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.

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.

 

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.

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!

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)
sunglasses
sunscreen
clean drawers
clean socks
tool kit
Electro-Magnetic Pulse Weapon
hygene bag (toothbrush, deoderant and such)
Bike to Bike communications (JAC's department)
Cash
Small maglite
Cell Phone
Radar Detector

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

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.

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.
 
 
 

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.

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.
 
 
 

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.

Typical...

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!

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.

NEXT!

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.