walkers." And I guess it adds a sense of urgency when you're showing someone something in your briefcase and they have minutes to decide about it before you walk off for good. It kind of throws a wrench in the "let me think about it and let you know later" strategy.
So I did fairly well at the show. We did some leisurely junking on the way back and got in about 9:00 last night. The little bride seemed happy to see me, and I surely was happy to see her as well. I think son1 was disappointed that I didn't bring him something to eat...
After a few years hiatus my Civil War selling partner and I decided to go to the Nashville show this weekend. I guess I haven't gone to one with him since I quit smoking in '02. And riding in a truck for five-plus hours, staying in a hotel room, and riding back with a chain smoker proved to be a little more stressful than I anticipated. I am so congested this morning, I can't quit blowing my nose and coughing. And my jacket smells like smoke. I wonder if I tumble it in the dryer with a static sheet if it will freshen it up?
I didn't buy anything at the show, but selling out of a briefcase turns out to be a pretty good strategy. In the past we'd always set up as dealers. And that makes for a long weekend, driving over, setting up on Friday and then manning the tables for two days, tearing down and driving back on Sunday. This time we decided to be "floor walkers." And I guess it adds a sense of urgency when you're showing someone something in your briefcase and they have minutes to decide about it before you walk off for good. It kind of throws a wrench in the "let me think about it and let you know later" strategy.
So I did fairly well at the show. We did some leisurely junking on the way back and got in about 9:00 last night. The little bride seemed happy to see me, and I surely was happy to see her as well. I think son1 was disappointed that I didn't bring him something to eat...
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Cranberries - not just a pop band anymore
My little bride looks great right out of the package. I think she's gorgeous dripping wet and straight from the shower. Her blue eyes are magnificent and her smile lights up the room. She doesn't need makeup, but somehow it makes her feel better. So, I abide it.
When she asks me if she looks alright, the answer is yes. But she only asks after she puts on the makeup so maybe she doesn't know that she looks wonderful before. Or maybe she doesn't believe me.
This morning as I was brushing my teeth, I noticed one of the little containers on the cabinet was labeled "concealer." Concealer? What is she trying to hide? I'm going to have to ask her about that when I get home tonight.
On another note, it looks like we're going to be hosting the fambly for Thanksgiving again this year. Yeah, mom and dad sold their house and moved into a retirement high rise, an old folks home of sorts, and they say I'm the only one with room for everybody. I think it's because my house is the closest to their new abode and they don't like to ride any farther.
So, I've got a great tom turkey thawing in my fridge, and most of the "emergency" remodeling done that the bride insisted had to occur before we have guests. I suppose that we're nearly ready. Certainly she will insist on some frenzied last minute house cleaning and life will be at a frantic pace until, oh, noonish on Thursday. When we all sit down together, I'm sure everything will be copacetic.
We thought about possibly putting a table out on the new deck in case some wanted to dine al fresco. The weather has been so nice this week. But the radio says this morning that a cold front is supposed to come through on Thursday so that sounds iffy.
As far as I know, there's still no cure for rabies, so there's that. And my new favorite word in the whole world is YIKES! Just saying or hearing the word yikes puts a smile on my face. How many words can you say that about?
When she asks me if she looks alright, the answer is yes. But she only asks after she puts on the makeup so maybe she doesn't know that she looks wonderful before. Or maybe she doesn't believe me.
This morning as I was brushing my teeth, I noticed one of the little containers on the cabinet was labeled "concealer." Concealer? What is she trying to hide? I'm going to have to ask her about that when I get home tonight.
On another note, it looks like we're going to be hosting the fambly for Thanksgiving again this year. Yeah, mom and dad sold their house and moved into a retirement high rise, an old folks home of sorts, and they say I'm the only one with room for everybody. I think it's because my house is the closest to their new abode and they don't like to ride any farther.
So, I've got a great tom turkey thawing in my fridge, and most of the "emergency" remodeling done that the bride insisted had to occur before we have guests. I suppose that we're nearly ready. Certainly she will insist on some frenzied last minute house cleaning and life will be at a frantic pace until, oh, noonish on Thursday. When we all sit down together, I'm sure everything will be copacetic.
We thought about possibly putting a table out on the new deck in case some wanted to dine al fresco. The weather has been so nice this week. But the radio says this morning that a cold front is supposed to come through on Thursday so that sounds iffy.
As far as I know, there's still no cure for rabies, so there's that. And my new favorite word in the whole world is YIKES! Just saying or hearing the word yikes puts a smile on my face. How many words can you say that about?
Friday, November 09, 2007
Hillary Loves Arkansas Part II
I told you a bit ago about Hillary Rodham's Clinton's headquarters here in Little Rock being in the basement, behind a rubber stamp company. You saw how she is showing us the love. You know, from her living here all those years and being married to the governor.
Today I did a doubletake as I drove by and saw the yard sale signs in front of her headquarters. I slammed on my brakes and ran in to see if they had some of Bill's underwear for sale. You know, some years back he itemized donations of underwear to the local Goodwill store for his income taxes. I think he valued them at $2 a pair or something like that. So I figured they probably need money since Hill's running for president or some office. I forget. And maybe they're selling their old underwear instead of donating it for a taxdodge break.
While I didn't find any of Bill's underwear, there was a pair of combat boots that I think may have been Hillary's. No, wait, she hates the military so scratch that. Probably Chelsea's.
I did see a guy down in front of the homeless shelter, two blocks down, that was wearing a pair of pretty expensive looking underwear on his head...
UPDATE: The LA Times thinks it's a good idea...
Today I did a doubletake as I drove by and saw the yard sale signs in front of her headquarters. I slammed on my brakes and ran in to see if they had some of Bill's underwear for sale. You know, some years back he itemized donations of underwear to the local Goodwill store for his income taxes. I think he valued them at $2 a pair or something like that. So I figured they probably need money since Hill's running for president or some office. I forget. And maybe they're selling their old underwear instead of donating it for a tax
While I didn't find any of Bill's underwear, there was a pair of combat boots that I think may have been Hillary's. No, wait, she hates the military so scratch that. Probably Chelsea's.
I did see a guy down in front of the homeless shelter, two blocks down, that was wearing a pair of pretty expensive looking underwear on his head...
UPDATE: The LA Times thinks it's a good idea...
Sunday, November 04, 2007
We live in a tough neighborhood...
Apparently these kids weren't trick-or-treating correctly...
...or maybe they didn't say "thank you."
...or maybe they didn't say "thank you."
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Hillary Loves Arkansas
Yeah, right.
I figured ya'll might want to see Hillary's Arkansas Headquarters. You'd think she might want it somewhere a little nicer than the basement in the back of a rubber stamp company. Or maybe that says something...
Oh, and all the cars in the parking lot? The parking lot belongs to the Little Rock School District and those cars are parked there even when the building is vacant.
I figured ya'll might want to see Hillary's Arkansas Headquarters. You'd think she might want it somewhere a little nicer than the basement in the back of a rubber stamp company. Or maybe that says something...
Oh, and all the cars in the parking lot? The parking lot belongs to the Little Rock School District and those cars are parked there even when the building is vacant.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Snookered Again
Folks are always telling me how great this beer or that beer is, and when it comes to beers with the words "ultra" or "light" in them, no matter how it's spelled, they're really not worth drinking. But when a friend told me that the new light beer by Beck's was really good, he had my attention. The Germans really know how to make beer.
So, I bought some. And it tastes just like your standard watered down American beer. Not that I'm a beer snob or anything, but I do like my beer to actually taste like beer. If I want carbonated water, I'll buy that.
Beck's, stick to what you do best. And making light beer ain't it.
So, I bought some. And it tastes just like your standard watered down American beer. Not that I'm a beer snob or anything, but I do like my beer to actually taste like beer. If I want carbonated water, I'll buy that.
Beck's, stick to what you do best. And making light beer ain't it.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
It's a Wonderful Day in the Neighborhood...
You know, certain neighborhoods in town are just more interesting than others. And they make you glad you have your camera with you...
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Making Sense
The analogy of God as a father becomes ever so much clearer after you are a parent. Each day I see the Fatherhood of God in my fatherhood of my sons and daughter. You want so badly to protect them from the world and its hurts. Its dangers. And so with God.
How do you explain an untimely death? How can you reason that good people die and evil people live? There's comfort knowing he's in heaven, but how could God let this happen?
And I guess it all comes down to choices. Free will is a wonderful blessing and a terrible burden all at once. And God created us with free will. We choose to love. We choose to worship. Or not. And we choose our paths in life. And maybe a child's split second choice darts them into traffic before you can grab them. We either pay or benefit from our choices depending upon which way we go.
It's not God's fault that bad things happen to us. And it's unrealistic to expect we'd be protected from every reaction to our actions. Yes, God protects us and holds us and he loves us more than we can understand. Even after experiencing the love we have for our children, we can't begin to fathom. And he let's us choose.
A choice. A life cut short. A soul in heaven and a host of those left behind in sorrow. Wondering how this can be. Wishing it weren't true. Hoping for that call saying it was a mistake. Curled up in bed, wanting the escape of sleep, knowing you'll never see your best friend again in this life. Thinking over and over in your mind of the choices you've made and the single devastating choice of one you love.
Pray for my son and the family of his friend. A choice. A life cut short. We can only pray for those left behind.
How do you explain an untimely death? How can you reason that good people die and evil people live? There's comfort knowing he's in heaven, but how could God let this happen?
And I guess it all comes down to choices. Free will is a wonderful blessing and a terrible burden all at once. And God created us with free will. We choose to love. We choose to worship. Or not. And we choose our paths in life. And maybe a child's split second choice darts them into traffic before you can grab them. We either pay or benefit from our choices depending upon which way we go.
It's not God's fault that bad things happen to us. And it's unrealistic to expect we'd be protected from every reaction to our actions. Yes, God protects us and holds us and he loves us more than we can understand. Even after experiencing the love we have for our children, we can't begin to fathom. And he let's us choose.
A choice. A life cut short. A soul in heaven and a host of those left behind in sorrow. Wondering how this can be. Wishing it weren't true. Hoping for that call saying it was a mistake. Curled up in bed, wanting the escape of sleep, knowing you'll never see your best friend again in this life. Thinking over and over in your mind of the choices you've made and the single devastating choice of one you love.
Pray for my son and the family of his friend. A choice. A life cut short. We can only pray for those left behind.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Keeping Austin Weird
Spent the last few days in Austin Texas, a place with a very discernable attitude. (remember, if you click on the pictures, they get bigger...)
There was a gang of girls on Segways terrorizing the tourists on the sidewalk
And of course we got our drink on. In Texas, it's Mexican beer and tequila
The skyline from our lair
If it ain't hot enough for you there, you can get assistance
The folks were nice and helpful, always looking out for our needs and clearing up any confusion that might overtake us.
No problems to speak of, but had there been...
There was a gang of girls on Segways terrorizing the tourists on the sidewalk
And of course we got our drink on. In Texas, it's Mexican beer and tequila
The skyline from our lair
If it ain't hot enough for you there, you can get assistance
The folks were nice and helpful, always looking out for our needs and clearing up any confusion that might overtake us.
No problems to speak of, but had there been...
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Galactic Trailer Trash
Is anyone following the civilian space race?
For the last fifty years, space has been the exclusive realm of government agencies. Governments with enough money and clout to pull it off. Granted, a lot of our technological progress has come from the space program. Tang for instance. Oh and those ballpoint pens that write upside down. How cool is that?
But in the last few years we've seen more and more wealthy entrepenours entering their own space programs. And who wants to bet that there's more progress in a year than NASA makes in a decade? Plus, these guys like to party and there won't be that stigma attached to hot extraterrestrial astronaut loving that the government programs have. Just think, no more driving 900 miles in a diaper to straighten out your sex life.
Virgin is planning regularly scheduled galactic flights and claims that soon "every kid will know he can go to orbit in his lifetime." Numerous others are developing their own ideas for cashing in on the concept.
This one guy, Robert Bigelow, has already sent up his own space station. But here's where it starts to bother me. Bigelow's space station is home to some jumping beans and some cockroaches. Cockroaches?
Have you ever had that experience when the nasty people living next door to you move out and the cockroaches they left behind get hungry and start invading your house? You spend hundreds of dollars on exterminators and years cussing those nasty bastards for doing that to you?
Yeah, do we want to be known as the planet that spread cockroaches across the galaxy?
For the last fifty years, space has been the exclusive realm of government agencies. Governments with enough money and clout to pull it off. Granted, a lot of our technological progress has come from the space program. Tang for instance. Oh and those ballpoint pens that write upside down. How cool is that?
But in the last few years we've seen more and more wealthy entrepenours entering their own space programs. And who wants to bet that there's more progress in a year than NASA makes in a decade? Plus, these guys like to party and there won't be that stigma attached to hot extraterrestrial astronaut loving that the government programs have. Just think, no more driving 900 miles in a diaper to straighten out your sex life.
Virgin is planning regularly scheduled galactic flights and claims that soon "every kid will know he can go to orbit in his lifetime." Numerous others are developing their own ideas for cashing in on the concept.
This one guy, Robert Bigelow, has already sent up his own space station. But here's where it starts to bother me. Bigelow's space station is home to some jumping beans and some cockroaches. Cockroaches?
Have you ever had that experience when the nasty people living next door to you move out and the cockroaches they left behind get hungry and start invading your house? You spend hundreds of dollars on exterminators and years cussing those nasty bastards for doing that to you?
Yeah, do we want to be known as the planet that spread cockroaches across the galaxy?
Monday, February 26, 2007
The Education Pill
One of the most provocative bloggers out in the webosphere is La Shawn Barber. I admire her common sense approach to everyday problems. And while many of her posts are directed at improving the black community in America, nearly all of her solutions would be beneficial to all races.
Things like, “Get married and build a nest before you have children to give them the best start in life, take responsibility for your own lives and accept the consequences of your actions, and take responsibility for your children’s education…”
The last one really hits home to me, since I still have a child in school.
Haven’t we become a culture of dependence? I mean, don’t we look for someone else to solve our problems because we are too lazy? No?
How about health? How many Americans would rather take medication for diabetes, high blood pressure, and obesity than to alter their diet and exercise habits? Why inconvenience yourself when you can take a little pill or get an operation? The good Lord certainly doesn’t want me to do without anything that gives me pleasure.
And, if the pill for your blood pressure or diabetes makes you impotent? There’s a pill for that too!
Yep, we’d rather not teach our children to take responsibility for their sexuality. You wouldn’t want to make anyone feel bad or foolish for getting pregnant in the ninth grade. No, it’s better to have the schools pass out condoms to our children than to expect them to deprive themselves of that pleasure. Especially since we don’t want to deprive ourselves of the pleasures of extra-marital sex. Right?
Which brings me to the most important one of all. The one that most affects our future and that of our children and grandchildren. The schools.
Bane says you shouldn’t send you kids to any school. Public or private. And I’m sure he has a valid point these days. But it shouldn’t be that way, and I think he would agree with me on that.
We’ve proven through forty years of trial and error that throwing money at the problem won’t fix it. Though the unionized teachers arescheming screaming that it will. “Just pay us more to care about your children…”
Isn’t money the little pill for our children’s education?
If we throw more money at the problem, it will get fixed and our children will receive a great education without inconveniencing ourselves. Lord knows, we don’t have time to make sure our kids learn. That’s what we pay the teachers for. Right?
Or not.
Things like, “Get married and build a nest before you have children to give them the best start in life, take responsibility for your own lives and accept the consequences of your actions, and take responsibility for your children’s education…”
The last one really hits home to me, since I still have a child in school.
Haven’t we become a culture of dependence? I mean, don’t we look for someone else to solve our problems because we are too lazy? No?
How about health? How many Americans would rather take medication for diabetes, high blood pressure, and obesity than to alter their diet and exercise habits? Why inconvenience yourself when you can take a little pill or get an operation? The good Lord certainly doesn’t want me to do without anything that gives me pleasure.
And, if the pill for your blood pressure or diabetes makes you impotent? There’s a pill for that too!
Yep, we’d rather not teach our children to take responsibility for their sexuality. You wouldn’t want to make anyone feel bad or foolish for getting pregnant in the ninth grade. No, it’s better to have the schools pass out condoms to our children than to expect them to deprive themselves of that pleasure. Especially since we don’t want to deprive ourselves of the pleasures of extra-marital sex. Right?
Which brings me to the most important one of all. The one that most affects our future and that of our children and grandchildren. The schools.
Bane says you shouldn’t send you kids to any school. Public or private. And I’m sure he has a valid point these days. But it shouldn’t be that way, and I think he would agree with me on that.
We’ve proven through forty years of trial and error that throwing money at the problem won’t fix it. Though the unionized teachers are
Isn’t money the little pill for our children’s education?
If we throw more money at the problem, it will get fixed and our children will receive a great education without inconveniencing ourselves. Lord knows, we don’t have time to make sure our kids learn. That’s what we pay the teachers for. Right?
Or not.
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