so it was an interesting date. ill mark it for whatever reason, assuming its worth something more than a date of self incrimination. that sounds bad. maybe its just a poor choice in judgment. maybe, i shouldn't be as weird-ed out by myself as i am. maybe ill just tell the story.

i stop off at some indiscriminate mega size grocery store on the way home from work the other night. the purpose was to pick up something to eat for lunch for the upcoming weekend of lock-down at work. as i'm wandering around aimlessly, looking for food that looks good. [also rare, that i dont have a list or any intentions...]. so i round a corner and come face to ass with some young woman, who is about my age, probably younger a bit, in black spandex. and it fits well. really, well. shes oogling the cocoa mixes, as i oogle her. which is depressing. because ive lost interest in the canned goods i came into the aisle for. so i stay as inconspicuous as my "hefty" frame could be, in my world war 2 jacket and blue hat, inching closer and watching. classic. however. she didn't seem to notice. she grabs a box, drops it into the basket next to something else, and looks over at me for the first time. shes a college girl. i dont need to ID her. fake tan. fake hair color. hours of make-up, paired with spandex and a hoodie, 300 dollar purse; they all ring the bells of a 4 alarm college girl. but i lock eyes with her. dark brown eyes. light brown, pencil enhanced eye brows. some brown freckles. it all looked pretty good. she made some cross eyed glance, looked down, and brushed past me. and i felt stupid. i felt clueless. i felt ugly. i felt like i was slapped. and normally, i let it go. it angers me. but i let it go. instead. i see my feet moving. and im following her about 20 feet behind. i know its not a good idea. but i go anyway. my feet never seemed to hear my thoughts. i catch up to her in line. and of course, stand right next to her. i do my best to act disinterested. it works. she looks at me, with some sort of questioning face, looks away but doesnt turn her head. im counting my basket, pretending not to notice. its building. she finally looks up at the cashier as they beging doing the basket dispersal routine. and i look at the goods again. she stops me. "do i know you or something?" shit. but i hear myself say. "no. but having dinner with me would be a good way to get introduced." i look at her. she blushes. but doesn't smile. she bites her lip. "yeah... i really dont think so." this isn't good. but its more spite. it was like being spit at. and i just inflate and grow larger it seems... "well thats good, since you bought your own dinner, we could skip that part. ---then there is a pause--- it could get uncomfortable in a hurry" she is flatlined. i can tell she has no idea what to say to me now. im about as stunned at what ive said. she sucks in both lips, sticks her head forward and makes a nervous laugh. she looks at me. and tells me her name is michelle. i know thats a lie. i smile. and stay polite. shes done now, and hands over some cash. she takes her change, and looks at me, before shes poised to run, and says "its nice meeting you." as she turns away, i listen to my last words that hang in the air... "it was nice to see you too."

i knew a few things as it was happening. i knew i wasn't going to get anywhere with this poor girl. i know just how awful it looked to be hitting on her in line at the grocery store, if i we're a bystander id be embarassed to be near it. worst of all, i repulsed myself as it was happening, but it was almost like i was watching myself; instead of being in control. to me that was hard. because i had all those guilty thoughts about what i was doing, and but just couldn't hit the brakes... because on some level i enjoyed it. no. not her shutting me down. but i enjoyed the elevation of the chase. which, was exactly how i thought of it at the time. my immediate thoughts leapt to serial killers. yes. its a progression. and somehow i consciously made that connection as it happened. and it scared me a little bit. serial killers, generally, progress from lower forms of sadism to higher forms. initially they act out in innocuous ways, but develop to what we all know. they start with simple acts against people - defensive, or responsive; then move on to animals or small children, then to anonymous sources, then to targeted sources. it intensifies at every step; and its the push to the next layer or threshold that raises the endorphines. i don't plan on killing anyone. but i could definitively feel some degree of excitement about the degree of intensity with which i went about it. which, after the fact, made me feel ridiculous. she was pretty. probably too much so for me. thats the truth. she was not interested. thats the truth. but somehow, they way she put me off, drew me out. thats also the truth.

in all my life, maybe 4 women have ever decided i was worth a chance. thats how i feel about it after all these years. as taking a chance. which is ridiculous. but its probably got a lot of truth to it. of those every single one finds it necessary to trounce me in the end. so i acted out this time. some simple, run of the mill chance encounter, and it sets me off in a direction that wasn't criminal, wasn't rude, but wasn't totally appropriate either. im desparate. im lonely. or im angry about both. it was a very odd feeling that night. im definetly in a rut.

here goes yet another, "I should be asleep" post.

i dont know why. thinking gets to me. it makes me ache for simple answers that i know, even without thinking through, really wont ever come to pass. it also seems, which i also dont know why, that thinking hits me as my body begins to tire out for the night.

and im not even sure what im thinking about really. on one hand [err brain half?] im elated about the snowflakes in the air. why? i dont know. im a winter person. i love snow. i thrive in cold weather. there is something special about the silence and the crispness at night during a fresh snow fall. everything seems heavy and still; but poised to fall. the only sounds are the branches that clatter and the sounds of heavy flakes raking across ice. its a sound of purity. its a picture of silence. its largely undescribeable why it enertains me so. tonight was the first night for snow in the air. and like a child, i sat by the window watching it swirl and blow around. for the moment, i guess i was a child again.

thinking ruins that. thinking, constructs my self in my correct age, and spoils the moment as quickly as vinegar sours the milk. i know that i cant be a kid. i know that im not a kid. yet, the simple moments where i forget that... where i can stop and refrain myself from thinking about it all, are the moments where i couldnt be farther from childhood. as a child, you never needed to escape. i never needed a way to run or hide or delude myself about life; about the way it ought to be, or about the flakes falling to the earth. as a child, the simplicity is bliss; not the ignorance of the facts. as an adult, i look out and watch the flakes settling on pavement that is far too warm to accumulate. i watch some of the flakes stop and cling to the tips of the greenish brown grass before they melt and leave the blades slick and shiny. it isnt the knowledge that the snow wont stick, its the thought process expecting the worst before the flakes have a chance to freeze the ground. its the difference between a child and the adult in me.

the onset of winter seems to be a gloomy time for most people. for me, thats fall. fall is death. not the approach of death, but death in its final throes. the entrance of winter is the silence after the fact. and if spring is the rebirth, then some where between the final breath and the first light, comes the conception. to me, thats winter. winter is the blankness of a page, the pleasantness of the unknown, with the coldness of a new begining. winter is a stark begining that covers the failures of the past, blankets the dead, and allows us a chance to see a rebirth for what it will be. winter is coming soon i hope, the adult in me misses what it means.

as i was reading tonight; i ran across a wonderful excerpt that paralleled my lack of reasoning for a lack of posting; unfortunately, this was his reasoning [in part] to not promptly returning correspondence back to the United States, during his campaign from Market Garden through The Bulge. I have no such war to fight. But, I think, I have similar feelings of impersonality, and perfection driven days, filled with crap that shouldn't be left to me.


" I certainly didn't feel like writing anymore. I couldn't explain why, but the only emotion that I could arouse were feelings of anger and after staying mad all day and half the night, I was just plain tired. Mad at what? Just about everything for just about everything was done wrong or it wasn't done perfectly. Since nothing but perfection was acceptable, I stayed mad. What struck me most was how damn tired I became by the end of each day and how difficult it was to concentrate. I now had people asking me questions about weapons, targets, harassing fire, grazing fire, chow, transportation, and base of fire. It never ended. I had no time to consider a person's feelings or devotion to the point, or incidental matters. Combat required that my thoughts and feelings remain hard, cold, indifferent, and effective. As to any tender thoughts I might have possessed before the war, I had left them behind in the marshaling area in England. There was no room for trivialities. "

Maj. Richard Winters
Beyond Band of Brothers [2006]

so an entry here is quite overdue. again. as usual. i have no excuses really.

should anyone not know, i did take the position in a different department. its up and down for me. the first couple have weeks have definitely pulled me out of a comfort zone. but as a plus, i notice so much more about everything downstairs... as in how out of place it is, how poorly its stocked... all compared to where i am at. oh well. as long as the checks keep cashing out, ill keep showing up.

not much else new. life is getting back into a rut of sorts. rut may not describe it well. path is better. with a rut, my first thought is to the bottom; to the muck and stagnant water that always accumulates in a rut. ruts are not a nice place to wallow in and about. ive got a bit more direction than being herded through a rut and its slop. but im most definitively on a predetermined track. that much isn't always good. but at least for me, the way is clear for now.

don't get me wrong, [in fact, cue up the "Don't Stop Believing"] i still want out, and im still trying to get out. but the signs are getting less frequent to turn off at. honestly, ive grown so callused to the Deere and Arsenal hiring practices, ive largely given up on either of them of late. sure, they are the largest, and best paying options in the area, but they sure dont seem interested in me what so ever. instead, ive been hitting up several of the area hospitals, and the universities. not that i want to run back to the bastions of liberalism, but dammit, compared to where i am at now, those halls look gilded to me. so i try. so far, ive not accomplished much.

for part two; yes, i still live in the basement. its shameful. but ive scrounged and surveyed: still with my current wage and overhead, im not sure i could make money living anywhere else. my best guess is hoping to break even or be up about 100 dollars per month, depending on utility increases and fuel increases. so. i stay on in the concrete bunker. on the positive; i have been banking quite steadily my surplus from staying put, against my loan... id expect the jeep to be mine in the clear by the end of the year... maybe at the latest february of 2009. which is grand. fucking grand. because its a year early. so... all that money can go to the "Free The Scott Foundation," or to the money pit that is student loan payback.

as a side track of money and february; im still leaning on taking early vacation next year [provided im still with Blue]. while it kills me to work so long with out any hope, and to cover for everyone else with hope; it seemed like a nice change of pace this winter. hopefully airlines will still be somewhat cheap before the spring hike hits, so... im taking ideas. hopefully something warm... but something in me is thinking the Great Northwest... who knows. just an idea.

anyhow... just checking in ... people were asking questions.... so to stave off the police reports im still around...

Iowa Central president receives $400K for resignation

Des Moines Register [available ONLINE] Article by Clark Kauffman

Iowa Central Community College President Robert Paxton will collect $400,000 from the school in return for his resignation.

After 13 years as president of the Fort Dodge school, Paxton resigned Wednesday, one day before the school’s board of trustees was scheduled to discuss an undisclosed “personnel matter.”

The special meeting was called after The Des Moines Register published a July 4 photograph of Paxton aboard a boat with a group of young people, holding the spigot of a small beer keg suspended over a young woman’s open mouth.

College trustee Mark Crimmins was aware of the photo before it was published and told the Register that Paxton had done nothing improper and the matter wasn’t deserving of the board’s attention.

When questioned by the Register, Paxton initially denied knowing anything about the photo or any recent boat outings with young people. After being told that Crimmins had already informed the Register that he had seen the photo and the two men had discussed it, Paxton acknowledged the photo’s authenticity. He said he had done nothing illegal or improper.

But the photograph, along with Paxton’s explanation for it, was picked up by other media outlets and sparked a heated debate in Fort Dodge over the personal conduct of public officials.

At today’s board meeting, the trustees met for eight minutes and agreed, without discussion, to accept Paxton’s resignation and approve a compensation package for him. The deal calls for Paxton to receive $200,000 in January 2009 and $200,000 in January 2010.

Trustee Larry Hecht said the board felt the compensation package was fair to all parties.

“The thing we struggled with was whether his personal life was, you know, his,” he said. “I think we all thought that was true. On the other hand, his position — I guess what you do in your personal life does affect the public’s perception of what you do on the job.”

Hecht said the decision to accept the resignation was “heart-breaking” given Paxton’s dedication to the school. Asked why there was no discussion of the compensation package, Hecht said, “It wasn’t like he killed somebody or stole money, so where we’d end up court was ‘who knows.’”

Paxton was not present for the board meeting, but said in a written statement to the board, “It was a true joy and honor to serve” the school.

Paxton, 52, has said all of the people who were drinking in the boat when the photograph was taken were of legal age. He said the beer keg was broken and wasn’t dispensing beer into the young woman’s mouth. He said his 19-year-old son, who was arrested for second-offense drunken driving early the next morning, was in the boat but was not drinking.

Three days before the photo was taken, Paxton signed a new employment contract with the school. The deal awarded Paxton a 33 percent increase in his annual retention bonus, raising it to $15,000 per year.

The deal also included a $156,000 annual salary; a $27,960 stipend toward the purchase of an annuity; a $13,200 annual car allowance in addition to mileage payments; and an expense account worth $7,250.

In 2002, Paxton was indicted on charges of felonious misconduct in office, falsification of public records and tampering with public records. The charges grew out of an investigation into student athletes being awarded false grades.

Three of Paxton’s colleagues at Iowa Central eventually pleaded guilty to charges they tampered with student records to benefit the athletes and to deceive others. All three men retained their jobs at the school. The charges against Paxton were deferred under an agreement in which he accepted responsibility for the transcript fraud.

so creeps in this petty pace

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time. And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle. Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." Act V, Scene V, Tragedy of MacBeth

so i have some thinking to do. ive done some already. but i have a lot more to do. i cant say that im ever in a good spot for very long. a situation of sorts has arisen at work, such that im expected to make a choice that i feel very pressured to make. its not life or death or anything like that. its not even really all that important. but to me, its a hard decision to make. the option is on the table for me to switch to a different department, for equal pay, equal position. it 'costs' me; a change of weekends, a slightly worse schedule than i already have, plus the entire problem of learning everything there is to know about an entirely different group of garbage. i 'get' the change of scenery, the heartwarming sensation that i can learn something else, and the ability to cast my net wider for future spots by doing this. it, however, is not that simple of a choice to make.

at its root is the stability of my current slot. should i choose to go, a whole lot of people are going to think i jumped ship, before it sunk. because there will be some sinking involved, without question. my entire menards life has been spent in the same spot, and its quite warm, even with the garage i deal with. this is going to look bad if i jump, because there isnt any direct benefit for me other than to be out of the old department. ... ... ... and i think people will take note of that quite readily.

if money were involved, or a true promotion up, no one would think any different, and id probably never have to think much about the outcome. but for this... this to me, would look like someone wants out, and found a way out. because it is that way.

so im rather conflicted about the whole mess. i know, that at noon tomorrow, they want an answer from me. who the hell could fee anything but pressured by that? i tried to force my self to think this over a lot today, so i spent most of the day driving to nowhere doing just that. i know that if im reflecting this much on it, something says this isnt a small of a deal as the others are offering it up to be. so here i sit.

the honest answer should be; if i cant make a decision, then dont. but i also know, that not making a decision is the same as rejecting future offers without saying as much. but thats unfortunately part of the package. i really dont know what im going to say tomorrow.

Police think body found in park is Miller's

Iowa City Press-Citizen • August 24, 2008

[available online: Press-Citizen] No Author Attributed

Iowa City police say “more than likely” the body and rifle found in Hickory Hill Park on Sunday is that of embattled University of Iowa professor Arthur Miller, dead of an apparent suicide.

If so — police have not made a positive identification yet or confirmed a cause of death — this would conclude a search for the man accused of offering better grades to students willing to bare their breasts or let him fondle them. Police began looking Wednesday after his wife reported him missing.

“Clearly, at this point everything points to that being Mr. Miller,” Iowa City Police Sgt. Mike Brotherton said.

Daniel Hoover, 51, of Marion who works with Linn County Underwater Search and Recovery, began looking for Miller at 10 a.m. Sunday and found a body in a meadow about 30 yards off a deer path in the north part of the park. He called police at 12:28 p.m.

“It was something because of past associations that I thought I could do. I didn’t think it would bother me if I did find a body, so I thought I would give it a try. … I hope that it will help provide closure to everybody involved,” Hoover said. “The woods there are very overgrown. (Finding the body) would be as much luck or divine guidance as anything. You could call it good luck or maybe bad luck.”

Police think Miller, 66, a UI political science professor for the past 23 years, felt humiliated after accusations stemming from May 8 and 13 became public. Police charged Miller on Aug. 8 with four counts of soliciting a bribe, a class C felony punishable by up to 10 years in prison. Miller also was to be put on paid leave when school resumed today as the university conducted an internal investigation.

Miller’s wife reported him missing and said he left an “apologetic” possible suicide note before 7 a.m. Wednesday morning. His red BMW was discovered Wednesday parked at the Upper Hickory Hill Park entrance. A city worker saw someone matching Miller’s description walk into the park Tuesday morning with a mustard-colored blanket. Miller used his cell phone at about 10 a.m. Tuesday, which is thought to be his last known contact, and a gunshot was reported in that vicinity late that morning, police said.

Police learned Miller had purchased a high powered rifle in June. Police found in Miller’s car his wallet, cell phone and boxes of ammunition, including one that was missing a few cartridges.

“If it is Mr. Miller, he’s been there since 10:30 a.m. Tuesday,” Brotherton said, noting advanced stages of decomposition of the body had set in. “That was when we lost contact with him.”

Police closed the 185-acre park and began a two-day search on Wednesday, including using specially trained K-9 units. Police initially suspected Miller had committed suicide, but they called off the physical search on Thursday evening after they didn’t find his body and considered the possibility that Miller may have left the park.

Police have not yet positively identified the body, but all signs point to this being Miller.
The body was discovered with the rifle underneath it and a yellow blanket nearby, about 200 yards from police’s staging area for its search on Wednesday and Thursday. The body also had a green shirt and green shorts, which was consistent with the description of what Miller had been wearing, Brotherton said.

Police could not say for certain the 30-06 rifle had fired or that the person died of a gunshot wound, but there was head trauma, Brotherton said.

“There are some consistencies and similarities with a suicide,” he said.

A crime scene unit and the medical examiner were on scene investigating Sunday as the northern entrance to the park was closed off for the afternoon. The rest of the park remained open.

The family has been contacted, Brotherton said.

“I think it is pretty much what they’ve been expecting all along,” he said.

The family did not return a phone message Sunday.

The family issued a statement Thursday indicating they thought Miller already had died.

“The ordeal of the last two weeks has become unbearable for Arthur. He could not live with the thought that his name and reputation were smeared and associated with the things which he believed he never had done,” the family said in Thursday’s statement.

An autopsy, which would allow for positive identification, is scheduled for today in Ankeny.

“More than likely, the signs point to (it being) Mr. Miller, but we can’t say 100 percent positive,” Brotherton said.

University spokesman Steve Parrott said the university would wait until confirmation before they issue a statement.



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

Because I told you so, only works so well. Remember people; I'm only capable of selling toilet seats... I have no other marketable skills, and no functional knowledge to use in the working world outside of toilet seat sales.

I was off by approximately 12 hours on the lead time to find the body. However, I also had to work all weekend, otherwise I'd have gone corpse hunting I suppose. Also note, the person credited as making the recovery works for law enforcement, but is obviously doing this as an amateur, much as I suspected. The position of the body on the rifle is more indicative of kneeling position taken by the shooter, balanced forwards over the center of gravity, likely due to the angle necessary to hold the weapon. Properties boarding the entire western edge of the park are of residential are development, with several small schools and churches approximately in a mile radius from the center of the park. The northwestern border of the park is adjacent to a cemetery.

Any how, back to selling toilet seats for me.

here goes another one of my famous, "what the hell am i doing at the keyboard at this time of night" posts. to which, i never have any answer. still wont here either.

people have been asking me if i know about this story; and no i really dont. the three classes i had from that department all were with other professors. to be honest, id never even seen the guy in my time at iowa. not to beat a dead horse, but it really must be a great gig to do that. come on. reading papers that the nubile, young, dont-know-any-better, coeds write each semester has to weigh down on someone with a phD. he found a way to make it better. allegedly. gives a whole new interpretation to grading by a curve, doesn't it? in all seriousness, my best guess is that he is dead. what surprises me the most is that he left with out certain personal effects. why? well... it gets a bit foggy here... so bear with me.

criminals plan things. even if the plan is, mug this guy and take his money. its a plan. they aren't always well thought out. they cant be. because most of them get caught in the act, or with in 48 hours of commission. anyway. suicides ARE different. one could argue its a crime, but keep in mind, this is much more like dealing with a mentally deranged person. the problem is, they are, and remain, fully in control. what? yeah. hang on this. suicides do things we dont think rationally would apply. they eat lunch, then 20 minutes later, jump off a bridge. they read the paper, feed the cat, then jump in the shower with a hair dryer. its quite a daft proposition to think that anything is related to anything else. again, we only get the opportunity to look backwards at a crime scene. which, when we come across it, was simply a place where a crime was committed. logically, people without knowledge of these things [particularly family members, and the general public once the media throws it all out there like Vince Foster], look for a causal chain... a stark reason that would set them overboard, followed by a line of shit about how they "would never do something like this." obviously. suicides really are a one time deal.

but scott, you are presuming hes dead, and dont know that yet! yes, i am, and so do the police. again, to bear the point across: that this man left his wallet, cell phone and miscellaneous personal affects behind should lend us a few clues about his mental state at that moment. dying anonymously. not really. but subjectively he felt so. why? distance. obviously the man in question is up against it; his profession and his personal life are about over with as he knows it, so hes trying to distance it. or maybe, he really felt like walking in the woods with a rifle, and thought better of loosing his wallet out there, so he left it in the car. things were not staged here. this type of deliberate action suggest distancing himself in death from his life. why would he need distance? because of shame. guilt. a lack of willingness to accept fate for his actions. he is dead, and he intended to kill himself. he has left personal affects behind to remain more anonymous. it could be hard to find him.

really? well take vince foster. he was missing for a day or so, then a search was on, and finally he was found right next to a monument, near a bush, in a park. most parks have pretty easy access to monuments. so why is it so hard to find one dead guy? in this sense, its because maybe he wants it to be. maybe the guy had second thoughts. maybe hes too ashamed to be found, and identified. suddenly, i m not that crazy after all, am i? a man with no identification, who is on his way to kill himself, isnt readily found, because again, hes looking to distance himself from his acts. ill get to the nitty gritty here....

my best guess is the body should be discovered within the next 36 hours [i'd wager by dusk saturday night]. i wouldnt be surprised if its a volunteer, or some passer-by that finds him. id suspect that he will be with in 15 feet from a trafficked area, and probably not much more than 1,000 yards from a viable, accessible area [read: a church, a school, street lighted residential district]. i doubt, very much, that hes found near a largely populated area... no hospitals, not near the university, no shopping malls. im also going to take a guess [though i wont know for certain] that when the ballistics are run, the body will have been facing out wards from cover, and would likely to have been seen within that 15 foot area, should someone be in the right place at that right moment. although the man was deeply convicted, suffers from guilt, the gunshot will be central, or 40 degrees from center of the forehead, from the right side of the body. there will not be second note with the body.

how in the name of the Lord, can i come up with this? well... crime data supports most of me here on locations. positioning of the body is due to his nature as a person. while he is eluding people, he is going to be on the watch for them as well, probably up to the final moments. the shot will be to the head, because everything else here is justifying a mentally preserved state... hes tying up loose ends, hes looking to disappear, and hes thought this over. that, and statistically men shoot to the head, women are more prone to the body in circumstances. also, he probably wont find a good way to wrap a long arm to his stomach or upper chest, hence the angle to the head. the 1,000 yard shot is a crap shoot. why? my hunch is here that he doesn't have far to get to now, and the mental conflict wants him to preserve himself as long as possible, until he chooses the mark. that being said, he will avoid populous areas; that leaves too much behind, leaves him infamous. hes looking at namelessness, as if he can absolve himself and his family from what happened by doing it this way. the 1,000 yards to a church, or a school... id guess he either has some religious ties, so he goes near a church or worship area [but not his own!], or goes toward a school [ties of comfort, memories of youth and innocence]. my last shot at it is the residential area; because that affords him a last look at humanity in general. maybe he makes a plea for himself at the end, or maybe it sets him off looking at it. the 15 feet rule is because he cant get far. besides, hes not hiding. hes going to kill himself. hes looking for privacy thats opportune, not perpetual. he has not picked out the exact position, but i wouldnt be surprised if he is familiar with the area.

i could be totally wrong. hope i am.

Shackler's Revenge... Whatever The Hell That Means

Here again, I'd post the video/music that was leaked [so far the only OTHER place I've found this was on Youtube, which I put up yesterday, and was promptly quashed over night Sunday], but it wouldn't do me a lot of good... this song is stuck in my brain. Its the new GnR. Its not Appetite For Destruction. Its nowhere near the Illusions albums... but I dig it. So far, its ... very modern. Its very different than the other big leaks in terms of style. This song doesn't even sound like the 4 new ones they have played live... its edgy. It has this disco beat. It has odd noodling distorted guitars. Its Axl, but obviously through a synthesizer with odd effects on his voice. But its the lyrics that I [alone] love.

"I've got a funny feeling there's something wrong today
I've got a funny feeling and it won't go away

I've got an itchy finger and there'll be hell to pay
I'm gonna pull the trigger and blow them all away

Don't ever try to tell me how much you care for me
Don't ever try to tell me how you were there for me

I don't believe there's a reason (I hope you see this)
I don't believe there's a reason (I don't regret this)

I've got a wicked demon inside that never fades
I've got an empty feeling I won't be home today

I don't believe there's a reason (I hope you see this)
I don't believe there's a reason (I don't regret this)
I don't believe there's a reason (I hope you see this)
I don't believe there's a reason (I don't regret this)"


It hits me pretty hard. For whatever reason, these things agree with me or don't. Axl's words usually do. This one really does. Its a song I'd probably write. That is if I had talent. Its the same message. The same feeling. Almost like; if certain people heard this song, they would know where the lyrics came from; like that some of these phrases are snippets of conversations or emotions strong enough people would know who they are directed at just by hearing it. I hope so. Thats why I'm getting out of it. Dammit he is right. I wish I could say things like this, so truthfully, so succinct, so brashly.

"Don't ever try to tell me how much you care for me, don't ever try to tell me how you were there for me" thats good. I wish I could say that. I wish people would understand that. I wish, if this is how he does this, that I could say things and people would get a clue like I did. How people abuse you, how they steal from you, and how to them it all seems like nothing. How they try to convince you of thoughts or feelings that are empty, for the point of keeping up appearances. God dammit that hits home to me.Like it was innocent. Like it never happened. When it was far from that. I wish I could put those words out there to bounce them off some blank faces.

"I've got an empty feeling I won't be home today" which is especially haunting. Lots of reasons. But I love that line. Great song.

] going back to listening [

-- out ---

S.

Pour Some Sugar on Me

The 80's insanity MUST NOT STOP!!!! It stops for no man! So Pour Some SUGAR ON ME!!!!!! [and my mullet!]

Getting The Chair

I hate the dentist. I freaking hate going to see the dentist. Can I be more clear? There are a precious few things that make me cringe in life. I don't like large expanses of open water [the kind that cover horizon to horizon], I'm not overly fond of the summer heat and humidity, but I flippin hate the dentist. There isn't much middle ground for me and that chair. Why? Why not! That scraping feeling, where it feels like each tooth is coming out for sure during their "delicate cleaning" process makes me cringe. I hate the sound the implements make. I hate the feel of your gums being burnt as they polish and apply fluoride paste. I detest the minuscule chunks of plaque and garbage they fling in the air, that inevitably lands in your eyes. I hate it when they say "sorry, that looks like your in pain." I hate the dentist.

When I go to see the doctor, I meet with a nurse first; who takes my information and has me sit and wait for the doctor. When I go to see the dentist, they snarl at me with perfectly bleached fangs, and scowl at the dingy chairs and 3rd rate magazine rack, as if I didn't know what my fate was. At the doctors office; I hear pleasant music. Sometimes Bach, maybe even Schubert, and on a rare Friday afternoon, maybe some talk radio. At the dentist, Axis Sally still calls out units thanking them to die, and welcoming fresh young teeth to wait their torture. My medical doctor leaves nice booklets about the place, modern health trends, Men's Health, Midwest Vacation Magazine, and that lone issue of Golf Digest. Its decorated in pleasant end tables, with lamps! And on the wall is some quaint [as I think of it] Nantucket house on the edge of the sea. Herr Dentist has framed pictures of Stage 4 Periodontal Disease over the exit door to dissuade any escape attempts. Tommy the Tooth leans on his brush, like the butcher leans on a meat grinder. His face is the cheeriest in the room, as I gaze over my copy of Tooth Cracker Illustrated. The waiting room at my physician has a slight hint of gauze and powdered rubber gloves, but is a fresh breath of sterile for the most part. The fetid fumes of the tooth puller are saturated in pain and sweat.

The doctor calls me by name, smiles, and comes out to shake my hand. Dr. Anderson doesn't see me much, but knows when he does something isn't right. He does his best medically, and personally to make me comfortable again. In the Evil Empire of Enamel, I only hear "NEXT," where I open the door my self, half expecting a rifle to be pointed out of it, to walk and find my fate. The screams of drills, and the garbled cries of my fellow man are all around me. I'm as hopeless now, as they are.

The doctor waits till I sit, then has the PA come in to take my history, and my basic vitals. She smiles, makes small talk, and reminds me about my weight. We laugh. I shrug, and say I try my best and some day it should show. Then she departs, reminding me that the doctor will be right in. I stand in the hallway of the [tooth]death camp, looking about me, as if i could, to find a brick I could pull away and crawl behind. But I'm spotted, and gestured to the room. And to The Chair. The last sharp voice I hear orders me to stop with soda, sugar, and all manners of things I love to eat; or else my teeth will rot right through my skull. After that, I hear the snap of a glove, and the whine of the drill. I black out. The pain is still there. But I try to separate myself in two. To peel back a layer of my psyche as they probe and scrape.

The doctor sees me, checks my symptoms. He knows I have drug allergies, and prescribes me a healthy dosage for my ailment. He knows this is the best treatment, but reminds me to call if a side affect materializes, or to set a follow up appointment in a week it my symptoms aren't diminished. He smiles, shakes my hand, and walks me out to the door. But by now, The Dentist, has yet to see me. He lets his underlings have their way with me first. To tire me out. To break my mind, and split my body, then let his healing touch flow around me. I'm scared. The minutes are hours... and after the first hour, I've lost track of what day it really was. Its painful. Its mental more than anything. They continue their wicked ways with out mercy. Until He arrives. He says nothing to me, but speaks in gibberish to a lackey. He identifies me only by my dental records. "Twisted 9." I can't speak. "20 mm over bite." More fingers get shoved in my mouth. Then he stands over me, shoving the light into my eyes, as if it could bring me more discomfort. "I still want to do that Endo on 17." I don't want what he wants, but its futile. "No cavities. ... This time. Schedule a follow up for the Endo, and a six month in February for him. Mark to watch Twisted 9." Then he leaves. My jaws ache from the abuse, but its my mind thats battered most.

Thats why I hate the dentist.

Because every time it feels like this. Every time my teeth hurt down through the roots, my jaws ache to the point of numbness, and I swear I can feel the places where they've burnt streaks into my teeth with the drills and instruments. I've been through 7 dentists in my life. Every single one is a vile as the last. I have a gag reflex now, that I never had. Its the freaking putrid smell of the dentist office and a finger in my mouth, and I'm ready to choke. I hate going to the dentist. I hate it more than most things in life. But I went. And yes, they really want to do a root canal on me, for a tooth that brings me no pain, and very limited sensitivity to cold. It made my routine check up, seem like a tool to shake me down for more money and more pain. I hate dentists. They only seem to have appointments for me at 8:15am, on my only day off in 2 weeks. Do I need more reasons? I think not. Did I mention, I still at 27 have never had a cavity? I rest my case.

400 Is Just A Number

Post 400 is coming up very fast. 4-freaking-hundred. I'm not so sure that I ever planned on keeping this thing going that long, but here it is. I also like to sit back and think about all the others I've left in the dust in the past 6 years or so. I can hardly remember how many of my friends used to have blogs and let them die. Trouble is, many of them still read this one. WHy? I've wondered late at night about what is so compelling to people to read what I write with such regularity. Its flattering. I enjoy it. Hell, some days I even cater to it. But it behooves me to understand it. Just as much so as the reasons why people refuse to read it any more. So many people, so many reasons. So to get that out of the way, I appreciate the ZERO blog birthday wishes I received last week. My six-year old self and I thought about a lot of things over a boring car ride this weekend. Here is how it all started:

"" Tuesday, July 23, 2002

POST NUMERO UNO!

Yep.. Im here. Its really funny, i used to do something like this on my old website [back when xoom.com was alive... god rest ye soul~!]; it was a pain in the ass to keep updating everything in a txt file to do it... im glad technology finally caught up to me once again.

Anywho. post numero uno should be a joyous one.. so ill talk about myself in another entry. As you can tell, if your cool, the title of this blog was ripped from my two of my favorite Guns n Roses songs... Estranged and Its So Easy... GnFnR for life! yeah.. first post is going well.. im glad i have such a great audience here tonight. ill get into more concrete things later... just getting her set up.....

THIS BLOG WAS BORN ON JULY 23, 2002 at 1:53am CST.

ain't it fun~
s. ""


More of a whimper than a bang, thats how this whole mess started out it into the world. What ever the antonym of "impressive," is, we should apply it. Maybe not as much as the void that should have been filled by an "impressive" entry would seem more apt. Fear not, by the second post I was assailing the DMCA, something that can still get me worked up years later. Ho-hum. I'll blow out my candles now.


S.

Some new news for your fix.


Stippers and Vaginaplasty. Mmmm.. Tasty.

Yes, indeed, nude dancing an art in Iowa, judge rules

Available: QCOnline / Moline Dispatch [www.qconline.com]

DES MOINES, Iowa (AP) _ Nude dancing remains an art in Iowa.

A Fremont County judge ruled Friday in favor of a nude dancing club owner charged with violating Iowa's indecent exposure law.

Judge Timothy O'Grady said prosecutors failed to prove that the club wasn't a theater and protected under an Iowa law that allows nudity at such venues devoted to the arts or theatrical performances.

The county attorney had charged former club owner Clarence Judy after a 17-year-old girl climbed up on stage at Shotgun Geniez in Hamburg and stripped off her clothing.

'I think it's a little scary,' Fremont County attorney Margaret Johnson said. 'This person was a minor by just a few months, but what do you do if it's a younger minor? At what point do you say 'This is not appropriate.''

Johnson said she'll provide a copy of the ruling to the state attorney general's office, which will decide whether to appeal the case. Johnson said she hopes to meet with state prosecutors next week about the matter.

If the case is appealed to a higher court, it could affirm the rights of dozens of strip clubs in Iowa or deem them in violation of state law.

A 1998 case in Davenport also found nude dancing is a form of art. Given that, the new owner of the Hamburg club expressed confidence nude dancing would remain legal in Iowa.

'It would be pretty tough to try to appeal it to the Supreme Court,' said Terry Rutledge, who bought the club on Monday. 'In all actuality, you don't have be a theater hall, concert hall or anything. You can be a strip club that has nude dance, which the state of Iowa for the second time has recognized that it is art.'

Arguments in the Hamburg case were made during a one-day trial on July 17. Johnson said the intent of the law is to allow movies in a theater where there's brief nudity or for an art gallery displaying paintings of nudes.

Rutledge, who owned the establishment from 2001 to 2005, said he plans to establish an Iowa Nude Art Center Association. The proposed group would bind Iowa nude dancing clubs together to help establishments that may face similar challenges in the future.

'It's just art and I didn't want to see it die,' Rutledge said about buying the club. 'I didn't want to see somebody give up on it.'

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Australian doctors warn against 'designer vagina' craze


Available: Breitbart News Agency [www.breitbart.com]



Australian doctors have raised concerns about clinics offering vaginal cosmetic surgery, warning the trend towards so-called "designer vaginas" may be exploiting vulnerable women.

The Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists said procedures being offered included "vaginal rejuvenation, revirgination, designer vaginoplasty and G-spot amplification".

"What is involved in these procedures is often unclear since recognised clinical nomenclature is not being used," it said in a position paper released this week.

The college labelled the procedures dangerous, expensive and unwarranted, and said it strongly discouraged surgery that was not backed by scientific evidence or clinical trials.

"The real risks of potential complications such as scarring, permanent disfigurement, infection, dyspareunia and altered sexual sensations should be discussed in detail with women seeking such treatments," it said.

The college said women should understand that there were a large number of variations in the appearance of normal female genitalia.

"The college is particularly concerned that such surgery may exploit vulnerable women," it said.

Ted Weaver, chairman of the college's women's health committee, said most of the operations cost at least 10,000 dollars (9,500 US), which he described as an "extraordinary amount of money".

"We feel these operations might prey on people with insecurities and fears who actually need psychological help," he told Australian Associated Press.

"They are also not very anatomically-based and have the potential to cause serious harm."

Doctors in the United States and Britain have raised similar concerns about the surgery.

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Maybe I should start thinking of tramp stamps, as fashion labels? No? Just think of the poor, exploited children of the world... laboring all day for 30 cents per hour to hand craft designer vag's in sweatshops. What a cruel world!!!!

With A Compass, I Still Don't Know Where I Am

Its a skill I doubt many have anymore. Reading maps is for loser's I suppose, just throw a pretty color screen in and call it GPS and people for get things like maps.... topography... and how to use a compass. Its ironic that a single instrument, save maybe for the pen/pencil/writing utensil, would have such a great impact on the societies of the world, but could vanish so quickly. Sure, the pen too is dead in most respects, but the compass is alone, blanketed in a lime bath at the bottom of the great hole. A compass gives direction. A compass is a needle to give you a margin of truth in a vast wilderness. A compass guides ships across the seas so wide that the horizon for days is nothing but seas. A compass is a singular truth, made by man, that is reliable, sturdy, and effective. Sure, I own two GPS units [one of ridiculous color touch screen variety; but as my friends in Chicago and Texas would agree, the interstate highway system at peak rush is not fond of map readers], but in a prized place in The Jeep sits my glass compass and sighting guide. When I'm on foot out in places I'm not sure of, there is a place right on my gear for it. Yet, with an electronic compass on The Jeep's navigation screen, plus my fancy color doo-dad, and the roll of charts under the seat; why carry it? Because, literally, it helps my find my way, even amidst a figurative dissertation. I am lost.

I'm lost because I'm confused. Its not that I don't know what direction to take. Its not that I don't know what direction I have come. I know both of those answers. Without those, even with a compass a map is useless. But I know them. I know that at nearly thirty now, I don't have a lot to show for anything. I'm sitting in the basement of my parent's house. I work a job that really is meant for people who didn't go through college. I've managed to stay single for nearly four years. Just as I know where I have been, I know too the direction to go. At least where it is that I want to go. It just doesn't do me much good looking around in the wilderness, compass in hand. I still find myself just wandering around. It bugs me to know that with the knowledge in my head, the pain in my gut, I still wander. I realize that there isn't a lot of things I can do myself, but something should be better than nothing. I like to say that progress, is progress. But stumbling around is not progress. A compass is useless without the will to move in a direction I suppose.

I calm myself some nights, with the logic that we can not have it all. The sky is never within our grasp any more than the earth belongs to any one person. However, we all push forward with some desire for something. Something gives us our passion to peruse in life. Pursuit is a natural state. Chasing, clutching, clawing for a shred of something to covet all to ourselves. In the end the scrap we hold means as much or less to us, as the path to seize it. So I tell my self that on some nights. The desires of the dream amount to as little as it may, provided the path to it is worthy. So, figuratively I keep a compass, and I keep up my skill. Other nights I argue with my own damned logic.

I suppose I could whine and lament about things longer. But then that little voice would creep up; begging me to think about how fortunate I am. Fortunate for the things I own [even those color screened doo-dads], fortunate to have my health as good as it is, for the clothes on my back, and for the chance to get an education. Which I am. I can't say for once I ever argued that I was not. I picked out my own doo-dads, I beat the shit out of myself, but am wholly responsible for the mess, and even if people laugh at the clothes I wear, I know that all of that too, is as good as the school I picked to attend. So I figure its more of anxiety. Its more like the boredom of sitting around purgatory waiting on my sentence. But its the darker side of it all. Its mainly self induced. I know I don't have the kind of job I want because I wasn't a good student. If I was a good student, I wouldn't need a state education. But I'm not. I'm a terrible student in structured courses, because I only learn what fascinates me. I know that sitting around with my friends at night, or mending some disastrous program, did not earn me a letter to law school. I hope that somewhere someone enjoyed my company, or got some program off the ground that got to someone. I know that if I was healthy enough, I'd have taken that offer so long ago for the Army. I know that if that happened, my ass would be getting thrown out of airplanes over Afghanistan. But my knees wouldn't hold out on those 12 mile runs. My arms just gave out before I could hit 80 push ups and 40 curls. Had I been not so Scott like; I could have made one relationship work. Maybe it wouldn't last for ever and ever, but better than it did. I also realize that if I looked like Brad Pitt, it wouldn't have been so hard to make it work. Or at least I could have had other offers to pick from. But nothing happened like that. Instead I just walk around as lost as everyone else it, even though I know where I want to go. How long do I want to sit around.

Another Day...

I'd say I have had worse days. And I wouldn't really be lying about it. But considering how short this one was; it could have been much worse. That however, doesn't change much.

Overnight there was a storm that raged through the area [errrrr Illinois side of the river, as hardly any of Iowa seemed to have problems]. It knocked down a lot of brush and trees, and some trailers, and brought some wind driven rain. Anyway, most of the Illinois side of the river has no power. Including Menards. But they opened the store anyhow. 6:30 am, and people were screaming about it. But even after we ran out of chainsaws, gas cans, gasoline generators, and all types of lanterns [and most flashlights and D cell batteries], we stayed open. Don't ask me why. I had to ask myself. With two registers open, run off of a generator we opened up, we stayed open until 7pm. All the while letting idiots in the store in the dark, to purchase twizzlers, door knobs, wall paper, plungers, and hornet/wasp spray. All the essentials of a power outage, right? I bit my lip for most of it. But I did draw the line at special orders and people who flat out told me "we just want to look." They, I escorted out. Of course they were pissy. But after getting home, I found out stores were closed all over; most roads are shut down to get there, and the stores that were open limited sales. Best Buy wouldn't allow customers into the store at all--- and would only sell essential items [batteries, back up power supplies, and anything else Best Buy thinks are essentials].

We let all the clowns in. And chased them around in the dark with flashlights. People looking at tile. People purchasing toilets. Old people playing with grab bars. All of them. For what? No breaks. No leaving. No running water or bathrooms [not due to the city, but due to our ridiculous set up that requires an electric pressure booster to split water to the sprinkler systems]. What a wonderful day to be alive in a Menards. Probably the best part of it all though, is how extensive, yet localized the damage is. Again, 5 miles away, across the Mississippi River, really was unaffected... sporadic power outages... but nothing major. The way the clientèle talked today; the world stopped spinning. Just goes to show you how lovely the general public is. I think we did more than most stores did today, effort-wise; but I'm sure the bottom line doesn't show it, but I just can't get past how ungrateful the people were today. Again, its not like this was a war zone, or a hurricane. It rained. Trees blew over. Power went out. Even at Menards.

What gets me the most is how incompetent most of the employees are. Most of them acted as if they had never been in a power outage. True, none of them probably worked through one, but they could have tried a bit harder to make it work. Most bitched about how hot it was. Or how they were crippled without a computer. Some complained that it wasn't possible to figure out pricing for people. Its all very d0-able. Most really just thought it was a game. Many laughed about my rigged up flashlight around my neck; but quit laughing when they were elbow deep in fittings in the dark finding parts for people. No one seemed to understand why I carried a parts catalog and carbon invoices in my pocket all day, but not after I didn't have to wander around to find items, or transcribe skus to people at the registers. Further more, certain departments were crippled because they rely too heavily on the computers to obtain inventory and pricing. Most of mine is memorized; sure its not exact, but I know how deep I am on product, the pricing within a few pennies to a quarter, and I know my skus by memory---they always have laughed at me for that. To me, I made it work better than anyone else, and seemed as little bothered by it as anyone. Store managers were sweating and freaking out, departments were shut down. But my only obstacle were the the people themselves. Not the ones needing things.... but the ones just stomping around.

And the employees who were worthless.... No one seemed to understand the importance of bringing food and water to work. Mine was cold, in a cooler with ice, in the back of the jeep. I thought one girl was going to cry when she realized the power tools were dead and she couldn't scrap a printer for parts. I had the manual versions on my hip. And I could tell her the parts she needed by number and description [thanks in part to my previous lives!] In short, I hope a real disaster never happens around here. These are the people that die of starvation at the grocery store. These were the people that couldn't really rig a day of sales together at the store known for being the king of "rigging" things.

Van Halen - Jump

so what is more 80's than clear acrylic drum kits? a denim vest with a sweat band? maybe spandex so tight it should cause a vasectomy? So... Get your back off that record machine!!! Lace up your Ultimate Warrior leg bands, and get your best leopard print shirt on.... 'cuz... we MIGHT AS WELL JUMP!

Bon Jovi - Living on a Prayer

I'm loopy from the hair spray... maybe some leather and fringe will bring me back... ooooooooooooooooooh we're half way there!!!!!!!!! oooooooOHHHHHH LIVIN ON A PRAYER!!!!

Twisted Sister - I Wanna Rock

and because the hit parade can not continue without it...

Twisted fuckin Sister!

STAND UP AND TELL THE CLASS WHAT YOU WANT TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE!!!!!!!

Damn Yankees - High Enough

can anyone else on earth, wear THAT outfit as successfully as Ted Nugent does?

On second thought; where would this song even be without Uncle Ted.

Wolds best sunglasses ever!!!!!

Night Ranger - Don't Tell Me You Love Me

we need some 80's hits... STAT!!!!