Friday, July 30, 2004

There is no grey.

It's quite popular to focus on the grey areas.  Whenever you twaddle on about the complexity of an issue, you invariably sound intellectual and thoughtful. 

Sounds can be decieving.

Anyone who's spent any time here should know by now that I see the world in black and white.  There is right, and there is wrong, and there is no inbetween.  There is a clear distinction between the two in every case.

From Abortion, to the Death Penalty, to the "He Needed Killin' Defense, to Murder, to Socialism, to Wicca there is no grey area.

Think of it as the Nate challenge.

From the Comments:

RJK writes: Robert Smith saved the world!
Do what?  How exactly did Robert Smith save the world?  Is it possible to rescue the vast population of man by donning make-up and whining about what clearly was a debilitating case of viginaitis?  Does all mankind owe its survival to this meloncholy transvestite, and his droning self-loathing?

Please.   The only thing art-fags could ever cure the world of is masculinity.  How exactly does one like Smith save the world?  By whining about how sad he is, and how he doesn't fit in?  I'd love to smack him up side his girly little head.  Wake up you moron.  No one owes you acceptence.  You can dress like a freak if you want, but don't piss and moan to me about no one accepting you.  It's your choice.  And don't give me any of this crap about expressing yourself either.  It's not my fault that you never grew out of the "I have to be different, just like all my friends" phase. 

Sometimes I think it would be nice to be able to appreciate the psuedo-intellectualism of bands like the Cure and Radiohead.  I mean, at parties I could sit and discuss thier genius with everyone while we sipped manhattans.  But then I realize... I could do that...  Or I could just stay home and lick the cat's ass.  Same thing.

Saved the world?  I feel pretty secure in saying that the world would be better off without anyone pathetic enough to be saved by this type of self-indulgence.  The Trenchcoat Mafia may as well of had "The Cure Fans" stapled to their foreheads.

I wonder how much better Smith's music might have been if someone would've just beat the hell out of him when he was about13.


You still Here?

Unbelievable.  I figured my apathy would've run y'all off by now.  I appreciate ya comin by.  I really do. 

The good news of course, is that I get to see Jeb and Julie today.   I've put the last few finishing touches on the bike.  I doubt I'll touch it again until we roll.  After a 200 mile warm-up on wednesday, and a good warm-up yesterday too, I think she's ready to roll.

JAC and I have spared no expense on this trip.  Saturday night, before we go, I'll leave a good blog on it.  The final equipment list, the final route,and the obligatory, "How cool is THAT?" paragraph.

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

I don't like this.

Y'all... I miss Jeb.  I ain't diggin' this at all. 

I find myself checkin' the fridge to see what I need to fix for him, and when I hear the house settle I think, "Cool!  Jeb's wakin' up!".  This mornin' at about 6 I almost shot the dogs for barkin', cause I was convinced they were gonna wake him up.

None of this would be bad mind you, if Jeb wasn't in Georgia.

I've tried not to blog much this week, because I knew I'd just end up writing stuff like this, and well... I've got a reputation to maintain.  Nobody wants to hear a daddy whine.  I've just been keeping myself busy gettin' ready for the trip.

I'm taking a dry run today.  I'm packing up all my gear and headin' out for a couple hours to test it all out.  Maybe I can work some kinks out here and there to save some headaches next week.

I'll let ya know how it goes.  Can't believe no one took me up on that beer...  Well...  Nashville let me down...  How about the Knoxville kids?  Eddie?  RJK?  y'all wanna throw one back?
Body Wash for Men???
This is not acceptable.  "Men" do not use body wash.  I realize that male might, but there ain't no way a man would.

I climb into the shower this morning... ahhhh...  scalding hot water spit from the very depths of Hell itself.  I reach over to grab some soap and what do I find?  Suave Moisterizing Body Wash.  Cucumber Melon, if I read the bottle correctly.   Next bottle...  Old Spice Body Wash for men... in "Mountain Rush".... whatever the hell that is...  Oh.. and let's not forget Aroma Therapy Softsoap.  I don't care if it says "for men" on it or not.  When I think 'mountain rush', clean ain't what comes to mind!  Besides, I could scrub all day with that crap and it wouldn't come close to gettin' the oil and grease off.  Not to mention that I'd come out of the shower smellin' like a french whore.

I had to walk butt nekkid back to my room just to fetch a damned bar of soap! 

You want soap for men?  It's that white stuff that comes in a jar...  sold at truck stops and autozone.  Look carefully on the label and you'll notice the stuff can be used as oven-cleaner.  That's soap for men dammit!

All these issues with the shower wouldn't be so bad if I was stayin at a chick's place.  Sadly....  this is my parents home, and the only person that uses that shower is my brother.

The same brother who one told us he had some beer in his trunk...   only to produce wine coolers.

my brother's a fag...  That's not good.


Sunday, July 25, 2004

Pride before the fall
To be on the safe side I went to walmart and picked up some brand new tie-downs for the bike.  Curt and Sherry helped me load her up and strap her down, which isn't nearly as fun as it sounds, and this morning I headed on down to Tennessee.

I had been on the road about three hours.   I was just past beckley, WV, rollin' south on 77, when it happened.  Code Brown!  I'm looking in my mirror, when I hear ***POP***, and I see the bike fall over in the trailer.   Apparently human heart does NOT taste like chicken.  At least mine didn't.  I gagged a bit on it when it decided to jump out of my chest but I was eventually able to force it back down.

It seems that i remembered to put the kick-stand down, and it had caught the bike.  I knew better than to hit the breaks.  I just let the truck gradually slow down.  I caught a break and actually coasted right into a spot in a rest area!

I changed my underwear, then grabbed the spare tie-down (be prepared) and tried to calm down.  The spare is ok for emergency use, but it would last long.   I limped on down a few more miles to an exit with a walmart, and somehow managed to get the truck there and stopped safely without destroyin' my newly painted, super-cool bike.  You cannot imagine how much I cussed.

So anyway, I go to walmart and buy two 1200 pound tie-downs.  Mind you, they don't weigh 1200 pounds.  They hold that much up.  But I digress...

I was happily strapping the bike down when this fatass on a harley pulls up.  For one fleeting moment I thought, "Hey cool, dude is gonna offer to help out a biker in need."  Right.

"Hey boy, you know if you had a harley you wouldn't have to trailer that bike.  You could ride it where you're going."

Now imagine.  Here I am, about to ride this bike 4000 miles to the Grand Mutha-F.....g Canyon, and this fatass is gonna talk shit about his bar-hopper with 1500 miles on it.

I less than tactfully explain the situation.

"You ain't takin' that bike out west.  Not unless you know a good chiropractor."

Given the circumstances I don't think it should've been illegal for me to shoot this bastard.  Ahhh... but the Good Lord had other plans...

I hopped down off the trailer and started taking a good look at his Harley.  It was a polished up older dyna.  I knelt down and checked out the chrome covers when I noticed something drip from the case.  Muwahahahahahahaha!

I wiped a bit on to my finger and said, "Damn.  This is a fine lookin' bike buddy...  But umm....  You're leakin' oil."

I made it to Murfreesboro safe and sound.  Any of the Nashville contingent lookin' to grab a beer, gimmie a holler in the comments.  We roll next sunday.

Saturday, July 24, 2004

MailNate: From Kristy with Love
Kristy emailed this to me.  It's good for a chuckle or two for sure.  Anything that shows Bush calling Kerry a liberal pussy is good enough for ol' Nate.

By the way, if anyone is looking for a 2003 VTX 1800, let me know.  I can get you one for 9 grand even with 0 miles on it.  Dealer cost is 11,400.  Honda is offering 2000 cash back, so even if you get a dealer to give you one, I can still beat his price by 400 bucks.  I can deliver the bike within reason, or you can pick it up.  If you don't mind a slightly used VTX, you could always meet me on the way to the canyon!

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Plannin' the Trip:  Equipment Check
We've got all sorts of 500 mile, and 1000 mile points checked just in case, but we're dead set on headin' to Grand Canyon Village.  From Murfreesboro the round trip is gonna be around 3300 miles.  Bill suggested I post an equipment list for y'all ta pick apart...  suggestions are welcome, but please remember that I have 2 small saddlebags.  Anything else has to be bungeed to the backseat.  Like my wife says...  Size matters.

Camel back Hydration System
Summer bike jacket
Summer bike pants
Full Face/Open Face Helmet
First Aid kit
2 MRE's
Taurus PT-101 with 20 rounds
MP3 player (extra batteries)
clean drawers
clean socks
tool kit
Electro-Magnetic Pulse Weapon
hygene bag (toothbrush, deoderant and such)
Bike to Bike communications (JAC's department)
Small maglite
Cell Phone
Radar Detector

This list will be adjusted several times before we leave.  Fire away.

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

MailNate:  More on the Bob's.
Joe writes:
I'm trying to get some more info on BOBs. Someone on Vox's blog referred to your blog post on 4/15/04. At the end you said that you would write more on the topic later, but I have not been able to find it. Am I overlooking it or what? Also, where did you get the MREs? Is this a military surplus thing or can they be purchased new?
Ok... I did say I was gonna write more about this... and I never did.  But of course, I always say I'm gonna write more... and I never do... dammit. 

But sense ya asked, and well... it's important, I will this time.  So here goes.

MRE's can be found all over.  The perfered method is to get a reservist friend to pilfer you some.  Barring that, camping stores, mil surplus, and so on...  prices vary.  

A BoB is not something you finish and put away.  It's something that we tweak all the time.  You replace things, add new do-dads, and generally mess with the thing.  We all have favorite items that we've added.  For example, Julie has the coolest thing.  It's basicly a tube of plaster that hardens when air hits it.  So you set the bone, cut the package open, rub the stuff over the limb you want protected, and ***POOF***  instant cast.

Lots of folks have weekend exercizes where they actually bug-out.  You grab your bag and go.  You can only bring whats in the back and your truck already.  Everyone meets out in the woods and lives out of the bag for a couple days.  Never done it...  sounds like a helluva plan though.  One day.

Easy Kids
We ain't leavin' until the first week of August.  I was just talking about the plannin' and lookin' for suggestions.  I'll be around off and on.  I know I've been slackin' off here lately, but with finishin' the bike, entertainin' my hot little sister-in-law, and tryin' to prepare for these trips, well...  time's a little short.  I'll still be around though.  Don't sweat it.

Monday, July 19, 2004

The Trip
So August 1 JAC and I are leavin' Murfreesboro, TN bright and early.   We're headin' north to I-40, then we're takin a left.  Over the next 24 hours, we plan on covering at least 1000 miles.  After that's accomplished we're just gonna play.  We've always wanted to ride out west, and this looks like our first real chance.  For now, the plan is to head to the Grand Canyon.  We plan on bustin' our asses to get out there, and then takin our time and playin all the way back.
Of course all of this is subject to change.  We may get as far west as Memphis and decide to turn south to Nawlin's...  maybe ride the gulf coast. 
That's the beauty of two guys headin' off on bikes.  We got no where to be, and no time to be there. 
That's trouble kids!
An Easy Sunday Ride
Tire pressure? check.  Oil?  check.  Chain tension? Check.  Oiled?  Check.  Gas?  Check.
Saddle-up.  Time to ride. 
It's Sunday morning, 9:00am.  I'm meetin' the boys at a little resturant down by Cheat Lake for a day long ride.   I throw a leg over the bike, ease the choke up, turn the key and grab the levers.  After I kick the side stand up, I thumb the little red button, and 998cc's rumbles awake.
Ruby and Ketchy's is a quick jaunt through town, and the boys are already there.   I order a cup o' coffee and sip on it till they finish breakfast.  By the time they're done we've got the trip mostly laid out.  Seems we're heading down to 50, and Mount Storm.  I liked the sound of that.  Mount Storm indeed.
I ran over to a nearby hotspot to pick up a pair of sunglasses while the gang finished and settled the tab.  That hanled it was time to mount up.
The usual suspects were all there.  Curt's Aprila was parked next to RJ's 929.  Behind them were my cbr1000, and our resident yankee buddy, Brian's 900rr.  Brian had a little blonde cutie along for the ride, and she and I hit it off immediately.   A friend from the hospital, Jeff, was also there with his big BMW, and we had apparently picked up a straggler, a 17 year old with a Honda F4.  Not a bad gang.
As we're all mountin' up I'm checkin' my pocket for the MP3 player I brought.  I thought about hittin' it, but decided I'd wait a while.  I wanted to hear these bikes run a bit. 
We scoot out to interstate, which is only a couple blocks.  We don't plan on takin' I-68 very far, but we want to get to Bruceton Mills pretty quick, and that's the best way.   Curt, RJ, Jeff and Brian are all in front of me as we turn up the exit ramp.
Now bikes are made for different things, and well, my bike was made for the interstate.  After we merge into traffic, I slide over to the left lane.  I see curt up ahead movin' that left leg and scootin' back a bit in the seat.  I've ridden with curt a long time, and I know what that means.   I've already got the bat bike up into it's powerband though, so I take my chance.  I nail it.
There is a distinct THUMP sound in my helmet as I pass Curt, and he was doin about 90!  Now there's no doubt that the Aprila will run me down pretty quickly, so I play it cool.  I get about half a mile ahead of him, and lay off.  I let him pass and laugh at him.  This is what we do.
We make Bruceton Mills in about 5 minutes or so.  We pull up to the exit and wait for stragglers.   I figure it's a good time to hit some tunes, cause the roads are fixin' to turn twisty, so just before we turn towards kingwood, I hit play on my brother's MP3 player.
Now I didn't know what was on this thing, but I figured if it sucked I could just turn it off.  About 5 hundred yards down the road I hear:
"Janie was a waitress at the only joint in town,
she had a reputation as a girl who'd been around,
down main steet after midnight, brand new pack o' cigs
fresh one hangin' from her lip, a beer between legs..."
An involuntary grin crept upon my face, and my right hand twisted just a little.  It was gonna be a good day.  
8 minutes later Mr Keen's song was over and the sun was shinnin' down.  My shield was about half up, the wind was in my face, and we were dancin' through twisties like they were set in 3/4 time.  Then what do I hear?
"Awwwww We gonna take you home tonight."
Now if you've never thrown a bike around you wouldn't understand, but when "Fat Bottom Girls" came through my earbuds, I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven.
Up ahead I see a hard right.  Curt is easing up to take it on the high side.   I go with him, but it's banked sharp, so I slam the throttle wide open and lean hard into the turn.  The nose dives below Curt well to the inside, I hold the throttle open a few seconds and let the bike lift itself up, and once again I'm long gone by the time Curt figures out what happened.
I slow down and let he and RJ go by.  To be honest they're just faster, and take way more chances than I do, so no reason to hold them up.  I lay back in third while we ride along the rivers and make our way to 50.  No reason to get tired this early.  Mount Storm lay ahead.

Saturday, July 17, 2004

Slaughterhouse 5
Well how we doin?  This makes the second time I've read this little book, and I can't say my opinions changed much.  From a technical standpoint, Kurt is the man.  If you've ever tried to write, then you know that going in a straight line is bad enough, but skipping around from one part of a story to another ain't no easy thing at all.   He handles all of that easily.  The book is far more easily read than it has any right to be.  I'm interested to hear if any of you read it, and what ya thought if ya did.
But hey, how could he not write this book?  A man survives the greatest masacre of WWII, by hiding in a slaughterhouse. 
So it goes.

Friday, July 16, 2004

Wisdom From Song
Cupid works for the Devil.
Be suspicious if he cries.
You know sex is usually good,
but it ain't always right.
Chocolate's just a bandaid,
and no matter what they say,
shoes don't stretch,
and men don't change.
It's always nice to see that at least someone gets it.  Plus, when songs like this come out, I get the added bonus of watching women sing them, all the while ignoring the fact that the song was written for, and about, them.  I mean... I just laugh my butt off watching girls who always flock to the fixer-upper type male, singing songs about how you can't fix men.
It's like watching them sing "stay with me" by Rod Stewart.  Here you have a song about a guy telling a woman to screw him and then leave in the morning... and women sing it like it's a love song.  It always crack up when I hear the girls sing, "just don't be there in the mornin' when I wake up."  It doesn't even register with them.
Of course, the greatest wisdom in the song I quoted is actually in the line, "Be suspicious if he cries."
New Mommy Advice
Folks, if you're pregnant, gonna be pregnant or just know you want kids one day, please let me offer you this one bit of wisdom.  Babies aren't any different today than they were 20, 40, or 100 years ago.  Go to your grandmother or some other old lady, and talk to her at length about how she raised her babies.  The best thing is to find a woman who had a big family.  You may need to talk to several old women and gain a consensus.  What ever they agree on, write it down as gospel and do it.
Also, stop reading mommy magazines.  All they will do is make your life miserable.  You and your siblings turned out fine without the wonderful knowledge within them, and your kid will too.  You don't want to raise your kid the "new" way.  By definition, the "new" way is unproven.  Ignore anything the doctor tells you that begins with the phrase, "studies have recently shown".
When it comes to babies old women, as a group, know everything.

Thursday, July 15, 2004

And now for something completely different

Ok things have gotten a bit dark around the blog and I figger it's time to lighten them up a bit.

So this mornin' I was sittin' on the front porch swing, watchin' Jeb play. I know I know... It's a tough life. Anyway... He has this slide that he likes to climb up and slide down. Which is pretty much what you do with slides...

Well it's not designed very well. In fact, it looks like someone sat down and attempted to build a slide that was insure as many kids fell off of it as possible. Suprisingly though, Jeb has tought himself to negotiate the cursed thing, and has never fallen off it.

So I'm watching him... always assuming he's about to fall, and always suprised when he doesn't... until well... he did.

He had climbed up the ladder, and was sitting on one of his feet. When he tried to get his foot out from under him, he just fell off the back.

Now this things only a coule feet tall, but I still shat myself. Jeb landed flat on his back, and I, after diving to try to catch him, landed flat on my face. I scrabled up to check him, and I find him yelling. Not crying. Pissed off, red faced yellin'. He stood up and kicked the crap out of the slide. Started hittin' hit with both hands. Then he grabs it, and starts pushing it arcoss the porch! I mean the boy just got pissed off and kicked this poor slide's ass!

The apple don't fall far from the tree y'all. That's a fact.

So now it's starting to look like the US Treasury will hit the debt limit of 7.834 trillion dollars sometime in october. Nice. I know Bill, we're at war. I suppose that's why we had to have that drug beneFit eh? Because we're at war? No child left behind? Because we're at war?

"I undstand that I've spent a lot of money, but the house had to be repaired."

-"sir, you just bought a $200,000 car."

"I undstand that I've spent a lot of money, but the house had to be repaired."

And of course... We now get to watch the media scurry about. What wil the issue be? Will it be, "What can we do to keep from hitting the limit"? How about, "What will we do when we hit the limit"?

No way in hell. The assumption has already been made. If we hit the limit, we'll simply raise the limit. That sort of defeats the point of having a limit in the first place... really making it more of a marker than a limit.

Ah but who cares? We're at war!

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

4 Reasons Not to Vote, and a love note to Vox

I've been takin' a lot of grief lately for layin' out of the upcoming "election". I decided I would give y'all some really good reasons why I'm not voting, all of which can be summed up by saying, "There is no one worth voting for."

1) The Democrats suck. They're Godless socialists. We elect any more of them and we may as well just join Canada. That way we can all bleed to death in ER's waiting to be serviced by the excellent government health care system. But what's left of our pay, I mean, allowance, will still buy us a few things right? Kerry is a train wreck. Even if he agreed with me on all the issues, I'd still not vote for him, because he's such a loathsome little prick. He has to be the single most un-likable can'tidate sense Walter Mondale. I really don't need to spend time even talking about these people.

2) The Republicans suck. Largely for the same reasons as the Democrats... as they are just the watered down version. You know what a good word for "compassionate conservative" is? Socialist. Bush is a liberal in conservative clothes. The liberals just hate him because he's not on their team. Voting for Bush would make me feel like I'd sullied my right arm. It's very similar to why I could never have sex with a prostitute. I think to much of my pecker to sully it by stickin' it in something like that... That's how I feel about voting for Bush. I think to much of my hand to sully it by pullin' that lever. Oh... I don't mind his foriegn policy. Are we shooting the very best most dangerous enemies first? Probly not... but we are shooting someone at least, and so I'm not really losing sleep over it. It's not like anyone else is gonna change this policy anyway.

3) The Libertarians suck. First of all, get over yourself people. There's a reason we call it a two-party system. The day a libertarian wins 5 Electorial votes, I'll jump down, spin around, and pick a bail o' cotton outta my ass. As if the futility wasn't bad enough, you have to swallow their baby-killing platform, and their moronic "open borders" idea. Open borders... That sounds like something a delusional teenager drempt up in a chemically induced utopian haze. I'll bet we could all sit around and sing Kum-bah-ya too. The world needs love man! No it doesn't, it needs someone to kick your hippie ass. See those people over there with the diapers on their heads and the pipe bombs strapped to thier chests? They love the idea of open borders. Hell... You think it's a good idea, how about we start with your house. Just go ahead and leave your place wide open and unlocked for the next few months. Let's see how well that works out for ya.

4) The Constitution Party sucks. Re-read the first couple lines of the libertarian rant again, because they apply here too. Remember, it's not the wasted vote arguement. In order for something to be considered waste it had to have value in the first place. I'm gonna give you your choice between two pieces of crap. There are two other pieces of crap too, and you can choose them, but if you do, I'm not actually going to give you the one you chose, I'm just going to randomly pick one of the first two and give you it. Now quick, what is the value of the choice? If you said "Crap", move to the front of the class. If you didn't, you're still an idiot. You can have crap, or you can have crap. And you better choose by God, because you're an American! And my so-and-so died so you could have a say in what Crap you're given. Whatever dude. Save it. It's all crap, and I don't want any of it. If I was gonna choose crap though, it damned sure wouldn't be the kind that calls itself the Constitution Party, then perpetuates one of the most agregious violations of constitutionaly protected rights there is; The War on Drugs.

So there you have it! I give you your grand choice: Crap C, Crap D, Crap L, or Crap R. Flush 'em all.

Oh.. and before I go... Vox.. you're pretty fond of a little saying. "Tell it to the whigs!". Ah what a battle cry! It summons up images of the possibility of rebellion within the politcal world... Sadly its inaccurate. The Whigs were never anything to be feared, and calling them well organized is simply ignoring history. We're talking about a party that lasted an astounding 16 years, from 1834 to 1850. That's the official story anyway, though the initial party coalition actually started in 1824, when some boys got together to try to whip Andy Jackson (Tennessean by the way). I suppose we could give them credit for 26 years then huh? So... the disentigration of a party that's 20 something years old, that never won a national election, and was so disorganized it actually ran several guys against each other in the Presidential Race, is supposed to be a model for the destruction of a party that's been around and off and on since 1780, and continually since 1854? Doesn't sound so inspiring now does it? Lord man, you're talking about a party who's biggest claim to fame was Henry Clay gettin' his ass kicked by Polk.


Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Go Time

There's an aweful lot of stuff gettin' talked about these days that makes me think these next 6 months are gonna be real interesting. Let me just take off the paranoid hat here for a second and be as blunt and plain as possible.

It's time to start thinking about where your line in the sand is.

Cnn and Fox are have been talking about the possibility of terror attacks and cancelled elections, and even have mentioned martial law. I think then, it's logical to assume that something might happen. You can ignore it and hope for the best, or you can follow my method; pray for the best, prepare for the worst. My first priority is always to protect my wife and son from immediate harm. I'll take to fighting for freedom, only after I know they are safe and taken care of.

Each and everyone one of us has to decide where the line is.

Cancelled Election: I can tell you this much, I ain't riskin' my family over a cancelled election that I wasn't votin' in anyway.

Martial Law: I don't see myself pulling the trigger over this either.

Out-lawing guns: Nope. Not gonna do fight over that either. I'll just ignore the law and bide my time.

House-to-house search and confiscation of firearms: Oh yeah... now I'm pullin' the trigger.

The type of Attack is going to dictate alot with me, and the timing. Honestly, I'm going to be in a much better position to handle this later than I am now, so some of you may be jumpin' before I do. It's quite possible that I may have to bend over and take it for a while in order to buy some time to make some preparations.

So... where's your line?

Nate for Dictator!

I never take online tests, as I find them to be only slightly less abnoxious than Ben Stiller. Upon seeing the results of this one over that Pink Kitty's though... I had to try it out. I make no statement on the accuracy. I should think the following results speak for themselves.

You are an SEDL--Sober Emotional Destructive Leader. This makes you a dictator. You prefer to control situations, and lack of control makes you physically sick. You feel you have responsibility for everyone's welfare, and that you will be blamed when things go wrong. Things do go wrong, and you take it harder than you should.

You rely on the validation and support of others, but you have a secret distrust for people and distaste for their habits and weaknesses that make you keep your distance from them. This makes you very difficult to be with romantically. Still, a level-headed peacemaker can keep you balanced.

Despite your fierce temper and general hot-bloodedness, you have a soft spot for animals and a surprising passion for the arts. Sometimes you would almost rather live by your wits in the wilderness somewhere, if you could bring your books and your sketchbook.

You also have a strange, undeniable sexiness to you. You may go insane.

Take out that one silly bit about validation and that's pretty much dead-nutts on, and the last line is just priceless.
That's news?

Aparently someone showin' up up at a party lookin' like a redneck is big news in Morgantown. Julie and I went to a little shindig that her department threw. Anyway... I thought some of y'all would get a kick out of this. I told y'all Bane was prettier.
Slow Day

Sorry guys. I know it's been a while since I posted. The bike's takin' up a lot of time. Should be done this week though, and then I'll return to my normal unpredictable ways, as apposed to these new unpredictable ways.

I had thought of posting some grand thought on some topic... like the fact that if someone cheats on their spouse with you, then they will also cheat on you... fool... But that's gonna have to wait. The tomatoes are turnin' red, the squash already in, and the peppers are about ready too.

Y'all keep 'em staight.

Sunday, July 11, 2004

The Grand Ole Opry

I apologize. I was axed if I had ever been to the Opry on another thread and I totally blew off the quextion. Durn. My bad.

In fact, not only have I been to the Opry, I've been backstage a few times. It just so happens that I used to date this uber-hot little kitten, who just happened to be the Grand-daughter of an Opry star. You better be old school to remember him though. Billy Grammer.

Anyway, I've met Johnny Cash, Chet Atkins (that should be a date stamp), and several other legend types.

I'll tell ya a secret... The real playin' don't happen on stage. Chet and the boys loved to have guitar battles in the dressing rooms. One night there were like 8 guys in there goin' off. Up until that night I thought no one in country music could play... Man I was stupid back then.

I was smart enough to know I was doin' something special whan I shook Minnie's hand though.
The Project: Week 1

I figured I should give y'all an update on this since I posted about it. It's been about a week so I guess this is as good a time as any.

The whole bike has now been sanded with 80 grit paper, primered with fillable primer, glazed, sanded again with 180 grit paper. I found a few more spots that needed work so I glazed them again. That's where we are. Not bad eh?

I've ordered the Cobra stickers, a red screwed kit for the body, for the tank, and for the windshield. Basicly every metal screw you can see will be metallic red. I'm stoked. The rest of the back will be flat black, and now I'm thinking of adding some LED lighting effects.

The bike has a duct above the headlight... and I'm thinkin' of hiding a red LED light in there... you know... so it'll look like K.I.T.!!!!

Saturday, July 10, 2004

Truth, from the comments

JAC comments: Part of growing from boy to man is realizing the chicks are huntin' us. Ya' don't require chasing.

This is key.

Are you familiar with the old myth about women chasing married men? There are sucker guys who even wear wedding rings to try to attract women. You often hear newly married guys talk about how much more women hit on them now that they are married.

They aren't hitting on you more, you just took your blinders off. You've been to busy chasing them to notice that they were chasing you. There's plenty of motion, its the relative motion is the trouble! Its like the two of ya are runnin' in circles. She's chasin you and you her. You got married, stopped chasing, and all these women suddenly smacked right into you.

Women think about ways to find a man far more than men think of a ways to find women. Women enjoy the hunt so much, that after they get married, they can't give it up. So they continue, by actively hunting alone or in packs for their single friends. Men don't do this.

I have a great number of female friends, and all of them are hunters. Hunters isn't really the right word though is it? They don't want to find the prey and capture it... They want the prey to convince the prey to find them, and then convince the prey that it's captured them... when in fact... it's completely the other way around.

Book Club, Episode 1: SlaughterHouse 5

Ok, it's my blog so I guess I have to make the call. It's not like we only get to do this once so I don't reckon it's that important which book we do. A lot of you haven't read this, and it's fairly short, easy to find, and contraversial. All excellent reasons to pick it. So I did.

Now if you don't know anything about this book I will clue you in on this. One, it's not written in chronological order. Two, Kurt (I get to call him Kurt because I've met him a couple times) wrote it after surviving the fire bombing of Dresden. He survived by hiding in a building... well actually a slaughter-house. Slaughter-house number 5 to be exact.

So there ya go. I figure once a week or so I'll post some thoughts, that way we can all chime in and keep up with what's going on with everyone. Sounds kinda fun actually. I've got another book in mind for August. I think we're going non-fiction.. WWII history in fact...

UPDATE: Some of you (Gregg) apparently missed it in big bold letters up there, so I figured I better add the title to the main body. Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse 5. That's Slaughterhouse 5, by Kurt Vonnegut.

Friday, July 09, 2004

Scary Movies

What a great topic for a Friday Night. This needs no explaination, and I'm not going to do any ranking deal. This is way to subjective. What's scary as hell to me, may not bother you a bit. It all depends on our imaginations. Here are some horror films that I either loved, loved/hated, or just plain scared the bejeezus out of me.

The Exorcist: Let's face it, if you believe possession is real, and I do, this movie is the scariest thing you can imagine. First of all, it was loosely based on an exorcism that took place in Cincinnati. The main difference was, in real life it was a little boy, not a little girl. Also, the things that the little girl did, are almost all taken from different records that priests had from former exorcisms. Now, no exorcism had all these freaky things happen.... but they all happened. Anyone who has ever seen this movie, will cringe when they hear the name.

"Who are you talkin' to honey?"

"Captain Howdy."

You hear that? That's what creepy sounds like. Hell I got chills just typin' it. In fact.. I typed it 15 seconds ago...and I still got chills. Julie watched the movie with my brother (not Jim) and I. When the little girl said that name for the first time... we both were visibly creeped out. She laughed at us. 20 minutes later... she was in the fetal position in my arms. When it was over.. she refused to get off the couch. And when she read that name.. Captain Howdy... I can gaurantee you she cringed.

Friday the 13th: No. I'm not talking about part 5 or 10 or whatever. I'm talking about the first one, and only the first one. Like Rocky, this franchise was started with a great film. There was real psychology. Jason was a real character, not some mummy in a hockey mask. If you haven't seen this, or you've forgotten, I highly recommend going back and takin' a look at it.

Don't Answer the Phone: This whole movie is built around one scene, but to be honest, it's one of the best scenes in the history of the genre. It's classic. It involves a teenaged girl babysitting, and a guy keeps calling the house saying...

"Have you checked the children?"

See? There are those chills again. Jeez. That's all I'm telling you. But take my word for it. What happens over the next few minutes is pure horror gold.

Alien: Just because there is a spaceship, don't make this sci-fi. This is pure horror. Creepy looking thing... with creepy goo oozing off it, sneaking around a dark creepy spaceship killing people in creepy creepy fashion. Did I mention it was creepy?

The Mothman Profecies: First of all, there are few actors if any, that I hate worse than Richard Gere. He's the main character, and this movie still rocked, in spite of him. Everyone I have ever watched this movie with was disturbed by it. Esspecially those of us who've actually been across that particular bridge, or seen the police reports filed in the little town in the movie. To be blunt... a great deal of what is depicted in the movie, is true and verifiable via police and phone records. Like the Exorcist, this is a conglomeration of Mothman stories, all jammed into one film, but it works. I don't know if you believe in Mothman, or even know what the Mothman (which is a stupidly inapproptiate name) phenomena is. But I do, and let me tell you, its all very very creepy, and a little to verifiable for my tastes.

Blair Witch Project: This movie either scared you shitless, or bored you to tears. Those of us with very active imaginations, who concentrate on films when they watch, are usually the ones who freaked out about this. Now... The trouble with this movie is that it doesn't scare you. You scare yourself. It doesn't show you a serial killer in the woods. It doesn't show you the boogy man. It shows you nothing. You're left to imagine whats out there. So for a guy like me... Well... That's doom. By the last time it got dark in that movie, Julie and I were wanting to climb under the seat. Now.. yes... It's true... I hated the characters. I hated them all, and I wanted them to die. I wanted Jason to appear and drag them off to Camp Crystal Lake. I mean... You're lost in the woods... and how many times do you cross the same damned stream? I can't feel sorry for people as stupid as these kids were. Of course, they were city type college kids, and living a few blocks from a major university, I can tell you for a fact, they really are that stupid. What made this movie scary was what you heard but never saw. What you thought, and imagined... You either scared youself silly, or you just were so bored you left the theater. When it was over... My friends and I just sat there lookin at the screen. After about a minute... I said.. "somebody's gonna have to pass me a bottle." and we just drank that shit away.

That's enough for now. Let's see what y'all think.

Thursday, July 08, 2004

Why the Hell do you listen to Country Music?

I get asked this all the time. On the surface, it seems strange that a guy that's musically educated and literate would prefer country music. After all, the stereo type says that country music is for idiots.

For one, I listen to popular music mostly for the lyrics. I have to, because the music just sucks. You see, all modern music is recorded at the same volume. This is good for you folks in cars, because you don't have to turn up, or down, the stereo. The music just trolls along at what ever level you told it too.

This completely destroys music for me. You're taking away one of the most basic variables in all of sound. Well.. maybe I should back up...

Music is expressed in three basic ways... Pitches change, rythmns change, and volume changes. Yes I am aware that that is a gross simplification. Shut up and wait your turn. Now imagine if you will, what music would be like if you took pitch change out of it. Or took Rythmn out of it. It would suck right? Nod your head and pretend to understand dammit. Good.

Ok so now I turn on the radio... and I hear this little accoustic intro... more and more instruments are added... but the volume stays the same. ***poof*** whatever I was listening to just turned to elevator music. Music today is written, performed, and recorded in such a fashion as to require as little effort on the listener as possible. Its litterary equivilent would be the "The Foot Book".

So since the music sucks, I turn off that part of my brain, and focus on the only thing left: Lyrics.

Now when lyrics are what you are paying attention to, you have to relate well to what the guy is singing about. So do I relate to some 20 year old idiot whining about his daddy not being home enough? Well no. I wanna choke the little bastard.

In some Country Music, men are still men. Trace Atkins. Montgomery - Gentry. George Straight. Lyle Lovett. Chris Ledoux. Johnny Cash. Hank Williams Sr.

They sing songs about me, and my friends, and people I can relate too. They sing about my home. I know you think country music is about drinkin', and redneck games... and thank God it is, but there is a lot more to it. Go look up some lyrics from Hank Sr. There's a reason he was called the Hillbilly Shakespear. If you really think you're to smart for Country, look up Lyle Lovett. He'll be glad to educate you on songwriting. I'll leave you with this:

Silence on the Line, by Chris Ledoux

Took my last fall in san diego
Bus headed north one headed south
I call a farm in colorado
And i lift a dusty pay phone to my mouth

She says hello i say it's me hon
Sorry i stayed away so long
Tell the kids thier old man's through with playin' rodeo
Cause if it's alright with you i'm comin' home

Well there's silence on the line
She says you sure did take your time
But i still need a man for the things a man is good for
You know how it is raisin' crops and raisin' kids
Demands a man at least as fit as you are
So come on git on home there's hay that needs a mowin'
A boy that needs a whippin' and a hundred things to do
I hope you've finally found your mind
To leave that rodeo behind
I've spent half my life just waitin' here for you

I guess that nows the time i'd better tell her
Hon i've got this friend that's here with me
He used to be a cowboy and a good one so they say
But now his legs are crippled he can't walk you see
But hon you ought to hear him tell his stories
Sing the old songs play the guitar too
I'd really like to show him colorado
But i thought i'd better leave it up to you

Well there's silence on the line
And now i hear her sayin'
Babe i only need a man for the things a man is good for
And you know how it is a place just half this big
Demands a man at least as fit as you are
Put yourself in his place it'd awful hard to face
All the chores and work and nothing he could do
If you want to know my mind leave that rodeo bum behind
Don't waste our time i'm waitin' here for you

Well cryin's just for kids i put down the phone
Fumble with my crutches movin' slow
I wish that i was on the bus that's colorado bound
And i hope the weather's nice in mexico

A book.. or somthing

So some of the gang have been kickin' around the idea of a make-shift book of the month club. I'm game but I'm a bit conflicted about it. I mean one, how are we supposed to come up with a book that RJK, Spacebunny, Bill, and I will all like?

It pretty much limits us to classics. Now JAC will probly be down with the classics, because his daughters are at that point where he needs to be brushin' up anyway... but dude. I am NOT reading anything by Dickens. The man was an idiot and pretty much sucked as an author. Anyone who begins an auto-biographical novel with the sentence, "I was born." should have their pen permenantly stripped from them.

Now... if it was up to me, we'd start with "The South Was Right". But I doubt the girls would dig that to much. JAC and I have a great love for Hemmingway, but again, chicks don't dig Uncle Ernie.

How about Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintanence by Robert Pirsig?

Or Ghost Rider by Neal Peart?

Yes... both books involve men and motorcycles, but neither are about motorcycles.

Suggestions welcome.

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

Acceptable Man Behavior

Boys there are rules, important rules that all men should be counted on to abide by. These standards of behavior would go a long way towards makin' the world a far better place to live in. So here goes:

1) Don't screw your buddy's girl.

2) Don't screw your buddy's sister, unless you marry her.

3) If your daddy, or grand-daddy dies, you get to cry.

4) Crying at any other time for any other reason is unacceptable.

5) Emotional outbursts are reserved for women and boys.

6) If you deserve an asswhippin', admit it.

7) if your budddy admits he deserves an asshippin', you are no longer obligated to beat him senseless.

8) Women must be defended, and protected, whether they need it or not.

9) Never admit that you don't know how to fix something. Lie, and learn.

10) Love the Lord and be happy to explain why.

11) Compliment women.

12) The use of any type of beauty product is expressly forbidden.

13) Never. Never take fashion advice from a woman.

14) If a 6 year old boy thinks it's cool, it is.

15) Never pickup a girl with an adam's apple.

16) Never get drunk in public.

17) Avoid violence when possible.

18) If violence cannot be avoided, commit, and go with everything you have.

19) You must have a favorite car, and you must know everything about it.

20) Your favorite car cannot be front wheel drive.

That's enough for now. We may pick up some more.

Great Under-rated Movies

Here are a couple awesome movies that you may not have heard of. Take a chance.

Frailty: Great Movie. Lots of creepy goodness. Not to mention it breaks all sorts of typical hollywood rules. Rent it.

Equilibrium: Hokey sci-fi plot, but visually cool. The fight scenes frankly make the matrix look like crap. If you like the martial-arts.. and you like guns... you're gonna love this. Seriously. The Cleric make Neo look like a pussy.

UPDATE: One more...

Ride with the Devil: Cool War for Southern Independence flick with Jewel looking... tasty. Yankees commit attrocities against good southron folk, and get killed for it. Rock!

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

The Worst Movies Ever Made

There are certain types of movies that I just can't stand. Any movie that exists solely for the "lifetime network" crowd, I have no use for. Modern comedies like "Something about Mary", "Road Trip", and "American Pie" repulse me. Last but not least are the drama/suspense flicks, that are so incredibily predictable. So.. let's get started:

As always... in no particular order:

Titanic: The Worst Movie Ever, period. As if the preening and prancing from the little pretty boy wasn't enough, they sank the fricken boat wrong. Hey quick, what's the heaviest part of the boat? Right.. the engines.. and where are they? At the back? Right. Now what was sticking up in the air? Morons.

Pearl Harbor: My wife rented this. I refused to even give it a chance. She turned it off proclaiming that it was stupid, and everyone involved was stupid. She said every guy in the movie was a pussy. That's good enough for me to put it on the list.

Contact: What the hell did this movie have to do with the book? I mean besides the name? Christians hate scientists? what? that's a plot? trash.

Deep Impact: Oh.. I see.. we're going to try to make a serious movie... about a giant rock about to destroy the earth. right. See, Armageddon understood that it was a stupid summer movie. This abomination actually tried to focus on emotion, and what it ended up being is just a pathetic lifetime movie.

Seven: Pitt's wife shows up, my brother and I look at each other and say, "she's dead." and of course, she was. She served no other purpose. She developed no character, and her character didn't help develope anyone else's. She may as well have been wearing a red shirt with "I die at the end" on it. Oh.. and when we have the crazy guy in the car... is he confronted by Morgan Freeman? Nooo... We have to sit and watch brad pitt try to emote... something...

Something about Mary: Oh.. you laughed? You thought it was funny? Moron. Answer me this, can you see Dan Akroid pulling that spooge on the ear stunt? No. You know why? Because he's funny. He doesn't need to resort to that crap to make you laugh. You don't laugh at modern comedies because they are funny. You laugh because you can't believe they actually did that.

The Matrix Revolutions: A greater self-implosion I've never seen. Such a grand example of, we have this cool idea for a movie with all these cool symbols and conflicts... but we have no idea where it's going. In the end, it was going no where. The undefeatable Neo gets his ass kicked twice inside the Matrix. There's a rehashed lobby scene. You sit on the edge of your seat the whole movie... waiting for something to happen... and it never does.

more to come.

Monday, July 05, 2004

The Project
Well... I finally broke down and did. I've decided to paint the CBR. I know I know... It looked good like it was. But... It just wasn't me. So here's the plan:

I've taken all the plastic off, and taken off the old stickers. I'm in the process right now of removing some of the left over glue. Once that's done, I have no minor body repair to do. Nothing major, just a little crack here and there, and mostly in places that no one ever sees anyway.

Once that's done, it's time to sand it down and paint it. The plan is thick flat black. Like an Apache helicopter. Then I plan on adding all red aluminum screws, red aluminum barends and pegs, maybe even the oil cap. I've already got a red rear tire to add too. The finishing touch will be a few stickers... also in metalic red...

The question is... Do I put the Decepticon emblem or the C.O.B.R.A emblem? I'm thinking two cobra emblems right were the honda wings go on the gastank, and "COBRA" on the tail. Maybe some trick led lights under the windscreen... heheehhe... She gonna be evil.

What do y'all think? Would you rather ride an evil Transformer, or Major Blood's motorcycle?

Sunday, July 04, 2004

Good Blood

If ya look down at the bold name you'll see my kin Bill Hammers. I know all y'all can shoot, and y'all's kinfolk are all the best rifle-hands to be found anywhere. But ummm.. Well... My kin's on the US Rifle Team. Guess that means JAC and I come by it honest eh? I don't mean to sound to proud... but if a man can't crow about his kin makin' the US Rifle Team... just want the hell can a man crow about?

The 2005 US Rifle Team:

Team Captain - Larry Bartholome, Texas

Vice Captain - Bob Crone, Virginia

Adjutant - Walter Stroman, Georgia

Central Coach - Bob Jones, Arizona

Coach - GySgt Carlos Hathcock, USMC, Virginia

Coach - Sgt Emil Praslick, USA, Georgia

Coach - Bob Mead, Iowa


- Shawn Ahrens, Texas

- Eric Bair, Ohio

- Bob Bock, New York

- John Brewer, Mississippi

- J.J. Conway, Texas

- Jon Cowee, Wyoming

- John Dink, New Mexico

- Bill Hammers, Michigan

- Andrew McCourt, New Mexico

- Jim Murphy, Kentucky

- Emil Praslick, New York

- Skip Talbot, Nevada

- Alan Warner, New Hampshire
The Law

Perception of the law is an interesting subject these days. "Rule of Law" is a phrase that get's thrown around by the right and left in their fueds to gain the high ground. What does it mean though?

From the best I can tell, it is used to represent the modern belief that the law is to be followed, even if the outcomes offend moral sensibilities. Remember the movie, "A Time to Kill"? It was fiction. Today, in any city in America, if you kill the man who raped and killed your daughter, you are going to jail. Not because killing him is wrong, but because it's the law.

"It's the law" the prosecutors and black robes repeat with their glassy blank eyes.

This worship of law is bizarre. Particularly when you consider that we ignore the law every second of everyday.

You see, if you must prosecute a the man who kills the murderer of his daughter, then it follows that you must also prosecute the couple who kisses on a train, or the man who spits on the sidewalk. The books of every state are littered with laws that we break every day.

You see, we do make distinctions between what laws we obey, and what laws we ignore.

Ahhh.. but that's the point. It's not up to us. It's not about the public's sensibilities. It's about power. We ignore those laws because they are not enforced. You can bet that people wouldn't continue to spit on the sidewalk if they were suddenly fined for it. They would do what they do, bend over and mutter, "Oh well, it's the law." Don't believe me? See anyone smoking in Resturants in NYC? Or Morgantown, WV for that matter?

The statement that we obey a law blindly, simply because it is the law, is manifestly false.

This belief though, puts enormous power in the hands of the few. Who are the few? Why the Lawyers of course.

Jury Nullification rips that power from their swollen porky grip, and that is why on the bench, and in the law schools, they have toiled to see it destroyed.

Saturday, July 03, 2004

Dr Who Kicks Ass II

I don't mean to rain on anyone's parade this weekend, but while your out there by the grill, try to remember that everyone didn't get the weekend off. Between 7:00am this morning, and next friday at noon, Julie will put in about 101 hours. That's 3 thirty-hour shifts, and 1 11-hour shift.

It's true... she could've had it a little easier. She could've left the surgical intensive care unit in the hands of a wet-behind-the-ears intern in their first ICU rotation, just out of medical school. After all, that's what they did to her. That ain't Julie's style though. She made out the schedule so the kids didn't take call at all their first week in the Unit.

The medical world lives by the rule, "I got screwed when I was starting out, so now that I'm callin' the shots, I'm gonna screw you."

Thankfully my wife ain't that way.
From the Comments:

Bill Asks: If it was a missile, why cover it up?

US policy at the time was to deny terrorism. The idea being, if everyone thought the plane just fell out of the sky, then no one is scared of angry ragheads shooting at them, and ***POOF*** you've de-nutted the terrorists.

Many think it was this strategery that lead the terrorists to finally attempt something huge like 9/11. They had to commit an act to big to deny.

Friday, July 02, 2004

Conspiracy Theory

From Cashill's 2003, Flight 800: By The Numbers

Come July 17, the number of years this crime has gone unsolved.

The number of eyewitnesses that the FBI admitted saw what appeared to be ascending streaks of light.

The number of eyewitnesses interviewed by analysts from the Defense Intelligence Agency's Missile and Space Intelligence Center whose descriptions "were very consistent with the characteristics of the flight of [surface to air] missiles."

The number of eyewitnesses the New York Times interviewed.

The number of eyewitnesses that the New York Times interviewed who had seen an ascending streak.

The number of witnesses, according to the CIA, who saw the crippled and ascending TWA 800 that merely looked like a missile ("the man on the bridge").

The number of interviews the CIA fully fabricated ("the man on the bridge").

The number of feet the CIA claimed the noseless plane climbed.

The number of feet the NTSB claimed the noseless plane climbed.

Of the roughly 750 total FBI eyewitnesses the number who did not see the noseless plane climb at all, including other airline pilots.

"Or less." The number of total eyewitnesses that, a year later, the New York Times was reporting had seen the crash.

The number of Freedom of Information Act requests to which the NTSB has responded to show its climb calculations.

The number of ships or subs the Navy claimed were within 185 miles of the disaster.

The number of Navy ships or subs the FBI, in its final report, admitted were in "the immediate vicinity" of the disaster.

The number of days it allegedly took the Navy to find the black boxes in 130 feet of calm water off the Hamptons.

The number of hours it actually took the Navy to find the black boxes of a crashed Turkish airplane in 7,200 feet of water earlier in that year off the Dominican Republic.

The number of seconds missing at the end of both the cockpit voice recorder and the flight data recorder.

The number of satellites in position to record the disaster.

The number of satellites reportedly broken at that very moment.
The 4th (RIP)

There's an AP story floatin' around about election officials wondering what the protocol is for cancelling elections. Now that's a bad sign. Most of us have friends in various intelligence communities dropping hints that something like that is gonna happen.

In short, the same folks who were telling everyone that Y2K was a bunch of BS, are not telling everyone that the excriment and the oscillatory cooling device are fixing to meet. A quick google search of US Consentation Camps should open any of the remaining squinted eyes.

I don't expect any kind of attack this weekend. Y'all go have a good time. Celebrate Independence Day. It could be your last.

If you really want to celebrate it right, go the range. Make sure your weapons are ready go, cause you may need them sooner, rather than later.

Hey... I hope I'm wrong as much as anyone. I know a lot of you think of America as invincible. I just don't have any illusions about this country, or it's leaders. I think Madrid was a dress rehearsal for the real show, which will take place in November.

What was it Tommy Franks said? Something about a nuclear attack and martial law.... hrmmm...

Thursday, July 01, 2004

A View From The Mainline.

I have a family of extremes. My dad's family is extreme Catholic, so I'm going to Hell because I don't confess. My mother's family is Extreme Southern Baptist. So I'm going to Hell because I was sprinkled instead of dunked. My father-in-law's family is Extreme Church of Christ. So I'm going to Hell because we have an organ in our Church. The woman who gave birth to my wife is Extreme Charasmatic. Which of course, means no one is going to hell at all.

You know what I get from all of these people? All they care about are their customs. They are far more interested in seeing that their customs are spread than spreading the word about Christ.

Of all of them... I have the biggest problem with the Charasmatics. Of course... after the incident at Good Sheppard, and my experiences with the woman who gave birth to my wife, can you blame me?

Their Jesus = Dr Phill mentality just kills me. I hear things like, "Jesus was hated because he loved the world so much" and I want just walk away. It's Christianity for the Oprah Audiance, with some voodoo thrown in for spice.

Maybe it's a colored view... but for now... I'll take a fire and brimstone evangelist over a flag-waving, peace and love hippy anyday. The Hippies are way more self-absorbed, and way more judgemental, and way more elitist.

Charasmatics are doing their dead-level best to prove Marx right. They treat religion like cocaine. They get high on it, first by small doses, but as they build up a tolerence, they require more and more. It's not enough to just dance, now they have to wave a flag. Now a few months later they can't just wave a flag, they have to speak in tongues, and before you know it, they are taking trips to Heaven and offering Prophecy.

Hey.. if that's how you get your kicks... that's cool. Wave your flags and have your fun. You are who you are, and that's ok with me. Just don't be tryin' to tell me that you have more faith than I do, or that the Holy Spirit is more alive in you than me. There is such a thing as reverence, self control, and respect.

Some may dance and celebrate at the feet of the King. I prefer to kneel.