so we've killed saddam hussein.

on one hand, im suprised it took this long; yet on the other hand, im shocked as to just how quickly it was implemented after his conviction was upheld. all in all, its another bastard, mass murdering, despot off the books. im not so sure the world is really saddened by his passing. just as much as im not so sure the world was blessed by his presence either. at any level, and at any point in time; a m man is only so evil as the acts we view later. by all accounts, he did some very terrible things. he, as much as anyone like him, deserved to die. men like slobodan milosevic, augusto pinochet, who also died this year. the problem is, the "democratic" process of modern criminal trial were under way for some time with both of those men, but ultimately, was never finished. saddam was thrown around, convicted and killed in a nice neat manner. what bugs me about it, according to the video you can find on the internet [no, i wont link this one], [and yes, while it was staged, i believe it to be legitimately saddam hussein being hung], is the thuggish presence, and the child like glee involved in hanging a man. hanging a president [displaced], hanging the symbol of hates and fears of a nation we twice went to war with. the death does not bother me. but the scene feels like something out of 1922 southern alabama; not letter of the law, with prescribed measure, to condemn a man who brought murder to his own people. i can only imagine what a circus it really was like there. they used some complex which saddam had built to execute people in, for him. with seemingly 20 people in the gallows, multiple camera flashes going off, and people jumping up and down dancing and yelling. it looked like a mob lynching. just without the burning crosses. this is what bugs me. at the haugue we gassed and hung the nazis. in the cold war, we shot them or had them killed before they could be tried. in iraq, we deliver them means, but they choose the end. i cant say this is going to have a positive effect on anything over there. but he is dead. and i cant say the world will miss him.

George Clooney is out in the public eye again. Doing what? Looking sexy... dashing.... handsome... raveshing... doing some new pyscho-babble-under tone, under the surface film against the Bush administration? Growing out some more of his ever present cheese-grater stubble? No. He's out running his mouth off about Darfur. A shit hole, among shit holes, thats engulfed in a power struggle in eastern Africa. He went on to one of the morning shows [which I hate watching, but mom had it on as I was leaving], going on about how "hes been there... hes seen it... he knows we should do something about it." I laughed out loud. He walked around with a camera, the only white man in miles, and saw a refugee camp. Hes outraged. But he wouldn't go see any of the camps in and around Palestine, or Israel. No, just some shit hole in Africa. Hes running around, talking to anyone that might listen, who has either purse strings or political power, pleading how necessary it is for military action to take place to stop the suffering. I laughed again. Suddenly, a liberal is calling for military force. Suddenly, a liberal is calling for deployment into the middle of a huge shitstorm into a Muslim nation. Suddenly, a liberal wants us to return to Somalia. Because there is suffering. Maybe, and just maybe.... if he'd skip the Porsche some morning, and walk from his home high atop Mt. Olymp.... err the Hollywood Hills, and walk the streets of down town Los Angeles, hed find some suffering. He'd find a nice territorial border war going on in the streets... he'd find people living in the middle of it... and he might find a Muslim or two. But no, Africa is where we should go. Africa, dear Dr. Ross, is not where we should go. Africa, is and will be, the battleground for the third world. The same battleground that burns us for our exploitation of resources from the continent... the same grounds that harbour terrorists and extremists of genocide that put little Adolf off as amateur. The battleground, that was terrible of us to exploit for slaves. Its a place filled with people who have nothing, who fight for nothing, and a terrible desire to kill people for nothing. Africa, my dear man, is the last place we need to go. In my ideal concept, keep the wars for the petty on the largest island of poverty on the far side of the world. Yes, Africa is the mother country... mother to pain, civil unrest, and bloodshed. She will continue to be the battle ground of the third world, until there is no one left to kill. That, Mr. Clooney, is the reason why countries refuse to get involved in Darfur. This is a conflict with no end. Its a conflict that will draw out to be more unstable than Israel/Palestine, that will be fought bloodier than Iraq, and will consume more resources to sustain than the separated German states did. And for what? To challenge ourselves to the principles of democracy? To show ourselves, that we are true and steadfast to the cause of the free world? To help the less fortunate? To dispell the evil that exists in the world? What makes Darfur more attractive than any other struggle? Because they are black faces? Because they starve? Because they have never had democracy, and never shown that they wanted it? Because they have always existed in a border and culture war which outside nations have never understood. Pick your reason. As you and your liberal friends remind us so very often, this Administration fights wars for oil... show me some oil. Show me some money. Show me something, that you alledge, draws my interest and my convictions. Prove me wrong... Prove yourself right. If you can. Oh. Argue that we engaged in wars then, for our right reasons... of defending liberty and people who can not defend their own liberty with their own hands.... that argument. I ask you, what liberty ever existed in this region? Who asks us to intervene? No nation involved, wants the United States of America. They want her money. They want her guns for hire. But show me who is most deserving of "liberation" in this war you propose. I see a shit hole among shit holes. This war is the most recent war. Its unfortunate. Its terrible. Its hard on the people that live among it. But the best intervention at this point is non-intervention. Because it was the capitalist intervention and excursion into the Dark Continent, that brought about this war. They blame, like all problems in Africa, the Western powers and capitalist ventures of 400 years ago, as a key determinate of the problem. We heard this in Rwanda, Somalia, Ethiopia, Congo, Burundi before them. All of them blamed White Western nations for differing degrees of fault. If we haven't learned anything from Africa wars yet, then we should atleast realize this... stay out. In 40 years, a different dictator will come along, put the sword to some, unknown to us, ethnic group or clan... or maybe lay claim to territory neighboring his, and begin another war. Dawn a new day. But light it with the rays of yesterday. And still we don't see what it illuminated before.

-

WTF.






This is what I got for Christmas... jealous... Didn't think so.



























Who the hell thinks this is a present anyone would want to receive? Oh wait. Maybe the guy that owns the company.... Thats named after him.... Only he would decided to send you a clay Christmas village lightup model of the place you have to go to everyday to hear banjo music. Thankfully, the clay version of my store doesn't play the banjo music.... but with a file, and a trip to Radio Shack, I'm sure I could make it happen.

You know what... I really wish I'd keep up my penmanship. Really. The only time I really force myself to use good, legible longhand, is the Christmas Card season, and I hate that. Writting, by hand, really has no point anymore. And even if you come up with an occasion to do so, so many people of my age group can't write in cursive correctly, and most definitely can't read it. It's pathetic. Much like watches, we use only digital displays now. Appearantly the world moves so fast, all we can do is glance at a digital display, to spare us the precious miliseconds that we'd waste on a dial and recognition of its placement to interpret time. Sigh. Anyhow. Now that I'm done with Christmas Card season, I don't have much of an excuse to write anything. As usual, I go out, and buy a new set of pens, [God bless the Pilot pen company!], these are what I prefer , and I start out writting. Problem is, the first 4 to 5 letters look awful. To everyone that opens up their letters this year, to find something that a brain dead kitten wrote, I appologize. But it bugs me that I get that far out of practice. I remember the first year I did this, I had to look up how to write down certain letters in the alphabet. Seriously. The only time I ever use longhand anymore is to sign my name to something. I hate it. So now is the time of year, when I've gotten back into practice, but have no use. Eventually, I'll subside my rants... my cursive portion of the brain will atrophy, and I'll return to printing if I can't type something. Sigh. Eventually I'll be ok with it. I have to be. Just think, how many people actually carry a pen with them? A pen they use purely because it writes well... come on, stop lying. No one. You all carry pens, because they are cheap, free, or funny colored ink. And if you didn't have to sign a check, or a credit card slip, you probably wouldn't have them. Me? I carry a pen with me because it writes very well. Here again. I'm an idiot. I also carry a pocket watch. Sans digital output. In fact, that fucker is entirely mechanical in operation--- no batteries! How many people are like that, that you know? None. Here again, this is why I'm lonely and have no one to write to... Because there just aren't enough idiots out there like me any more. No one carries a nice watch, and no one has a freaking pen. And if they did, they dont have time to look at it, nor do they know how to write with it. Am I being too hard on people? No. Look at pants-holder-uppers. Two kinds; belts and suspenders [or braces as grandpa would call them], are really youre only choices. People use the belt. Why? Because they can't figure out how to adjust suspenders! Masterminding the process of assembling then self-attiring in suspender's exacberates the mind of modern Americans. So. We end up with the belt. A rope with holes in it. Really. Its a strip of dead animal with holes in it. Knots look tacky, so we find a way to fasten it to itself using holes. We got a rope, we got holes, we got ourselves a belt. Ta da. Thats a belt. Thats it. It doesn't require time, effort, or intellegence to operate a rope. Suspenders? Fuck!?! These have to button in first, then adjust... sometimes in 4 places, then you have to slide into them, putting them over your shoulders, and re-adjusting as needed. Too much. Give me the rope! Sigh. I also like suspenders. So the list grows. Suspenders. Pocket watch. Fountain pen. But I draw the line at the bowtie. I can't get behind that one. Only a group of men, with more seclusion than I can attain, can and do espouse the bowtie. Alas, its not for me. But I do have; suspenders, pocket watches, and fountain pens.

Posted Online: Posted online: December 15, 2006 10:27 PM
Print publication date: 12/16/2006

Teens accused of killing deer with snowmobile

Comment on this story

By Ben Botkin, bbotkin@qconline.com

ALEDO -- Three Mercer County teenagers allegedly used snowmobiles to pursue and kill a deer on Dec. 2, according to court records and an Illinois Department of Natural Resources officer.

The three boys were accused of unlawfully killing a deer with a snowmobile at 4:19 p.m. Dec. 2, according to the citations. The alleged incident took place southeast of 115th Avenue and 267th Street, an area outside Viola, court records said.

Cited were Travis D. Devriendt, 17, 1720 Knoxville Road, Sherrard, and two 16-year-olds, one from Viola and one from Sherrard, according to the citations. Two names were not being reported because the charge is a misdemeanor offense involving juveniles below the age of 17.

"Basically, these three subjects chased down a deer and killed the deer allegedly with a snowmobile," said Capt. Greg Hunter, a conservation officer.

Three snowmobiles were used during the incident, Capt. Hunter said.

The Class A misdemeanor charges are poaching offenses that carry fines of at least $500 each, Capt. Hunter said. The snowmobiles were impounded and are subject to forfeiture under the law.

Capt. Hunter said it's rare to see someone kill a deer with a snowmobile.

"It would not be a common event, thankfully," he said.

A court appearance is scheduled for Jan. 10.

----------------------

Seriously people, somehow this is news. This gripping headline was taken from the Rock Island Argus/ Moline Dispatch [its the same news paper, re-arranged with different titles] and its accompanying website: QCONLINE.COM Sons of bitches even got a link out of it. Anyhow. Kids, screwing around in snowmobiles [now that its been 50 degrees for a few days and the snow is gone] are chasing down and running over deer. That, my friends, is news. It doesn't mention it, although it should, but the steaming dungheap, that is the metropolis of Viola, are just shaking with fear. Kids! Snowmobiles! DEER!!! Obviously Hicktown, USA is going to hell in a handbasket... maybe some of the old people will lock their doors at night because of this. Maybe they will think twice about venturing out into the town late at night, knowing these hoodlums are racing about with a bloodlust for deer. Anyhow. Im in shock. Not about the deer thing. But how, ALLEGEDLY, this is what happened. Allegedly. Three kids, three snowmobiles, the middle of nowhere, a dead deer stain smeared over three snowmobiles; yet, ALLEGEDLY, this is what happened. I get it. The deer was dead. Possibly. It sprang to life, from its prexisting condition of being, allegedly, dead; where it suddenly jumped under the snowmobiles, one at a time, of three good natured kids, on their way home one night. Probably, they just found a dead deer in a snow bank, which, maybe, thawed instantly, so that when each, obviously, in turn, ran over the carcass, it decided to smear all over the place. Allegedly. Let me know how that works again. Deer stain smeared all over hell. Its warm. Maybe still moving. Three snowmobiles covered in deer fur and blood. Three kids whooping and screaming like they had the time of their life. Allegedly, they ran it over. Allegedly. Im in shock. First, that you can even come up with a plausible excused to require the use of ALLEGEDLY in this article, and second; that Viola has 267 named streets! pfft. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the real news story.

Espn.com has a [right this instant, atleast] front page article on Chad Greenway. After reading it I felt worse for him than I did when I saw the highlight on Sports Center several months ago. Just like when I saw Gallery had hurt himself pretty badly prior to training camp with the Raiders before his first year out. Regardless, its worth a read. It could have been a bit more in depth. But thats ESPN for you. Anyways Chad, eventhough its Minnesota, alot of us Hawkeye fans will still watch whenever you get in the game.

So while standing around at work today, it came out that I should talk about what bothers me. Sigh. I thought thats what I did here. Constantly. But maybe not in the way I should have. It came about while standing around, watching the idiots at work try to pick up one forklift with another that they had tipped and wedged inside the back of a semi trailer. As hilarious as that sounds, I'm sure it was somewhat dangerous. Probably because they have idiots involved, with heavy, diesel powered equipment, inside of a wooden trailer. But I digress. The point of the story is, that the girl in receiving had ample time on her hands to talk, as did I, watching a spectacle like that. We were going back and forth about alot of observations, and the lasting ones kind of ended up on my part. Summise to say, that she suggested that it was something I talk about.

I really don't see why. I think I have. I mean on here, I've given more than my share than what should be known. But I hesitate, not because I've said it before; but who am I saying it to, this time? Does it matter to anyone that reads this? Will it matter to me years in the future when I re-read this? Or is it just going to be some other phase I'm in... some funk... some perpetual thought process... me complaining... something like that. Is that how it will be understood? Perhaps, it is the point of being understood. But, returning to the point, I didn't really have a good answer for her today when she asked me why I didn't talk about it. I think, which is what I said, that it offended me deeply. It does. And naturally, I don't really like talking about that, when its out into open air. If someone offends me, I want to get to the point of that. The problem is, I never got that chance. When someone treats you like utter shit, you can NOT be anything but offended... or slighted... or used. Its that kind of feeling that I wan't to get out. I'm angry about it. But at the same time, its not that. Its about never getting a chance. For spite, being treated like shit, comes to mind... treating someone like shit that you knew to have feelings for you. I'm talking about ignoring that entire idea. Pretending that didn't happen. Arguing with them whenever they do anything. Always looking for a motivation to reject any overature for anything I might do. When, in simplest terms; I just really liked her. I thought I got along well with her. She made me smile. Yeah. Thats why. Or whatever. Being seen for face value, and openly rejecting that. Without a chance. In favor of... The choice that was made. Again, thats my personal opinion, that really doesn't belong out of my head. But ofcourse, I wan't my way. I want to argue my case. I think I was entitled to a shot, as much as anyone else was, and maybe more so. And it burns me up at times. Still. Months later. Thats kind of what we talked about today.

Its been in the back of my mind anyhow. Ever since I started listening to the lyrics of a song... called the Byronic Man. After doing some fact finding, I found that its a typeology of a character associated in classical brittish lit; especially that from the Romantic period; given by the name sake, Lord Byron. The Byronic Hero, as its conecptualized; includes elements of : [according to Wikipedia]

* having great talent
* exhibiting great passion
* having a distaste for society and social institutions
* expressing a lack of respect for rank and privilege
* thwarted in love by social constraint or death
* rebelling
* suffering exile
* hiding an unsavoury past
* ultimately, acting in a self-destructive manner

The concept was, at first, nothing of note. The only thing of particular interest, was why did they even bother to name such a character? But the more I read into it... The more I started thinking about how well I apply to it. No wonder I embrace certain iconic characters more closely than others; several of them show to greater extent, these types of qualities. Certain ones, maybe some more than other, I struggle with. And if any of the previous paragraph rant, about love and scorn should register, it would ring with the premise of becoming "thwarted in love." Its nothing. Or its something more base about myself, than I previously put much thought into before now.

It still leaves me with the conversation we had. More importantly, the answer to the unasked question, why does it bother me/ why do I still harbor resentment about it? The point was made today that, all people get burnt, all people have a hard time, all people have self doubt; yet all people move on. Which means nothing. Its not that Im not getting on, its not that I live curled up in self doubt, or that every day I turn this into a Scott's-life-is-too-hard game. In fact, my retort had something to do with; at those instances, where people are challeged with the fact of hard times, or challed at the point of self doubt, or are challenged to oblige misery; don't those times become pivitol in the formation of the REST of their life? Aren't those the defining moments that provide the point of change? She didn't seem to follow me. Maybe I reflect on S. and this entire fucking mess as being the point at which there has to be some turn. Maybe, after years of getting treated like trash, and never finding anything that has ever worked out in this sense, maybe thats why I focus on it. Because to me, I wanted it to happen. I wanted very badly for that to be come a positive point of turn; and instead it was a very negative one. She grasped the idea of it today, but asked me if that meant I was going to give up and go gay. I laughed. But with a straight face, I think about the giving up portion of it.

So here I am talking about it. Allegedly, this is the problem I have. I don't talk about it. Yet, what was there, in what I just said that was really worth mentioning? Anybody that reads this has little to no less respect, no more contempt, and no more control over the situation. The one that should read it, won't. And who the hell is that? Honestly, I don't know anymore. I could argue the object of my illrepute... I could argue that. But she doesn't care. I could argue that my friends should read it to understand me. But thats beyond understanding; it enganges in empathising if anything. I should say, the girl of my dreams should read this; but that probably isn't even logical. If its anyone, who should read this, its probably just me. Maybe thats what Jana meant when I'm supposed to talk more about it. It would be too easy to be angry to the girl I tried for... Just too easy to be angry, to be hurt, to ask why I'm no good, or why I never deserved a chance. It would be pointless to tell people that have no interest in me what so ever. Its laughable to think that my best friends could do any more for me than to listen to it, like raindrops on the rooftop. Its probably best that I act it out in my head. Its better that I keep it to myself some times. Its safer when I don't talk to anyone about it. Because, I guess, I'm a better salesman when I keep my mouth shut sometimes.

Its appearant, that I am quite passionate about a few things. Even if they are personal. Thats why I choose not to talk about everything. Because talking doesn't do anything, and a lot of times, it doesn't even make you feel better about it. I got burnt. I got jerked around, taken for my time, my effort, and my character. In return I gave back faith, understanding, loyalty, and genuine friendship. All I really lost was some money and some productivity at work. But figuritively, I suppose I damaged something else I'm not especially sure I wish to repair. I'm not sure I care enough to try to fix anything about it. On her side of the fence or my own, I mean. I'm not rushing to make with the good guy, uber winner, come off approach to her. I'm not going to get any lip service about how good of a person I really am, or how wrong people can be to people like me. I won't even get an appology for my feelings. But I'm not rushing out to change my feelings either. Its altogether wrapped and tied in the same package to me. I really do think, that I'm not interested in fixing any of it anymore. For her, or for me. Or anyone else for that matter. But I talked about it.

So I was watching ESPN today, and they showed this greatly, glorified, interview with Sammy Sosa. Sammy, having decided to return to the J-curl hair-do, started blowing off about how he has value, how teams will shop him this off season, and how he wants to get back into playing professional baseball. Ha. What a joke. Its funny isnt it? Remember when Jose Canseco did that thing this year too, trying to pitch for some minor league team, because "he really missed the spirit of competition" or something... More like; gee I'm off the 'roids now, I wonder if I can play like I did when I was 18 before I started them. Not so much. I think every Jose Canseco comeback has been a disaster. Sammy? pfffff. please. Give him a solid year to get off 'roids and 'roid like substances, and now he wants back in? Remember, Sosa opted out of the World Baseball Classic... and gee, that wouldn't have had anything to do with the higher levels of drug testing used, would it? Probably not. He just didn't see the point in doing something COMPETETIVE, for the name of the game. It didn't include enough dollar $igns for $ammy $o$a to come out and play, with the probability of a steroid witch hunt going on. But now, oh how those 9 months have changed everything... as seen by his horrid hair cut... so that competition is what he misses... not money. In fact, the reporter even put it to him "If you were offered a million dollars to play for Team A, or 500GR to play for the Cubs, where would you play?" He wouldn't answer. He just popped that 'roid stretched $hit eating grin. You stay classy Sammy. And you'll stay out of The Hall of Fame too.

Which begs my thoughts on the upcoming class...

• Harold Baines NO
• Albert Belle DOUBTFULL, MEDIOCRE NUMBERS, ASSHOLE OFF THE FIELD
• Dante Bichette WHATEVER, WITHOUT COLORADO HES NOTHING
• Bert Blyleven VERY POSSIBLE
• Bobby Bonilla NO
• Scott Brosius HA HA, NO
• Jay Buhner NO... AND HALF HIS RBI'S WERE GRIFFEY JR!
• Ken Caminiti USED ROIDS, DIED OF DRUG O/D, NOT HALL MATERIAL HOW HE WON THAT MVP IS BESIDES ME
• Jose Canseco WROTE A BOOK ON HOW HE USED ROIDS! BUT WAS FIRST 40/40
• Dave Concepcion WHO? NO!
• Eric Davis NO... HE WAS A HOT SHOT THAT WAS STUCK PLAYING IN THE "NATTI
• Andre Dawson DESERVES CONSIDERATION, MVP, SOLID NUMBERS
• Tony Fernandez NO
• Steve Garvey I'D THINK IT OVER, BUT NOT GREAT ODDS
• Rich Gossage I'D CONSIDER THE GOOSE
• Tony Gwynn ABSOLUTELY, 15x's ALL STAR, MILLIONx's BATTING CHAMP, 3K HITS< GREAT GUY
• Orel Hershiser CHECK, HE'S IN, SCORELESS INNINGS STREAK IS GODLIKE, GREAT ROLE MODEL
• Tommy John HE DESERVES IT, 26 YEARS AS A STARTER, GIVES UP ONLY 300 HR's, AND HAS THE SURGERY NAMED AFTER HIM
• Wally Joyner BITCH PEASE!
• Don Mattingly A YANKEE I RESPECT, BUT NO
• Mark McGwire ANDRO, NOT A ROID, BUT ALSO NOT IN THE HALL
• Jack Morris WON ME ALOT OF GAMES ON NINTENDO, MAYBE ID CONSIDER IT
• Dale Murphy HE SHOULD BE CONSIDERED, BUT WON'T BE, BACK TO BACK MVP
• Paul O'Neill LOVED HIM, BUT NOTHING HALL WORTHY OTHER THAN WORK ETHIC
• Dave Parker FALSE
• Jim Rice EH, NO.. HE was BOSTON'S OFFENSE AFTER YAZ... BUT EHH
• Cal Ripken Jr. VERY POSSIBLE UNANIMOUS FIRST BALLOT-ER
• Bret Saberhagen YOU MEAN HE PLAYED FOR TEAMS AFTER KANSAS CITY?
• Lee Smith YES, HE DESERVES A SHOT, RETIRED AS ALL TIME SAVES LEADER 470 SOME SAVES, SAVED 40+ GAMES FOR FOUR YEARS CONSECUTIVELY
• Alan Trammell NO
• Devon White HAHAHA NO
• Bobby Witt NO, SUB .500 WINS, GAVE UP A HIT PER INNING, AND A RUN EVERY OTHER

Aside from what the media is saying, this doesn't look like that solid of a class to me. Problem is, this is one of the first few classes where EVERYONE played in my recollection. See, that right there says something. For years, I've had to sit and watch players my dad watched, get Hall consideration, now, we're on to the players of my generation... Which is the problem. I'm biased because I grew up watching these guys play. I have their baseball cards, their Starting Line Up action figures, I modeled batting stances after them in backyard wiffleball games, and I talked them up in arguments with friends. Some of these guys have alot more give, when it comes to me, than I know the Baseball Writers Association has for them. For alot of these players, I had no clue they were such dirt bags, or such great off-field persons until way later in my years; for me, growing up, it was about the numbers and who I saw on TV or in the box scores. Paul O'Neil. I loved the guy. All round, he was a great player. He's a great person to have on a team. Hard work ethic, and he valued his time playing the game while he was there. But that alone can't make him Hall worthy. Jack Morris. He brought back the splitter and cutter for guys like Curt Schilling, Mariano Rivera, and Randy Johnson... Sure, he helped get the Twins to the Series, and later with Toronto he was quite valuable... But the most success he ever had was on my Nintendo. I can't make a case for him, outside of the Nintendo Hall Of Fame. Guys like Jim Rice, I can't connect with... but everyday days like Joyner, Bonilla, Baines, Caminitti, Davis, were all descent players... with respect. But I can't see them making the cut. Were left with a set of guys that deserve consideration, and those that will get consideration. Not the same thing. Garvey, Dawson, Murphy and Smith deserve consideration. They wont get it. Not enough to matter atleast. But what the media wants to focus on, are guys that don't deserve consideration, but will get it... McGwire, Belle to some extent, Canseco, Caminiti. The Roid era. Three of the guys admit to Roid use [even by their stoic ill-refute to do so, they do admit it], and Albert Belle really wouldn't surprise me to have used something, watching him play. The media wants this to become some showdown against baseball fans, and baseball as a respectable sport. And while, these guys may have 480 home runs, 40/40 years, MVP's and the like attached to their names... I cant vote any of them in on clear thoughts. Is it the roids per se... Maybe. Is it knowing that they robbed my sense of youth from me.... Maybe. Because I, like most every other fan, didn't find out about steroid useage until these guys were done. We didn't find out, until we enjoyed them at what they did, to find out they cheated to get ahead. But, even so, none of them has automatic Hall numbers. Sure, McGwire comes the closest to that, but we all know why. Thats what makes me want to see guys like Dale Murphy make it. Lee Smith. Goose. Burt. Gwynn. Ripken. Guys that could still be my childhood heroes, even as I'm an adult.

some interesting stuffs...

Casino Royale. gold. pure gold. i loved this movie, and reccomend any Bond fan [except fans of the shitty, money grabbing James Bond Jr. cartoon series] to see it, and keep an open mind for 30 minutes. it took me about that long to be sold on Daniel Craig. sure. blonde Bond. that made me skeptical. hes a bit more muscular than other Bonds. he seems to have that scruff/edge/bite to the character that wasnt there before. but after 30 minutes, i was sold. what really impressed me about this particular film were the level of realism to the stunt work this time.... this is something, that to me, has been lacking since really the Dalton era films... aside from the way the bomb-making guy in the opening chase sequence seems to bounce around all the time, everything else seems very, very plausible, if not how youd expect something to play out... by this i mean, no motorcycles jumping between helicopter blades... no bond, floating around the space station shooting up gold toothed morons... no flying around on metal zeppelins... no flying over japan in a suitcase helicopter... no Tatto or the dude from Fantasy Island trying to be the bad guy... none of that. to me, the story in this film has as much to do with why i like it, as the new actor as Bond. The story is succinct and makes it relevant. Sure, Bond is out roguing around and stumbles into this one; but whats more relevant than the financing of terror? it keeps the scope of the movie quite in line, and quite relevant-- something Moonraker obviously cant figure out-- but it stays logical in progression... something lately that was lost on the movies... while abandoned nuclear arsenals MIGHT pose a problem, the former Bond ally, we never really knew or cared about, faking his own death to ally with some other guy who is billed as a "man who can push himself harder than any other normal man" somehow ended up with these nuclear weapons, just gets lost on me. but for this movie, when its predecessor was "The World Is Not Enough" where do you go, in scope, with that next movie? how many times can we, believeably, watch Bond destroy a nuclear weapon, or fight a guy with a shark tank, or kick the hell out of ninjas, or beat up random voo-doo zombie lords, or screw some ho' named Octopussy, and come away with anything but the campy sense of it all. this movie shattered that for me. why? because they did it once before. yes, Dalton. for all the haters out there; Timothy Dalton's Bond was a stark change from Roger Moore and Connery's Bond. Dalton intrduced vengence, needing luck in fighting the enemy, and more of a sense of plausible nature. Everyone canned Dalton, the actor, but no one says much about the films and story lines of his two films. If anything, they shy away from the dark nature of License To Kill... its laced with profanity, violence, and down right nasty themes of revenge and sadistic nature of people. but Bond needed that, to break away from the campy shit that became the Roger Moore era. Who cares? Well, that formula worked well... that particular Bond actor did not. [by the way The Living Daylights is one of my top favorites!, aka... the Other Dalton movie] , this incarnation gives us a return to a real story line, like what we got out of the Dalton films, but with a Bond that makes it work. Besides, we come to expect a different hero now a-days. Face it. We expect to see a conflicted hero in the post-modern age of cinema. Think Die Hard, think Pulp Fiction, think Gladiator, think Sin City. Huge movies; but all of them twist the classic conception of "ideal good guy" and "ideal villan." We dont want that simplicity anymore. Think Superman Returns. We now question if Superman is gay; because nothing is appealing about plain old PB and J sandwhiches, just like nothing is appealing about the superhero our grandparents adored. We o want: grit, gore and gusto. We get all three from Craig. and it works. Really, fucking well, I might add. I mean it. I really like this movie. About the only spots I grumbled about had to do with the poisoning sequence [somewhat of a spoiler, but not really], and the whole eloping with this chick sequence... only because I felt both of these parts felt unnecessary to force the story. who cares? well, I felt like getting up and leaving when the whole eloping scene started up... I really felt, that if this was the Brosnan, or Moore Bond; thats where the movie would have ended. thankfully, on both accounts, it pushes us back to something thats a bit more interesting. bottom line. go see this thing. its the re-education of James Bond... you'll spend more time, like I am now, trying to figure out how to rank this Bond into the story line of the back catalog, than you will about anything else, if thats the only objection you will come up with.


Work. Some of you might know how I've been getting sick of getting slammed with freight, and getting fucked into doing all the work and watching the managers stand around and do nothing all day. Worse than that, I hate getting smacked by them for things that I do to make sense, because they don't like it... or how thats not how they've done it for 15 years... Well, today made up for that. With a slight smile to my face, someone from general office showed up. Just so happened, I know him. heh. See where this is going? They happened to stumble upon alot of fucked up things in that department... purely on their own... but I fleshed out the back story for everything I was asked about. Well. Little Ms. and Mr. Perfects got their asses hauled in back and thoroughly reamed out today for well over an hour. Appearantly, this was the worst visit score our department has received in recent memory. And, I can't say we didn't earn it. And I can't say, I'm not glad we got hammered for it. They needed that to happen. They needed someone to drop the axe and make them realize things need to change. People went scurrying about to fix things, and supposedly started getting defensive and argumentative with general office about it all. I laughed. Its pathetic. Own up to it. If they say, "Scott, your department looks like dog shit." I've got to own that. I own that statement, just as much as I would own, "Scott your department is the best looking in the district." Because thats what I was told at Staples. But appearantly, I know nothing of the "Menards way", or of running a department. I never once argued with Staples corporate office visits. I, instead, would ask to clarify, or have them walk it with me to see WHY they are saying what they say... I would even, on perfect scores, have them come up with criticisms to put on the reports... Why? Because I need something to work on and improve on... nothing is that good. The Menards way? Be difficult with them, argue, refuse to do things, and let the place look like dogshit. Thats great management appearantly. In fact, people were complaining that the visitor went out of his way to go through and detail all the problems he found.... my comment; "Why wouldn't he?" For God's sake, if it looks that bad, they have no choice. Kind of reckon it to an off-duty cop... if hes sitting eating dinner, and watches someone get shot, hes got to do something. Off duty or not. This store visit wasn't meant to be a house cleaning action, I think it was just a normal drop in, for this guy to check out how his projects are working out in our store... But he walked into a place that looked that bad, he had to do something. Like I said, I can't say we didn't deserve it. And I own up to it. Hopefully some other people around here will as well.

It was more than a week ago when I said, "I'd follow this up with something more." Yeah, that didnt happen so much I guess. Just been caught up working. Ofcourse, once its my weekend, its slammed busy. Plus we had Thanksgiving holiday, and Black Friday in there as well, and those pretty much stripped me of any days off last week... leading me back to the current point in time. So.



Wisconsin.

What can I say really? It was exactly as people told me it would be... yet altogether lacking. To give a generic overview; its about 20 hours worth of company training [the vast, vast majority of it spent in direct vendor/product training workshops], crammed into two days... and... when I say two days, I really mean... We are flown in at noon, stay till midnight, start at 6am then are flown out home by 2pm. Its a whirlwind to say the least. Anyways. Doing my best not to compromise anything here...

We catch a flight from the local /international/ [read: non-international] airport commercial wing, which, cool enough to say, they land the fucking plane about 10 feet from the doors, and you walk right on board.... no tickets, no luggage checks, no security. Private industry is great like this! Anyways, the company plane already has other people on it, we get crammed in the back and we're off! Which, to me, was the best part. I'd never been on an airplane. So everything was new. Well, the sudden urge to vomit when you take off wasnt new... but newly induced. Its a short approach, and since im sitting on the tail, I get the bumpiest ride of anyone... I wasn't expecting it. But nothing happened. But once airborne, I'm somewhat taken back by just how magnificent flight is. I can't find any other words really... majestic maybe. But it was just so surreal coming up above the clouds watching the cars and people shrink to nothingness. Then the idea of just cruzing up above the high clouds just gave that idea of something angelic. I dunno. I was actually fine with just flying around. But eventually it ends... We land at the whopping metropolis that is Chippewa Valley Regional. Wheeee. Its a happening place. Obviously, the only time this place sees this many planes is when Menards flys everyone in. We are taken on buses directly to the "complex" as I heard it referred to.

Menards general offices are much larger than I thought. The reason why, I presume, is that it also houses the main distribution site for product to the retail stores... Which, honestly, is massive. They also have some odd things on the "complex" grounds... a nail stylist, a barber shop, gift shop, restaraunt, and race track. Besides the general office areas. None of this was accessable for me. We were herded directly inside to a convention center wing of the "complex" instructed to dump luggage and take seats in a large lecture hall. From there I met Larry Menard. Then a whole bunch of other people, then some opening comments and pretty much dismissed to start the vendor fair. That involved a large number of the product vendor's from my department, all providing about 40 minutes on topics as they saw fit. It took until 11 something at night to finish up, which we were herded back onto the bus and taken to the hotel... which was miles away from anything... until we were picked back up before 6am to start again doing more of the same, plus with more time from different Menard's people on company related policies and information. Before we knew it, we were herded on a bus again, and shipped to the airport to depart. Seriously, it went very fast.

We had a tremendous amount of information thrown at us in a very short time frame, and I got the impression most people couldn't handle it. Well that, and I walked away with the sense of how incompetent my peers are that work in other stores... people in my groups had very little understanding in products, sales techniques, company policies and none of them seemed to put forth any effort or attention. While I have to admit, most of the information was rudimentary, and not designed to be the be-all-end-all source of knowledge for any thing; I doubt very much that alot of usefull information gets retained in such a short time frame. Well that, and they send the same people to it every year... so many of the department lifer's have done this 10 to 15 times already.

Anyways, that was it. I was back on the ground the next day. Back in Illinois. Somewhat void of the drama or excitement that I was looking forward to finding. The only thing of real excitement was meeting my possible boss and coworkers. The more they talked to me, the more they seemed interested in bringing me up for an opening to interview. Probably as a merchandiser, but maybe as an analyst. It also gave me a brief look at Eau Claire. To a lesser extent, I knew about as much going in as I did coming out, and with out any good looks at the town, I dont have any real impressions about it. It looks to be similar to Iowa City in size, slightly lacking in accomodations thoguh. From the conversations I had, most people spend their free time out on the lakes around the area. Housing looked like a big mix... older houses, with new rentals mixed in hap-hazardly. Supposedly it has a college in the town somewhere. But it doesn't offer any masters programs that interest me; so scratch that possibility. I dunno. I guess Ill find out more about that stuff later on. But that was the trip in a quick burst of sentences.



Things of Other Variety.



I picked up a copy of Cradle of Filth's new cd before I left town. Im trying desparately to like it. Much like Ive been struggling with the new Black Label cd. Its not that either of them are bad. I think its just that I like the preceeding catalog so much, that these dont seem to do much. Thornography is very mellow, compared to some of the old work; like Damnation... or Dusk and Her Embrace... While its an extension from Nymphetamine [their last cd], its not taking it as far as that cd did. Sure, the elements are there. Yeah, the same themes are there. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So when do I get hooked on this one, like I did with Nymphetamine? Answer is I havent. Im trying. I think this one just goes into the pile. Its been produced to be a logical successor by doing what Nymphetamine did, but it seems repetitive here. Not forced. But not unique either. Its something I'd say is now more gothic metal... not at all the black metal they were at one point in time. Haters say they sold that out for mainstream recognition and popularity [hence people know this band for 2 reasons... the t-shirt with "Jesus Is A Cunt" written on it, or for their appearnce on Viva La Bam on MTV]. I dunno. Same thing with Black Label's Shot To Hell. While Mafia wasnt great, it has alot of stuff I really dig. STH seems to be pushing the ballads more than I wanted... which, dont get me wrong, I love Hangover Music V. 4; but these are a different kind of animal. I was hoping this would turn out more like e. 1919 or the self titled. Not so. So lately I've been playing alot of older stuff from all over.

Anyways... Ive eaten up a bunch of time tonight writting about nothing new. Something interesting... uhm. I had to take in Big Red for the first time. I had an oil pressure sensor go out... she'd run fine, just I had [according to the panel] zero line pressure; however it was running at a nominal temperature! Funny. Since it reads the oil temperature as it passes through the block, it would have to be getting pressure in the line to pump it up to that point. I hoped it wasnt an oil pump going out, which gladly it was not. So that was a first.

Hmm. I bought a new mp3 player. Mainly for the trip to Eau Claire. Partly because I wanted one. I had a cd based one most of the way through college, which was crapping out, so I thought Id splurge a bit to upgrade. No ipod. Those are "teh gax0r" indeed. Instead I have a Zen Touch 40 gig. Works well. All hard drive based, so its heavier and can skip some, but the battery life is fantastic. Something like 20 hours per full charge! Thats what impressed me the most.

I also bought a new coat. It was something I'd wanted for a long time too. So I thought I'd buy one. Its a dress coat, so I really don't many opportunites to wear it now, but it looks good. Classy. Definitely a Scott kind of buy. I've heard that from about 4 people now.

I suppose everyone else here will laugh at me... but I have now officially been on a plane. Yes, how 1938 of me to say that. But its true. Ive never been on an airplane when its been in the air. Menards, I have you to thank for that. That and the headache I got from the 192 decibles of cabin noise from the outdated turbo props you flew me in... but thats really all water under the bridge now. Besides, it gave me a view, of what could very well turn out to be my home in the next few months... greater Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Or, lesser Eau Claire, as I found it to be. Anyways, I put something up later about the actual reason why I was there, but for now, I thought I'd pull some pictures off my phone to share.

well, with the elections past us now its time to think. while i could sit and bemoan the outcome; id rather fill the space with something else. im not really sad that republicans lost control of congress. im frustrated about it. im disgusted that they will probably elect nancy pelosi as speaker of the house. but im not sad. it was coming. but its never a joyous thing to see. much like winston churchill and party before them, republicans had to know that the key to a job well done is a swift boot out of office once the need seemingly wears off. and see, thats why im not sad. no, its not that i feel republicans have done everything perfectly, when it comes to the defense of america, but i know deep down, democrats could never have fullfilled was was completed by this party. that and the slight that is being trounced in election has the sharp sting of "we'll be back", especially knowing this world. a party with strong convictions, and with the desire to do right and defend american principles, knowing they will be spit upon by the media in the few short years to come, is a job that is unenviable, but undeniable. but i cant say i care that much for what the administration has continued to be. Rush Limbaugh says he feels 'liberated' now that its come and gone [the elections]. Sean Hannity tells 'that let our hearts not despair', during these days. Pat Buchanan sees the change as necessary. And Newt, himself, calls this a time for great opportunity. While the popular commentators might spread the news about how this could be a positive; notice... I really only ally with my true idol. Pat has always struck a chord with me. This is, indeed, a necessary change. Its part of the system. So I'm not sad. But I'm not excited either.

What was more troubling than that, was the amount of people NOT voting. Informally, it was about 2 / 10 that I talked with at work, who WERE voting. That is counting myself, of course. Several expressed interest in not even caring about elections. Two protested about not even having registered to vote. One thought it was some sort of misguided political statement, that he'd never once voted in his life. I was mortified. But then again, thats the type of distinction that is drawn between me, and all of you. Clearly, I'm not inteded to live in this generation. I dont act like my peers. I share no resemblance to their desires in my own life. I cant fathom the idiocy that is their "politcal" nature. It runs deeper than just skin deep. Even my own brother, wont register to vote. I reminded him, that even though you dont have to serve in war, you submitted Selective Service paperwork; so even if you dont vote, at least register. Nope. And, thats something I presume thats common now. That was something that made this election sad, in a way, to me. The sheer number of people in my age group, that just wont vote, and refuse to register, or in any way, familiarize themselves with the methods of the country they live in.

I wish I really had more to say about it. But its over. The elections are past us now. Let America bloat herself on socialist reforms, political favors, and expansive government agendas that she voted for. But just dont swear at me... "Speaker Pelosi" should be stripped of the lexicon.


Other than all that. Not alot else going on. Thursday and Friday I fly up to the M's home office in Eau Claire. Aside from what everyone else tells me, I'm looking forward to it. I'd like to see the 'compound' that this company owns. I'm looking forward to seeing how they view this whole arm of yearly training, compared to everyone on the ground that I work with. That, and I get to fly on a company jet. I've never flown before. Even though we are only airborne for about 40 minutes, I'm still excited about the ride in the first place. While the 19 hours of hell training, locked into the compound, doesn't excite me; I'm still looking forward to it. Maybe after this, I'll have a better idea if I'm going to stick around or not. But so far, its treating me better than copier sales. I have more money. No more wet and frozen toes. No worn out shoes. No bitching boss. Just banjo music, nascar, and a lack of teeth to deal with.

so the tidal wave is coming... i just hope i can manage to stay above water when it rises... its the old people, the elderly, they revolt! just another day at the M; and why would i say such a thing? the normal amounts of toothless nascar "contractor" crews came in.... just the normal flow of mexicans with 5 year olds translating for them showed up... but it was the old people. the people over 68 years old, were starting the riots today. one litterally pushed and shoved, twice, someone in my department over a 2 dollar filter. another threw a fit because the store would only give her in-store-credit for a check she wrote the day before... all of them were stomping around getting pissed off about god knows what... and what surprised me was the nature of the violence... actually physically shoving someone... it was bad enough we had him walked out. then the old bat i had to deal with wasnt much better... just another typical day i suppose. somehow, this clientel we amass, just seems to find new ways to penetrate all the pores on my skin each day, making me question the true nature of people. but i have to remind myself, that when the buisness model is to deal with the bottom end, with the lowest prices, with the people that have no business buying and doing things; if that is your business... then youre bound and determined to end up with people like this in your stores. and i think, i traded in my jacket and tie for this.

exactly one year ago, i walked into RK Dixon, wide eyed, and hopeful. officially a copier rep. unofficially, i should have begun counting my days at that moment. i remember being led around, meeting nearly a hundred people in an hour, that even months later could never remember who they were; thinking, "could this be a good thing?" i remember having my hair slicked up, wearing my new suit; which was my college graduation present from my parents, sitting in my 2 week old car; with my hand on the door handle, being nervous about what i say and do. being nervous about who i was inside that car, and who was going to get out of it. that sound so sad. but at the time, i was nervous about becoming an adult. wearing adult clothes, with and adult car, and the adult job. i was nervous about having a place there in that adult kind of world. and in the end, they didnt have a place for me. and i think. i guess i still think about how it would have been if id stayed... or if i could have made it work longer... i think about how much of an adult, like them... like they wanted me to be, that i would have become by now. but in reality; i was nervous about being me. not about becoming an adult, but nervous about being me, scott; in a room full of professional adults. because, thats really what it was. the slicked up hair, the fancy suit, the shinned up shoes, the slick job... how much of that was me. how much of that was me underneath it, working for someone else, being told to not to be me, but to be a slick copier salesman, pushing boxes into offices. to be able to force the glib joke, to make 30 appointments per week, to land a million dollar sales line... i was was nervous about becoming that... when i should have been nervous about why they wanted that. looking back now, i miss wearing the jacket... the tie.... the shoes.... i miss having a reason to look nice. i miss having a job with some sort of presteige and opportunity. but. i missed being me. to do that, meant i had to be them... be like them, be with them, do for them, do as them... to be them. and i wasnt. dont get me wrong. i sold copiers in my time with them. but i wasnt one of them. and i was nervous about how i could be. but i traded it in for this... idiocy looms dark in the clouds, i should say... and the light of retrospect is bright; but a pinhole in the sky. a year ago i started my day, with my coffee in hand. on my first day as a real sales rep. as a real adult. a year later, i remember the day for what it was. i remember that i was last year, and this is now, this year. this year, i sell toilet seats. last year i sold 50,000 dollar copiers. last year, i was just begining where i thought my life was going. this year, i sit near the dead end of the life i hoped to abandon. today, but last year, i sat with a picture of a very special person on my empty desk. i had my note pad, my new company lap top, the telephone that didnt work, and my picture of her in my hand, sitting at my cube. she made me smile. it was a funny picture i took with me. almost like i knew, i was moving into a place where id need the humor in her eyes most days to make it through. this year, i look at it as a picture. i hold the same picture, thats now face down in my desk drawer. shes the same person. in the picture atleast. i want to think shes the same person a year later. but this year... i dont live with pictures. this year, shes pretty much let me know what the score is, and id rather not talk about it... just to say, this year, i look at that picture and remember what i wanted; and try to forget what i wont get. this year, isnt much like last year. last year was a picture in my hand. this year, i put it back in the drawer, facedown. this year is just another year. this year, i sit in my car, with my hair all loose and mangled... i wear rumpled jeans and tore up boots... i eat a cold lunch in a box... and somehow, with that picture in my mind, i have to realize what last year was worth before i get to next year.

again, this is why wikipedia is so damned cool.

.99999999999999999 = 1. The Article.

While they go on on ad nauseum about this, the basis of the argument is, as you guessed it, .99999999999999 really is 1. Don't bother to come up with an objection; the folks masterminding this article with brow beat you with an incredible 999999999 proofs as to why you are an idiot. Seriously, some of the deliciousness that is the article:

One reason that infinite decimals are a necessary extension of finite decimals is to represent fractions. Using long division, a simple division of integers like ¹?₃ becomes a recurring decimal, 0.3333…, in which the digits repeat without end. This decimal yields a quick proof for 0.999… = 1. Multiplication of 3 times 3 produces 9 in each digit, so 3 × 0.3333… equals 0.9999…. But 3 × ¹?₃ equals 1, so 0.9999… = 1.<sup>[1]

...</sup>

Another kind of proof more easily adapts to other repeating decimals. When a number in decimal notation is multiplied by 10, the digits do not change but the decimal separator moves one place to the right. Thus 10 × 0.9999… equals 9.9999…, which is 9 more than the original number. To see this, consider that subtracting 0.9999… from 9.9999… can proceed digit by digit; the result is 9 ? 9, which is 0, in each of the digits after the decimal separator. But trailing zeros do not change a number, so the difference is exactly 9. The final step uses algebra. Let the decimal number in question, 0.9999…, be called c. Then 10c ? c = 9. This is the same as 9c = 9. Dividing both sides by 9 completes the proof: c = 1.^[1]

...

As part of Ed Dubinsky's "APOS theory" of mathematical learning, Dubinsky and his collaborators (2005) propose that students who conceive of 0.999… as a finite, indeterminate string with an infinitely small distance from 1 have "not yet constructed a complete process conception of the infinite decimal". Other students who have a complete process conception of 0.999… may not yet be able to "encapsulate" that process into an "object conception", like the object conception they have of 1, and so they view the process 0.999… and the object 1 as incompatible. Dubinsky et al. also link this mental ability of encapsulation to viewing 1/3 as a number in its own right and to dealing with the set of natural numbers as a whole.^[19]


I suppose if there is any doubt to the argument, Who Da Fuck Cares?; the answer would be... appearantly nerds on the internet. Yes, they prove that as well....

With the rise of the internet, debates about 0.999… have escaped the classroom and are commonplace on newsgroups and message boards including many that nominally have little to do with mathematics. In the newsgroup sci.math, arguing over 0.999… is a "popular sport", and it is one of the questions answered in its FAQ^[55] The FAQ briefly covers 1/3, multiplication by 10, and limits, and it alludes to Cauchy sequences as well.

...

In the same vein, the question of 0.999… proved such a popular topic in the first seven years of Blizzard Entertainment''s Battle.net forums that the company's president, Mike Morhaime, announced at an April 1, 2004 press conference that it is 1:

"We are very excited to close the book on this subject once and for all. We've witnessed the heartache and concern over whether .999~ does or does not equal 1, and we're proud that the following proof finally and conclusively addresses the issue for our customers."^[57]

Blizzard's subsequent press release offers two proofs, based on limits and multiplication by 10.

Obviously we can state to a fact; that only on an the internet message board of mathnerds, does arguing over numbers equate a "sport." Yes I said it,

Infinite arguments over numbers = 1 sport.

go Wikipedia!

Here are two fantastic articles I ran across today in the news... one was a direct reprint, the second was eluded to by another article.

Article 1. LINK More Young Workers Report Being Dissatisfied With Jobs.

Article 2. LINK Young College Grads In Free Fall.


Both articles are heavily syndicated for what that matters. But, when I found Article 1 in my local paper this morning, I couldn't believe it. Its exactly that feeling I've had over the past couple years, and that I know alot of my readers have noted. Read the article. [Should the links crash out, I have .pdf 'd the articles, hit me up... scott.alvarado at dichotomous.net

Why is wikipedia so great? There are so many reasons why... while flipping through a trivia question from someone about Napoleon, I ran across the self-appointed, Emperor of the United States. No kidding. Its worth a read, but to cut it short, its a man with a suspected mental health issue whom not only won over the people of San Francisco 120 years ago, but did it in such a way that no one seemed to be bothered by it all. Imagine a mental paitient walking around, declaring that Congress is null and void, and calling out Winfield Scott [hero of the Mexican-American War] to serve some walking papers to these wannabe's. Eventually, like all schizo's, he died penniless and was given a paupers grave... until... a local buisness club decided to sponsor it all and award the Emperor his necessary burial. Not bad for a guy that wore a feather on his hat and wore the Captain-Crunch jacket... something maybe Jacko could strive to beat!

Wikipedia article: Joshua Norton. Emperor, United States of America.

After doing my best to find something else to write about... how can I miss this opportunity?

Yes folks, thats Jacko in drag. Not only is he in drag, but hes in drag in public... and not his normal publicity appearance.... where he breaks out the creepy surgical mask, or the Captain Crunch looking jacket with the sun glasses... this is pure Jacko, just walking around the french riveria, with his kids.

No, you didnt miss that. WITH HIS KIDS. Here's what I don't get. Be gay. Be a pedophile. Be that creepy guy who bleaches his skin. Wear tube socks with black loafers and short pants. Be that guy that has the weird germ fetish and busts out the gloves and masks. Be the guy thats just so creepy, we presume hes a-sexual. But don't pull all of that crap, then tow your kids around in public. Its not like his kids dont get it. Obviously, life is fucked up for them. When dad is trying to seduce children half your age... errrr allegedly... and youre 9... thats fucked. When dad has to move from country to country to escape prosecution... thats fucked. When dad owns a zoo, but calls it a house, that has a roller coaster outside... thats fucked. When dad owns the back catalog to the Beatles... thats fucked. But if these kids didnt realize something was wrong at this point; you walking around in drag, with heels and everything, is probably going to send them some signals.

How does that conversation go? "Uhm Dado. Would you quit dancing on the table and talk to me? Yeah... first off... why do we have to keep moving? Why do the newspapers say you play with little boys? Why dont we have a mommy? And what the hell is up with you wearing womens clothes?"

Jacko. Priceless. What kind of a father does that? Im not out to knock gay guys. Or cross dressering guy. Or pedophile guy. Or latex fetish guy. Or even skin bleaching guy. But what kind of guy does ALL of those things, and things his kids will turn out normal? Hell, he named the kid Prince. Prince. Thats a fucking title, not a name. That alone goes on my list of dumb ass names to give your kids [Including the likes of shit names: Piper, Mackenzie, Carter, Bryce, Jayden. and including the names that are titles; Govenor [Morris], Major [Garret] , Duke [Castiglione], Usher]. Anyway... getting past all of that, these kids should know by now that life is screwed up... the last thing they need is to worry about why dad is wearing his sun hat and heels, and is putting on his make up in the women's bathroom. What a loon. Gotta love the Jacko news.

appearantly youre not allowed to . . .

headline: Khameini: Don't masturbate during Ramadan

while i wholly admit, i know very little about islam... much less radical islam... this puzzles me. i suppose i understand that the intention of ramadaan is to create a pure existence for a month of prayer and reflection... something along those lines, im sure, based upon some act or idea from the scripture.... so i get that they dont want kids playing with themselves, as that breeds contempt, uncleanliness, and the like. but heres the kick for me... christians in general really dont want you to masturbate at all. ever. in fact, alot of times they start quoting back scripture lines about how its wicked for a man to "spill his seed" ; but here we are with islam... and appearantly its acceptable to do this at other times of the year, just not during ramadaan... i guess.

well, its a logical way of begging the question; if they ask if its inappropriate during this time, i presume that means its NOT INappropriate at other times. its just yet another thing about islam, i really dont get. if my reasoning of this is right, and it might not be,but; take as many wives as you want, be entitled to kill a member of the family who is not a virgin before marriage... but you cant masturbate on the 12 month. if you do so knowingly to arrouse yourself, or [worst case scenario here...] you succeed in arousing yourself and happen to ejaculate... fasting is ruined. but really people... what fun is masturbation without ejaculation? if we get peanut butter, you better give us the jelly because thats what makes the sandwich. masturbation without some form of release [heh for pun's sake] really looses its fun... besides... last time i looked it up; i thought masturbation was the stimulation of one's genitals in order to recieve gratification... this whole managed technicality of red light / green light, and with what purpose the arousal occured seems counter productive... and while this Supreme Leader leaves us an out;

"If he do not intend masturbation and discharging semen and nothing is discharged, his fasting is correct even though he has done a h?ar?m (forbidden) act"

-- ie... if you didnt know it happened its not going to send you to hell, but its still a bad thing. i guess. i wouldnt call just ending up with a boner a forbidden act... ive had those times. id call them ebarrassing... or in some instances "well deserved", but not a forbidden act. anywho; while it seems he gives us an out, it turns out its really not so clear;

" but, if he intends masturbation or he knows that he usually discharges semen by this process and semen really comes out, it is a h?aram intentional breaking fasting," the Iranian leader said, posting the reply on his website."

-- huh. dammit. so if i ended up with a boner, but something came out of it [whether or not i know what happened or not] thats an evil thing; and even if nothing did come out, if i know a priori from 7th grade health class that baby making batter comes out of the tube, then dammit im on my way to hell again.... even if i didnt get to enjoy it, and especially if i didnt even intend to to get everything... "set up" to beging to enjoy it. amazing. so if ramadaan is a holy month; and by comparison, well try to equate december [days leading to christmas] as a christian's holyer month; any time id jack it in the month of december, ive ruined christmas. by comparison ofcourse. sorry. a thousand pardons. errrrrr... more like... 25 pardons to be exact... one for every christmas month ive ruined.

no wonder people can claim humanity by beheading peaceful believers of other faiths, foster a peaceful faith by supporting wars, and promising big returns in an afterlife for becoming a martyr... it baffles me. its islam. and its not ok to jack it during ramadaan. ive ruined christmas months for years now. case closed.

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and just as i start to think about how backwards everything else could be at menards... things just keep getting worse...

today for instance; i saw a cross dresser. yes, a tranny. in real life. no, id never seen a real one. but i did today. and honestly, it was just as funny as you could imagine. its a 50 to 60 year old man, probably 50 pounds overweight, wearing a purple mid-drift tshirt, exposing the hairy old man gut... touched up with a shoulder length bright copper colored women's wig, black high heels, and perfect circles of red make up on each cheek. above his/her eyebrow's were baby-blue eyeshadow. and since it was a man, the obligatory 5 o'clock shadow poking through.

i about died with laughter. i know i shouldnt have. i know its not funny. i know its close minded. but geez. what a get-up. i mean, i understand when a faucet breaks, you need parts... but take the wig and heels off. a good old boy, "Kuntry" hardware store, that proudly sponsors nascar in their banjo laden jingles: might NOT be the most approving place to try out your new wardrobe. i also was looking around, while trying to get the lingering smirk off my face, and i didnt see anyone else with him, or watching... so no, we cant fall back on the "my buddies are making me do this" excuse... he obviously didnt loose any bets. hes just lost his sense of identity. but picked up this faaaaabulous new lisp and nail polish, delish!

secondly, the creepy molester family was back. i dunno how many of you ive told about it... but... its a girl, about 16 years old, and a step dad, about 35... appearantly, the step dad took a "shine" to the new step daughter of the woman he married.... appearantly he also shined up other things... enough that when the mother found out, she asked for a divorce and split. leaving plenty more daddy/daughter time... ahem. if you understand what i mean. anyhow, thats the alleged back story. what we see in the store... are these two getting pretty close. some inappropriate area's being touched... and the general appearance of "creep" the girl showed up in shorts so short, that part of her but is hanging down out of them. and creepy daddy seemed all about making her walk around and slapping the bare skin at random times.... very creepy. very much a menards shopper.

seriously.... what THE fuck?


story link. with priceless picture.



i really dont get that. when i flipped open the newspaper this morning, this was what i saw. a group of homosexual hobo's wearing war paint, re-enacting lines of the Lost Boys from the Movie " Hook ". i mean... really... bang-a-rang-ruffio!

besides the absurdity of how they think they should dress; lets look into what these creeps are doing. they are roaving down the river, on a barge made out of shit, entertaining children with plays and dances on the barge. dont forget, they dont use last names either. you know who this reminds me of? someone you all know... someone that kept a playland for kids, that wore make up, that didnt need a last name either...

JACKO.

fucking what the fuck. i really dont understand this. if i DIDNT have to work, i would find ways to scuttle that barge to the bottom of the river today. seriously. why. and these vagrant cariactatures of sixteenth-century pirates, caught in a 1983 new wave video, seem to think we should grant them shelter over the winter while they see to reoutfit and supply the ship. yeah. put another coat of rust on it. errrr. put make her sea worthy. what a bunch of goons. shame on you. and shame on the god damned news paper making this front page here.

well i heard a bit of strange news at work that might interest some people. this whole rumor of shipping me off to some other place, just got alot stronger than rumor this week. while standing around at the desk, i noticed a pile of paper work that was highlighted; reminding myself that no one in the department, save myself, is smart enough to use a highlighter, i decided to leaf through it. turns out its a notice from the dreaded "general office" aka 'G-O' to reharken the Culture of Fear... anyway, the notice is to secure two full time employees from our store for a store setup in Marion, Illinois. Thats not good. Of the 8 departments in the store, there are 9 full time employees, seven from the real departments, one cashier, one customer service. They just sent out the cashier and customer service person for the last store setup. That leaves 2/7 as my odds of having to go. The bottom of the note read; "If two employees are not volunteered, please forward the names of the two you will be sending from the store" and thats reaaally not good. The second part is, it requires 61 hour weeks. Yeah. Im sick of the 41+ hour weeks; I can't imagine the hell that is 61+. Its slated for 3 weeks begining in October. Just a heads up. But this isn't what I was expecting to find.

so... the question is; what did i do with my sunday off...

the answer is...

maybe work a genious of an art-form on this drive.

i did what any person, who has fewer brain cells than dollar signs but more time on his hands than both combined; would do: i attempted to service my own hard drive.

granted. this is something that only a fool would do. the experts say so. so do the novices. then here i am. what i quickly found out was, yes, you should let the experts do this. regardless. the story...

when the drive crashed on me, i had two reasons for it... heat, and mechanical failure. honestly one was probably induced by the other. but, for heat that meant if i could cool the drive platters long enough to prevent damage, or to keep the internal circuit borad from overheating, i could make it work for a short time. if it was mechanical failure, i was probably going to be pretty well fucked. bearings are packed away, and i didnt really have a way to remove the platter... for that matter, opening the damned thing without a clean environment is ludicrous enough. so. i started inspecting it to get inside.

i realized that this particular drive had anti-tamper screws. something like a torx bit, but it had an odd elevated center portion that wouldnt let a torx bit drop into the screw head far enough. i tried anyhow, and started stripping out the screw. no go. most people would have stopped there. i could have. but with the minimum bid for servicing my drive, WITHOUT clean room time at 478 dollars, i proceed on. to the drill. how else to get those nasty fucking fasteners out? drill them out! again, noting the sensitivity of magnetic physics at work, i opted to stay away from any sort of electric drill and found old faithful; the manual powered hand drill in the garage. after some time to gather focus, i slowly started drilling out the 6 screws on the top half of the case. voila. before opening the drive, i took my last deep breath, sliced the manufacturer security foil label in two, and cracked it. what i found didnt surprise me. the head had parked itself incorrectly or crashed several times against the platter, and the screeching noise i had heard was probably the head dragging across the surface. i still am not sure if the bearings are bad on it as well, but that was a probability too. anyhow. with my surgical kung fu grip, i lifted the head and arm up, and slowly rotated the platter with the tip of a hollowed out plastic ink pen from the outer side edge. it moves! after a quick look at the circuitry in the back, i closed it back up. i crossed my fingers. and i hoped it would work, because i just cost myself a minimum of 1,200 dollars to service my drive now. for better or worse, i went to step two.

i used a few leftover component screws i had lying around to forcible fasten the clamshell together... again, im not worried about the threads mashing, its done for in all realistic expectations. then i did what no one should ever do. i followed some morons instructions from the internet. what do they say? bag it and marinate. moreover, seal it up in a non static bag, with no moisture, and drop it in the freezer for a while. excuse me? yes, exactly that. so i did just that. and i dropped it in the freezer. thinking it over, the possible working theory here is, that the circuitry and bearings overheat during failures, and the deep freeze solution is a way to buy time before they heat up. the question is, how long do you get? no one quite seemed to know the answer. someone suggested to just keep tryin to refreeze it. but thats not a good solution. i knew that the problem with this was simple, if frost forms on the drive, when it thaws, it becomes liquid. its called condensate. its not a good thing for sensitive electronics. its actually an incredibly bad thing. so this was a one off chance to work.

so 2 to 3 hours later.

i note the surface temperature of my drive to be quite cold. so i pluck my bag and run down the stairs to find out. i figure id only have so long before it would warm up, and ambient air temperature would gain a few degrees every second. so i prayed that the bios and windows would load quickly. after its buckled in, and the bios loads, i get a hiccup. the shaking picture. visible static lines on the screen. but then, as im about to cry; it goes blue and WELCOME! yessssss. even though i was booting from a different drive, the disk in question had to have been polled by the bios as it flashed by, or it would have gave me a nasty message... so far, so good. windows loads over into safe mode, as i requested, and with my beautiful array of 256 colors and 960 x 480 sized window, i have the moment of truth. windows + E. the window loads. it studders. then it shows the drive! yes, it shows it! i open the directory and find..... a bunch of horse shit. lots of mangled looking chunk files, with random characters and unknown pixels. but some of it is still good. by some, i mean, about 40%. i furiously start dragging and dropping; anything that looks good i take. im going well for about 10 minutes before the first click happens. im rushing to pull small files first to get more over... then more clicks; but the drive doesnt fail or seize. about 50 minutes later, its making louder clicks and dragging sounds. i take what i have and power it down. after pulling the drive out, i notice it has some condensation on its surface. the very center does feel cool, but underneath its hot, as is the rear of the unit. i think its probably the best ill get out of it, so i leave it on a shelf and reboot to see what i have. and.

a partial success! i have some fucked up data. and i have some intact. no shit. i dunno whether to call myself an idiot or the idiots savant. but some of it IS recovered. ill weed through it soon to know what... but....

of several things i was hurridly searching for; ive come up with:

. a resume copy, somewhat outdated
. several copies of research text i wrote
. some misc templates
. a few mp3s that dont hiccup
. several pictures; including some from matt and kris's wedding, one of my family reunion from last year and 4 years ago, and one of me as a child i had scanned.

all in all. i hope it was worth it. but do what i say... dont EVER DO THIS. seriously. my concern was the money. i should have done the right thing; i should have let it sit, saved money, and in a years time, paid a professional firm to do this the right way. god knows, the data would be all intact and unscrambled from what they would return to me. yes, it would have cost more than 500 dollars; but its what you should do. dont ask me for help doing this on your drive. dont look to me as a prophet, and dont ever try this at home. i managed to ruin a drill bit [i broke one trying to be too precise drilling out holes starting with 3/32's of an inch], and i guarantee ive ruined the drive and added 800 some odd dollars to the cost of any data recovery i might now want performed on the drive. but. you know how i think... i made something work. and maybe that was somewhat worth it.

well now that the anger has subsided.... and the rant has left me....


i get sunday off.


blink.


yes. for missing my first saturday-sunday combination since april; my reward is; "well, you can have sunday off" thanks. so with 53.5 hours on the clock this week, i was told i could leave 2 hours early. gee----thanks.

that and appearantly there was some kind of altercation outside between a yard-manager and a customer, resulting to blows! yes, the tranquility of moving blocks and fence post turned into built up rage for more people than just me this week. what a lovely place!


s

At least Matt salvaged some of the day with me. At least one person didn't mind the rain, the drive, or the time to come see me on my “weekend off.” Not only that, we stuck around through the downpour to watch people throw burlap bags of sheep shit over a pole. I'm grateful Staab is intelligent enough to have a conversation about the destiny of America in the near future with me. In general, its nice to see and old friend for a day. Especially on short notice, when it supposed to be you're weekend off.

So I was supposed to have Saturday and Sunday off. What a big fucking deal? A big fucking deal says You.... You, the person that doesn't think much of getting two days off in a row, especially weekend days. My happy ass became elated, when I stumbled upon these hallowed days. This was to be my first Saturday and Sunday off since March 25-26, 2006. That makes it a big fucking deal to me. So I spent most of the week getting plans lined up to do things, and see people. Then one by one everyone and everything craps out on me. The actual weekend was taken away from me, and I ended up just like I always do. Stuck at work.

See, the the idiot I work with had a relative die, leaving herself in a perpetual state of Pitty Receivable Mode. Whats that? Thats where you call into work three times a fucking day to start bawling on the phone to people that don't care. Thats were you tell us you'll show up to work, and actually come in, dressed for it, but then decide to start crying, make a big scene, and pull the managers in the back office and announce you can't do it and you need to go home. Thats a state of fucking Pitty Receipt. And since one person was off on vacation, that left me to get called in. All the time. So I lost my Friday early out. I “got” to come open the store Saturday morning at 6am, and I also “got” to close the store, by myself, on Sunday. Saturday and Sunday being my first two days “off” since March.

So I'm a little pissed about this.

Anyways, of the plans I had set; one decided to cancel out on me mid week. It actually made me mad. Because the excuse sounded lame. Lame like, “I'm reaching for a way out”--- lame. Lame like, “I'm a one legged gay pirate with a lisp and multiple sclerosis survivor”--- lame. Something like that. I work all the time. I get told, that they want to promote me way out of the area. This was the only weekend I was supposed to have off. I don't have a time line for when they want me out of here. So all excuses, when I really want to see you, sound fucking lame. Ok? Lame. F U C K I N G L A M E. Tell me the truth instead. Hows about; “Scott, you're a fucking ugly fat bastard, and I hope you die. And I'm not coming to see you.” That would be understandable. Or, “You know what, I'm not sure I'm ready to be alone with you, knowing what you're feelings are about me, maybe its too soon for me.” Thats respectable. “Scott, were having a killer party at our house, and really its going to be rough for me to drive back and be here in time before people show up, is it OK to bounce this weekend?” Thats at least got a shred of decency dropped in a shot of the truth. I got, “Uhm, I have a soccer game, sorry!” Thats fucking lame. Like you didn't know about that before now? Lame, like you'd think I consider a last minute crap excuse, to be a good reason to back out on me? And then the reason is soccer? Fuck soccer. I hate stupid fucking spotted balls. I wish to hell soccer is proved to be the reason the Holocaust occurred; because Hitler tried to purge the earth of soccer, and the diversity fairies, hiding in jewish underclothes, smuggled their soccer balls into hidden rooms, then hid behind being jewish, or black, or gay, to protect soccer. Soccer is not an excuse. Not wanting to see me, is an excuse. This is a fucking rant. I understand that. Do you?

So I lost my weekend. So what. So people make up excuses not to see me, and hope that they can just have a chance with me some other time. Well, here is news.... I wont be here. I'll be standing behind a fucking gray desk, with a 1978 TV above my head, selling toilet seats to people in trailer parks at a shitty place that calls its self a hardware store, somewhere in America. Because, thats what I want to do. Because, thats what I dreamed about as a kid. I never go to pretend I could win the World Series, or that I could cure cancer, or that I could make 10 million dollars.... I dreamed of fat people, with herpes sores, asking me which toilet seat will hold 600 pounds of human fat, and still have a big enough opening for feces to splatter through. Thats why I went to college, burned all nighters, labored through arcane languages, and did massive social research projects; all to understand how best to sell fucking toilet seats to people with 3 teeth, clad in Nascar shirts, while they beat their child in admiration of my knowledge of the color differentiation of: Natural, Biscuit, Bone, Almond, Beige and Bisque.

SO..... The next time that I should be pulled away from my life's ultimate opus, of assisting the chapped, fecal inflamed ass to the soothing nature of an off-white receptacle; maybe we can think of why I fucking value my time with you. Maybe... Maybe we can sit and come to an understanding, that I hate my life. That I hate what I fucking do. I hate who I deal with. And I hate the times I have to work. Maybe, we can merge our thoughts, and understand that I want to see the people that matter to me, and I arrange these things so they can happen. Maybe I really had wanted to see you. Maybe, just maybe, I put up with a lot of fucking shit in my daily life, and I wanted to have some kind of a special day with you... because I never see you... and because I really do care about you. AND the first time in six months I had an open weekend to see you, I set my plans with you for that. But fuck it.

Once I found out you backed out on me, then everything else started going down hill. Then the scheduling crap. Then I find myself sitting at Menard's, at 5:15am, watching the sun come up over the trees... the first rays of light on my first weekend off in six months. And I try to remember who is honestly important to me, as I walk through the puddles in the lot, avoiding nails and screws that litter the parking spaces. I want to ask, Why is this fair?, but I know the answer. It isn't. But fuck it. No one else is here to care anyhow. I should have been at the zoo. I should have been smiling and laughing, and having ice cream. I should have just had a great weekend, that would make six months feel somewhat worth it. But instead, I look up at the TV to see that my punch was accepted, and I stand at my gray desk, waiting for the first moron to come in the door at 6:01am on my Saturday.

Maybe its all overblown. Maybe its melodramatic. Maybe I should focus on the three other people that I had plans to see that blew me off. Maybe I am an idiot. Maybe I don't care anymore. Maybe it doesn't make sense why I'm focusing on this. Maybe I want to believe that you're someone you're not, and that I'm someone I'll never be. Regardless... its Saturday night, and I know I'm going to work on my Sunday off as well in a few short hours. And I just feel like taking it out where I can at this point. Maybe I just shouldn't care. But I do. Maybe, I just want something to work out for once in my life. Like the weekend off that I didn't get; maybe thats just not meant to be.

well what can i say... technology now hates me.

add that on a list of things that seemingly never ends, and were starting to see why i get so frustrated about life. a week ago, my hard drive failed. i get this wonderful blue screen; and before i can even read it, the drive starts clicking and chirping, to the point windows locks up. so i let it sit. monday morning, i wake up, boot it up with the intention of finding out what was going on, and to prepare to back up stuff. its loads fine. i leave it up and take a shower before work, to come back and find its powered off automatically. upon rebooting, i get this screeching sound ripping at me. the drive is dead. and so with it, went my windows installation and programs... but more importantly my photographs from the past 5 years or so, all of my research and papers from college, plus a chunk of music. gone. so while i felt obligated to go get a new drive, and start from scratch, my mind lingers to that data i lost. appearantly some companies on the internet do specialize on retreiving data from these types of scenarios.... the problem is... they charge $400 and on up to $3,000 to recover a single drive. i just cant afford that. and honestly, im sure none of that information is worth $4, let alone $400. but it really did upset me. im holding on to the drive for now, i suppose data cant get any more corrupted if it just sits on a shelf for awhile.

the list now stands as...

women.
most family members.
money.
gainful employment.
copiers.
fuel efficiency.
cysts.
technology.


sigh.

as i had mentioned to a few people... how is this for a wake up call? i woke up thursday or friday to feel the walls and floor rattle, then heard all the construction banging and jackhammering.... turns out the city decided to tear out the street we live on and just replace it. on a whim. how nice. its OFCOURSE appropriate to tear it all apart on a friday, then let it sit over the weekend, so taxpayers cant use their driveways. its not as bad for us [living on the corner] as for the other people on the street... it goes down the entire block, and probably shut out a good 20 houses from their driveways and access routes to streets. charming shitheads, absolutely charming.

The things they decide not to tell me at this place. Like how becoming a full time employee means I MUST work 40 hours + per week. I can NOT work less than 40.5 hours per week. Also, I'm only given one dollar per hour raise. I am allowed health coverage, but it costs almost 150 dollars a paycheck. Fucking Christ. I wish they'd have mentioned some of this to me. Now I "get" to work a 14 hour day tomorrow, because I was running below my 40.5 for the week. Nice. Today was good too. 10 minutes after walking in the door, they start harping at me about bringing in overstock. Boxes of overstock, they put on pallets in the middle of the outdoor yard. Pallets which have been getting rained on since 4am. Rain that started at 4am, and was only getting heavier as I punched in. Only now, did it seem to dawn on them, that we should do something about it. So before I can even take my rain coat, I'm pushed outside. Everything out there was ruined. Furnace filters, fireplace wood, paper napkins in cases, toilet paper in cases, cheap wicker baskets, bathroom exhaust fans, all of it was sitting not only in the rain, but directly under the run off from the roof. Hundreds of gallons of water per minute were dumping on this stuff. And only now, 8 hours later, did it seem imperative to act. Of course, as soon as I step outside, some asshat customer starts honking his horn, and from the rolled down window--- "hey buddy, why don’t you load these blocks up for me, its raining like crazy" How about not. I shrugged and yelled back, "wait till it lets up, or I call some of the yard guys to do it" His answer- "bullshit, you can do it yourself kid" he honks enough that a manager sitting around in the back of the store, comes over to the door where I am, and tells me, I should go do it. So after 10 minutes of carrying 80 pound concrete blocks, even my boxers were drenched. When I come back in the store, all I get were laughs. No one was remotely sympathetic, or seemed to care. I was told I could use my lunch time now to go home and get dry clothes. I get 30 minutes for lunch. It can take 25 to get to my house from the store. That logic didn’t seem to matter to them. So I spent the rest of my day soaking wet. I ended up taking my lunch an hour later, to sit in the Jeep wrapped in a blanket to warm up. It was 1:25pm. I didn't get to go home until 10:45pm. It didn’t get any better as the day went on. I wanted to quit. In the worst way possible, I wanted to quit. For shit pay, for shit hours, to get treated like shit. It wasn't worth it. But no job really is. And had I been able to wear my rain gear, I'd still have ended up with wet feet, hands and face. So what really was the difference?

Anyhow, this whole internet problem I spoke about last time is as follows. To flesh out what happened. QCOnline/AscendTel, the ISP we had been using [with good quality uptime and speeds], fettered out, they did some tests and blamed Qwest Telecom. Once they couldn’t resolve anything, they brought in LightSpeed Media Corp; apparently they were the brains behind QCOnline/AscendTel in the local area. They also ran tests, and funnily enough, also blamed Qwest Telecom. Qwest Telecom says there isn’t anything wrong with anything. Just, funnily enough, they'd rather we buy DSL service from them instead. Since, funnily enough, Qwest Telecom owns the lines, and would provide us the service, I assumed they could guarantee us service to remedy the problem. Funnily enough, I assumed far too much. I reached a snappy, "no," answer from Qwest Telecom about that. Not only could they say [funnily enough] with a definitive "no problems exist in your line," but also that they were not willing to upgrade the line or the taps in our area to improve infrastructure and communications capability. That left the only solution to be Mediacom. I hate Mediacom. Hate them with a passion. I've never had any sort of quality service from their cable television or internet services. Besides that, they also were 50 dollars per month for what we were getting from QCOnline/AscendTel for a mere $26.99. So as of July, 25th, were going to give Qwest a run. They extended me a 30 day money back guarantee, which I will liberally enforce if they can't provide service. In short, I should be back online sometime after Tuesday. With fingers crossed, that is. But what gets me about all this is how Qwest seems to think that if I had DSL service before, then it magically stopped, and the provider says its not their fault, how Qwest can figure that just CAN NOT be any problem with their lines. More over, Qwest had to do the upgrade to the DSL line at our house to start this mess, and any wiring problems are theirs regardless of who is providing the service. What also gets me is how it's almost exactly a year to the day, when we first called Qwest about the possibility of service, but went with QCOnline because of price. Qwest offers service, we decline, they own the line, then magically when our contract with QCOnline would end, poof, there goes our services and Qwest seemingly becomes the magic answer with a magical offer of no installation fees. Magically delicious! At best this is a terrible set of coincidence. At worst, it’s a down-right despicable business practice. QCOnline wasn't happy about us leaving, but understood, and promised me they'd keep an eye on customers in our area. I hope they do.

In other things entertaining… My brother managed to burn his hand. Last week he was out late with friends doing whatever, and happened to have a fire going, which he decided to pick up some kind of metal piece that was still a bit too hot. So he now has a nice line of blisters burnt into his palm. I guess his friends came running back in the middle of the night, called my parents; calamity ensues… so I'm told. I slept through it, and apparently no one ever thought to wake me up. What else, the dog had surgery not long ago. Apparently she tore a ligament in her lower leg, to which they replaced and re attached it. Never thought I'd say the dog had surgery like that. The vet gave us all sorts of scenario's about what would likely happen if we didn’t go for surgery. But what gets me is, dogs in the wild do this all the time--- it’s a natural thing. So what happens to them? They don’t fall over dead. They walk with a limp and eventually heal. But in the pet-mending industry, it’s the emotional what-if's that sell services. Hmm… It's freakishly like the internet service provider market... "*gasp* You WAN'T your pet to walk with a limp?" Similar to the... "Gee, I dunno why its down, but did you know Qwest offers high speed internet connections starting as low as 29.99 per month?" So maybe it isn't quite the same approach but it gets about the same results.

The same sort of results I got in about a year's time trying to do anything. See the last time I sat down and started lamenting about what I've done, and well, after looking at the calendar, I realized thats it has been almost an exact year since I left Iowa City. I remember that Matt and Kris's wedding was the last weekend I had my keys to my apartment, but that following Monday morning I had to turn them in on my way back across the state. So while I'm still happy for Mr. and Mrs. Staab; this day still somewhat makes me sad. Atleast to me, it reminds me of the day I lost my independence. It was the day where I had to cut and run. I remember doing alot of things that last week. I remember that long discussion I had with Staples, that left me without a job. I remember packing up everything, and knowing what I couldn't fit into the moving van was going to be thrown out. I remember that Wednesday night that I saw Sarah and decided to tell her how I felt. I remember that Sunday, calling my parents to beg to move back in within a weeks time. The week before that I remember receiving the letter from the Dept of Education, informing me I owed 17,600 dollars past due on my loans out of nowhere. I really just remember sitting on the floor in the apartment one night, with my head against the wall, having that upset stomach, knowing that I didn't know what was going to happen. So here I am, a year later. Comically enough, I've ended up being the dependable person for people at different points. I've been in weddings, I've been there when loved ones were in Iraq, when family members were dead, for births, for a way to kill time between places. All of those things happen in a year's time. But I've just sat here.