Albert Pike
It's quite true that no good Anti-Mason discussion can take place without a lengthy diabribe on General Pike. If you'll pardon my pun.. I'll just shed some "light" on this matter.
Albert Pike was a Confederate General, and the leader of the Southron Juristiction of the Scott-Rite Freemasons. He was in control therefore, of approximately 20% of all masons in the US at the time of the War of Southron Independence.
Calling Pike an educated man is rather like calling Marx a Socialist. He was just educated. He was consumed by learning and teaching. He was a devout trinitarian christian (ya think Davis appointed atheists?) who writes extensively about his faith in the very book most often used to damn him, and freemasonry in general; Morals and Dogma.
Pike's area of academic interest was religious history. Which at the time, was not studied. While you can get a PHD in such studies at every Ivy League university today, such was not the case in 1850. Knowledge of such things was largely considered heresy. Pike correctly believed that ancient faiths affected modern ones. He asserted that Muhammed was influenced by the Jews he met on trading caravans, and that Moses was influenced by his egyptian family. Reason dictates this.
But lets get down to brass tacks. None of you have read the whole of Morals and Dogma. You've read what others have said about it. What others have said about it, tends to focus on the famous "Lucifer Quote".
Time to hurt some feelings.
You know that King James Version of the Bible on your desk? It's flawed. Seriously flawed.
The word "lucifer" which appears in Isaiah is a latin word which literally means, "Morning Star". The story in which it appears is about the fall of an angel from Heaven, but about the fall of an ancient babylonian king. This is why other versions do not use the word "lucifer" at all.
Pike was well aware of this. Reading the quote in context... and by that I mean the sentence before, and the sentence after, the meaning becomes quite clear. Pike was making fun of the KJV, and the fundementalists who preach its perfection. He was using the word "lucifer" in the scholarly sense.
In fact, this KJV mistake was central to Pike, and other masons of the time, as it exposed the fundamentalists. It became a bit of an inside joke, where they continually used the word "lucifer" in the correct way... The Morning Star. They used it interchangably with intellectualism.
And of course... before I forget... maybe I should also point out the most important part of Morals and Dogma; the preface.
In preparing this work, the Grand Commander [Pike] has been about equally Author and Compiler; since he has extracted quite half its contents from the works of the best writers and most philosophic or eloquent thinkers. Perhaps it would have been better and more acceptable if he had extracted more and written less.
The teachings of these readings are not sacramental, so far as they go beyond the realm of Morality into those other domains of Thought and Truth. The ancient and accepted Scottish Rite uses the word "Dogma" in its true sense, of doctrine, or teaching; and is not dogmatic in the odious sense of that term.
Everyone is entirely free to reject and dissent from whatsoever herein may seem to him to be untrue or unsound.
General Pike was a deeply educated man, and a prolific writer at a time when prolific writing was the norm. He was given to a ponderous style. He was a practical joker, and had a strange sense of humor and wit.
He was also however, a devout warrior for Christ, and the Southron cause. He was not perfect. He was not the central figure in Freemasonry even in his prime. He was an important figure, but he was never the Pope of Freemasonry, as some would have you believe.
Class dismissed.
Friday, December 31, 2004
Thursday, December 30, 2004
Masonic Conspiracy
We have a phrase to describe this. We call it "Bovine Ejectus". Oh I know... At 14th degree a mason takes an oath to serve Lucifer!!!
That's cute and all, but there is no 14th degree. There are only 3.
1. Entered Apprentice
2. Fellowcraft
3. Master Mason
I realize this totally confounds most of you who "know" that there are higher numbered degrees out there.
The plain truth is, there is not unifed degree system beyond those first three. The degrees confired are simply titles and nothing more. There is no elite. A 14th degree from a Scottish Rite Lodge has no more authority than a plain old 3rd degree Master Mason. In fact, if that Master Mason happens to be head of the lodge, Mr. 14th degree may in fact have less.
Y'all know I go in for conspiracy theory. This however, is a load of crap.
How about some history. All this devil worship in the masonry is the product of the Catholic Church. Ever notice that if you are a Mason, you cannot join the Catholic Church? Why?
To make a long story short, it was about money. The knights didn't have to pay taxes to the Church, and the Church felt like it was being taken advantage of. In the end, the Church spread all sorts of ridiculous claims about the Templars, which stick today.
Its telling that the Church would fall victim to the same type of lies and propoganda with the Inquisition.
We have a phrase to describe this. We call it "Bovine Ejectus". Oh I know... At 14th degree a mason takes an oath to serve Lucifer!!!
That's cute and all, but there is no 14th degree. There are only 3.
1. Entered Apprentice
2. Fellowcraft
3. Master Mason
I realize this totally confounds most of you who "know" that there are higher numbered degrees out there.
The plain truth is, there is not unifed degree system beyond those first three. The degrees confired are simply titles and nothing more. There is no elite. A 14th degree from a Scottish Rite Lodge has no more authority than a plain old 3rd degree Master Mason. In fact, if that Master Mason happens to be head of the lodge, Mr. 14th degree may in fact have less.
Y'all know I go in for conspiracy theory. This however, is a load of crap.
How about some history. All this devil worship in the masonry is the product of the Catholic Church. Ever notice that if you are a Mason, you cannot join the Catholic Church? Why?
To make a long story short, it was about money. The knights didn't have to pay taxes to the Church, and the Church felt like it was being taken advantage of. In the end, the Church spread all sorts of ridiculous claims about the Templars, which stick today.
Its telling that the Church would fall victim to the same type of lies and propoganda with the Inquisition.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Some Kwanza Education
This "holiday" was invented in 1966 by a self-described black cutural nationalist named Ron Everett, who went by the name Karenga. The man took for himself the title "maulana" or Master Teacher, and founded what amounts to a cult that was called the United Slaves.
He was a staunch rival of the Black Panthers, and in fact two of his cult-members shot and killed two black panthers in UCLA's cafeteria. In the late 60s Karenga and his group were all over the map, and were gaining influence in the black community.
By 1971 Al Sharpton was out praising the new black holiday... while it's creator was involved in things far more... dubious.
On Septeber 17th, of that year he began serving a 10 year sentence for the torture of two female members of United Slaves. The two women were whipped with an electical cord, beatin' with a kendo stick, and burned with a soldering iron. Now theres some diversity!
It should be known that this convicted violent felon now holds two phd's and is the current chair of the Black Studies Department at California State University.
I wonder if the LA Times boys who covered the torture and trial are still around...
I'm not sure what all the Kwanza celebration involves... but I assume an extension cord and a hot iron or two would be good to have around just in case.
This "holiday" was invented in 1966 by a self-described black cutural nationalist named Ron Everett, who went by the name Karenga. The man took for himself the title "maulana" or Master Teacher, and founded what amounts to a cult that was called the United Slaves.
He was a staunch rival of the Black Panthers, and in fact two of his cult-members shot and killed two black panthers in UCLA's cafeteria. In the late 60s Karenga and his group were all over the map, and were gaining influence in the black community.
By 1971 Al Sharpton was out praising the new black holiday... while it's creator was involved in things far more... dubious.
On Septeber 17th, of that year he began serving a 10 year sentence for the torture of two female members of United Slaves. The two women were whipped with an electical cord, beatin' with a kendo stick, and burned with a soldering iron. Now theres some diversity!
It should be known that this convicted violent felon now holds two phd's and is the current chair of the Black Studies Department at California State University.
I wonder if the LA Times boys who covered the torture and trial are still around...
I'm not sure what all the Kwanza celebration involves... but I assume an extension cord and a hot iron or two would be good to have around just in case.
The Proverbial Dead Horse
Just when we had all relaxed... this idiot brings up internment again. I can just imagine how many thousands of words Vox is going to waste on the pointless effort of exposing these tards for the... t.... umm.... tards that they are.
I shall console myself by hoping that its just a thinly veiled scheme to get into Ms. Malkin's pants. That's the best plan... as it relieves me of the responsibility of actually having to rip his arguement to pieces one more time.
On a semi-related note...
Aren't ya getting sick of the 50 and 60 year-olds out there chanting the "We're at war" montra? These people get some kind of sadistic thrill out of bending over for the government... and there is no better excuse than a war. I can imagine it won't be long before we're hearing conversations like this:
Son: Holy Crap Dad! Bush just signed an executive order that nationalizes all law enforcement agents, and calls for them to randomly break into homes and sodomize all of the male occupants regardless of age, health, preference, or species!
Dad: We're at war son. Everyone makes sacrifices.
Just when we had all relaxed... this idiot brings up internment again. I can just imagine how many thousands of words Vox is going to waste on the pointless effort of exposing these tards for the... t.... umm.... tards that they are.
I shall console myself by hoping that its just a thinly veiled scheme to get into Ms. Malkin's pants. That's the best plan... as it relieves me of the responsibility of actually having to rip his arguement to pieces one more time.
On a semi-related note...
Aren't ya getting sick of the 50 and 60 year-olds out there chanting the "We're at war" montra? These people get some kind of sadistic thrill out of bending over for the government... and there is no better excuse than a war. I can imagine it won't be long before we're hearing conversations like this:
Son: Holy Crap Dad! Bush just signed an executive order that nationalizes all law enforcement agents, and calls for them to randomly break into homes and sodomize all of the male occupants regardless of age, health, preference, or species!
Dad: We're at war son. Everyone makes sacrifices.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
53,000
I'm sorry y'all... I just can't bring myself to think this is a big deal.
Do you know how many people die of Malaria each year? 45,000? Hell.... Malaria takes that in the Congo alone! Malaria is totally controlable with DDT. Oh, but the UN says we have a population problem. So it's better to just let those folk die.
So see... Black folks dieing of malaria... oh that's fine... but some rich euro-trash tourists!? Heavens no! We can't have that.
Come on people... You think anyone on CNN would give a rats butt if it wasn't for the rich white folks that got tossed around like barbie in the washing machine? Hell no they wouldn't.
Worse yet... now I have to listen to the liberals cry about how we need to DO something. Liberals always want to do something... it never occurs to them that by doing something, you could possibly be doing the wrong thing, and therefore make matters infinitly worse. Which by the way, coincidentally happens to be the liberal specialty. See the Great Depression for details...
Ah yes... So now it's Global Warming that's to blame for Earthquakes... or... no wait... here's another nutcase theory: When we remove oil and gas from the Earth's crust, it becomes unstable, and more likely to become volatile. Go on... try to read that last sentence again allowed without laughing. Seriously. I'll bet ya can't.
Note to Lefty-Morons: There were earthquakes before the industrial age. In fact, there were fewer post 1900, than there were between 1700-1800.
Ah yes... and to you islanders... quite sorry about the wave thing. That does suck. However, compared to previous disasters... you got off pretty easy. Try looking up the island of Krakatoa on a map sometime... but don't look real hard... it ain't there. I mean.. it used to be... it just ain't now. Dig?
This is about scale and scope here folks. Considering the number of preventable deaths due to Malaria alone, it's hard to believe that anyone is actually worked up over 45,000 people. In fact, I firmly believe that were it not for the Euro-trash elite that were thankfully involved, no one would give a rat's butt.
There. I have officially raised the bar for all cynics everywhere. You're welcome.
I'm sorry y'all... I just can't bring myself to think this is a big deal.
Do you know how many people die of Malaria each year? 45,000? Hell.... Malaria takes that in the Congo alone! Malaria is totally controlable with DDT. Oh, but the UN says we have a population problem. So it's better to just let those folk die.
So see... Black folks dieing of malaria... oh that's fine... but some rich euro-trash tourists!? Heavens no! We can't have that.
Come on people... You think anyone on CNN would give a rats butt if it wasn't for the rich white folks that got tossed around like barbie in the washing machine? Hell no they wouldn't.
Worse yet... now I have to listen to the liberals cry about how we need to DO something. Liberals always want to do something... it never occurs to them that by doing something, you could possibly be doing the wrong thing, and therefore make matters infinitly worse. Which by the way, coincidentally happens to be the liberal specialty. See the Great Depression for details...
Ah yes... So now it's Global Warming that's to blame for Earthquakes... or... no wait... here's another nutcase theory: When we remove oil and gas from the Earth's crust, it becomes unstable, and more likely to become volatile. Go on... try to read that last sentence again allowed without laughing. Seriously. I'll bet ya can't.
Note to Lefty-Morons: There were earthquakes before the industrial age. In fact, there were fewer post 1900, than there were between 1700-1800.
Ah yes... and to you islanders... quite sorry about the wave thing. That does suck. However, compared to previous disasters... you got off pretty easy. Try looking up the island of Krakatoa on a map sometime... but don't look real hard... it ain't there. I mean.. it used to be... it just ain't now. Dig?
This is about scale and scope here folks. Considering the number of preventable deaths due to Malaria alone, it's hard to believe that anyone is actually worked up over 45,000 people. In fact, I firmly believe that were it not for the Euro-trash elite that were thankfully involved, no one would give a rat's butt.
There. I have officially raised the bar for all cynics everywhere. You're welcome.
Christmas Eve
The night was rollin' along as planned. In fact, Jeb had just gone to bed, and we were about to start setting up all the new prizes in, under, and around the tree. That's when things went down hill. See... Julie started spotting...
Not good.
So she called the hospital... they told her to come in... and so at 11 o'clock on Christmas Eve, off we went. Thank the good Lord Joy was able to stay home with Jeb.
As you can well imagine they did every test you can think of, all of which turned out fine... The only reason I type this up was this one remarkable moment that took place at the begining of her scan.
The resident asked us if we were havin' a boy or a girl... then as the screen came up.. He gasped a little and said, "WO! You ARE havin' a boy! See all that? ALL that? That's ALL boy stuff!"
*** GRIN ***
The night was rollin' along as planned. In fact, Jeb had just gone to bed, and we were about to start setting up all the new prizes in, under, and around the tree. That's when things went down hill. See... Julie started spotting...
Not good.
So she called the hospital... they told her to come in... and so at 11 o'clock on Christmas Eve, off we went. Thank the good Lord Joy was able to stay home with Jeb.
As you can well imagine they did every test you can think of, all of which turned out fine... The only reason I type this up was this one remarkable moment that took place at the begining of her scan.
The resident asked us if we were havin' a boy or a girl... then as the screen came up.. He gasped a little and said, "WO! You ARE havin' a boy! See all that? ALL that? That's ALL boy stuff!"
*** GRIN ***
Monday, December 27, 2004
Told Ya So...
Chalk up one more for the Conspiracy Theorists.
20 years ago we told you about Echelon and you laughed us. Tin Foil hat stuff... until the US government admitted it was real in 1994.
It's nice to see this stuff come out... Of course... I've learned my lesson with Flight 800. Even when The Government itself lets the cat out of the bag, the well heeled media can be counted on to stuff it back in.
While the public goes on blissfully unaware...
Content with life behind the Veil.
Chalk up one more for the Conspiracy Theorists.
20 years ago we told you about Echelon and you laughed us. Tin Foil hat stuff... until the US government admitted it was real in 1994.
It's nice to see this stuff come out... Of course... I've learned my lesson with Flight 800. Even when The Government itself lets the cat out of the bag, the well heeled media can be counted on to stuff it back in.
While the public goes on blissfully unaware...
Content with life behind the Veil.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Book of the Month: January
This month, I can offer you a suggestion that I doubt any of you would expect. Pure Non-Fiction this time...
Ballad of the Whiskey Robber: A True Story of Bank Heists, Ice Hockey, Transylvanian Pelt Smuggling, Moonlighting Detectives, and Broken Hearts By Julian Rubinstein
If you don't already know this is the true story of Atilla Ambrus. Hungary's most famous and beloved bank robber. The guy went on a spree in the early 90's, and all the while he was robbing banks, he was the backup goalie on the Budapest Championship hockey team!
This is one of those tales that would fall flat on its face if it were fiction. Let's face it though... The endless possibilities of billions of people put in bizarre circumstances in bizarre places, will always trump mere human imagination... or... for those who are more into the whole brevity thing...
Truth is stranger than fiction.
This month, I can offer you a suggestion that I doubt any of you would expect. Pure Non-Fiction this time...
Ballad of the Whiskey Robber: A True Story of Bank Heists, Ice Hockey, Transylvanian Pelt Smuggling, Moonlighting Detectives, and Broken Hearts By Julian Rubinstein
If you don't already know this is the true story of Atilla Ambrus. Hungary's most famous and beloved bank robber. The guy went on a spree in the early 90's, and all the while he was robbing banks, he was the backup goalie on the Budapest Championship hockey team!
This is one of those tales that would fall flat on its face if it were fiction. Let's face it though... The endless possibilities of billions of people put in bizarre circumstances in bizarre places, will always trump mere human imagination... or... for those who are more into the whole brevity thing...
Truth is stranger than fiction.
Happy Hanakka
For all my pissin' and moanin' it's been a good Christmas Season so far. We got to hang out with my family... and we got to hang out with the redneck contingent of Julie's family in Oak Ridge. We picked up Joy there and she road up here with us. So have two cute chicks to take care of, at least until Monday.
All our shoppin' is done, so our last few days have been spent sittin' around the fire... playin' Xbox with Joy (Blood Wake Rules!). She's had about 100 White Russians since she got here.
Hey! and speakin' of booze... It's Christmas Eve! I haven't told y'all yet, but I'm startin' a tradition this year. I'm makin' Hot Buttered Rum for the first time!
In put is welcome... esspecially on the best rum to use... For now, here's the plan:
Half Gallon Vanilla Ice Cream (softened)
1 pound brown sugar
1 pound powdered sugar
2 tablespoons of cinnamon
1 tablespoon of nutmeg
1 pound butter (no substitute)
Mix it all together... store in the freezer until time to serve...
2 table spoons of mixture, 2 ounces of rum, fill mug with boiling water. Maybe top with Whipped Cream and a dash more nutmeg.
Sounds durn good to me!
Hope all y'all have a great time tonight and tomarrow. Hug the youngins', kiss the girls, smoke some tobacco, burn the fire, and remember why we do all this.
God Bless Y'all.
For all my pissin' and moanin' it's been a good Christmas Season so far. We got to hang out with my family... and we got to hang out with the redneck contingent of Julie's family in Oak Ridge. We picked up Joy there and she road up here with us. So have two cute chicks to take care of, at least until Monday.
All our shoppin' is done, so our last few days have been spent sittin' around the fire... playin' Xbox with Joy (Blood Wake Rules!). She's had about 100 White Russians since she got here.
Hey! and speakin' of booze... It's Christmas Eve! I haven't told y'all yet, but I'm startin' a tradition this year. I'm makin' Hot Buttered Rum for the first time!
In put is welcome... esspecially on the best rum to use... For now, here's the plan:
Half Gallon Vanilla Ice Cream (softened)
1 pound brown sugar
1 pound powdered sugar
2 tablespoons of cinnamon
1 tablespoon of nutmeg
1 pound butter (no substitute)
Mix it all together... store in the freezer until time to serve...
2 table spoons of mixture, 2 ounces of rum, fill mug with boiling water. Maybe top with Whipped Cream and a dash more nutmeg.
Sounds durn good to me!
Hope all y'all have a great time tonight and tomarrow. Hug the youngins', kiss the girls, smoke some tobacco, burn the fire, and remember why we do all this.
God Bless Y'all.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Goddess My Butt
As if I didn't have enough to be irritated about today... Now I read this little snippet in Ann's column... From her interview with some Italian nit-wit...
Q: Who are the three best U.S. presidents of the century? And the three best in any time?
A: Century: Reagan, Coolidge, Harding. Ever: Washington, Reagan, Lincoln.
Lincoln. Ya see that? Lincoln. Further evidence that sodomizing the Constitution is just fine, so long as you have an "R" next to your name.
What's with guys and this chick anyway? OK... so she's a fire breathing bitch on wheels. That's a good thing? Granted she's funny... Clearly she's also mis-educated. So many guys think she's so hot... and I just don't get it. The chick looks like a corpse.
Call it blasphemy... but I wouldn't do her. Well... I would... but only if she agreed to email pictures of the event to Vox.
As if I didn't have enough to be irritated about today... Now I read this little snippet in Ann's column... From her interview with some Italian nit-wit...
Q: Who are the three best U.S. presidents of the century? And the three best in any time?
A: Century: Reagan, Coolidge, Harding. Ever: Washington, Reagan, Lincoln.
Lincoln. Ya see that? Lincoln. Further evidence that sodomizing the Constitution is just fine, so long as you have an "R" next to your name.
What's with guys and this chick anyway? OK... so she's a fire breathing bitch on wheels. That's a good thing? Granted she's funny... Clearly she's also mis-educated. So many guys think she's so hot... and I just don't get it. The chick looks like a corpse.
Call it blasphemy... but I wouldn't do her. Well... I would... but only if she agreed to email pictures of the event to Vox.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
She Needs Killin'
You all know who I'm talking about... that in and of itself demonstrates the truth in the statement. I'll throw some others in there with her too...
Anyone who says, "This woman is obviously mentally-ill. She belongs in a hospital."
Everyone who applies that reasoning to this worthless bitch needs killin' too. No ceremony. Take 'em out back, line them up on their knees and shoot them in the back of the head.
All of them. Dammit.
Merry Christmas.
You all know who I'm talking about... that in and of itself demonstrates the truth in the statement. I'll throw some others in there with her too...
Anyone who says, "This woman is obviously mentally-ill. She belongs in a hospital."
Everyone who applies that reasoning to this worthless bitch needs killin' too. No ceremony. Take 'em out back, line them up on their knees and shoot them in the back of the head.
All of them. Dammit.
Merry Christmas.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Friday, December 17, 2004
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Hiatus
Reckon I shoulda posted this several days ago. By now y'all have figgered out that I ain't around much. Down here in Murfreesboro I'm always busy. I swear I need a vacation from my vacations. Still, I have a ball down here. Nice to see that Tennessee isn't just a fond memory. I'd like to blog more when I'm down here, but it just never works out.
Ah well.. The good news is, Joy is on her way home as I type this. We'll be meeting her in Oak Ridge Saturday. Of course... every silver lining has a touch of grey right? At least that's what the hippy says... This is no exception. In order to see Joy... I have to occupy the same building as her mother.
Yeah... that's gonna be fun...
Ah well... I'll pick up Joy and bail out as soon as humanly possible. We'll find some trouble to get into in Knoxville... Maybe we'll hunt up Kristy or Shane... or both!
Either way... things are quiet around here for a few days, and I apologize to you working types. It'll pick up here next week. No doubt.
Reckon I shoulda posted this several days ago. By now y'all have figgered out that I ain't around much. Down here in Murfreesboro I'm always busy. I swear I need a vacation from my vacations. Still, I have a ball down here. Nice to see that Tennessee isn't just a fond memory. I'd like to blog more when I'm down here, but it just never works out.
Ah well.. The good news is, Joy is on her way home as I type this. We'll be meeting her in Oak Ridge Saturday. Of course... every silver lining has a touch of grey right? At least that's what the hippy says... This is no exception. In order to see Joy... I have to occupy the same building as her mother.
Yeah... that's gonna be fun...
Ah well... I'll pick up Joy and bail out as soon as humanly possible. We'll find some trouble to get into in Knoxville... Maybe we'll hunt up Kristy or Shane... or both!
Either way... things are quiet around here for a few days, and I apologize to you working types. It'll pick up here next week. No doubt.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
The Best of Times, the Worst of Times
I follow the Titans like a prom-queen's hyper-vigilant daddy. While I sit through the most painful year in recent memory, I can also say it's one of the best.
It's the best because its shown Tennessee to be exactly what their fans have always said they are. They are the anti-thesis of modern professional athletes.
Lots of folks know that the Titans have had some injury trouble this year, but no one in the national media seems to realize how bad its been. They compare the Titans to Carolina, and point out that Carolina is still in playoff contention. This is ludicrous on numberous levels. It neglects the fact that the Panthers play in the NFC, where a team with a losing record will probably make the playoffs, while the Titans play in the AFC, where a team with 10 wins might not.
It also is not taking a good hard look at the injury lists of the two teams. When considering the Titans injuries, one moment in Monday Night's Game was telling of the whole season...
In the fourth quarter, down by 7, the titans found themselves with 5 o-linemen. That's it. 5. Olson was inside with a toe injury, Fred Miller was out with an ankle injury... Then Justin Hartwig got his finger stepped on, and effectivly split in half. He left the game and had surgery immediately.
What's 5 minus 1? Right. Now umm... How many positions are there on the offensive line? right. 4 does not equal 5.
Fisher looked around for Erron Kinney, a tight end, to plug him in to the position left by Hartwig, but guess what? Right. Erron Kinney was out hurt too.
So on 2nd down fisher looked at Mike Munchak and told him to get ready, because they were gonna have to punt it away.
Think about that... second down... the 4th quarter... down by seven... and you are going to punt, because you don't have enough guys to play offense. Of course... this is Tennessee. This isn't Oakland or Minnesota. Fred Miller got up off the bench and played with a severely sprained ankle.
Michael Waddel, Scott McGarahan, Donny Nickey, and LaMont Thompson played ever down on Defense, as well as every kickoff or punt coverage play. They had to. They have no backups. They are the last string.
The Titans have not one starter on their o-line healthy. Thier tight-ends are banged up. Their RB can go a half, and can't practice at all. 2 of their 3 starting linebackers are out. 2 of their three best d-linemen are out. Their secondary is minus both starting safeties, and one of the best corner's in the league.
The NFL allows each team to have 53 men on the roster. A great personell man can draft, sign, and develope 30 awesome players, but the remaining 23 are interchangable throughout the league.
The plain truth is, the Titans are starting a lot of those 23 guys.
For some of us though, wins and losses are secondary to heart and effort. Sometimes it just ain't your year. How you respond in those years, builds character for the opportunities that will come.
The Titans are paying dues, for the Ring to come.
I follow the Titans like a prom-queen's hyper-vigilant daddy. While I sit through the most painful year in recent memory, I can also say it's one of the best.
It's the best because its shown Tennessee to be exactly what their fans have always said they are. They are the anti-thesis of modern professional athletes.
Lots of folks know that the Titans have had some injury trouble this year, but no one in the national media seems to realize how bad its been. They compare the Titans to Carolina, and point out that Carolina is still in playoff contention. This is ludicrous on numberous levels. It neglects the fact that the Panthers play in the NFC, where a team with a losing record will probably make the playoffs, while the Titans play in the AFC, where a team with 10 wins might not.
It also is not taking a good hard look at the injury lists of the two teams. When considering the Titans injuries, one moment in Monday Night's Game was telling of the whole season...
In the fourth quarter, down by 7, the titans found themselves with 5 o-linemen. That's it. 5. Olson was inside with a toe injury, Fred Miller was out with an ankle injury... Then Justin Hartwig got his finger stepped on, and effectivly split in half. He left the game and had surgery immediately.
What's 5 minus 1? Right. Now umm... How many positions are there on the offensive line? right. 4 does not equal 5.
Fisher looked around for Erron Kinney, a tight end, to plug him in to the position left by Hartwig, but guess what? Right. Erron Kinney was out hurt too.
So on 2nd down fisher looked at Mike Munchak and told him to get ready, because they were gonna have to punt it away.
Think about that... second down... the 4th quarter... down by seven... and you are going to punt, because you don't have enough guys to play offense. Of course... this is Tennessee. This isn't Oakland or Minnesota. Fred Miller got up off the bench and played with a severely sprained ankle.
Michael Waddel, Scott McGarahan, Donny Nickey, and LaMont Thompson played ever down on Defense, as well as every kickoff or punt coverage play. They had to. They have no backups. They are the last string.
The Titans have not one starter on their o-line healthy. Thier tight-ends are banged up. Their RB can go a half, and can't practice at all. 2 of their 3 starting linebackers are out. 2 of their three best d-linemen are out. Their secondary is minus both starting safeties, and one of the best corner's in the league.
The NFL allows each team to have 53 men on the roster. A great personell man can draft, sign, and develope 30 awesome players, but the remaining 23 are interchangable throughout the league.
The plain truth is, the Titans are starting a lot of those 23 guys.
For some of us though, wins and losses are secondary to heart and effort. Sometimes it just ain't your year. How you respond in those years, builds character for the opportunities that will come.
The Titans are paying dues, for the Ring to come.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
M'out
Ok kids... I'm packin' up the laptop and headin' to The Great State of Tennessee. I'll be in Knoxville, Chattanooga, and Murfreesboro at various times through out the week. If you want to meet up and thank me for sharing my rants and misadventures post a comment or two and we'll see if we can get together. Y'all keep 'em straight up 'air!
Ok kids... I'm packin' up the laptop and headin' to The Great State of Tennessee. I'll be in Knoxville, Chattanooga, and Murfreesboro at various times through out the week. If you want to meet up and thank me for sharing my rants and misadventures post a comment or two and we'll see if we can get together. Y'all keep 'em straight up 'air!
Friday, December 10, 2004
It's that time...
Well y'all its Friday afternoon here out east... That means its time to pour the booze, prop your feet up, and tell a few stories. Rumor has it that things have really picked up over at Jim Beam, and this year's batch of Jim Beam Black is outstanding. Somebody give it a try and let me know. I'm thinkin' it's just about time someone else took one for the team.
So what'll it be then? Bookers? Bakers? Knob Creek? Rare Breed? Maybe even... some single barrel Jack Daniels?
Probably some of each!
Now as I recall a topic was suggested by our beloved RJK that was custom made for a Friday like this... Let's see if I recall.... Hrmm... It was something like...
"Nate do you have any stories about other women?"
And of course I do. Now don't get to excited. Dear Rebekah was actually askin' if I knew of any straight girls, who'd experimented with other women. Well... ok... maybe you should get that excited.
I wouldn't go so far as to call it common in college, but it certainly happened quite a bit. I know lots of chicks who did that sort of thing, and went on to settle down and get married. Well... at least they appear to have settled down. I reckon it's hard to say really.
This sorta thing always seemed to happen the same way. A couple girls would be hanging out with their boyfriends... and at some point during the course of the evening alchohol is poured.
Now what is a little known fact is that booze is an honest to God aphrodesiac... at least for women. In a study, two groups were formed... 50 men, and 50 women... the sexes were in seperate rooms. They were then given booze.
The men had fun, but showed no sounds of arousal.
Total opposite for the women. For the most part, they came out of that room drunk and horny.
After more tests what the study concluded was, women get horny from drinking alone. While men get horny from being around women who are horny.
Now back to our get together. So everyone's been drinkin' a little, and the girls have a slight buzz. This is where it get's fun so pay attention boys. Through some means or another the chicks end up flirting with each other. This normally starts of completely innocently, and if you blink, you may miss it. Often its something as little as the standard female, "You look good tonight!"
Ah but here things take the turn. The guys say something like, "Oh does she!?"
Chicks love a reaction. Over the course of the evening, the chicks do more and more to get that same "HOLY CRAP!" reaction from the guys. While they don't end up doing much more than kissing usually in this surrounding... the door has certainly been opened.
Everything else developes from there. Threesomes. Foursomes. Old Testemant Orgies. Steamy dorm showers with candles, wine, and a few friends.
Well... like I said... they appear to have calmed down.
*** UPDATE *** I decided to go with Woodford Reserve. Envy me.
*** Friday Commenting Protocol ***
New rule. Before posting a comment, you must state clearly what your drinking now, or what you intend to drink later, or... God Forbid, why you will not be drinking at all.
Well y'all its Friday afternoon here out east... That means its time to pour the booze, prop your feet up, and tell a few stories. Rumor has it that things have really picked up over at Jim Beam, and this year's batch of Jim Beam Black is outstanding. Somebody give it a try and let me know. I'm thinkin' it's just about time someone else took one for the team.
So what'll it be then? Bookers? Bakers? Knob Creek? Rare Breed? Maybe even... some single barrel Jack Daniels?
Probably some of each!
Now as I recall a topic was suggested by our beloved RJK that was custom made for a Friday like this... Let's see if I recall.... Hrmm... It was something like...
"Nate do you have any stories about other women?"
And of course I do. Now don't get to excited. Dear Rebekah was actually askin' if I knew of any straight girls, who'd experimented with other women. Well... ok... maybe you should get that excited.
I wouldn't go so far as to call it common in college, but it certainly happened quite a bit. I know lots of chicks who did that sort of thing, and went on to settle down and get married. Well... at least they appear to have settled down. I reckon it's hard to say really.
This sorta thing always seemed to happen the same way. A couple girls would be hanging out with their boyfriends... and at some point during the course of the evening alchohol is poured.
Now what is a little known fact is that booze is an honest to God aphrodesiac... at least for women. In a study, two groups were formed... 50 men, and 50 women... the sexes were in seperate rooms. They were then given booze.
The men had fun, but showed no sounds of arousal.
Total opposite for the women. For the most part, they came out of that room drunk and horny.
After more tests what the study concluded was, women get horny from drinking alone. While men get horny from being around women who are horny.
Now back to our get together. So everyone's been drinkin' a little, and the girls have a slight buzz. This is where it get's fun so pay attention boys. Through some means or another the chicks end up flirting with each other. This normally starts of completely innocently, and if you blink, you may miss it. Often its something as little as the standard female, "You look good tonight!"
Ah but here things take the turn. The guys say something like, "Oh does she!?"
Chicks love a reaction. Over the course of the evening, the chicks do more and more to get that same "HOLY CRAP!" reaction from the guys. While they don't end up doing much more than kissing usually in this surrounding... the door has certainly been opened.
Everything else developes from there. Threesomes. Foursomes. Old Testemant Orgies. Steamy dorm showers with candles, wine, and a few friends.
Well... like I said... they appear to have calmed down.
*** UPDATE *** I decided to go with Woodford Reserve. Envy me.
*** Friday Commenting Protocol ***
New rule. Before posting a comment, you must state clearly what your drinking now, or what you intend to drink later, or... God Forbid, why you will not be drinking at all.
From the Comments
Waterboy axes: So, Nate, any idea what kind of bike this one is? (Stock, I'm guessing). 300kmph = 186.4 mph
I can't tell you 100% for sure just by looking at that particular dash. I can give you some info though.
1) The speed indicated on a speedo is never accurate. In general, at that indicated speed you can knock off 15 to 20 mph and that will get you much closer to your real speed. What you actually saw was a cat doing somewhere around 170. Nice, but certainly not newsworthy.
2) The bike, while cool, is not even a real sportbike. The real monsters... the GSXR-1000's, the CBR-1000's, and the ZX-10 look very very different.
3) The windshield, and dash tell me they are on a grand-touring bike. Something like a XX, or a zx-12, though I know it's not one of those two. Maybe even an older Ducati ST... maybe even a Triumph. If I had to guess I'd say a Triumph Sprint ST.
170 is nice, but it's nothing that isn't done every day by guys all over the world. I've hit 173 per my GPS on the old CBR 1000, and I know it had more left... I just couldn't read the GPS any more so I backed it down.
Bikes have improved a lot since mine was new. The real monsters like the ZX-10 are producing 170-180 horse power, stock... and they weigh half what my bike does. I have no idea what the real no-shit top speed is on a stock zx-10, but I suspect it's pushing a legit 190 or so, which would be about 215 or more on the speedo.
Just remember... indicating 200mph, and actually going 200mph are two very different things. At those speeds the wind resistance is insane. The amount of horsepower it takes to go from 188 to 190 takes about the same horse power as it does to go from 100 to 120.
Waterboy axes: So, Nate, any idea what kind of bike this one is? (Stock, I'm guessing). 300kmph = 186.4 mph
I can't tell you 100% for sure just by looking at that particular dash. I can give you some info though.
1) The speed indicated on a speedo is never accurate. In general, at that indicated speed you can knock off 15 to 20 mph and that will get you much closer to your real speed. What you actually saw was a cat doing somewhere around 170. Nice, but certainly not newsworthy.
2) The bike, while cool, is not even a real sportbike. The real monsters... the GSXR-1000's, the CBR-1000's, and the ZX-10 look very very different.
3) The windshield, and dash tell me they are on a grand-touring bike. Something like a XX, or a zx-12, though I know it's not one of those two. Maybe even an older Ducati ST... maybe even a Triumph. If I had to guess I'd say a Triumph Sprint ST.
4) Not stock. Has at least an aftermarket exhaust. Can't tell which from listening.
170 is nice, but it's nothing that isn't done every day by guys all over the world. I've hit 173 per my GPS on the old CBR 1000, and I know it had more left... I just couldn't read the GPS any more so I backed it down.
Bikes have improved a lot since mine was new. The real monsters like the ZX-10 are producing 170-180 horse power, stock... and they weigh half what my bike does. I have no idea what the real no-shit top speed is on a stock zx-10, but I suspect it's pushing a legit 190 or so, which would be about 215 or more on the speedo.
Just remember... indicating 200mph, and actually going 200mph are two very different things. At those speeds the wind resistance is insane. The amount of horsepower it takes to go from 188 to 190 takes about the same horse power as it does to go from 100 to 120.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Dimebag
I can understand why someone would shoot John Lennon. He was, after all, a Red Commie sympathizer who's "songs" were as responsible as anything for the communist counter-culture which was cultivated here by the KGB.
I'm suprised the CIA didn't do it themselves.
But why would anyone shoot Dimebag? He's just a laid-back beer drinking guitarist! He's one of the few guys who could say at one time or another they'd jammed with David Alan Coe, and Motorhead! I can't say that I listened to Pantera a lot. I know them. I am familiar with what they did, and I understand why it was seen as groundbreaking at the time. I wouldn't say that I'm a fan though. For whatever reason... it didn't click for me...
But I know what kind of guys these were. They were rednecks. You'd see as many Battle Flags at a Pantera concert as you would one by Hank Jr. That alone tells me he's someone to be missed.
Dimebag is no hero. He's no legend. Hell... he wasn't even that good of a guitarist... but his death is beyond explaination... at least for now...
I've poured whiskey on the grave of Hank Williams.
I'll not do that for this man... but I'll toss back a shot or two... just the same.
I don't know what brand o' whiskey he perfered... but given the circumstances... I figure I'll go with Maker's Mark.
I can understand why someone would shoot John Lennon. He was, after all, a Red Commie sympathizer who's "songs" were as responsible as anything for the communist counter-culture which was cultivated here by the KGB.
I'm suprised the CIA didn't do it themselves.
But why would anyone shoot Dimebag? He's just a laid-back beer drinking guitarist! He's one of the few guys who could say at one time or another they'd jammed with David Alan Coe, and Motorhead! I can't say that I listened to Pantera a lot. I know them. I am familiar with what they did, and I understand why it was seen as groundbreaking at the time. I wouldn't say that I'm a fan though. For whatever reason... it didn't click for me...
But I know what kind of guys these were. They were rednecks. You'd see as many Battle Flags at a Pantera concert as you would one by Hank Jr. That alone tells me he's someone to be missed.
Dimebag is no hero. He's no legend. Hell... he wasn't even that good of a guitarist... but his death is beyond explaination... at least for now...
I've poured whiskey on the grave of Hank Williams.
I'll not do that for this man... but I'll toss back a shot or two... just the same.
I don't know what brand o' whiskey he perfered... but given the circumstances... I figure I'll go with Maker's Mark.
The MudHole: The MUD Party
You oldtimers will recall that back in '93, '94, and'95 there wasnt a world wide web. You used telnet to hop from computer to computer for various reasons. IRC became popular, as did text based games. MUDs, MOOs, MUSHs... depending on how they were arranged were actually the precursors to today's forums, chatrooms, and online gaming. A MOO was like a text version of the Sims. While MUDs were often online versions of role-playing games.
My friends at the MUDhole, and Josh... were all coders at a particular MUD, based on AD&D. It was lame, sure, but it was my first exposure to C and C+, so I can honestly say I learned something.
At any rate this game that we pretty much made from scratch became known as Final Realms. It was hosted in the Netherlands by some good natured folk who knew more about programming than I know about drumming. Which is rather like calling them the Neil Pearts of the code world. I could be exajurating... but these boys rocked. That's all I'm tryin to say.
Anyway... We'd spend hours everyday coding and playing and antagonizing the players, mostly the latter. We became fast friends... and all was right with the world.
At some point it was made known that our European hosters were coming to America for a vacation, and for whatever reason, they wanted to come to cookeville to meet us.
Freaks.
Anyway... What started out as a little get together ended up being advertised all over the MUD and became a big deal. If you can imagine... we had people drive from Texas... several people in fact... just to come to this party.
What I remember most of this great drunken fest.. well.. is that the Strunk got drunk and grabbed me by the dick... just before he puked over the balcony... But... what I remember the most besides that, is the reaction these Europeans had to America.
In short, they were stunned. They had never seen a refigerator as big as the perfectly average sized one in the house. They had never seen a dishwasher that big. They'd never seen a microwave that big. The house, again, not a huge house at all... was larger than any they'd ever been in. They went from room to room, and went ape-shit when they realized that every bedroom (6) had its own PC, and they were all networked. They commented that they don't see businesses with that kind of computer power.
They walked through Cookville's Walmart Supercenter awe struck. At the beer isle, one nearly passed out. They talked about it all weekend... like they had been to disneyland.
When guests started arriving, they couldn't believe the cars. A convertible mustang? They flipped out like 14 year-old when he sees a Lamborgini in person. A corvette??? Are you serious? Again... they were delirious.
They couldn't understand how college kids, or anyone for that matter, could have the kind of stuff that we had, and we thought we had nothing but second-hand crap.
But the greatest moment to me was when we asked them what their plans were. They had just arrived in atlanta, and had rented motorcycles to ride around on...
They said... "We are here for 6 more days. We want to see it all. Tomarrow we will ride to New York. Then we will ride south through Washington, and then We will spend the rest of the time riding out to California and back."
After realizing that they were serious... we got out a map, and explained to them just how big the United States is. I about busted a gut when Sam pointed to Texas and said, "See this? This is bigger than Europe."
They told us they figgered they'd ride 10 hours a day. We chuckled, and explained at that rate, they'd reach California in about a week. It took a long time for all that to sink in, but in the end they amended their plans considerably.
I've sorta danced around the party itself... mostly because I was so traumatized by the actions of the drunken Strunk that I quite nearly erased it all from memory. But can ya blame me? It ain't every day that a full grown man walks up and grabs ya by the John Thomas.
What I remember most is... there were at least 120 people there... they slept all over the place. We had tents pitched in the yard... front and back... and lord how the booze did flow.
The disturbing thing.. was everyone was refering to each other by their character, or screen names, because it was to hard to associate them with anything else. So it ended up feeling, and sounding, like a drunken superhero party.
It was a great time though... and the only time I've ever been to a get-together of folks from an online community. Suprisingly, some of the chicks were hot... and not just the ones who came with me either!
Previous experience had taught me to be leary of chicks met online... in fact.. chick is not a descriptive word at all... No... that's another tale... about... not so much a chick.. as a Great Bloated Hen... Spitting venom, fire, and hate like a basilisk on Angel Dust. Thanks Josh.
You oldtimers will recall that back in '93, '94, and'95 there wasnt a world wide web. You used telnet to hop from computer to computer for various reasons. IRC became popular, as did text based games. MUDs, MOOs, MUSHs... depending on how they were arranged were actually the precursors to today's forums, chatrooms, and online gaming. A MOO was like a text version of the Sims. While MUDs were often online versions of role-playing games.
My friends at the MUDhole, and Josh... were all coders at a particular MUD, based on AD&D. It was lame, sure, but it was my first exposure to C and C+, so I can honestly say I learned something.
At any rate this game that we pretty much made from scratch became known as Final Realms. It was hosted in the Netherlands by some good natured folk who knew more about programming than I know about drumming. Which is rather like calling them the Neil Pearts of the code world. I could be exajurating... but these boys rocked. That's all I'm tryin to say.
Anyway... We'd spend hours everyday coding and playing and antagonizing the players, mostly the latter. We became fast friends... and all was right with the world.
At some point it was made known that our European hosters were coming to America for a vacation, and for whatever reason, they wanted to come to cookeville to meet us.
Freaks.
Anyway... What started out as a little get together ended up being advertised all over the MUD and became a big deal. If you can imagine... we had people drive from Texas... several people in fact... just to come to this party.
What I remember most of this great drunken fest.. well.. is that the Strunk got drunk and grabbed me by the dick... just before he puked over the balcony... But... what I remember the most besides that, is the reaction these Europeans had to America.
In short, they were stunned. They had never seen a refigerator as big as the perfectly average sized one in the house. They had never seen a dishwasher that big. They'd never seen a microwave that big. The house, again, not a huge house at all... was larger than any they'd ever been in. They went from room to room, and went ape-shit when they realized that every bedroom (6) had its own PC, and they were all networked. They commented that they don't see businesses with that kind of computer power.
They walked through Cookville's Walmart Supercenter awe struck. At the beer isle, one nearly passed out. They talked about it all weekend... like they had been to disneyland.
When guests started arriving, they couldn't believe the cars. A convertible mustang? They flipped out like 14 year-old when he sees a Lamborgini in person. A corvette??? Are you serious? Again... they were delirious.
They couldn't understand how college kids, or anyone for that matter, could have the kind of stuff that we had, and we thought we had nothing but second-hand crap.
But the greatest moment to me was when we asked them what their plans were. They had just arrived in atlanta, and had rented motorcycles to ride around on...
They said... "We are here for 6 more days. We want to see it all. Tomarrow we will ride to New York. Then we will ride south through Washington, and then We will spend the rest of the time riding out to California and back."
After realizing that they were serious... we got out a map, and explained to them just how big the United States is. I about busted a gut when Sam pointed to Texas and said, "See this? This is bigger than Europe."
They told us they figgered they'd ride 10 hours a day. We chuckled, and explained at that rate, they'd reach California in about a week. It took a long time for all that to sink in, but in the end they amended their plans considerably.
I've sorta danced around the party itself... mostly because I was so traumatized by the actions of the drunken Strunk that I quite nearly erased it all from memory. But can ya blame me? It ain't every day that a full grown man walks up and grabs ya by the John Thomas.
What I remember most is... there were at least 120 people there... they slept all over the place. We had tents pitched in the yard... front and back... and lord how the booze did flow.
The disturbing thing.. was everyone was refering to each other by their character, or screen names, because it was to hard to associate them with anything else. So it ended up feeling, and sounding, like a drunken superhero party.
It was a great time though... and the only time I've ever been to a get-together of folks from an online community. Suprisingly, some of the chicks were hot... and not just the ones who came with me either!
Previous experience had taught me to be leary of chicks met online... in fact.. chick is not a descriptive word at all... No... that's another tale... about... not so much a chick.. as a Great Bloated Hen... Spitting venom, fire, and hate like a basilisk on Angel Dust. Thanks Josh.
Bored...
I fear I am once again suffering from moral exhaustion. Over at Vox's, there is this little twit ranting about secession being illegal... and making the most ridiculous points you can think of. It's quite simple... and it's all arguements I've slapped around before several times over there... but for some reason... I'm just not up to it today. I've been half heartedly posting over there.. just because it's expected... but in the end I really don't care.
The guy is claiming that the states didn't specificly withold the right to secede, therefore they don't have it. This is ludicrous on its face, and as far as I'm conserned we shouldn't even be debating it... I can't even get excited enough to really smack him down.
It could just be that I think the guy's a prick... or it could be that I am well aware that whatever points I make, will be ignored. Whenever I point something out, he responds by saying something stupid like, "There is a reason knowledgable people ignore those points".
Yes yes.. and I'm sure it's the same reason "knowledgable people" were running around in 1929 telling everyone that the US stock market had reached a perpetual all-time high.
This nation was founded on the belief that God granted us the right of self-determination.
If the South couldn't secede, then we had no right to secede from England, and legally, we're still under binding contract with the Queen.
Anyone foolish enough to subscribe to such a belief is not worth my time.
I fear I am once again suffering from moral exhaustion. Over at Vox's, there is this little twit ranting about secession being illegal... and making the most ridiculous points you can think of. It's quite simple... and it's all arguements I've slapped around before several times over there... but for some reason... I'm just not up to it today. I've been half heartedly posting over there.. just because it's expected... but in the end I really don't care.
The guy is claiming that the states didn't specificly withold the right to secede, therefore they don't have it. This is ludicrous on its face, and as far as I'm conserned we shouldn't even be debating it... I can't even get excited enough to really smack him down.
It could just be that I think the guy's a prick... or it could be that I am well aware that whatever points I make, will be ignored. Whenever I point something out, he responds by saying something stupid like, "There is a reason knowledgable people ignore those points".
Yes yes.. and I'm sure it's the same reason "knowledgable people" were running around in 1929 telling everyone that the US stock market had reached a perpetual all-time high.
This nation was founded on the belief that God granted us the right of self-determination.
If the South couldn't secede, then we had no right to secede from England, and legally, we're still under binding contract with the Queen.
Anyone foolish enough to subscribe to such a belief is not worth my time.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
The Mud Hole
Back in I guess... 1995... Julie was finishing up college at TTU... I was working in Nashville, Jones was going to MTSU, and our collective friends had a house in Cookeville. They were a bizarre group. Sam... Bucket... Head... Strunk... and Jerry.
I suppose the best place to start is there... with a bit of a Cast of Characters.
Sam: One of my best friends in college. Sam was the most reasonable of the group. The normal one, who appeared a paragon of virtue and cleanliness, because he was surrounded by such freaks. Those who've been around a while should note that Sam is the one who provided us access to my highschool friend's room, when we wallpapered it with porn. Check the Archives.
Jerry: The Alchaholic Downstairs. The guy drank like Kieth Richards smokes. He'd have taken his Jack Daniels intravenously if we'd have let him. Poor Jerry had a problem too... he umm.. had performance issues... if ya take my meaning. More on that later.
Strunk: The most descriptive last name anyone ever had. Strunk. His name tells the story. The odor fills in the details.
Bucket: Bucket was huge, but not quite so huge as Danner. He was like 6'1, and at least 300 pounds. He occupied a windowless room in the basement of the house. He had a king sized bed down there. While it was filthy... it was still the greatest bedroom anyone ever had... because it was cold.. and there was absolute darkness.
Head: Huge, but not quite so huge as Bucket. He was given to sleeping 40 hours at a time. Quite possibly the laziest human I've ever been around. He was slothful...
This was glorious time to be alive for us. Julie was rooming with a hot little blonde chick named Laurie. On the weekends I'd drive up and either me, julie, and laurie would spend the whole weekend finding some sort of trouble to get into...or we'd spend the whole weekend at the Mudhole. More often than not Josh would show up too.
Usually by 7 or 8pm on Friday night we'd have a game of Rook started... and traditionally, the game didn't end until sunday morning, when we'd all collect ourselves and go stuff our faces at the shoney's breakfast bar.
If you've ever played Rook, you know the game can be as competitive as you want it to be... and honestly, we talked more trash than the average fantasy football league ever dreams of.
Interestingly... some of the most insane experiences of my life... and when your talking about insane experiences in my life, that's a stiff competition... all took place at that house. I could blog for days on them... but I needed to set some of the backgroud first... so you can expect several Mud Hole tales in the coming days and weeks...
For now... Let me leave you with this...
Sam and Josh were playing against Julie and I.... We decided to take a break, to seek out booze or food... or likely both... we broke the game up, laid our cards on the table and set out to find our bounty! Julie and I returned first and found ourselves in a tempting little spot.
Josh and Sam were gone... we were alone! Now.. mind you... we'd never cheated before this... but for what ever reason... we chose this moment to show each other our cards and to plot to secure our not-so-well-earned victory.
"CHEATING!"
Josh burst from the closet shouting like a ravenous Dade County Election Official. Julie and I were so stunned by his instant appearence and bombastic blustering that we dropped the cards on the floor, and instantly collapsed in near terminal laughter.
I have no idea what inspired Josh to hide in the closet that night... nor do I know what caused Julie and I to pick that one moment to cheat... hrm.. considering some of the other activities we were likely to engage in while left alone in the Mudhole... One wonders what other words Josh could've been forced to blurt out when bursting from that closet.
Back in I guess... 1995... Julie was finishing up college at TTU... I was working in Nashville, Jones was going to MTSU, and our collective friends had a house in Cookeville. They were a bizarre group. Sam... Bucket... Head... Strunk... and Jerry.
I suppose the best place to start is there... with a bit of a Cast of Characters.
Sam: One of my best friends in college. Sam was the most reasonable of the group. The normal one, who appeared a paragon of virtue and cleanliness, because he was surrounded by such freaks. Those who've been around a while should note that Sam is the one who provided us access to my highschool friend's room, when we wallpapered it with porn. Check the Archives.
Jerry: The Alchaholic Downstairs. The guy drank like Kieth Richards smokes. He'd have taken his Jack Daniels intravenously if we'd have let him. Poor Jerry had a problem too... he umm.. had performance issues... if ya take my meaning. More on that later.
Strunk: The most descriptive last name anyone ever had. Strunk. His name tells the story. The odor fills in the details.
Bucket: Bucket was huge, but not quite so huge as Danner. He was like 6'1, and at least 300 pounds. He occupied a windowless room in the basement of the house. He had a king sized bed down there. While it was filthy... it was still the greatest bedroom anyone ever had... because it was cold.. and there was absolute darkness.
Head: Huge, but not quite so huge as Bucket. He was given to sleeping 40 hours at a time. Quite possibly the laziest human I've ever been around. He was slothful...
This was glorious time to be alive for us. Julie was rooming with a hot little blonde chick named Laurie. On the weekends I'd drive up and either me, julie, and laurie would spend the whole weekend finding some sort of trouble to get into...or we'd spend the whole weekend at the Mudhole. More often than not Josh would show up too.
Usually by 7 or 8pm on Friday night we'd have a game of Rook started... and traditionally, the game didn't end until sunday morning, when we'd all collect ourselves and go stuff our faces at the shoney's breakfast bar.
If you've ever played Rook, you know the game can be as competitive as you want it to be... and honestly, we talked more trash than the average fantasy football league ever dreams of.
Interestingly... some of the most insane experiences of my life... and when your talking about insane experiences in my life, that's a stiff competition... all took place at that house. I could blog for days on them... but I needed to set some of the backgroud first... so you can expect several Mud Hole tales in the coming days and weeks...
For now... Let me leave you with this...
Sam and Josh were playing against Julie and I.... We decided to take a break, to seek out booze or food... or likely both... we broke the game up, laid our cards on the table and set out to find our bounty! Julie and I returned first and found ourselves in a tempting little spot.
Josh and Sam were gone... we were alone! Now.. mind you... we'd never cheated before this... but for what ever reason... we chose this moment to show each other our cards and to plot to secure our not-so-well-earned victory.
"CHEATING!"
Josh burst from the closet shouting like a ravenous Dade County Election Official. Julie and I were so stunned by his instant appearence and bombastic blustering that we dropped the cards on the floor, and instantly collapsed in near terminal laughter.
I have no idea what inspired Josh to hide in the closet that night... nor do I know what caused Julie and I to pick that one moment to cheat... hrm.. considering some of the other activities we were likely to engage in while left alone in the Mudhole... One wonders what other words Josh could've been forced to blurt out when bursting from that closet.
Zygotes, P.E.S.T., and JesusLand
Well the claws are out girls and boys, and I'm sure you've noticed. In my short time on this Earth I've never seen Christianity, or Christians come under a more direct, public, or intense assault.
The secular left is beside itself. It's fed up, and By-Hubbard they ain't gonna take it anymore.
From the JesusLand maps, to the consistent screams on talk radio, and idiot TV, we hear the same repeated theme. "This country is not ruled by religion!"
Interestingly, when they say "religion" what they really mean is "Christianity". In America, the vast majority of atheists are born of some perceived injustice of the church, not some enlightened view of the world. The biggest evidence to this is the fact that they so eagerly embrace and respect every other religion in the world. It's only Christianity they truly hate. So much for that enlightenment...
I know I know... What's this got to do with the current assault?
The root of this current bile is in the election. You can't under-estimate how devastating that loss was to them. Let me put it in perspective. Imagine you're locked in a room. The only way out is a door that's locked and barred from the other side. You plot and plan. You work your butt off. You spend every ounce of energy you have, and finally, you devised a plan, and constructed a device which will bring the door down. You're excited. You've worked hard, and you're about to be free. When the time comes, you hit your switch, or twist your knob, or whatever it is your device has... then... ***BOOM***
And when the dust settles... The door is still there... Not even scratched.
In the liberal mind, they've taken their best shot, and they failed. In fact, it wasn't even particularly close. This has left them reeling. It affects these people so badly that the American Mental Health Institute has classified Post Election Selection Trauma as a real mental health issue. Liberals are crazy. Well, at least that's something on which we can agree.
The liberal nutcase has been left groping in the dark for an explanation. Why don't we agree with them? Why are we so stupid? Why are we so blind to the obvious truth? Why are we so different? And of course, they find the villain they've always wanted to find.
Christianity.
It's all Christianity's fault. We're stupid, and Christianity made us that way. We're not Anti-Baby-Killing because we honestly believe a fertilized egg is human life, we're Anti-Baby-Killing because a stupid book tells us to be. The same stupid book that told us that slavery was ok. The same stupid book that tells us that personal sexual preferences are immoral.
Of course, they ignore the fact that those of us who are Anti-Baby Killing never bring up the Bible when discussing it. They ignore the fact that Baby-Killing is never a topic in main-line Christian sermons. In fact, in all my years of church attendance, I've only heard it mentioned twice.
The Left has convinced itself that its at war with a religion... and of course... Considering that the enemy of the enemy is your friend, I suppose we shouldn't be surprised that the Left is rooting for American failure in the Middle-East.
As insane as it is, the Left has convinced itself that the Church is running the country, and they see no way of defeating it. This is how we end up with the Jesusland map, and talk of secession. This is how you end up with the birth of new labels like Wingnut, that we see popping up on every liberal blog.
Poor little dears... They're just scared to death. The Boogie Man is gonna get 'em!
Like so many other phobias this one is totally irrational. Of course, that shouldn't surprise anyone, when it's associated with the Left... George Bush may be a Christian, but the idea that he's a conservative is the apex of stupidity.
So... to sum up...
Ran... Your proctologist called... Seems they found your head.
Well the claws are out girls and boys, and I'm sure you've noticed. In my short time on this Earth I've never seen Christianity, or Christians come under a more direct, public, or intense assault.
The secular left is beside itself. It's fed up, and By-Hubbard they ain't gonna take it anymore.
From the JesusLand maps, to the consistent screams on talk radio, and idiot TV, we hear the same repeated theme. "This country is not ruled by religion!"
Interestingly, when they say "religion" what they really mean is "Christianity". In America, the vast majority of atheists are born of some perceived injustice of the church, not some enlightened view of the world. The biggest evidence to this is the fact that they so eagerly embrace and respect every other religion in the world. It's only Christianity they truly hate. So much for that enlightenment...
I know I know... What's this got to do with the current assault?
The root of this current bile is in the election. You can't under-estimate how devastating that loss was to them. Let me put it in perspective. Imagine you're locked in a room. The only way out is a door that's locked and barred from the other side. You plot and plan. You work your butt off. You spend every ounce of energy you have, and finally, you devised a plan, and constructed a device which will bring the door down. You're excited. You've worked hard, and you're about to be free. When the time comes, you hit your switch, or twist your knob, or whatever it is your device has... then... ***BOOM***
And when the dust settles... The door is still there... Not even scratched.
In the liberal mind, they've taken their best shot, and they failed. In fact, it wasn't even particularly close. This has left them reeling. It affects these people so badly that the American Mental Health Institute has classified Post Election Selection Trauma as a real mental health issue. Liberals are crazy. Well, at least that's something on which we can agree.
The liberal nutcase has been left groping in the dark for an explanation. Why don't we agree with them? Why are we so stupid? Why are we so blind to the obvious truth? Why are we so different? And of course, they find the villain they've always wanted to find.
Christianity.
It's all Christianity's fault. We're stupid, and Christianity made us that way. We're not Anti-Baby-Killing because we honestly believe a fertilized egg is human life, we're Anti-Baby-Killing because a stupid book tells us to be. The same stupid book that told us that slavery was ok. The same stupid book that tells us that personal sexual preferences are immoral.
Of course, they ignore the fact that those of us who are Anti-Baby Killing never bring up the Bible when discussing it. They ignore the fact that Baby-Killing is never a topic in main-line Christian sermons. In fact, in all my years of church attendance, I've only heard it mentioned twice.
The Left has convinced itself that its at war with a religion... and of course... Considering that the enemy of the enemy is your friend, I suppose we shouldn't be surprised that the Left is rooting for American failure in the Middle-East.
As insane as it is, the Left has convinced itself that the Church is running the country, and they see no way of defeating it. This is how we end up with the Jesusland map, and talk of secession. This is how you end up with the birth of new labels like Wingnut, that we see popping up on every liberal blog.
Poor little dears... They're just scared to death. The Boogie Man is gonna get 'em!
Like so many other phobias this one is totally irrational. Of course, that shouldn't surprise anyone, when it's associated with the Left... George Bush may be a Christian, but the idea that he's a conservative is the apex of stupidity.
So... to sum up...
Ran... Your proctologist called... Seems they found your head.
Friday, December 03, 2004
Faster
There is more than one motorcycle championship. There's the 125, the 250... There's super bike...
But if you want to call yourself the fastest man in the world... You run in the Moto GP.
You may run 215mph down the straight away... and sometimes in as little as 100 yards, you scrub down to 45mph entering a turn. You steer the bike not with the front-wheel, but the back. You slide the back-wheel with the throttle... like you're on a dirt-track. But you're not on dirt. You're on asphalt.
You scrape your knee along the ground to give you some means of keeping your position on the bike stable. In a 3000 pound Grand Prix car shifting your weight here or there means nothing. On a motorcycle though, moving your butt 2 inches back is the difference between a back-tire breaking loose, and power-wheelie.
My hero's don't catch touchdown passes. They don't hit home runs. They don't dunk basketballs.
My hero's race motorcycles.
They risk their lives in every second of every race. They risk their lives in every second of practice.
They break bones... and yet they race. Their legs are held together with titanium rods... yet they race. They cut a hole in the boot, because the pin holding their ankle together has poked out of the skin, and that's the only way to relieve the pressure. Yet they race.
There is no Hans device. There are no crumple zones. If you wreck... and you will wreck... there is only asphalt and rock to greet you.
And why?
In the end, the racers of MotoGP are just like all athletes at the extreme. Pick out the top 25 players in the world at any given sport, and what you find is will. You find drive and determination. Focus.
Focus on the one thing that matters in the world... and to the racers in MotoGP... that one thing...
Is Faster.
Remarkably since 1960 only one MotoGP racer has died on the track, and that, was in a vehicle with 4-wheels... not two.
So we watch these men push themselves on those... things. Things. That's what women and cowards call them. Things. The women and cowards who call these men... my heros... crazy, use that word to describe what they cannot understand.
Maybe they are bloody mad. They're mad for pushing themselves to go to the edge, and for scant brief periods, beyond it... and for going there with 20 other men, who are just as mad as they are.
I love MotoGP for the honesty. In America we have the myth of 110%. Coaches and commercials shout it. We must go 110% all the time!
Such stupidity. Any racer knows what 100% means. It means going as fast you can, while still controlling the bike. They don't claim to run at 110%. They gleefully admit to riding most laps at 95 or 98%. But there are those moments... late in the race... when the tires are warn... when the track is a little dirty... But that checkered flag lurks... and suddenly... lap-times that were dropping off... have spiked.
For two or three laps... they race past the edge. Because past the edge is where they have to be to be... Not to win. It's not about winning. It is... was... and always will be... about...
Faster.
Is it maddness? In one race the men were fitted with monitors to track their heart-rates. Valentino Rossi, the dominant force in MotoGP, never had a reading higher than 120 beats per minute. Can you imagine that? Riding a motorcycle at 215mph... yet at it's peak, his heart-rate never rose above 120.
In my estimation, there is only one vehicle in the world that should have a No Fear sticker on it... whatever two-wheeled demon that happens to be screaming beneath Valentino Rossi. He's not a madman in a fit of passion. He's a child at play.
By the Grace of God... Moto GP is returning to the country that dominated it for so long. Moto GP... is coming back to America.
So as you watch your favorite sport over the next couple of months... Take some time to think... Do these men show you how to live?
I cannot ride like these men. I can only taste tiny scraps from the table at which they sit. Those scraps come on a clear summer morning... after the haze burns off... out with your boys... On a nice stretch of straight... open road. Then... just once in a while... I can throw the throttle of the big CBR open, the back wheel breaks just a little, then snatches the concrete and I feel the hand of God punch me in the chest while she rockets forward. The front-wheel goes light and moves up ever so slightly. The monster screams like demons descending on the earth, and the whole tapestry of the world stretches in my periphial vision.
Then... just for those few brief seconds... I know what it feels like to go Faster.
It's a fleeting thing. I break throttle and back her down, and the rest of the ride is after-glow.
We're a club. If you are in it, you are in it. If you are not... you are not. To the outsiders... the cagers... we're crazy. We're those people who ride those things.
So we are.
There is more than one motorcycle championship. There's the 125, the 250... There's super bike...
But if you want to call yourself the fastest man in the world... You run in the Moto GP.
You may run 215mph down the straight away... and sometimes in as little as 100 yards, you scrub down to 45mph entering a turn. You steer the bike not with the front-wheel, but the back. You slide the back-wheel with the throttle... like you're on a dirt-track. But you're not on dirt. You're on asphalt.
You scrape your knee along the ground to give you some means of keeping your position on the bike stable. In a 3000 pound Grand Prix car shifting your weight here or there means nothing. On a motorcycle though, moving your butt 2 inches back is the difference between a back-tire breaking loose, and power-wheelie.
My hero's don't catch touchdown passes. They don't hit home runs. They don't dunk basketballs.
My hero's race motorcycles.
They risk their lives in every second of every race. They risk their lives in every second of practice.
They break bones... and yet they race. Their legs are held together with titanium rods... yet they race. They cut a hole in the boot, because the pin holding their ankle together has poked out of the skin, and that's the only way to relieve the pressure. Yet they race.
There is no Hans device. There are no crumple zones. If you wreck... and you will wreck... there is only asphalt and rock to greet you.
And why?
In the end, the racers of MotoGP are just like all athletes at the extreme. Pick out the top 25 players in the world at any given sport, and what you find is will. You find drive and determination. Focus.
Focus on the one thing that matters in the world... and to the racers in MotoGP... that one thing...
Is Faster.
Remarkably since 1960 only one MotoGP racer has died on the track, and that, was in a vehicle with 4-wheels... not two.
So we watch these men push themselves on those... things. Things. That's what women and cowards call them. Things. The women and cowards who call these men... my heros... crazy, use that word to describe what they cannot understand.
Maybe they are bloody mad. They're mad for pushing themselves to go to the edge, and for scant brief periods, beyond it... and for going there with 20 other men, who are just as mad as they are.
I love MotoGP for the honesty. In America we have the myth of 110%. Coaches and commercials shout it. We must go 110% all the time!
Such stupidity. Any racer knows what 100% means. It means going as fast you can, while still controlling the bike. They don't claim to run at 110%. They gleefully admit to riding most laps at 95 or 98%. But there are those moments... late in the race... when the tires are warn... when the track is a little dirty... But that checkered flag lurks... and suddenly... lap-times that were dropping off... have spiked.
For two or three laps... they race past the edge. Because past the edge is where they have to be to be... Not to win. It's not about winning. It is... was... and always will be... about...
Faster.
Is it maddness? In one race the men were fitted with monitors to track their heart-rates. Valentino Rossi, the dominant force in MotoGP, never had a reading higher than 120 beats per minute. Can you imagine that? Riding a motorcycle at 215mph... yet at it's peak, his heart-rate never rose above 120.
In my estimation, there is only one vehicle in the world that should have a No Fear sticker on it... whatever two-wheeled demon that happens to be screaming beneath Valentino Rossi. He's not a madman in a fit of passion. He's a child at play.
By the Grace of God... Moto GP is returning to the country that dominated it for so long. Moto GP... is coming back to America.
So as you watch your favorite sport over the next couple of months... Take some time to think... Do these men show you how to live?
I cannot ride like these men. I can only taste tiny scraps from the table at which they sit. Those scraps come on a clear summer morning... after the haze burns off... out with your boys... On a nice stretch of straight... open road. Then... just once in a while... I can throw the throttle of the big CBR open, the back wheel breaks just a little, then snatches the concrete and I feel the hand of God punch me in the chest while she rockets forward. The front-wheel goes light and moves up ever so slightly. The monster screams like demons descending on the earth, and the whole tapestry of the world stretches in my periphial vision.
Then... just for those few brief seconds... I know what it feels like to go Faster.
It's a fleeting thing. I break throttle and back her down, and the rest of the ride is after-glow.
We're a club. If you are in it, you are in it. If you are not... you are not. To the outsiders... the cagers... we're crazy. We're those people who ride those things.
So we are.
Mush Brained Youth and the Labor Theory of Value
The disturbing thing about time is the nasty habit it has of moving forward... Perpetually. This creates all sorts of problems for those of us who'd sooner dig out a nice comfy spot that makes sense and hold up until the reinforcements arrive. See time is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, a goodly separation from the emotion of major events gives us an excellent perspective on what really happened. On the other hand, those who don't live through troubled times, and their solution, often completely miss the lesson.
After spending some time at Will's blog... which for some unknown reason is frequented by High School girls (You sick freak) I've come to a rather disconcerting conclusion. We've got whole generations of kids that have no idea what the cold war was about. They have no idea what communism is or was, and why it doesn't work. They don't remember the 80's. They don't remember that wall coming down. They don't remember the USSR.
Well... how about we take the time to talk about communism, and why it doesn't work.
First of all communism is rooted in the belief that the most important thing in the world is fairness. Everything must be fair. That which is naturally unfair, must be controlled, and manipulated to be made fair. If anyone noticed the fascination the American Left has with fairness, and then also saw how that fascination grew in direct correlation with the democratic parties embrace of socialism, give yourself a hefty pat on the back from ol' Nate.
At the root of all this idealism is the base idea that one man's work shouldn't be worth more than another man's work. Society needs ditches as much as it needs brain surgeons, so therefore, 10 ours of ditch digging should earn a man the same amount as 10 hours of brain surgery. See? Fair.
That's the Labor Theory of Value.... or as we Austrian's say... Total Crap.
The biggest problem with the Labor Theory of Value (TC) is that it runs in direct opposition to the Law of Supply and Demand. Now... Who remembers what happens when a "theory" contradicts a Law? Right. The paper the theory is written on is burned, and then we all piss on the ashes and feed them to the idiot that thought it was clever enough to write down.
You old timers know exactly where this is going... so if you want to spare yourself some foul imagery.
On with it then. Time to once again dispense with this idiotic Labor Theory of Value (TC). Let's suppose I live in a communist commune. Stop laughing. Seriously. While there... I decide I need to work... so I take a big healthy crap... then painstaking sculpt that my crap, into the shape of my own ass. I take 20 hours to do this.
According to the Labor Theory of Value (TC) my steaming bust would be worth the same as any of the other products that the other skilled laborers produced with 20 hours of work. Swords, beds, clothes, food, music, stories, horseshoes, brain surgery... All of them... worth the exact same as my rude sculpture.
Down south we have a word for this. We call it "Stupid".
See, the time it takes to make something is no where near the determining factor in it's worth. It's worth is determined by how much people want it, and how many its there are.
Communism is diametric opposed to human nature. Capitalism depends on human nature. Time spent on realizing Communism is slightly more wasted than time spent inventing a perpetual motion device. Young idealists can complain all they want about how good it would be.... if only... which is rather like complaining about not being able to explore space because of that stupid gravity thing.
The disturbing thing about time is the nasty habit it has of moving forward... Perpetually. This creates all sorts of problems for those of us who'd sooner dig out a nice comfy spot that makes sense and hold up until the reinforcements arrive. See time is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, a goodly separation from the emotion of major events gives us an excellent perspective on what really happened. On the other hand, those who don't live through troubled times, and their solution, often completely miss the lesson.
After spending some time at Will's blog... which for some unknown reason is frequented by High School girls (You sick freak) I've come to a rather disconcerting conclusion. We've got whole generations of kids that have no idea what the cold war was about. They have no idea what communism is or was, and why it doesn't work. They don't remember the 80's. They don't remember that wall coming down. They don't remember the USSR.
Well... how about we take the time to talk about communism, and why it doesn't work.
First of all communism is rooted in the belief that the most important thing in the world is fairness. Everything must be fair. That which is naturally unfair, must be controlled, and manipulated to be made fair. If anyone noticed the fascination the American Left has with fairness, and then also saw how that fascination grew in direct correlation with the democratic parties embrace of socialism, give yourself a hefty pat on the back from ol' Nate.
At the root of all this idealism is the base idea that one man's work shouldn't be worth more than another man's work. Society needs ditches as much as it needs brain surgeons, so therefore, 10 ours of ditch digging should earn a man the same amount as 10 hours of brain surgery. See? Fair.
That's the Labor Theory of Value.... or as we Austrian's say... Total Crap.
The biggest problem with the Labor Theory of Value (TC) is that it runs in direct opposition to the Law of Supply and Demand. Now... Who remembers what happens when a "theory" contradicts a Law? Right. The paper the theory is written on is burned, and then we all piss on the ashes and feed them to the idiot that thought it was clever enough to write down.
You old timers know exactly where this is going... so if you want to spare yourself some foul imagery.
On with it then. Time to once again dispense with this idiotic Labor Theory of Value (TC). Let's suppose I live in a communist commune. Stop laughing. Seriously. While there... I decide I need to work... so I take a big healthy crap... then painstaking sculpt that my crap, into the shape of my own ass. I take 20 hours to do this.
According to the Labor Theory of Value (TC) my steaming bust would be worth the same as any of the other products that the other skilled laborers produced with 20 hours of work. Swords, beds, clothes, food, music, stories, horseshoes, brain surgery... All of them... worth the exact same as my rude sculpture.
Down south we have a word for this. We call it "Stupid".
See, the time it takes to make something is no where near the determining factor in it's worth. It's worth is determined by how much people want it, and how many its there are.
Communism is diametric opposed to human nature. Capitalism depends on human nature. Time spent on realizing Communism is slightly more wasted than time spent inventing a perpetual motion device. Young idealists can complain all they want about how good it would be.... if only... which is rather like complaining about not being able to explore space because of that stupid gravity thing.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Great Songs You May Not Know
So what's the best song CCR ever wrote? Proud Mary? Lodi? Fortunate Son? Green River? Have you ever seen the rain?
All great songs... No doubt...
But sometimes... the best songs a band writes never get released. You never hear them on the radio. Let me give some examples...
CCR: Someday Never Comes - Trust me on this. This is heartbreaking reality. Women cry and men shake their head in knowing discust.
The Rolling Stones: Sympathy for the Devil - Never heard this on the radio until the mid-90's. When it was recorded originally it was totally ignored. Only good song they ever did.
Rush: Bravado - Hey... Ms Rand has no greater fan than Neil Peart.
Stevie Ray Vaughn: Life by the Drop - Proof that all great music is the result of great suffering.
Garth: Much to Young - Oh... sure it was released... but it never comes up when people talk about Garth... it's always Friends in Low Places, The Dance, or Rodeo. No question, this is the pinnacle of Garth... I suppose ya could make an arguement for The Beaches of Cheyenne... nahhh...
Elvis: Mystery Train - don't argue.
Nirvana: My Girl - only cover in the group. Brilliant stuff.
ZZ Top: Rough Boy - Not much to say really. It's ZZTop. They rule.
Alice in Chains: Don't Follow - 5th song on Jar of Flies. Proof they were the best seattle band.
So what's the best song CCR ever wrote? Proud Mary? Lodi? Fortunate Son? Green River? Have you ever seen the rain?
All great songs... No doubt...
But sometimes... the best songs a band writes never get released. You never hear them on the radio. Let me give some examples...
CCR: Someday Never Comes - Trust me on this. This is heartbreaking reality. Women cry and men shake their head in knowing discust.
The Rolling Stones: Sympathy for the Devil - Never heard this on the radio until the mid-90's. When it was recorded originally it was totally ignored. Only good song they ever did.
Rush: Bravado - Hey... Ms Rand has no greater fan than Neil Peart.
Stevie Ray Vaughn: Life by the Drop - Proof that all great music is the result of great suffering.
Garth: Much to Young - Oh... sure it was released... but it never comes up when people talk about Garth... it's always Friends in Low Places, The Dance, or Rodeo. No question, this is the pinnacle of Garth... I suppose ya could make an arguement for The Beaches of Cheyenne... nahhh...
Elvis: Mystery Train - don't argue.
Nirvana: My Girl - only cover in the group. Brilliant stuff.
ZZ Top: Rough Boy - Not much to say really. It's ZZTop. They rule.
Alice in Chains: Don't Follow - 5th song on Jar of Flies. Proof they were the best seattle band.
Movies...
Quick girls... name a movie guy that made ya swoon.
Of course we need not wait for the results. We all know who will make the list. There is always the odd ball chick who convinces herself she's supposed to like feminine men, but the vast majority of women will name actors and characters from guy movies.
Quick guys! Name a hot chick from the movies!
Again... we don't need to wait for the results. Not suprisingly, chicks from guys movies are far more popular than chicks from chick movies.
But... Why?
Aren't guy's movies dumb? Aren't they about blowing stuff up, and shooting people?
Yeah. And?
It's pretty simple really. Women are portrayed very well in guy's movies. There is almost always one incredibily hot chick character purposely designed to be so perfect that any male would kill or die for her. This of course explains a certain percentage of the killing and dying in most movies... She'll be hot, honest, fun, totally loyal, and she'll have guns and like football. She'll be your best-friend with a great set of boobs. Interestingly, most women would love to see themselves this way. The ones that DO, find themselves quite popular with the males of the world and married at a young age.
Contrast this with chicks movies. The chicks are never hot... they are always on the verge of the same kind of life changing experience that we in the real world call a, "Nervous Breakdown." The men in these movies are universally weak, or on the rare occasion, average. The 'good' man in the movie, if there is one, is always the one that submits to the women. Women who relate to this garbage will convince themselves they want a submissive man, and they will then dominate his life until they lose all respect for him. Finally they blame him for being weak and making them miserable.
This just in!!!
Women don't think submissive weak men are sexy!
Chicks dig men. They are at their purring contentended peak when confronted with men doing explicitly man things.
There is no question that Hugh Grant is prettier than Sean Connery. The point is, despite what cosmo says, chicks don't want pretty.
Quick girls... name a movie guy that made ya swoon.
Of course we need not wait for the results. We all know who will make the list. There is always the odd ball chick who convinces herself she's supposed to like feminine men, but the vast majority of women will name actors and characters from guy movies.
Quick guys! Name a hot chick from the movies!
Again... we don't need to wait for the results. Not suprisingly, chicks from guys movies are far more popular than chicks from chick movies.
But... Why?
Aren't guy's movies dumb? Aren't they about blowing stuff up, and shooting people?
Yeah. And?
It's pretty simple really. Women are portrayed very well in guy's movies. There is almost always one incredibily hot chick character purposely designed to be so perfect that any male would kill or die for her. This of course explains a certain percentage of the killing and dying in most movies... She'll be hot, honest, fun, totally loyal, and she'll have guns and like football. She'll be your best-friend with a great set of boobs. Interestingly, most women would love to see themselves this way. The ones that DO, find themselves quite popular with the males of the world and married at a young age.
Contrast this with chicks movies. The chicks are never hot... they are always on the verge of the same kind of life changing experience that we in the real world call a, "Nervous Breakdown." The men in these movies are universally weak, or on the rare occasion, average. The 'good' man in the movie, if there is one, is always the one that submits to the women. Women who relate to this garbage will convince themselves they want a submissive man, and they will then dominate his life until they lose all respect for him. Finally they blame him for being weak and making them miserable.
This just in!!!
Women don't think submissive weak men are sexy!
Chicks dig men. They are at their purring contentended peak when confronted with men doing explicitly man things.
There is no question that Hugh Grant is prettier than Sean Connery. The point is, despite what cosmo says, chicks don't want pretty.
Pre-Ops
Before anyone has surgery, they are always "pre-oped". Usually the nurses in Pre-Admission Testing or some other department equivilent. This is basicly a short interview to evaluate the persons health and determine a plan for the best anesthesia.
When a patient is already in the hospital, the anesthesiologists go to the patient and do it themselves... as you can imagine this sometimes leads to interesting encounters.
The other night DrWho went in to Pre-Op an older lady for heart surgery. The surgery was going to require by-pass and the woman was justifiably nervous about it.
When asked if she had any questions about the procedure, the woman looked up and said, "Are you really going to stop my heart?"
"Yes ma'am. The procedure requires us to stop your heart for while."
The woman paused... and looked very disconserted... all Julie could think to say was..
"But we re-start it!"
Before anyone has surgery, they are always "pre-oped". Usually the nurses in Pre-Admission Testing or some other department equivilent. This is basicly a short interview to evaluate the persons health and determine a plan for the best anesthesia.
When a patient is already in the hospital, the anesthesiologists go to the patient and do it themselves... as you can imagine this sometimes leads to interesting encounters.
The other night DrWho went in to Pre-Op an older lady for heart surgery. The surgery was going to require by-pass and the woman was justifiably nervous about it.
When asked if she had any questions about the procedure, the woman looked up and said, "Are you really going to stop my heart?"
"Yes ma'am. The procedure requires us to stop your heart for while."
The woman paused... and looked very disconserted... all Julie could think to say was..
"But we re-start it!"
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
So much for the Reformation!
Well. Consider your chains officially jerked.
See... There is annoying habit run amok in the post-reformation world that goes something like this... "I believe it, therefore it is in the Bible."
This is of course, the exact oposite of how it should go.
When I sat down to play this little prank I starting thinking of commonly held beliefs that were not mentioned in the Bible. The top two I came up with were polygamy and the Trinity. Both are sparingly addressed, if at all. Yet the belief and acceptance of such things are taken for granted.
I came very close to going with the Trinity, but in the end I decided polygamy was far more fun, and I wanted a simple concept that everyone had there heads firmly wrapped around. I believe we'll all agree that marriage is easier to grasp than the Trinity!
Besides... Polygamy was way more fun!
This is not to say that I believe that polygamy is right or wrong. I really have no oppinion on the matter beyond the fact that I am confident it is not offensive to God in the way that Sin is.
The problem is, many people, including some of you, are adamant that it IS in the Bible... and you go through amazing lengths to prove that you're right, even when confronted with obvious evidence to the contrary.
Many otherwise conserative literalists will stretch farther than any liberal to defend such beliefs, because they are terrified of learning that one of their beliefs is not speficly Biblical.
HA!
So much for the reformation.
Well. Consider your chains officially jerked.
See... There is annoying habit run amok in the post-reformation world that goes something like this... "I believe it, therefore it is in the Bible."
This is of course, the exact oposite of how it should go.
When I sat down to play this little prank I starting thinking of commonly held beliefs that were not mentioned in the Bible. The top two I came up with were polygamy and the Trinity. Both are sparingly addressed, if at all. Yet the belief and acceptance of such things are taken for granted.
I came very close to going with the Trinity, but in the end I decided polygamy was far more fun, and I wanted a simple concept that everyone had there heads firmly wrapped around. I believe we'll all agree that marriage is easier to grasp than the Trinity!
Besides... Polygamy was way more fun!
This is not to say that I believe that polygamy is right or wrong. I really have no oppinion on the matter beyond the fact that I am confident it is not offensive to God in the way that Sin is.
The problem is, many people, including some of you, are adamant that it IS in the Bible... and you go through amazing lengths to prove that you're right, even when confronted with obvious evidence to the contrary.
Many otherwise conserative literalists will stretch farther than any liberal to defend such beliefs, because they are terrified of learning that one of their beliefs is not speficly Biblical.
HA!
So much for the reformation.
Wives.
So... there are two topics that will silence folks around a dinner table quicker than any other. Even among the best of friends, with the least inhibitions... if you bring up anal sex, or the fact that God doesn't seem to be offended by polygamy, things go quiet in a hurry.
Setting aside the former, lets focus on polygomy for a minute. David, a man after God's own heart, had two wives. King Solomon had several wives. In fact... practically everyone who was married at all, had more than one wife, and God makes no mention of this being a bad thing.
Why then do I only get the one?
Confronting a minister friend of mine about this left him flustered and totally unwilling to speak to me about. Amazing that people will talk to a homosexual for years about his problems and how God feels about them, but if you ask them about a practice that God has no problem with, they squawk and run for the hills.
I was simply told to never discuss this with anyone. Bizarre huh? So...
Who decided that I only get one? God? Man? Looks to me like man. Personally I'd like to talk to the man that decided that. He's got some splainin' to do.
Of course... we know the rationale. A woman is worth just as much as a man, so a man shouldn't have more than one wife. Polygamy takes advantage of women with low self-esteem and subjects them to the will and control of one man. But ummm... what if the women want 1 guy to be their husband?
Lets face it, there ain't a whole lot of good guys out there. Real men are becoming about as rare as professional hockey games. So... Aren't the chicks shootin' themselves in the foot? Collectively I mean?
People used to think there was someone for everyone... sure... but what if that someone is already taken? Doesn't look to me like God minds sharing.
So... there are two topics that will silence folks around a dinner table quicker than any other. Even among the best of friends, with the least inhibitions... if you bring up anal sex, or the fact that God doesn't seem to be offended by polygamy, things go quiet in a hurry.
Setting aside the former, lets focus on polygomy for a minute. David, a man after God's own heart, had two wives. King Solomon had several wives. In fact... practically everyone who was married at all, had more than one wife, and God makes no mention of this being a bad thing.
Why then do I only get the one?
Confronting a minister friend of mine about this left him flustered and totally unwilling to speak to me about. Amazing that people will talk to a homosexual for years about his problems and how God feels about them, but if you ask them about a practice that God has no problem with, they squawk and run for the hills.
I was simply told to never discuss this with anyone. Bizarre huh? So...
Who decided that I only get one? God? Man? Looks to me like man. Personally I'd like to talk to the man that decided that. He's got some splainin' to do.
Of course... we know the rationale. A woman is worth just as much as a man, so a man shouldn't have more than one wife. Polygamy takes advantage of women with low self-esteem and subjects them to the will and control of one man. But ummm... what if the women want 1 guy to be their husband?
Lets face it, there ain't a whole lot of good guys out there. Real men are becoming about as rare as professional hockey games. So... Aren't the chicks shootin' themselves in the foot? Collectively I mean?
People used to think there was someone for everyone... sure... but what if that someone is already taken? Doesn't look to me like God minds sharing.
Money and Freedom
"Man is by nature a social animal. He who cannot live in society, or who, having no need, is sufficient unto himself, must be either a beast or a god." - Aristotle
The ol' greek is really talking about freedom here. He's talking about how we depend on others. It's our way.
I guess the best place to start this discussion is by defining freedom. I could list some silly dictionary definition, but that doesn't really do it for me. Freedom, is getting up in the morning, and having no obligations but your own.
Now you might say, "I'm free! I choose to go to work!" Do you? What happens if you choose not to go to work?
There are two ways to be free, and ol' Ari hit 'em both. You can be ultra poor (a beast) or independantly wealthy (a god).
The homeless man is free. He goes where he wants, when he wants. His lifestyle leaves quite a few things to be desired, but he is, without question, free.
So to is Bill Gates. If you think someone tell's ol' Bill what to do, you have another thing comin'.
Lets look at the middle though. The best thing anyone can do to improve the level of freedom they enjoy is to remove themselves from the chains of debt. And yes, debt limits your freedom, even if you chose to borrow the money. You may have chosen to handcuff yourself, but you're handcuffed just the same.
When you have these bills to pay... you cannot afford to miss any work. That means, when your boss walks in, cusses you... or smacks you on the ass and tells you how pretty your mouth is... you can't quit. You can't tell him to go f**k himself either. You depend on him.
Congratulations. You're a slave with a nice house.
Ahh.. but what if you were debt free? And what if you had 15,000 sitting in the bank? Then when your boss comes in and acts like an ass.... well.... You now have considerably more options don't you?
Mind you this isn't about not working. It's about options. Take a friend of mine for example. He took up an in-demand trade when he got laid off, and started making good money at it. When the folks at his old job called to re-hire him... he went. But he kept his trade work going to. Why?
Because the money from the trade made it a choice. He can quit that job any time he wants. He doesn't need it. Consequently, the job is far more enjoyable. All jobs are when you take no crap.
You want freedom? Here's how ya get it.
step 1) Save up an emergency fund of 3 months expenses
step 2) Spend as little as possible, and send all the extra money to the bill with the lowest balance.
step 3) Once that bill is paid off, which won't take long, take the money you were spending on it, and move it to the remaining bill with the lowest balance.
step 4) Repeat step 3 until you are debt free.
step 5) Pay cash for cars and everything under.
Step 6) Horde for the future.
Julie and I don't really follow this to the letter, but then, we are not exactly the average joe. Not many people can count on their income increasing by a factor of 10 over-night.
"Man is by nature a social animal. He who cannot live in society, or who, having no need, is sufficient unto himself, must be either a beast or a god." - Aristotle
The ol' greek is really talking about freedom here. He's talking about how we depend on others. It's our way.
I guess the best place to start this discussion is by defining freedom. I could list some silly dictionary definition, but that doesn't really do it for me. Freedom, is getting up in the morning, and having no obligations but your own.
Now you might say, "I'm free! I choose to go to work!" Do you? What happens if you choose not to go to work?
There are two ways to be free, and ol' Ari hit 'em both. You can be ultra poor (a beast) or independantly wealthy (a god).
The homeless man is free. He goes where he wants, when he wants. His lifestyle leaves quite a few things to be desired, but he is, without question, free.
So to is Bill Gates. If you think someone tell's ol' Bill what to do, you have another thing comin'.
Lets look at the middle though. The best thing anyone can do to improve the level of freedom they enjoy is to remove themselves from the chains of debt. And yes, debt limits your freedom, even if you chose to borrow the money. You may have chosen to handcuff yourself, but you're handcuffed just the same.
When you have these bills to pay... you cannot afford to miss any work. That means, when your boss walks in, cusses you... or smacks you on the ass and tells you how pretty your mouth is... you can't quit. You can't tell him to go f**k himself either. You depend on him.
Congratulations. You're a slave with a nice house.
Ahh.. but what if you were debt free? And what if you had 15,000 sitting in the bank? Then when your boss comes in and acts like an ass.... well.... You now have considerably more options don't you?
Mind you this isn't about not working. It's about options. Take a friend of mine for example. He took up an in-demand trade when he got laid off, and started making good money at it. When the folks at his old job called to re-hire him... he went. But he kept his trade work going to. Why?
Because the money from the trade made it a choice. He can quit that job any time he wants. He doesn't need it. Consequently, the job is far more enjoyable. All jobs are when you take no crap.
You want freedom? Here's how ya get it.
step 1) Save up an emergency fund of 3 months expenses
step 2) Spend as little as possible, and send all the extra money to the bill with the lowest balance.
step 3) Once that bill is paid off, which won't take long, take the money you were spending on it, and move it to the remaining bill with the lowest balance.
step 4) Repeat step 3 until you are debt free.
step 5) Pay cash for cars and everything under.
Step 6) Horde for the future.
Julie and I don't really follow this to the letter, but then, we are not exactly the average joe. Not many people can count on their income increasing by a factor of 10 over-night.
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