Nothing Hurts So Much As The Truth

2002-12-10T11:02:00.000-06:00

Mister Looney's Corner

In response to yesterday's post, several people emailed me with very interesting questions. I would like to take this time to answer some of those questions.

Q: Who is going to win the Super Bowl this year?

A: Looking into the future I can see that the two competitors in the Super Bowl will be the San Francisco 49ers and the Oakland Raiders. Since the Super Bowl is being held in San Diego, this will be an all California Super Bowl, therefore nobody will care about the result. The game will be close, going to overtime. The Raiders will win the coin toss in overtime, drive down the field, and kick the winning field goal. This will outrage San Francisco fans who will say that the NFL's overtime rules are not fair. The NFL will notice that almost 80 percent of all overtime games are won by the team who wins the coin toss and will work to improve their system. Next year, NFL overtime games will be decided by Rock Paper Scissors competitions.

Q: Who will win the World Series next year?

A: I would like to answer this question with another question. Who cares?

Q: Mister Looney, it seems that you have trouble maintaining your train of thought. Why is this?

A: To be honest, I have a medical condition that affects my brain in such a way that I sometimes forget what I am talking about. I also have a medical condition called astigmatism that affects my eyes. Did you know that spiders have eight eyes as well as eight legs? Spiderman was a great movie. Speaking of great movies, has anybody seen A Clockwork Orange? If so, here is a Nadsat Glossary for all of you malchicks and devotchkas out there. I hope that answered your question.

Q: Who is the most beautiful woman in the world?

A: That is probably the easiest question to answer. The most beautiful woman in the world, by far, is Fairuza Balk. GRRRR! I hope she is reading this. If so, you have my email, write me!

Q: Mister Looney, are you retarded?

A: I refuse to answer that until I get my blueberry waffles. WHERE ARE MY BLUEBERRY WAFFLES?!?

Well, that's all the questions I'll be taking for today. I've got to save something for tomorrow. If you would like to have your questions answered here, simply leave them in the comments below, or Write me! Remember, nothing is taboo or too personal here at The Truth. See ya!

2002-12-09T14:33:00.000-06:00

Diarrhea, Cha Cha Cha

One of my favorite shows that used to be on MTV was Daria. They don't show Daria on MTV anymore, but now they do show it on Noggin. The problem? The problem is that Noggin is geared more towards pre to early teenagers. That means that while watching Daria, you have to put up with commercials for other shows like Degrassi. These commercials are just fucking gay. This is the first time, as far as I can remember, where I stopped watching a television show based solely on the commercials that air during the show. I think that someone needs to put all the episodes on DVD already so I can watch them at any time. You think so too? Then sign the petition. Us Daria fans must be heard! La la la la la. La la la la la.

This weekend really sucked. I wanted to slam some beers on Saturday for my birthday, but nobody else had money for beer besides me. I'll be damned if I end up buying all the beer for everybody else to drink for my own birthday celebration. I always end up having to buy all the beer anyway. I'm tired of having broke ass friends who spend every free penny on drugs and video games. Any rich people out there want to be my friend? I promise I'll do my part, I am just tired of doing everybody else's part.

Another reason that this weekend sucked is that the seal at the bottom of my toilet is all fucked up. Every time you flush the toilet, water starts coming out. That completely soaked the carpet in the bathroom, so we had to yank the carpet out. We are trying to get the wood underneath to dry out. Some time this week I'm going to have to pull up the toilet and replace that seal. That's what I get for living in this old-ss, ancient, falling-apart, run-down, piece-of-shit house, huh?

About a month ago I volunteered to do some websites for the school district. They want me to start them now, but I'm not sure I want to any more. The main reason for this is because I don't know if they are going to pay me for it. They say they are, but nobody has given me an exact amount yet. I may just do the site then ask for payment. If they don't pay up I may just replace their website with pornography or something equally askew to the purpose of a school district's website. We shall see what happens.

The fall semester at college is finally over. I love going to school, but I hate never having any free time for myself. At least now my evenings will be free to relax a bit. My next semester will not be nearly as taxing as this last one was. I only have classes on Monday and Wednesday evenings, then all day on Saturday. My Monday class is Trigonometry, which I could probably teach. My Wednesday class is Drawing, which I truly love doing anyway. My Saturday class is Cisco, which again I really enjoy doing. Thank god for financial aid.

I have now come to a brick wall where I can't really decide what else to write. Maybe if some of you could leave a comment, asking me a question which I could answer on a subsequent post that would be really handy. Don't be afraid to ask anything, for I know everything. Until later, I'll just go and figure out how to cook speed in the microwave.

2002-12-05T15:14:00.000-06:00

Chicken and Beer Don't Mix

Well, my birthday has come and gone without incident. I can happily say now that I won't have another one for another 364 days. Some of my friends came by last night to congratulate, I mean heckle, me. They constantly reminded me how much older I am. Most of my friends are between the ages of 19 and 24. Now that I am 27 they enjoy making me feel like the grandpa. I would like to say that it doesn't bother me, but it does a little. I am truly young at heart, and I think it scares me that I may one day have to grow up. I desperately cling to those things that make me remember my youth. Although my teenage years were among the most turbulent times of my life, but also some of the best times. Oh shit, I think I feel a flashback coming on...

I was 17 years old, and things were going my way. I was young, single, and carefree. At that time, I was working part-time at Kentucky Fried Chicken with two of my best friends, Doc and J-Bird. The three of us had the funnest time having races to see who could load the baskets the fastest and having chicken fat fights in the back. The three of us were figureheads of our own street gang that we called "The Wicked". The Wicked crew was less about drugs and violence and more about partying and having fun. This is a story about one of those times.

Three of us; Doc, my friend Shadow, and myself, had birthdays that fell within two weeks of each other. We decided that we wanted to have a party to celebrate all three at the same time. The date was decided to be December 10th, 1992.

In order to have a successful teenage gangsta party, three things are vital: plenty of beer, a location to have the party, and lots of bitches. Bitches? Hey, we were in a gang, that's what we called all girls. Beer we had easily. We KFC employees had a deal going with the liquor store across the street where we could trade buckets of chicken for alcoholic beverages. Beer was never a problem for us to get. Getting the girls wasn't too hard either. Between all of us, we had plenty of phone numbers that we could call to invite them. We would tell them to bring their friends, so there was always a good flux of fresh young tail for us fellas to go after. The problem that we ran across time and time again was location. Most of us lived with our parents, so it was difficult to find places where the parents wouldn't be around to ruin our fun. This particular weekend, it was next to impossible. For some crazy reason, this was the day that nobody's parents went out for the night. We had to find an alternative.

It was suggested that we go to one of our backwoods, out-of-the-way country places to party, but it was way too cold this particular night. We needed a place indoors. Then we started to scheme. There was a certain manager at KFC who it seemed wanted to be "one of the guys". Using our powers of persuasion, we managed to talk him into letting us into the back door of KFC after-hours. It was perfect. There was plenty of space in the back for lots of people, and if we got hungry, we could drop a few baskets of chicken strips. We knew then that this would be one party that we would never forget.

The day of the party, we made the preparations. We took two buckets of extra-crispy across the street to get us some beer. We had some money, too, so we could buy even more beer and several bottles of Boone's Farm for the ladies that would be in attendance. Phone calls were made to these ladies, some of whom agreed to come to our little bash. There was a cassette player in the back at KFC, so we made sure to bring all of our good tapes to listen to. Now all we had to do was wait.

After KFC closed for the night, we made our move. We took every precaution we thought would be necessary. We parked our cars in non-conspicuous locations near the restaurant. We made sure we didn't turn on any of the lights in the front. We informed everybody to stay in the back area where we couldn't be seen from the windows. Ritchie, the KFC manager who was in on the plan, let us in through the back. We unloaded case after case of beer and then began our Slamfest. We immediately got on the phones to call the chics to tell them that we were there and ready for their arrival. Meanwhile, we were pounding brews at breakneck speed. It is important to be at least a little drunk by the time the girls show up at the party, that way you can't be held responsible for any of your actions.

About a half hour into the party, Doc got the bright idea to make some chicken for us. That's when all Hell broke loose. He walked out to the kitchen area and then came right back saying "The fucking pigs are outside!" "Pigs", if you don't know, is gangsta-speak for police officers. We didn't know what to do. We were trapped inside KFC with shitloads of beer after store hours. We decided that maybe if we were really quiet, they would go away. We turned off the lights in the back and the radio. We then sat in darkness to see what happened. Of course, the cops didn't just forget about us, they just stood outside pounding on the door saying "Open up! We know you're in there!" Ritchie decided to go tell the cops that he was a manager and that he was just doing some paperwork still. We didn't know if that would work, so we decided to hide, just in case. We hid in the best location we could think of, the walk-in refrigerator. Who would look for teenage alcoholics in there? There were only about seven of us there at this time, so we all packed in and waited. We hoped that Ritchie would convince the police that he was the only one there. Our hopes were soon shattered when we heard the cops outside the walk-in. They were searching the place and talking on their little walkie-talkie's. We knew that it was only a matter of time before they opened the door to our little hideout.

While we were sitting in the refrigerator freezing our balls off, we were scheming again. "Ok, here's the plan. When these fucking pigs open the door, we all rush out at the same time. We'll knock them to the ground, then we run out the back door. They might catch a few of us, but they can't catch us all." So that was our plan. I envisioned it working to perfection and nobody getting caught, besides Ritchie who was probably already in handcuffs. So we waited.

Now that I look back, I'm thinking the cops knew that we were in the walk-in. I think that they were being smart-asses by letting us freeze in there while they searched for and found all of our liquor. Finally the moment came for our plan to take shape. We heard the crack as the door to the walk-in was being opened. The seven of us were crouched, ready to pounce on the nearest police officer as we made our escape. Suddenly, the door was flung open and before any of us could make a move, we were looking down the barrels of about four police issue pistols. I think each of us was waiting for someone else to make the first move.

So we were busted. The cops called each of us out one at a time. Then they proceeded to throw us on the ground to cuff us. I had the great displeasure of being thrown down with my nose right above one of the floor drains. The smell of rotting, decaying, chicken fat and grease lingers with me to this day. Once we were all cuffed, we were packed into the paddy wagon and taken to the station.

At the station, we were all questioned individually. You would think that we were suspects in a homicide case or something. It was ridiculous. I remember sitting across a table from one of the police officers. The lamp light was blinding me and my head was still swimming from the buzz that I had managed to catch. The cop looked me square in the eye and said "Have you been drinking?" I could feel my body swaying in my chair. Wasn't it obvious? Despite that, I decided to lie and say "No." The cop then said, "All right. Get out of here." That was it? I left the station wondering what the hell had just happened. He asked me one question, I lied, and I got away with it. Most of my friends were not so lucky. They all got underage drinking charges, and Richie got contributing to the delinquincy of minors, since he was the only one over 21.

I recall this event because as fucked up as that night turned out, it was still fun and exciting. Most of those people who were there I don't really associate with anymore. Most of them have disappeared into their own lives. Doc, who was quite possibly the best friend that I ever had, died tragically a few years later in a car accident. I really miss all of those people from that period in my life. I miss the Wicked crew. I miss trying to bust my "mack" on all the "bitches" that we met. I miss the times we had rumbling with other cliques and running from the law. As much as I miss it, I would never go back. Back then I had no responsibilities. I knew that whatever I did, it would not really affect anybody else. Not so anymore. I still try to have fun whenever possible, but it is now with an added degree of reservation.

2002-12-04T15:48:00.000-06:00

What? My Birthday?

Here I am smack dab in the middle of finals week. What fun. So far this week I have taken four final exams, only two more to go. I seriously can't wait for this semester to be over. I think I overloaded myself trying to take eighteen credit hours of classes while at the same time working full time and trying to spend quality time with the family. In other words, I think I am experiencing serious burnout. I'm not too worried about my grades, I'm just tired of not ever having any free time at all. It will be nice for once to be able to go home after work and relax with my family and friends. I hate being 27 years old and barely in college still. I kick myself every day for wasting so many years on bullshit. Every time I feel like quitting, I just tell myself "You don't want to be going to college when you're 30, do you?" Usually that is all the motivation I need to push onward.

Yesterday we had our first real snow of the Winter. I love the snow, I just hate having to drive in it. I'm not worried so much about myself as I am about other idiots on the road. Some people really don't know how to react when they are driving in the snow and their cars start to slide. On my way to and from school last night I saw four or five cars that had gone off the road. That is kinda sad considering that this is Colorado and you would think that people would know how to drive in snowy weather.

I have finally decided that I want to move the blog to a new location. Actually, I am creating a whole new blog using Movable Type. I am also going to register my own domain and get my own server space. I am working on the website now, and hope to be online shortly after the holidays. I want to wait till after the holidays before I shell out the cash necessary for this undertaking, that way I make sure I have plenty for Christmas presents. Stay tuned for more on the new weblog.

I was informed this morning that today is my birthday. I hate it. I am now 27 years old, which is ninety percent of the way to 30. Holy shit I feel old! My mom gave me my present already, a nice selection of primsacolors. Yay! Now I can work more on my artwork. I want to do more mixed media things using pen and ink and colored pencils. I like things to be super colorful, like the old Santana album covers. Maybe when I get the new blog up and running I can post some of my own artwork on the site. Another great reason for getting my own hosting.

Soulmate gave me a watch, which was nice. We are not exactly in fiscal utopia right now, so I appreciate the fact that she didn't get carried away with my gift. The gift that I am really looking forward to is dinner tonight. Soulmate is making pasta, which I fucking love! I swear I could eat pasta for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day for the rest of my life and never get tired of it. I swear I should have been born Italian. That is kind of funny, because so many people think my last name, Tenorio, is Italian. That coupled with my relatively light skin for a Chicano has led many people to believe that I am Italian. All I can say when people ask me if I'm Italian is "I wish!" For desert tonight Soulmate is making another one of my all-time faves: German chocolate cake with the coconut pecan frosting. I'm going to have to exercise extreme self-control tonight to keep myself from achieving orgasm right there at the dinner table. It's gonna be great.

I do most of my good thinking as I am driving in the car to and from school. It is a fifteen minute drive either way, so usually it's just me, the radio set to 98.1 and my thoughts. It's unfortunate that so many good ideas come to me at this time, because I am not willing to pull off the highway just to write this stuff down, and as soon as I step out of the car upon reaching my destination *POOF* Whatever was there is now gone. I need one of those little voice recorder devices so that when something good comes to me I can say it and have it for later. The problem with that is I wouldn't want to look like a dork talking into a little machine. Goddammit! Why must I have to deal with these stupid little dilemmas?

There used to be a day when playing with your food was taboo. Nowadays, food products are being designed so that you can play with them. There is Kool Aid that "magically" changes color before your eyes. There are Fruit Roll Ups that double as really keen tattoos. Then there is ham that you can stamp. I was quite amazed at this last product. My daughter got a Lunchable the other day. Enclosed in the packaging was the standard fare: Cheese, ham, and crackers. Also enclosed was a little stamper that you could stamp your ham with. It turns out that it is actually just a piece of candy with an excess of dye in it. According to the directions on the box, you lick the stamper candy and then you can stamp your ham (sounds a lot like slapping the salami, doesn't it?) I don't know about you, but I feel uneasy about food you can stamp with some crazy dye before you eat it. I guess everything we eat nowadays anyway is artificially colored and everything, but usually you don't see this process. Well, my son got his hands on the stamper candy and ate it. I'm pretty sure that it was non-toxic, but it turned his whole mouth dark blue. I tried to wash it off with a washcloth, but it would not come off. AFter looking through the website, I found this notice that details the possibility of staining due to these products. My son's mouth was dyed blue, all because some company thought that kids would have so much fun stamping their food. What is the logical next step in food production? Candy that you can write on a chalkboard with, then lick off? Soda that you can drink, then eat the can. How about breakfast cereal that makes you fart different smells or poop in different colors. Everybody knows that there is nothing funnier than farts and poop. Throw me a bone, give us some really fun food for a change.

Watching the kids at the school play outside in the snow today made me realize that I never want to move somewhere that has no snow. I couldn't do that to my kids. Snow is one of nature's little toys, and I think a childhood would be essentially empty without at least a few fond memories of building snow forts or throwing snowballs. After work today I would like to go home and build a snowman with my daughter. I don't know if she has ever built one, but I guarantee she will love it. My son will like it too. Snow is one of the toys that you can throw around as much as you want and nobody really cares. That is unless you break a window or something. If it was the weekend, I would show my daughter how to steal trash can lids and use them to slide down hills. Seriously, what could be more fun? Hopefully there is still snow on the ground by Saturday.

2002-12-03T12:09:00.000-06:00

Well, It Ain't Mayberry

I hate living in a small town. Correction, I really hate living in a small town. I have lived in this little town of about 4000 people for about ninety percent of my life and I cannot stand it. Some people enjoy the small-town life, but I, for one, don't understand what the appeal can be.

I hate the fact that no matter where you go in this town, you know pretty much everyone else you see. You go to the grocery store and everyone there is someone you know. Not necessarily someone you like, just someone you know. Look, there's that weird old guy with the buzzcut who walks around town bumming cigarettes from everyone. Over there, that's that girl who already has like four kids and she's only 19 years old. See those hoodrats over there? They are responsible for spraypainting "fuck you" on the church. In fact, I'm willing to bet that at any time I can walk into the store and tell you something about the vast majority of the people in there. What's really disturbing is that I start to wonder what these people say about me. In a perfect world, people would not concern themselves with things that are not their business. In a small town world, everybody's business is the business of everybody else.

Some people say that they like small towns because there is less crime. I say bullshit. Sure, there are less people in a small town, so the sheer mass of crime is likely to be lower, but I'm betting that per capita, crime in small towns is just as prevalent as it is in bigger cities. In fact, due to the reduced police force, I'm betting that there is more crime in small towns that goes unreported. Hell, I know of drug dealers who moved their operation to this town because the heat was getting too much in the big city. Our town doesn't have a drug task force, we only have four cops here all together. Drug dealers can sling their crack and meth here without fear of ever being caught. We also have our share of murders and robberies here as well. Sure, they never make the ten o'clock news, but the news station is in Colorado Springs, they don't give a fuck about what's going on here. Why should they? If Rocky Ford were blown off the map, the only thing they would probably miss would be the damned cantaloupes.

There is nothing to do in small towns. Yeah, there are a couple of bars here, but they are all either Spanish music cantinas or country bumpkin bars. How are you supposed to have any kind of fun unless you are an immigrant or a redneck? It fucking sucks. It really sucks for kids here. They can't go into those bars, as unappealing as they are anyway. There's no mall here. There's no arcade. Kids like to have fun, and will do so at any expense. There are three things that kids here think are fun: Drinking beer, smoking dope, and having sex. That's why the girl mentioned above has managed to have four kids already and the drug dealer mentioned above has such a profitable business here. I would go so far to say that about fifty percent of the economy here goes towards the distribution of illegal drugs. Of course that's not something you will find out about at the Chamber of Commerce, but I'd be willing to bet if someone wants to do the research. Teenagers here always fall into the trap of drugs and alcohol. Not sometimes, always. It's all they can do to maintain sanity. You can only go cow-tipping and bumper-skiing so many times before you are bored out of your mind.

There are no jobs in small towns. Sure, you could work at the convenience store or at a gas station, but who wants to do that the rest of their lives? Around here, if you make over seven dollars an hour, that is considered "good money". What kind of shit is that? Good thing there's Welfare, because without it almost none of the people that live here would afford to even live. More and more the life of the drug dealer is looking more appealing. I am lucky to make ten grand a year, but I'm afraid to leave my job, because where would I go? I could become a farmer, but that is not my ambition. I could open up a liquor store or a pawn shop, but that would take an initial investment which I am not willing to make. Not here anyway.

Small towns are super-susceptible to "The Flavor of the Day". I remember the first person to get low-profile tires in this town. They were about 13 inches in diameter, they stuck out about 3 inches from the side of the car, and they made his car look like a freaking skateboard. I don't know how this could catch on, but it did. You didn't even have to have a nice car it didn't seem. People were driving around in shitty-ass Pintos and Cavaliers with shiny chrome and gold rims. I personally want to puke when I see these people. They drive around like they are the best thing around because they have nice rims and shitty bass in the trunk. Pathetic is the only word I can think of to describe it. I remember one day I took a ride and saw someone walking his pit bull pup in town. I didn't think much of it until the next day when I saw three people walking their pit bulls in town. I then found out that in order to be "cool" in this town, you had to have a pit bull. It soon came to be that people were judged not by their discerning qualities, but rather by how bad-ass their pit bull was. I don't have a pit bull, therefore I am nothing in this town. That's OK, I don't want much to do with this town anyway.

I plan on leaving here soon. I want to finish this portion of my schooling, then I will put my resumé on the market. Hopefully, I can land a position in Colorado Springs or Denver. Hopefully I can make more than seven dollars an hour, what a joke. Anybody want to offer me a job? Shit, I would be packed and ready to go within the hour. Just get me out of this small town.

On a lighter note, I saw someone try to hit a bong backwards this weekend. He put the bowl where you are supposed to suck from and he sucked from where you are supposed to put the bowl. I noticed him about to do this, but I didn't say anything to stop him. I figured it would be good for a laugh. Needless to say, he got a good mouthful of bong water. Yummy. He gagged then spit the bong water into an empty beer bottle. The water was kind of dark and actually looked a little like beer. I watched that bottle the rest of the night to see if anyone would attempt to drink the bong water a second time, but I was only wishful thinking I guess.

My brother came to my house and brought his Playstation 2 with Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. Talk about therapeutic. It is so easy to deal with frustrations when you can cruise Vice City, get out of your car, and blow up the motorcyclist who cut you off. Then you go and steal his motorcycle, go to the dance club, and throw a grenade on the dance floor. Most of the people die, but some still manage to keep dancing despite all the dead bodies on the floor. The cops then chase you. You blow off their heads with a shotgun and steal the police car. Of course by this time you have two or three stars so the pigs keep chasing you. You find a ladder to a high building and go up. From this vantage point you can cap anyone and everyone with the sniper rifle. You continue to create havoc until the helicopters come and try to blast you. You turn the tables on them by blowing them up with the rocket launcher. Just when it looks like the FBI and the CIA and the SWAT team are closing in around you, you do the wanted level cheat to reduce your wanted level to zero. You can then come down from your perch and walk right past the cop who was just chasing you and step over the dead bodies of the innocent bystanders that you killed. That'll teach you to cut me off, mother fucker!

I found a new kind of bread that is so good as to get my Stamp of Approval. It is the Sara Lee Honey White Bread. The great thing about this bread is that it is only like a buck fifty for a loaf. It is so soft and so good. It also makes excellent grilled cheese and ham sandwiches. I would like to take this time to thank my local grocer for carrying this gift from the gods. My stomach thanks you as well.

As a final, yet insignificant note, I would like to say that tomorrow is my B-day. It's horrible, I'll be 27 years old. When I start thinking about how much of my life I wasted in the military, I feel compelled to convince others that the military is a mistake. Sure, the commercials look cool and you do get to see other parts of the world, but it's really not worth it. If you value seeing your family on a daily basis, don't join the military. If you value the choice of living where you would like to, don't join the military. If you enjoy having the choice of what job you do, don't join the military. If you enjoy dressing in the way you like and looking the way you like, don't join the military. In fact, if you value your freedom at all, don't join the military. The military is designed to defend our freedom, not necessarily practice it. I saw an old friend the other day who informed me that he has been in the Navy for eight years now. My obvious response was "Are you afraid to get out, or what?" He didn't seem to understand what I was asking. It was like he had been brainwashed and made to love military life. That is the only way I could see why someone would remain in the the military beyond their original enlistment. The military life is about structure, and I think that some people don't know what they'll do when that structure is gone and they actually have to do things for themselves. It's actually quite sad and disheartening. But back to my birthday, feel free to send whatever you like with the exception of pipe bombs and envelopes with anthrax. My birthday's today, big fucking whoop. I think a good birthday present would be if you told me that you were considering the military, but then changed your mind thanks to me. That would make my day knowing I helped someone for the better.

2002-11-26T11:12:00.000-06:00

Blah!

I'm feeling pretty shitty today, so this will be a short post, essentially to bitch about stuff. I threw up like crazy last night. I considered calling in today, but I feel that I have some kind of obligation to be here for the kids. That's more than I could say for most of the real teachers here. They miss school regularly. I have a theory and it goes like this. "How can you expect a child to learn from you if he/she doesn't think you care about them? Which goes along with How can expect a child to think you care about them if you are never there?" That is part of the problem with this school. They are too concerned with test scores and they forget to care about the kids. I think that if you care about the kids, the test scores will follow.

You know what I hate on television now? It's those stupid anti-marijuana commercials that they show. Usually they depict some retarded teenagers smoking pot and doing retarded shit. One I saw last night had these two teenage boys hitting a bong in what looked like one of their father's study. One of the boys finds a gun in the desk and says "Hey, look at this!" They stare at it like morons and then the boy who is holding the gun "accidentally" caps his friend. What the fuck is up with that? Marijuana does NOT make people act retarded like this. This commercial would have more merit as an advisory for gun control. Either that or as an advisory against retarded teenagers. It makes me so mad because I feel that marijuana is relatively harmless, but these commercials try to find any little thing to say that marijuana is so fucking deadly. The government has gone too far with their retarded little "War on Drugs". It isn't working fellas. The money spent for dumb commercials could be better spent on something useful like fixing up under-privileged communities or scholarships for lower-class students. Another domb commercial series that I abhor is the stupid Truth commercials against tobacco-use. I don't even smoke cigarettes, but these commercials make me want to just to spite their asses. Myth: people don't know that tobacco use is harmful. Fact: Everyone knows that tobacco is bad for you, but people will smoke cigarettes despite that. No stupid commercial is going to change someone's mind about smoking. Idiots.

2002-11-22T12:21:00.000-06:00

Date TV

One of my little guilty pleasures is that I enjoy watching some of the polyamorous dating shows that have been showing on TV lately. The three that stick out in my head right now are Dismissed, ElimiDate, and The 5th Wheel. I think these show are hilarious because you see several types of relationships develop simultaneously. You get to see the interactions between the daters, but what might even be more funny is the confrontations between the contestants themselves. They just always talk so much shit to each other and about each other. I'm surprised more fights haven't broken out.

I remember the old Dating Game where "The Lovely Bachelorette" or "The Handsome Bachelor" had like sixty seconds to ask a series of asinine questions such as "If I were a Twinkie, what would you stuff me with?" (I don't think a bachelor would ask that question, but who knows?) The bachelor(ette) didn't even get to see who they were going on the date with until he or she made the final decision. On the dating games now, however, if that question were asked the other person would probably respond with "Well let me show you what I would stuff you with." then they would jump on them and start grinding and shit. TV sure has come a long way from the days of Chuck Woolery.

I think that these shows make for good television. They constantly push the envelope of what is considered acceptable on TV. Shit, if I watch The 5th Wheel and don't see some fuzzed out tits and ass, I really feel like the show has let me down. I am firmly against censorship of any kind, To see dating shows go from mild to wild is extremely refreshing.

Some of you may want to get onto one of these dating game show. It's simple enough, all you have to do meet a few requirements. First of all, you must be at least mildly attractive. I use the term "mildly attractive" loosely, because I have seen some "dawgs" on the shows. Secondly, you have to be around the ages between 18 and 28. Let's face it, not many people want to watch five sixty-year-olds jumping in the hot tub. Third, you have to match one of the producers target character profiles. Want a list? Here's a rundown:

X-Person: In order to be an X-Person, you either have to be a skater, surfer, skier, or otherwise participate in some extreme sport. This makes for some interesting dates: "On my date, we're going to BASE jump from a balloon."
Non-Dater: If you have never been on a date before, a dating game show is an excellent opportunity to jump into the dating scene. The dorks on these shows always have the inate inability to socialize in any situation. They say stupid shit, they do stupid thing, and their main purpose for being on the show is to make me fall out of my chair laughing at their stupid asses.
Desparate and Horny: A study has shown that 95 percent of the men who make it on these dating shows fit this category. This number seems extreme, but it is actually consistent with the 95 percent of the population who fit this category. People in this category can be identified by their cheesy one-liners and will most likely beg for a kiss by the end of the show.
Slut: The same study mentioned above has also shown that 95 percent of the women on dating shows fit this category. Once again, this may seem high, but the number is consistent with the 95 percent of the male population who are desparate and horny. If you have no problems with showing your boobs on camera, knowing that the world will just see a flesh-colored blur, then you will have no problem getting on a dating show. What good would a dating show be without lap dances and body shots anyway?

Winning on one of these shows is an entirely different matter. For women, whoever most embodies the Slut category usually wins. For men, it's usually just a shot in the dark. What I like the most about these shows is that every contestant is completely convinced that they are going to win, no matter how obvious it is to the spectator that they have no chance. When reality finally rears its ugly head at the end of the show, they usually say shit like "Well, she wasn't really my type anyway" or "I guess he just really likes sluts" (Well, duh). I would really like to be on one of these shows, because I know that I would win. Admittedly, I'm not the best looking guy out there, but I think knowing that would actually help my chances. I would have to win with charm and personality, two things that I am fully stocked on (Yeah right, that's just me being stuck on myself again). Soulmate even said that it would be OK for me to be on one of those dating shows. She said that she would enjoy watching my ass get shot down. Maybe I would, but at least there would be the chance of seeing some tits and ass. Can you guess which category I fit into?

I got a good idea for a dating show. Ten girls, ten guys, put them all together in a party-style atmosphere. Then pull couples out randomly and put them in compromising situations. At the end, let them all pick one. If any matches are made then they could get like cash prizes or Victoria's Secret gift certificates or something. I don't know, it's just a goofy idea that I would probably watch.

2002-11-17T18:14:00.000-06:00

Village People

This morning, Soulmate and I went to eat breakfast at Village Inn. That is, if you call 12:30 PM breakfast time. Me, I say anything you eat within two hours of getting out of bed is breakfast, so this qualified. It was pretty damned good. I enjoy going to restaurants like this because it gives us a chance to sit across from each other to talk. At home, we usually plop down in front of the tube and zone each other out while we eat. So were talking all good and I start going off about how much I love astronomy. I started telling her about how I would like to get a telescope and a nice camera so I could take some pictures of galaxies and star clusters and shit. She leans over the table and tells me "You're a fucking nerd." This kind of shocked me because it came out of the blue. I recovered then said "Yeah, so. I don't give a shit." She told me "I know you don't. That's cool."

But seriously, why the fuck should I give a fuck if anyone thinks I'm a nerd? If liking astronomy makes me a nerd, then I better start stocking up on pocket protectors. If liking math makes me a nerd, then I'd better make all my jeans into high waters. I've been called a nerd pretty much all my life. As much as I can remember anyway. The reasons why I was called a nerd were:

I wore glasses
I was smart, and
I wasn't the social butterfly then that I am now

It really did bother me back then. I hated it. Probably because I truly am a people person. The fact that people would avoid me because of this stupid label I was involuntarily tagged with, that pissed me off. So all through high school I did everything I could to ditch that name. I threw away my glasses, said "fuck school!", and started going out regularly. The nerd moniker started melting away, but at the expense of who I really was. Sure I was having fun with all my new friends, but I wasn't being mentally fulfilled. Only after going back to college do I realize that. I love college because I love the knowledge I get from it. Things I would not have known otherwise, I now know. Interests, such as astronomy, that I would not have otherwise had, I now have. The world and the universe are truly magical places once you know a thing or two about them. So if you enjoy making fun of nerds, go ahead and cast your stones this way. I am unaffected by your words. I think I've just been waiting for 20 years to say that.

I now know what I should have done when Soulmate told me I was a nerd. I should have immediately said "Oh yeah! Would a nerd do this, baby!" Then I should have jumped across the table, and I should have started making out with her right there in Village Inn. That would have been something she would have remembered. Dammit! I'll just have to remember for the next time.

2002-11-15T12:23:00.000-06:00

I really want to register my own domain, get my own web server space, and move my website to Movable Type. Does anybody know of a good web server service that supports Movable Type and image hosting at a reasonable cost? If so, I would appreciate any help in this matter. Thanks.

2002-11-15T11:41:00.000-06:00

Thanks For the Casinoes

As my faithful readers know, I work at an elementary school. There are about 300 kids that attend this school, and I love them all, mind you, not in a Michael Jackson sort of way. The people that I hate are actually some of these kids' parents. Some parents today are just so anal. When I was in school, this same school in fact, Halloween was a special, no make that magical occasion. Shit, the whole month of October could be considered Halloween month. Paper skeletons with posable limbs adorned every door. Plastic spiders hung from every ceiling. Everything in October built up to the climax of Halloween when everybody got to come to school in costume and have a massive party with orange cupcakes, "bug juice" punch, and enough candy to make your gums bleed. Damn, that was a good time to be a kid!

Working for the school this year, however, I noticed stark contrast to the glory days of my youth. No pumpkin decorations with eerie yellow eyes and grins. No moons silhouetted with black cats and witches on brooms. No costumes or candy. Why? Because of anal-retarded parents. "Halloween is evil." "Halloween is a Pagan holiday." "I don't want my kids celebrating Halloween." These are the battle cries of the few parents who like to ruin things for the many. Those parents who say that shit miss the point. Halloween is F-U-N for kids. Kids L-I-K-E to dress up and get candy. Whatever Halloween was in the past has no bearing on what it is to kids today. I have never heard kids say "Screw church. Screw God. It's Halloween, let's worship the Devil!" In a child's mind Halloween means two things: costumes and candy (which is actually better than Christmas, which to kids means "gimme presents"). So to all those parents who have called for a separation of school and Halloween, I give you a hearty "Fuck You!", and I'm sure my sentiments are echoed by 99 percent of the children at this school.

Now, Thanksgiving is around the corner. Surprisingly, nobody has banned Thanksgiving. There is no shortage of cornucopias and turkeys in the school now. Yesterday I saw a teacher printing out coloring pages depicting a Pilgrim and an Indian, both smiling gleefully. The Pilgrim was holding his muzzle-loader and the Indian was holding corn, of course. This shit makes me laugh. I would like to see some historically acurate coloring pages. Maybe a bunch of Pilgrims chasing some Indians with their muzzle-loaders. Or how about an Indian teaching a Pilgrim to plant corn, but the Pilgrim has a thought bubble that says "I can't wait to take this savage's land." This got me to thinking about what Native Americans celebrate on Thanksgiving. So now I give you, grace at an Indian's Thanksgiving dinner:

"Thank you White Man God, for everything you have given us. Thank you for our reservation. You saw how our land management problem was getting out of hand. Now that we only have 100 or so acres for the entire tribe, that job has become much easier. Thank you for allowing many of our ancestors to be murdered for no reason other than the color of their skin. I could not imagine the chaos if millions of us had to live on this reservation. Thank you for forcing Christianity on us. It is so much easier remembering one god rather than one god for the trees and another for the rain and other gods for everything else. Thank you for the Washington Redskins. There is no other race who has a professional sports team named after one of their racial slurs. No Palefaces, Honkies, Niggers, Chinks, Gooks, or Spics anywhere else in sports, and we feel truly honored and special because of it. Most of all, thanks for the casinoes. You Who Sees All noticed that our economy was slumping trading beads and shiny rocks for rugs and earthware. With our casinoes we can all now drive around in Impalas and Uncle Crazy Bear can afford to be an alcoholic. We thank you for all these things in the name of your son. What's that last word again? Aww hell, everybody eat your corn."

Yeah, I celebrate Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving gives me an opportunity to stuff my face with ham, turkey, pumpkin pie, and my favorite, cranberry sauce without even the slightest tinge of guilt. I don't think any of the holidays Americans celebrate anymore really hold true to what their intended meaning is. I celebrate the holidays because they are fun to celebrate. People have the right to celebrate holidays for whatever reasons they choose, but when the fun element is lost, I don't think there's really any point to it. If Christmas starts becoming more of a burden than anything, don't celebrate. I'm sure Jesus doesn't give a shit if your Aunt May gets a knick-knack from you. If you don't want your kids to celebrate Halloween at school, don't send them that day. Don't fucking ruin it for everyone. If I could find out who those parents are I would probably egg their cars and put bags of flaming shit on their porch. They would go outside only to hear me saying "Trick-or-Treat mother fuckers!" I think that would make Halloween extra fun.

2002-11-14T09:55:00.000-06:00

Back Again? Not Quite

I haven't updated for so long. The end of the semester is coming up fast, and being the procrastinator that I am I have saved everything for the end. I have been swamped to the gills with work, and I'm still not done. So it's not that I haven't wanted to update, but rather I have not had time to update. If I can give the young men and women some advise, it would be to get your college education as soon as possible. Don't wait until you have a wife and kids. I love my family, but having a family has made it necessary for me to be employed full-time. Being employed full-time makes it extremely difficult to go to college full-time. I am learning the harsh reality of that now. So if you are just getting out of high school or have been out a couple of years, get enrolled now before you get swamped with living expenses. This is just a piece of advice that I wish someone would have given me when I was 18. Actually, someone probably did give me that advice then, I was just too stubborn and retarded to listen.

On Monday night, there is supposed to be a big meteor shower. The peaks of this shower are supposed to be at about 9:00 PM and 3:30 AM the next morning, that is in the Mountain Time Zone. Add two hours for the east coast, subtract one on the west. This particular storm is called the Leonids, because the meteors will appear to originate in the constellation Leo. The earth will actually be passing through debris left by the comet Temple-Tuttle. Clear skies permitting, I will be out in the country trying to capture some of the falling stars on film. Wish me luck. It is predicted that there will not be another Leonid shower for at least another 30 years, so if you get a chance to get away from large metropolitan areas, I would recommend getting out there to check it out. I plan on going out to one of the canyons south of town with some lawn chairs, bundles of blankets, a 20-pack of Bud Light, a tripod and a camera. The moon will present somewhat of a problem because it will be close to full, washing out most of the fainter shooting stars, but I hope to see some of the bright fireballs that are expected to be streaking across the sky.

Hopefully I can get back on track with updating here. My next semester will not be nearly as rough as this semester was. To the few people who visit regularly, thanks for your patience as I straighten out the mess that is my life.

2002-10-18T14:41:00.000-05:00

Ramble On Part II

I'm so fucking busy lately. I hate it because I have about a million things that I am interested in and that I want to do, but by the time I do everything I have to do, I'm completely spent. Grrrrr! Today's post will be short, but at least it is something.

The other day my one-year old son blew me a kiss. It was so crazy because I have not taught him that. He just looked at me and went "Mwah!" Talk about melting your heart. I had to pick him up and give him a big hug and kiss. It's so crazy seeing him develop so quickly. You would think that I would be used to it with my daughter, but it just seems so new to me.

Today I printed out my source code for this site. It came out to be twenty-two pages. Holy shit! I can't believe that I have typed so many pages worth of crap for this site. That doesn't even include some of the postings that aren't even on the site anymore.

My counter has gone to shit. It hasn't displayed for about a week now. I tried going to boingdragon.com, but it appears that the site has gone down. That sucks. It was a pretty nifty little counter. Now I'll have to find something else. If anyone has suggestions, please let me know.

One of the most annoying singers ever to step on stage has got to be Mariah Carey. I'm not saying she is not talented, because she is. Hell, she has a vocal range of about 20 or so octaves. The problem is that she feels that she has to go through the entire range of her voice on every word. It sounds like "whooa-ah-oooh-eeee yooo-ouu-eee-ooo aaaaah-yeeeeeee-aaaaah" through the entire fucking song. It would be okay for a certain part of the song, but she just gets carried away. I guess that's why we don't hear from her anymore.

I'm sooo ready for the weekend. Even if I just lounge around all day and accomplish nothing I will be happy. I'm sure that people will show up on Saturday with beer and drugs and want to party. Of course I will simply because I enjoy the company. As long as nobody pukes all over I'll be okay. Maybe I'll go get supplies to make a ton of jello shots. Those seem to be a crowd favorite.

Soulmate went to Pueblo yesterday and brought me back some Popeye's chicken. I was so happy. When I lived in Orlando I would go to Popeye's with some of my friends on a regular basis. Their chicken makes KFC look like Kentucky Fried Crap and the red beans and rice are beyond compare. The biscuits are pretty damn good to, and I'm not really a biscuit guy. That was the first time I have had Popeye's in about six years. Ahhh, it takes me back.

I've got a lot planned for the future of my personal weblife, but for today this is it. I hope everybody has an excellent weekend. Until next time.

2002-10-16T11:45:00.000-05:00

Ramble On

Yesterday I was working on a random quote selector for my site. Right now there are only about seven quotes in the system, but I hope to increase that number periodically. I wrote it myself using JavaScript. It was actually very basic, but since I don't use JavaScript every day, it took me forever to get it to work right. The quotes are on the left-hand side. Try refreshing your browser window and watch the quote change magically before your eyes. It's fun!

Last night during astronomy lab we got to set up the 10-inch and the 8-inch telescopes and do some astrophotography. We are probably going to develop the film next week. I hope those pictures come out good. We did some star trails without the telescopes and we did some shots of the moon and a few Messier objects with the telescopes. (For those who haven't taken astronomy, Messier objects are those "fuzzy" areas in the night sky. Some of them are distant galaxies, some are star clusters, and some are nebulae.) Astronomy is probably one of the best classes I have ever taken. I swear I will never look at the sky or the moon in the same way again. I can't even go outside at night without looking for prominent constellations. I guess one advantage of living in rural America is that we can go out to the boonies and have extremely dark skies, perfect for astronomical observation. If these pictures come out good, I may have to break down and get image hosting so that I can post them here. Stay tuned!

I am a strictly heterosexual male. I have no desire nor curiosity to perform any homosexual acts. That's why it kind of irks me that certain activities that I enjoy are so often associated with homosexuality. One of these is shopping for clothes. I love it! I swear, Soulmate and I will go to Springs or Pueblo on shopping trips, and I will come home with more new clothes than her. I think that Soulmate notices how much fun I am having as I shop because she will even ask me "Are you gay?" No! I just enjoy finding new clothes because I LIKE TO LOOK GOOD! Since when has looking good been associated with being homosexual? Ladies, have you ever seen a good-looking guy walking down the street and said "He's way too cute to be straight"? Not that I have anything against gay people, but I'm just not one. I wonder if homosexuals put each other down by calling each other "straight"?

Howard Stern is my hero. Why? You may ask. Well let me tell you. He is probably one of the ugliest men on earth, he has one of the most annoying voices in the world and his personality leaves little to be desired. Despite all of this, he has managed to work his way to the top of his field. Talk about overcoming obstacles! Not only that, but he has taken his career to the point where he wants it. His goals are pretty simple: to check out hot strippers and lesbians, all the while getting paid mad cash to do it. He has reached the pinnacle of his career. You may not like what he says or how he runs his radio and TV shows and you may think he is a sexist pig, but he is living his dreams, and that is more than I can say for most people. Go Howard!

I used to like rap music back in the days of NWA and the Geto Boys. Those days, unfortunately, are now long gone and rap music has taken a serious downturn. Rappers nowadays are nothing more than sheep following the herd as far as I'm concerned. I was watching MTV Cribs the other day. Any time they go to a rapper's house, I just want to puke. Rap stars have an inate inability to think for themselves. Three things you will find in every rapper's "crib": 1. A bottle of Cristal 2. A copy of Scarface and/or Scarface posters and memorabilia and 3. a Bentley in the garage. Is there any value to independent thought? I think Scarface is a quality film, but rappers have a tendency to say such bullshit as "No DVD collection is complete without Scarface". Says who? You? And who the fuck do you think you are? Another thing I hate about rappers is what they do to the English language. I think the goal of every rapper is to introduce some nonsense word into our language. What the hell is "bling-bling"? How exactly do you "holla"? Master P made it big by going "Uuunnngggh! all the time. (Sounds to me like constipation.) It sucks because the rest of the herd think this shit is witty and cool so I have to hear people shouting "Holla, holla!" all over the place and it annoys me. The last thing I hate about rappers is the fact that supposedly, they all came from the ghettos and made it big, but rather than giving back to the "hoods" that spawned them, they would rather spend millions of dollars on extravagance. "Heaven forbid having to live without $300,000 cars or $500,000 platinum and diamond chains. What? There are still people in my old neighborhood who can't afford to feed their kids? That shit will have to wait. I'm saving up for my 24-karat gold and marble Master P-style swimming pool. Holla!" Makes me sick.

Usually when my hair gets longer than about an inch, I'll take the clippers to it as close to my head as possible. This allows for very-low maintenace. The other night I had a dream that I had long hair. Not to sound arrogant, but I looked pretty fucking good! Now I am going to let my hair grow out to see how it really looks. I'm kind of nervous because I have always been pretty conservative with my hair length. Hair color is a different story. I have dyed it several different colors in the past: blue, red, black-blue. I want to bleach it blonde soon. It must be the white-side coming out in me.

Well, that's it for my random babbling today. I think all this typing is giving me carpal tunnel. If you get a chance, leave me a comment, sign the guestbook, or vote for my site. Even if you hate me and wish I was dead, let me know. Bad feedback is better than no feedback. I'll leave you with this little tidbit from Woody Allen: "Don't knock masturbation - it's sex with someone I love."

2002-10-14T12:39:00.000-05:00

This weekend was a fairly good one. I got thoroughly shit-faced on Saturday night off pint-cans of Foster's. There were about nine or ten heads at my house that night. I really enjoyed this as I am a people-person and I love having company over to party. There was a lot of beer-drinking, reefer-smoking, and shit-talking going on. I love it! As usual, Soulmate was the only female there. She doesn't mind so much because she enjoys hanging out with the guys. I don't mind it either because she is the the woman I need. What I don't understand is how all the other guys there can handle going to these Sausage Fests all the time. I remember when I was younger and more outgoing, if I went to a party and there was nobody there to "mack on", I would make some phone calls, go pick some chicks up, whatever it took to ensure that there were at least a few available girls for myself and my friends to try to hook up with. I guess teenagers nowadays are not as concerned with getting pussy as my friends and I were back in the days.

Why I Blog

About two weeks ago, I was about to quit updating this blog. The basic reason for this was because I felt that nobody was listening and that blogging was just a way of wasting my time. My mistake was that I wanted instant gratification. When nobody signed the guestbook or made any comments, I felt that nobody was hearing me. I was putting hours of effort into my layout and my posts, and getting nothing back. I was soon rewarded with a guestbook entry from Glenda and a link back from unapologetics. That made me think that maybe my words were not falling on deaf ears. I put a lot of thought into this and decided that blogging was actually quite beneficial to me for several reasons.

1. HTML Practice
For several years now, I have been learning HTML in my free time. I have bought several books on the subject, but up until I started blogging I have not had much use for my HTML skills. Now I have been self-teaching myself JavaScripts, Cascading Style Sheets, Flash, and Java. By maintaining my weblog, I have a way to practice all of these things and share my skills with the world. I do all of my own coding with Notepad+ and I have been working primarily on style sheets lately. If you look at my source code, you will notice that I have made extensive use of the <SPAN> tag. My favorite use of style sheets is the ability to position items relatively. My title at the top is an example of this. It is simply three layers stacked on top of each other. I had to tweak it for hours to get it to look right, but I feel I have done a good job. I will probably make it a graphic as soon as I get FTP privileges, but for now this will have to do.

2. Writing Practice
I never realized how much I enjoyed writing until I took an English Composition class last fall. Being able to come up with ideas in your head is important, but being able to put those ideas in a format that others can view your ideas is more important. I have seas of ideas floating in my head, but I never really tried to express these views to others until now. I treat every posting like a writing assignment. I try to watch my spelling and I try to expand my vocabulary with new words, such as contradistinction. In this country, one of our "inalienable" rights is the freedom of expression. It is sad to me that so many are not able to take advantage of this right simply due to the fact that they don't know how to express themselves. In the computer class that I teach, I do a lot of writing assignments with the kids, because it seems to me the teachers are not. If you can't write, you are crippled, and frankly I am tired of crippled kids growing up to be crippled adults. I practice writing as much as possible because I love it and because I need it.

3. Establishing Community
When I first learned of the internet, I used to frequent certain chatrooms. I would go to these chatrooms because the others who would go there were my friends. Since then, most of those chatrooms are either gone or populated by cyberstalkers and porno freaks (I like porn as much as the next guy, but when you go into chatrooms and constantly ask for naked pictures of everyone in there, it's a bit pathetic.) What I try to do now is to establish friendships within the blogging community. All the blogs I have linked to on my blog are blogs that I check almost daily. Most of them have interesting or funny things to say, so I visit them and occasionally make comments to them when I feel strongly about what they are saying. Some of them have visited my site and made comments or e-mailed me about what they think. I don't know these people. I have never met any of these people face-to-face. Regardless, I feel like I kind of know these people and I consider them to be my friends. I appreciate the work they do to update their sites, so for me to update my site for when they visit is somewhat of a moral responsibility to me.

4. World Domination
When I speak of world domination, I don't mean that I want to tell everyone what to do. I want to influence everyone in a positive way. I want to make the world a better place to live, in contradistinction to others bent on world conquest whose goals were more or less self-centered. If I have to change the world one person at a time, I will. By exploiting the web, I'm hoping that people will stumble across me and show interest in what I am saying. I have considered starting a cult-like group of people whose sole purpose is to heal the world of deception and bullshit. I'm actually going to unveil this plan once I start getting more traffic to my site.

5. I Have Something To Say!
As you may already know, I have a split personality. Sometimes I am torn between being funny and being serious. At first, I thought that I'd better pick one or the other for my blog, lest I have people confused. Now, I simply write what I feel like writing that day, whether it be humorous or not. I give my readers credit to be able to decifer parody from solemnity. I think most people have the ability to switch back and forth between the two without too much difficulty. The most important thing to me is that what I want to say gets said. If you have something to say, don't whisper it, SHOUT IT OUT! If the world or society doesn't agree with you, oh fucking well, let the critics deal with that. Be real to yourself, not to your parents, your friends, your pastor, or anyone else who contradicts what you say. I think the main problem with today's society is that people have forgotten how to think for themselves. They're always waiting to be told what to do and how to think. It's not their faults, that's how Americans have been brought up. I have a lot to say, and I will say it regardless of what people think. I welcome debate, and I don't expect everyone to agree with me. All that I ask is that you take what I say and try to apply it to what you really think, not what you would like to believe that you think. Then, and only then, will you know The Truth.

2002-10-11T11:10:00.000-05:00

Chic-Honky

I have found myself to be extremely schizophrenic. Some days I feel funny, others I feel serious. Some days I am ugly, others I am Casanova. Some days I am smart, and other days I am dense. I realize my own schizophrenia, so I know that I am not crazy. So what do I blame for my condition? That's easy: genetics.

I was born from a mad experiment conducted about 26 years ago. The purpose of the experiment was to see what would develop when a Mexican was cross-bred with a Caucasian. The experts said that it couldn't be done. "It's like cats and dogs!" They said. Others feared that it was possible, but with unpredictable results. A noted genetecist at the time was quoted as saying "I believe that the interbreeding of species as different as Mexicanus Australius and Anglosis Borealis is possible, but I'm not sure that society or nature is ready for that yet." The experiments were run, nonetheless, and the results were shocking.

The "Chic-Honky", as they called me (a cross between Chicano and Honky, "Honkano" was also proposed but later rejected) was probably one of the greatest miracles of nature ever. The fact that I even lived beyond a couple of months was startling enough, when my brain was found to be not only fully-functional, but actually of normal competency. Reportedly, some doctors even looked at me and said, "Looks almost human, doesn't he?" It wasn't until I started growing up however, that the side-effects of screwing with nature were found.

As I got older, my brain continued to develop logically, but common sense was not one of my strongpoints. At the age of 8, I could perform complex algebra, but I also had a tendency to burn down corn fields trying to start campfires. At age 10, I was reading War and Peace, and in my free time I enjoyed shooting passing cars with those toy guns that shot little, yellow, plastic spheres. I can still hear that man's voice in my head, "You want me to go over there and shove that little gun up your ass!?" I was making advancements in astrophysics at 16, but I was also shooting capguns at passing police officers. The cop that I shot at called for backup, and the arresting officer told me "He could have shot you if he thought that gun was real." None of that has ever computed in my mind.

Some people considered me to be a mutt or a mixed-breed. I always thought of myself as a thoroghbred. The most desireable traits of both races were combined to make me. It's crazy, but after I was born, everybody wanted a Chic-Honky. White women were bedding Mexican men left and right, just to conceive little Chic-Honkies of their own. Almost all of us are beautiful people (I am one of the rare exceptions). Fair skin, dark hair, green eyes, all were characteristic traits of the Chic-Honky. The official language of Chic-Honkies is Spanglish ("Oyé, that's a pretty nice ranfla, your heina is looking pretty firmé, how would you like to chupa mi verga? for example). It was a fad gone wild, and before you knew it the United States was overrun with "my people". I knew then, as I know now, that it wouldn't be long until we take over the world.

When two Chic-Honkies decide to procreate, a Chic-Honky is the obvious result. What may not be so obvious, however, is that when a Chic-Honky mates with either a Mexican or a Caucasian, the end result is still a Chic-Honky. We plan on taking over the world by breeding all other races out of existence. Shit, I've got two little Chic-Honkies at home. When their time comes, they will continue to breed more Chic-Honkies. There is only one problem with our plans for world domination. Chic-Honkies have an infatuation with Asian women (or men, for Chic-Honkettes). The offspring of this combination is a Chic-Honkiental, then the whole world is fucked.

While the future looks bright for us, it wasn't easy being the first Chic-Honky ever. I was never really accepted by the Mexicans or the Whites. I joined a Mexican gang, but they just used me to smuggle their aunts and uncles across the border. I tried hanging out with the rednecks, but I didn't have enough shit on my boots. It was a no-win situation for me, so I crawled into my own world and started making plans. I knew that one day the people who ridiculed me would be sorry.

You might be wondering what's going to happen to you when my empire is in place. Never fear, there are plenty of jobs that Chic-Honkies are way too lazy to do. I am now taking applications for women to be the breeding ground for the next generation of the Chic-Honky war machine. Please send photos and your resumé in ASAP. There are also plenty of garbage, cooking and cleaning positions to go around. I can't stress enough how important it is to get locked in on the job you want with us. One of the many new jobs that will become available will be tending to the vast fields of marijuana, essential to the life-blood of Chic-Honky culture.

You can take as much or as little as you like from the preceding posting. Please note that I am clinically insane, so I may be talking out of my ass. On the other hand, I may be onto something here. So expect the best, but prepare for the worst. You have been warned.

2002-10-08T11:14:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I made a few minor changes to the blog. At the very bottom you will notice a new counter. Special thanks to BoingDragon for that. I'm over 100 visitors already, it only took about a month, hooray! I'm actually a dragon junkie, but since I can't afford my own server space (yet) I don't have any dragon pics on my site. Another thing I did was ditch the tagboard. It was not being used and I think it made the site look tacky. I figured with the comments on each post (thanks to enetation for that by the way.) and the guestbook for any general comments, the tagboard was just extra weight.

It's Either Me or Sim

Video games have come a long way since the days of Pong or the Atari 2600. Through the years, I have owned several of the major console systems: Atari 2600, Nintendo, Super Nintendo, Playstation, and Playstation 2. I have since ditched these systems in favor of PC platform games. I like the fact that with PC games you don't have to buy memory cards to save your games and you don't have to shell out fifty bucks to get the latest version of the game or to expand your game. As far as I'm concerned, the most interesting and fun PC game out there right now is the Sims. My fascination with the Sims borders on obsession. I initially bought the game several years ago. As with many things in my life, I enjoyed it for a while then lost interest. I newly rediscovered it when Soulmate decided she wanted to play it. (Before she found The Sims, the computer to her was just a $1500 solitaire machine.) Now I think Sims, I dream Sims on occasion, sometimes I even find myself speaking Sim (Blah Dee Frah, Ma Holli Da, Mon Stah.) I think what I like most about the game is its versatility. There are no set goals in the game, you basically make your own goals. To me it's kind of a life emulator. You can decide you want the nicest house on the block, or to have the biggest family, or to get the best job. I also like how it can be customized to your liking. There are about a million Sims websites where you can download new clothes for your Sims, new houses, new appliances for your homes, almost anything you can think of. You can even download naked Sims and items such as SimDildos (I have not downloaded these things, by the way.) It is incredibly fun, but there is a darker side to the Sims.

Soulmate and I each have our own saved game on the Sims. We tried to make our characters as much like our true selves as possible. We tried to match our bodies, faces, clothing style, and personality traits. We figured, well at least I figured, that since we are so compatible in life, it would be no problem for our SimSelves to establish a relationship. I couldn't be farther from the truth. The first time we actually ran across each other, it was hate at first sight. We could not stand each other, we didn't even want to be in the same room as each other. It was quite unexpected, but hey, it's only a game, right?

A few days later Soulmate decided that it would be a good idea to make another family on the game. Actually it was another single person, a male this time. She made it a point to give him the exact same qualities that she gave herself. Sure enough, her experiment worked like a charm. Soulmate's character and Retardo (she gave him that name, not me) hit it off perfectly. Their relationship went up, up, up. Before I knew it, Soulmate would call me from the Computer. "Look, Retardo and me are kissing!" She seemed giddy almost, like she was in Junior High all over again. She was hooked on the Sims. One night, I went to bed at about 11 PM. She stayed up to play and managed to crawl into bed at about 1 AM. She even made another family, this one had two females, Sluttay Ho and Ima Ho. (Woo Hoo, ménage à trois!) She even tried to make them compatible with my character, I guess in hopes that I would not be jealous of her's and Retardo's passionate love affair.

Is it possible to be jealous of a video game? Is it possible to cheat on someone with a video game? I don't think it goes that far, but it definitely makes you think. I think that to an extent, The Sims allows you to live vicariously through the game. You can build the house of your dreams, you can become a rock star if you so choose, or you can engage in ménage à trois with hot, slutty chicks. Despite this, Sims relationships pale in comparison with actual human relationships. So no, I am not jealous of Retardo, not in the least. I'm sure Soulmate will see the err of her ways eventually. Especially after I let Retardo get in my pool, only to take the ladder away so that he can't get out and drowns to death. Aren't video games wonderful?

2002-10-07T11:47:00.000-05:00

Rise Above

Today's post is a serious one. It is an issue that has plagued my mind since I learned of it. It is a gross meltdown of our justice system. What I am talking about is the case of the West Memphis Three.

I first became aware of this case from the HBO documentary Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills. This film was soon followed up by Paradise Lost 2: Revelations. In case you have never seen these specials, I'll give a little summary of the case.

The events of the case take place in West Memphis, Arkansas. West Memphis was a quiet town. The majority of the population were devout Christians, so what was to be found came as a surprise to everyone. On May 6th, 1993, the bodies of three eight year old boys were extracted from a creek in an area of town known as Robin Hood Hills. The boys were severely beaten and hogtied with their own shoelaces. One of the boys was horribly mutilated, his genitals being removed and placed in his mouth. The town was horrified by this. Rumors started going around that a Satanic cult was responsible. That's when the witch hunt began.

There was no evidence of satanic activity in the area: no strange symbols carved in the trees or drawn on the ground, no altars or evidence an altar of any type, no books or satanic artifacts, nothing. Despite this, the "Satanic Panic" spread through the town like wildfire. It wouldn't be long until a primary suspect was named: Damien Echols.

Damien was "different" than the other teenagers in town. He preferred solitude to the company of his peers. He wore mostly black clothes and listened to heavy metal music. Even the name "Damien" suggested "Satanist" to fans of the horror film genre. He was an outcast in this Puritan community, and the perfect scapegoat for the murders. Damien was targeted as a suspect by a juvenile probation officer. The probation officer pointed Damien out to police as a suspect based merely on his moodiness and his solitary lifestyle, not due to any actions that Damien had ever taken. An investigation of Damien Echols began immediately.

No evidence was found at the crime scene linking Damien to the murders. In fact, shoddy detective work by the local police led to the destruction of most of what little evidence there may have been. It wasn't until police questioned Jessie Misskelley that they had anything that would hold up in court. Jessie, who had an IQ of 72, was considered mentally handicapped. After ten hours of questioning, police finally coerced a confession from him. He said that he was present as Damien, his friend Jason Baldwin, and himself killed the three boys in Robin Hood Hills. (Later, it was determined that the boys were probably killed elsewhere and simply dumped in Robin Hood Hills, in direct contradiction to the confession of Misskelley. This is a fact that was overlooked during any of the trials.) Soon after Jessie's confession, which he later retracted, the police had the three boys in custody.

To make an extremely long story short, the three were tried and convicted for the triple homicide. Echols is facing the death penalty. Misskelley and Baldwin are serving life sentences. What is interesting about the trials is the evidence that was used to convict these three. The only hard evidence the court had was Misskelley's confession. During Misskelley's testimony, it was evident that he was mentally challenged. Questions had to be repeated and explained to him. He was basically talked through the entire trial. So what really went on in the interogation room? Was Jessie talked through that as well? Everyone is entitled to believe what they want, but I believe that this is an obvious case of scare tactics being used on a young man of lower intelligence in order to get a false confession. Other pieces of "evidence" the court used were Stephen King books, rock concert t-shirts, a book of Wicca, and written lyrics to songs by Blue Oyster Cult and Pink Floyd. Apparently, these items proved that these teenagers were capable of committing these crimes. What is boils down to is that everyone was convinced that Echols was the leader of a religious cult that used the murders as some kind of religious sacrifice.

I don't know if Echols, Misskelley, and Baldwin are guilty or not. What I do know is that there is more than a shadow of a doubt that they are. Innocent until proven guilty? Not in this case. Due to the negligence of West Memphis law enforcement, we may never know who is responsible for these murders. Thanks to their negligence, another young man may die and two others may spend their lives in prison for something they may not have done.

If this case interests you, I encourage you to visit WM3.ORG for more information. At the website, there are many resources such as evidence archives and court transcripts. If you are like me, the more you read here, the angrier you will become and the more you will want to help. They do take donations, which are used for the appeals process. Many music stars have taken interest in the case. Henry Rollins has come up with a record, whose sales will support the West Memphis Three. It is called "Rise Above" and it is a Black Flag tribute album. It features such artists as Chuck D from Public Enemy, Iggy Pop, Corey Taylor from Slipknot, Ice T, Lemmy from Motorhead, and of course Henry Rollins. If you don't buy it to support the West Memphis Three, buy it because it rocks! Look for it in your local record store or buy it here. I hope that you will see this the way that I do. It's not really about if they are guilty or not, it's more about whether the West Memphis Three had a fair shot at justice. The fact that there is doubt surrounding the case should be reason enough to keep these young men out of prison, at least until some solid evidence against them can be found.

2002-10-04T10:06:00.000-05:00

The last two days have been busy ones. I have been showing the kids how to use Microsoft Word. Last week, I just had them typing up stories. This didn't interest them at all. The students were just sitting there, pecking at their keyboards, complaining that they didn't know what to write. The last couple of days though, I have been showing them how to change font and background colors, add clipart and change the fonts. The kids love that shit. The last couple days have been saturated with the click-clack of keyboard keys and mouses (or mice, I don't know what the plural of a computer mouse is, mice just sounds weird to me). It's great to see what can happen once you unlock a child's creativity.

Turning Left

I've been thinking a lot about life lately. Not about the source of life or the purpose of life necessarily, but merely philosophies to guide one's life. I was driving in my car and thought up a quote that kind of sums up one of these philosophies:

Every day is a crossroads. If you keep turning right, you're just going in circles.

I know it sounds kind of cheesy, and I don't even know if I am the first to say it, but I think it is so fucking true. By "turning right" I mean "doing what is normal or expected of you". I think that by habitually turning right every, you get into a routine. I think that it is good to "turn left" every once in a while. Do something crazy. Go fucking nuts. Whatever. Get a piercing or a tattoo. Go bungee jumping or skydiving. In other words, do something that you have never done, something that you have never even dreamt of doing. Even if you only turn left once a month, at least then you'll be going around a different block.

Myself, I've been turning right for a while. That's ok though, because I am planning to turn left eventually. I am working on my schooling right now and I am planning to have an excellent career some day. When I finish my schooling, I plan on turning left. After I turn left, I want to keep going straight as far as I can go, and leave my old life as far behind me as possible. I just want to make sure I'm going the right direction before I turn left.

I have made many wrong left-hand turns in my life. After high school, I thought I needed a change of scenery so I joined the Navy. I didn't really even consider college or career choices. The Navy was a horrible choice for me because military life is extremely structured and you are pretty much locked into turning right until you get out. I kind of broke up the monotony by turning left and going AWOL. Being in the left-hand turning mood, I turned left again and broke up with Soulmate, and then again by moving to Texas on a whim. I was turning left so much, I felf like I was in NASCAR. I eventually realized how much I fucked up and turned myself in to the Navy and moved back to Colorado after my military service was up and then got back with Soulmate. As much shit as I put myself through during that time though, I feel that it was healthy for me, I just needed to put a little thought into my left-hand turn routes.

So now I basically turn right every day: I go to work, I go to school, I pay my bills, and I take care of my family. I make the little left hand turns every once in a while to maintain my sanity: I'll get a babysitter for the night so Soulmate and I can go party, I'll go somewhere new to eat, or I'll take a little road trip with the family. Even after the little diversion, though, I always go right back to the routine. When the time is right, however, when the planets are aligned and I actually have a direction to go, I am going to turn left and change my life for the better.

2002-10-01T11:32:00.000-05:00

First of all, I would like to say that I am sorry for not posting to this site for a while. You must understand that I am extremely busy here. I work full-time at the school, plus I am a full-time student at the local community college. Trying to balance work, school and family is a very difficult and sensitive task. There may be times that I may not get around to posting to the blog, even though I would like to as much as possible.

Well, enough for the apologies. Now it's time for some content. My little disclaimer says that this site is almost NC-17, but I have not posted anything to that effect. That is about to change. I think it is finally time for a little bit of raunch. Mom, if you are reading this and I know you are, I would advise you to stop reading now. The following may be quite disturbing to you (If that's not intriguing, I don't know what is). The topic for today, body hair.

Frankly, I think that body hair is disgusting. I don't think that anything makes me more nauseous than seeing a guy completely covered in hair, that is except seeing a girl completely covered in hair. I am so fortunate that I am not one of those gorilla-people who grow hair on their chests, back, arms, and legs. It would be extremely difficult to get a razor to my back. I don't see how some women find a hairy man to be sexy. To me, body hair is like little pubes stuck all over your body. Yuck!

One of my many missions in life is to eliminate the menace of body hair on my own body. On my chest, I have about four little hairs that grow in the middle, and then a few around the nipples. Two or three passes with a razor and those are gone. Sometimes, Soulmate likes to pluck my chest hairs with her tweezers. I think that is one of her little fetishes, so I let her do it despite the agonizing pain. I don't grow any hair on my back, thankfully, so I don't have to do anything with that. My armpits, of course, are a different story. I can grow a lot of hair in that region. One day I shaved my pits. Soulmate thought that it was too weird and feminine for a guy to shave his pits. Who decided that men must have pit hair, but women must not (except in Europe)? So now if I shave my pits, I try not to let Soulmate notice. My legs don't get too hairy, and if I was to shave my legs Soulmate would definitely notice. I just hope that Soulmate will eventually come into my way of thinking. That about covers the full body except for one region. You guessed it, the genitals. Mom, if you haven't stopped reading yet, please stop right now.

First, I would like to state proudly that I shave my testicles. I told my cousin that one day, and he has given me shit about it ever since. I just think he's scared that if he puts a razor blade anywhere near his balls he is liable to cut one or both off. There are many good reasons to shave the balls. The main reason I shave down there is because I like the way it looks. I don't like the way that nature decided that pubic hair should grow. It grows from all over, then it gets all long and curly and nappy. Brrrrr! I get chills just thinking about it. Some people say that by shaving the testicles, it makes the penis look longer. I think there is some truth to that. Porn stars shave their nuts, probably for that very reason. If it's good enough for porn stars, it's good enough for me. Another good reason to dispose of pubic hair is because it is nicer for members of the opposite race (unless you are gay). I know that I would hate it if I was to go down on a lady only to get a big bite of pubic hair pie. I don't think it would be any different for a woman going south on a guy. If I was single, which I am not, but if I was, I think I would be much more comfortable going on a date with a woman knowing that if one thing was to lead to another, she could give me a blowjob, if she chose to, without having to spit out pubies every third stroke. It only makes sense. I shave my testicle, and Soulmate and I would not have it any other way.

Body hair is a very controversial issue, one that I think does not get addressed enough. If you have read this, please let me know what you think. Sign the guest book or post to the tagboard on the left. Don't let this opportunity to voice your opinion slip through your fingers. I am forming the Men Against Body Hair Association (MABHA) to address the issues of masculinity and body hair removal. I am now accepting applications for charter membership. Well I hope you enjoyed this much anticipated post. Yes, this even includes you mom. Don't say I didn't try to warn you. The Truth is never easy to find, but you might find it underneath all of that hair...

2002-09-27T14:47:00.000-05:00

Last night I accidentally touched the oven door when it was hot as Hell. I burned the middle and ring fingers of my right hand. As the old Beatles' song goes, "I've got blisters on me fingers!" Every time I have to type a i, k, o, l, a period, or a comma, I feel agonizing pain. (That last sentence was excruciating). Soulmate tried telling that I did that because I am a retard, but I tried telling her that I am not a retard, common sense just escapes me sometimes. It's not really my fault, It's just how I am. I'm the kind of person who puts macaroni or eggs on to boil, then forget about it until the water is all gone and the kitchen is filled with noxious burning egg smoke. I have been known to start some bathwater and forget about it until it is pouring off the sides and all the hot water is gone. I've tried to get help with my chronic lack of sense and my inability to remember things from one second to the next. One day I was driving home and noticed that I was low on fuel. I told myself over and over "don't forget to put gas, don't forget to put gas." I even wrote a little note to myself "Put gas you idiot!" to put right on the instrument panel, that way if I forgot about it before I got home, at least the next time I got in the car I would see the note then remember to put gas right away. I forgot to put the note up. I forgot to put gas. As the last of the fumes were being burned up and my power steering went out, I looked on the floor and saw it, "Put gas you idiot!" It stared back at me as if to say, "I tried to tell you." I cursed that little note for not being more noticeable.

Enough about stupid ol' me though, I want to talk about something even more stupid. This last weekend, Soulmate and I got out of the small town and went to the big city. Not really big, but Colorado Springs is definitely bigger than Rocky Ford, Colorado. We try to get out of this town at least every once in a while. It does wonders for our psyche and sanity.

We both aspire to be restaurant critics for a major newspaper, so every time we go out to eat, we analyze the restaurant and share our opinions with each other. In Springs, we went to the Macaroni Grill. I had been wanting to go there for some time, as the commercials on the radio sounded delicious. "Owned by chefs, run by chefs, Italian chefs" man, that sounds good as fuck! So we went there. The first impression was nice, the building was big and looked very nice. This was no hole in the wall. Of course, first impressions are usually the least important. So we went in and asked for seating in the smoking section. Soulmate and I always try to get a seat at a booth, just a matter of personal preference, there was a booth open and we took it. So far so good. Our waiter came and asked for our drinks. Soulmate got one of the signature drinks, the Leaning Bellini. It had champagne, wine, and peach nectar in it. I got a vanilla coke made with vanilla vodka. The drinks were both quite tasty, although Soulmate didn't really like her's too much.

The waiter also brought us a small, round loaf of bread. The bread was soft, warm and tasty. It wasn't nearly as good as Outback Steakhouse bread, though. I honestly think that if churches would hand out loaves of delicious Outback bread instead of those thin, tasteless wafers, more people would actually show up. Who's to say that Jesus didn't eat the last supper at Outback? (No, I do not work for Outback at all.)

I was kind of disappointed with the atmosphere of the place. We were at an Italian restaurant, but all that I could hear besides other people in the restaurant was a couple of college football games that were playing on strategically places televisions around the restaurant. I would have like it more if they would have been playing so "Oh so lo mio..." music or even a bocci ball game. Something Italian! It was also a little dark in there for my taste. I don't like blaring, in-your-face lighting, but I do like to be able to see what the food looks like.

So anyway, we sat and gazed at the menu. It was quite extensive, mostly Italian dishes, which is what I expected. I chose a pasta dish with sausage and peppers, and Soulmate got a sampler that had lasagna and chicken parmesan. We also both got a salad. The salad is one of those things that we use to gauge the quality of the food. More specifically, the croutons. Judging by croutons and salad alone, this place was excellent. The croutons were not all crumbly and dry like they are at other places and they very flavorful. The salad had fresh veggies and they even thought to put cheese on it (always a plus). About two minutes after the salad came out, a woman (not our waiter) brought out our food. It kind of makes you wonder if they had the food in the back already, and then just heated it up when we ordered it. I also would have liked to have had more time to finish our salads. Our waiter said that he had asked for a three minute hold on the food, but I guess the cooks didn't listen to him. So we put our half-eaten salads with all of the croutons picked out to the side and began to dig in. The food was excellent. We both tried each other's food, as we always do kind of "Lady and the Tramp" style except we didn't have spaghetti and I didn't push her meatballs with my nose (not this time anyway). The portions were large, mine came in bowl that was about 4 inches deep and about as big around as a dinner plate, so we got full rather quickly. We planned on taking a couple of slices of tiramisu with us back to the hotel and eat it later, but then the nightmares began.

Our waiter was quite possibly the worst waiter in the world. He checked up with us not once while we were eating. He walked past us plenty of times, but he was unusually busy helping everyone besides us. I nearly had to tackle him down to get him to bring Soulmate a glass of water, because she didn't like her drink. We were finished with our food and were ready to go, but this jerk seemed to be avoiding us. We noticed that the people to one side of us was a white family and to the other side was a black family, but they didn't seem to have any problem at all getting some service. We began to wonder if he was prejudiced against Chicanos, since my soulmate and I are both of hispanic descent. It would be different if he would have just stopped to say "you OK?" but no. We noticed him chillin' back behind the bar a couple of times. We tried giving him annoyed looks, he didn't seem to notice. We pushed our plates to the side to show him we were ready to go, still nothing. I laid back on the booth, closed my eyes, and pretended to be asleep, but the waiter himself was asleep obviously. This went on for about twenty minutes. Finally he passed by, (the black family and the white family were both gone by this time, so he didn't really have any reason to go by us anymore.) and I blurted out "Excuse me! Can we get some boxes?" He asked "Will there be anything else?". I exclaimed "No Thanks!" (by this time we both said to Hell with the tiramisu.) He brought us some boxes, (we also noticed he had boxed the food for the white family, not so for us) and about five minutes later he brought us the bill. The bill came out to $33.98. I left him 34 dollars, keep the change (how's that for my two cents?) So, based on the food alone, this place was really good and I would like to go again. But, based on the service, we will probably never go there ever again. It's unfortunate that an excellent restaurant was ruined by poor service. If I was to own a restaurant, I would personally screen every person who works with the public for good people skills. It may have been an isolated incident, but it was enough to discourage us from going back. Maybe we should have just went to Olive Garden.

2002-09-26T14:12:00.000-05:00

Complain To God Day!

That's right, you read correctly, today is Complain to God Day. I'm sure all of you have some issues with the man upstairs, and today he is taking all complaints. Yeah, I never heard of it either, until I saw it here. So hop on over and make yourselves heard. While you are there, make sure to read my complaint letter and make sure God answers mine, I believe in strength in numbers.

2002-09-26T12:03:00.000-05:00

My Struggles

Holy shit! I have finally finished the design of my blog (for now) and it only took me about four days. I can understand now how difficult it is to be a website designer. Sheesh! Over the last four days I have been adding code, testing code, and fixing code then testing it again and again until it looked exactly like I wanted it. I was testing everything on Internet Explorer 6.0 and it looked perfect. I was beaming with pride. I couldn't wait for the onslaught of traffic I would be getting because of this gorgeous, personal, internet journal. Then I pulled up my site on Netscape 6.2. Arrrggghh!!! It looked like shit! You must understand that by this time, I had been working 2 or 3 days on the template to make it look right on IE. I had no idea that Netscape would render my page completely whacked. It turns out that Netscape handles CSS (Cascading Style Sheets, for those that don't know) a lot differently than IE. I mean a lot differently. I made a little fix to the template by changing one of the font colors so that it was at least visible. Then I sat and tried to figure out what I was going to do. I'm not a really big fan of Microsoft, so for me to tell everyone, "use Microsoft Internet Explorer to view my site" seemed kind of contradictory to my beliefs. I went to the Netscape website, and I saw that there was a new version, Netscape 7.0. Yay! maybe Netscape got on the ball and addressed the CSS issue. So I decided to download the new version to check it out. It turns out that the download alone took about an hour, and that is over a high-speed connection. I figured it would be well worth the time downloading and updating Netscape to see that my page looked nice in the two major browsers in use. So I did the download, then I installed Netscape 7.0 (another 30 minute process by the way). I was getting kind of shaky right now, not knowing what to expect once I loaded the page. So I opened up Netscape and pointed my browser window to my website and... well, it didn't look as much like shit as it did before. It still didn't look nearly as good as it does on IE, but at least now it was readable. I have since begun a letter writing campaign to Netscape. I have told them that I think it is imperative that they comply to the standards of CSS2 in their next major update. CSS2 is a powerful editing tool, that I, and I'm guessing others, would really like to take advantage of. The standards are created for a reason, and that reason is so that prospective website designers, such as myself, can create attractive web documents without having to make a different version for every browser in use. I have yet to see this site in Opera. If anyone out there has, can you please just let me know how it looks.

I thought I was all done, but then I found out that I could edit the guestbook page as well. I figured that I already had the style sheets done, all I would have to do is a little cut and paste. Well it turns out that I was wrong again. I put the style sheets in and I changed the colors to look like my blog's, but when I tried to save the changes, the template's size was too big. By this time I'm wondering if it is really worth it to have my guestbook match the rest of my site. Of course, I determined that it is worth it so I attempted to streamline the code, to have just enough to make the guestbook look right. I managed to get it right late in the afternoon yesterday.

Just when you think your work is all done, you find something else that doesn't suit your desires. When I had initially made the blog, I submitted it to The Ageless Project. On that site, they put a screen capture of my site. The problem with this was that it was the old template, and I noticed two other sites with the exact same template. Not exactly a good way to draw interest to your site. I emailed the webmaster and requested that he redo it. I wasn't really expecting it to happen very quickly, if at all. This morning, I checked my email and this individual had already updated his website with my new layout. This was actually the first pleasant surprise that I have had since beginning this project. I would really like to thank The Ageless Project and I encourage everyone who maintains a blog to submit their site to this project.

So, finally, my website looks excellent in Internet Explorer, OK in Netscape, my webpage is consistent with its respective guestbook, and a referring website has a correct screenshot. Now I can focus on some content. But what the Hell do I write? Geez Louise! Well, when I think of something, I'll be sure to post it. Until then, keeping looking for The Truth, wherever it may be.

2002-09-24T14:19:00.000-05:00

The new template is up and nearing completion. I have a few bugs to work out, but it is about done. If your browser doesn't support styles, this page will look like crap. I recommend updating your browser. Almost all of this page was done in styles. Even the title above. I did alot of relative positioning. The good thing about using styles is I don't have to worry so much about images and pictures. The bad thing is that styles are rendered differently on different browsers/platforms. I tested this site on Internet Explorer 6.0 on Windows and it looks good. I also saw it on Netscape 6.0 on Windows, and it look OK, but not quite as good. If this page looks like complete shit on your browser, please let me know. Please include your browser, version, platform, and if possible, a screen capture so I can see what the problem is. Well, I have a little bit of work to do now on the template. I promise, a full post will be on the way by Friday at the latest.

2002-09-19T12:07:00.000-05:00

I'm working on a new template, so you won't get the full dose of The Truth. I will begin posting again as soon as I get the template up. Thank you faithful readers, (Yeah, all two of you) and please be patient. Thanks again.

2002-09-18T12:03:00.000-05:00

Now that I've let everyone in my head somewhat, I'll go a little bit more into my own personal life. My relationship status is pretty unique I think. The woman I am with now was my high school sweetheart. Well actually, we broke up in high school and we didn't even see each other again until a couple of years later. But anyway, we got back together and got married in '96. We had a daughter in '98. We then had a falling out in '99 and got divorced. We later got back together then had a son in 2001. We are currently living together taking care of our two children. I think our relationship is better now than it ever was when we were married. As far as I'm concerned, marriage is just legal bullshit designed to swamp you with red tape if you ever realize that you don't want to be married any more. It is so easy to get married. You could probably do it in a day, no problem. Getting divorced, however, is a bitch. That process takes at least a couple of months, if not years. You don't have to get married in order to live like you are married. So I consider this woman more that just a girlfriend, but not exactly my wife. I like to consider her my soulmate, and that is how I'll refer to her from now on.

Last night I had a dream that my soulmate locked me in a jail cell that we had set up in the back porch for some reason. She then took off. I managed to squeeze through the prison bars. I went into the living room and I found her on the couch diddling some other guy. When I woke up this morning I told her about my dream. She then asked me "Was he cute?" I describe the gent that I saw her with in the dream and then she said "Oooohh, if you see him again, let me know." I agreed to let her know if I saw this person outside of a dream (She must have thought that I described him cute). I wasn't so upset about the diddling so much as the fact that she found it necessary to lock me in a cage, as if she was trying to keep me from finding out. Nobody locks up Mister Looney! So, if you are a light-skinned hispanic male, about 6 foot, and have curly black hair, my soulmate here is looking for you.

Man, I hope that she doesn't kill me for writing about her on the website. I just think that when you are writing a weblog, you have an obligation to be a little more personal than just "I woke up this morning, I brushed my teeth, I took a shit, etc. etc." I think the people who actually read weblogs want to read about personal lives, how people live, and what makes people tick. I try to let you all inside my mind, I feel the things in my mind are interesting enough that people would want to hear what I have to say. Howard Stern made a killing bringing his personal life and broadcasting it to the world. True, it may have ruined his marriage, but at least I don't have some porn star naked right here in front of me (I wish). Some notable Bloggers out there have a gift for spilling their guts about their personal lives, and I think that it is one of the most honest and notable forms of expression there is. I have made links to some of the better Blogs out there below:
Jaboobie's Journal
Paul Henman's Journal
Zenslut's Journal
Green Dezire

2002-09-17T10:32:00.000-05:00

I have noticed a lot of blogs have a lot of little quizzes on them. After completing the quiz, they give you a snippet of HTML that you can post to your website. I'm actually quite surprised how accurate these quizzes are. Like, for example, this one below said that I am Disco Stu from the Simpsons. Wow! that describes me perfectly. Even the picture kind of looks like me, down to the white-fro and the Coke bottle glasses. This other one says that I am Snoopy of Peanuts fame. He's got wit, charm, and likes to drink beer and sit on top of his house, just like me! Isn't this technology amazing?

What lesser-known Simpsons character are you?

What cartoon dog are you?

2002-09-16T16:06:00.000-05:00

Late-Breaking News!

Osama Bin Laden's lair has been found. Click below for more details.

Osama's Secret Lair

2002-09-16T12:39:00.000-05:00

Internet filters are bullshit! While trying to research today's topic, I was repeatedly blocked from some websites that I felt may have some relevent information, such as NORML.ORG. I couldn't even do a search for marijuana from MSN without getting blocked. However, I had no problem getting into The Anti-Drug website. Well, I'll have to make do with what I have found.

Marijuana:

Dangerous Drug or Harmless Habit

The topic of the day for today will be an illegal drug. More specifically, marijuana. Marijuana has been considered a Schedule 1 substance since the 30s. This puts it in the same category as heroine, cocaine, and extasy. But is marijuana really that dangerous? My hope is to present the facts and allow you to make your own assessment.

First, let's talk about the harmful physical effects. I don't know of, nor have I ever heard of someone overdosing on pot. (If anyone knows of a case, please let me know. I have never heard of anyone going into a "marijuana-induced frenzy" and shooting up a Denny's. (There was a time when a condition known as "reefer madness" was thought to have been caused by marijuana, but those findings have been long discounted.) Many more people have died from liver disease caused by alcohol and lung disease caused by tobacco smoking than have ever died of harmful side-effects of smoking MJ. (In fact, I have yet to hear of more than a couple of cases, and those cases are still yet to be determined). So why are tobacco and alcohol considered OK while marijuana is still considered one of the most dangerous drugs out there? There are two arguments floating around that try to explain the dangers of marijuana: The Gateway Theory, and The New Marijuana Sales Fund Terrorists Theory.

Now the Gateway Theory goes something like this: "People who use marijuana are more prone than non-marijuana users to start using other, harder drugs." Now is this the result of the drug itself on the human body? Do weed smokers sit there smoking a joint and say "Man, I wonder what crack is like."? Or is this a result of the illegal nature of the drug itself? The people who sell marijuana illegally are usually the same people who sell cocaine and meth, and if they don't sell it themselves, they probably know someone who does. So by this reasoning, people who buy marijuana probably have a better chance of knowing where to find the hard drugs. But let's imagine for a second that marijuana is legal (Ahh, only in a perfect world). I'm sure companies would start marketing marijuana cigarettes the same way that tobacco is marketed. You wouldn't find the marijuana right next to the crack rocks at your local supermarket. If you wanted hard drugs then, you would have to get to know a hard-drug dealer. So by legalizing marijuana, you would also cut down on the whole gateway effect.

Recently, on television ads, there has been a new campaign to say that marijuana sales are contributing to terrorist funds. I think this is just a way to use the terrorist attacks to further the anti-drug movement. I don't know, but I find it hard to believe that "Crazy Leroy" selling dime-bags down the street is a terrorist. Yeah, sure, Crazy Leroy has to get it from his drug dealer, and he probably gets it from a bigger drug dealer, but so far as I know, most marijuana is either grown locally or imported from Mexico. Until Mexican Terrorists start driving beat-up pickup trucks through federal buildings, I don't think we have much to worry about there. Also, if marijuana was legal, the government could tax it much like they do tobacco, and then use the funds to combat the real terrorist threat, rather than fighting false battles like the war on drugs. It's odd how blind-sighted our government can be.

Now I have no evidence to support this, but I think the people who are really keeping marijuana illegal is the drug dealers themselves. If marijuana was legalized, the big drug dealers stand to lose a lot of money. Who's going to pay twenty bucks for 8 grams when they can go buy a "pack o' blunts" for five dollars at the local 7-11? Nobody, so I think that the drug dealers want marijuana to remain illegal, and the government is more than happy to oblige them.

On a final note, our neighbor to the north, Canada, is considering legalizing marijuana for those people aged 16 and up. Of course our country, the USA, is trying to stop this, once again putting their noses in other country's affairs. Now I don't expect everyone to agree with me. In fact, if everyone agrees with me just from what I say, I will be extremely disappointed. Read up for yourself. Do the research and formulate your own conclusions, that way The Truth you know will be your own. Here are a couple of links to get you started:

Drug Czar Rips Canada Over Pot
Khat: Osama's New Funding
The Anti-Drug: Drugs and Terror
A Conversation About the Gateway Myth
The Science of Medical Marijuana

2002-09-13T16:44:00.000-05:00

I found this little tidbit, anybody who writes a blog/online diary/website should read it. Just thought I'd let you know.

10 Tips on Writing the Living Web

2002-09-13T10:55:00.000-05:00

It's Friday the Thirteenth today, but so far this has been the best day this week by far. The servers have not crashed at all and the students are all on task. Knock on wood. For all of you paraskevidekatriaphobes out there, you may enjoy this article. I think it's funny how superstitions get started. I hope to someday be a professional superstition starter.

Sex and Love

Well, I promised something new, and I promised opinions, so here goes. I don't understand why people seem to think that love and sex are related. We are taught at a young age that we are supposed to be in love before we get married, and we are supposed to get married before we have sex. So how many of us have waited until saying "I do" before having sex? How many of us have waited until we were in love to have sex? I'm sure that there are some out there who have followed the traditional path of love then marriage then sex, but not many. For those that have, I can't say that I admire you, but I do respect you for being true to your own convictions. What I believe, however, is that sex and love are seperate entities which can be experienced (and enjoyed) without the benefit of the other. I have had sex with women I didn't love, I'm sure they didn't love me either. We were just sitting around one day and decided to have sex. Love had nothing to do with it (unless you consider a love of sex). I've loved people without ever dreaming of having sex. Some of the best friends I've ever had have been of the opposite sex, and I never once imagined them naked or going down on me.

Sure, there are times when the person you love most is the person you have sex with. In fact, the situation I am in is that I am in love with a woman with whom I exclusively have sex with. However, I don't love her because of the sex. Similarly, I don't have sex with her because I love her. The reason I love her is because we connect on a different level, and the reason I have sex with her is because I enjoy having sex with her. The two, however, are only related because the person I love is the person I have sex with.

Now I know some of you are out there thinking "Mister Looney is so full of shit! He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about!" Well, maybe I am full of shit, but at least I got you thinking. Well, consider this:

Mister Looney's 1^st Rule of Male/Female Relationships

A man will say "I Love You" in an attempt to coerce a woman into having sex.
A woman will have sex with the man she loves, hoping that he will love her as a result.

Now I realize that this is not true in all cases, but in many, many cases it is. I think, in general, men are to blame for this rationale. When a man wants to have sex with a certain woman whom he has been "seeing" for a while, he will often tell her "If you love me, you'll do it." Men, you know you've said it (I'm guilty), and women, you know you've heard it. I really wish that women would wise up to this scheme (some have, but I've got the feeling that not many have).

In conclusion, I want to tell everyone out there, don't love someone because they have sex with you or because you would like to have sex with them. Love someone because you feel empty when they are not around. Don't have sex with someone because you love them or because you want them to love you. Have sex with someone because you are both really horny for each other. I hope you found a little bit of sense in what I have spoken. So look inside yourself and ask yourself "Is Mister Looney full of shit, or does he know The Truth."

2002-09-12T14:36:00.000-05:00

My lab got shut down, so now I have some time to decipher which muppet I am. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I am the Swedish Chef. Hooray!

	Yuoo ere-a zee Svedeesh Cheff! Yuoo ere-a a guud cuuk, thuoogh yuoo cun't speek Ingleesh fery vell. Bork Bork Bork!
*Take the What Muppet Are You?* Quiz!**

Other than that, just waiting for one of the administrators to get back with me on the status of our server.

2002-09-12T12:13:00.000-05:00

Yay! I finally got it to work, although not like I would like it to. Oh well, progress is progress. special thanks to FreeServers.com for the space to put those in. I may just make a website filled with iBlibs in the future, so keep your eyes open and your browser window pointed here. If you like this, or have some suggestions, please write me and let me know what you think. Until next time, always seek The Truth.

2002-09-12T10:38:00.000-05:00

My little thing down there is not working yet. Please be patient while I solve the problem. Thank you!

2002-09-12T10:23:00.000-05:00

Well, Sept. 11^th has come and gone without incident. All that really happened in every television station, newspaper, and news website thought it would be fun to flood us with images and footage that we have already seen about so many times. The media, hoping to find something significant about yesterday, has made it a point to say that the winning lottery numbers in the New York Lottery yesterday were 9-1-1. Kind of eerie, but not really significant. I thought I would give you guys something fun to do today, so here it is. Tell me if you like it or not (Your browser needs to support JavaScripts for this to work):

iBlib of the Day

I invented this myself, I call it an "iBlib" for lack of a better name. Tell me what you think and there may be more in the future.

Well, my lab is experiencing some serious technical problems, so I must cut it short for now. It may not be pretty, but it is The Truth.

2002-09-11T10:49:00.000-05:00

Happy Patriot Day Everyone! Who am I kidding? I didn't even get the day off today. Well, I have only been online one day and have already gotten angry email. Hooray! Just kidding. On a serious note, I do want to clear up some confusion about yesterday's post. I wasn't calling the people who were on the planes one year ago idiots. That's because up to that day, terrorists usually didn't do kamikaze missions. Usually what happened in a hijacking situation is the plane got hijacked, they flew around until some sort of demands or negotiations were met, and then the hostages were released. Sitting quietly was their way of not getting shot, probably thinking that they would get to go home eventually. What I was trying to say is that if a hijacking situation happened now, you would have to be an idiot to just sit there, knowing what we do now. I hope that clears up any confusion.

This morning, one of the teachers at the school came up to me and told me to cut out my handprint from red construction paper. Then she told me to write on the paper why I loved being an American. It was easy for my to come up with my response: I love being an American because I have the freedom to say what I want! I realize that there are bounds to that statement, but as far as I can tell they are pretty liberal. You see, I do love America, but I just have some problems with the state of our fine country these days. I have some problems with the way the country is run and I have some problems with the biases of the people in this country. Hopefully, we can all change that together for the better.

I also had some comments about just letting people celebrate the heroes that were made that day. I don't deny that there were many heroes that day, but I just find it unfortunate that buildings had to fall and thousands had to die before some of us realized that we are capable of being heroes. The general American belief is that If it doesn't concern me, it's not my business. How many of you have been in a parking lot and heard a car alarm go off and just looked the other way instead of at least just checking it out? How many of you have driven down a highway and saw someone pulled over to the side with car trouble and just passed on by? Women in self-defence courses are trained to yell "Fire!" when they are being attacked, because most people won't respond to "Help me!" I admit, I am guilty of some of these things myself, but at least I am trying to change. Let me tell you a story:

One day, when I used to live in Virginia, I was at a certain gas station in a not so good part of town. I was walking to my vehicle when I noticed an elderly woman driving through the parking lot. She had a blowout, but she was obviously oblivious to it. So she just continued to drive through. Now there were other people in this lot as well. Most just looked and stared. Some laughed and pointed. One person actually made to effort to yell at her "Your tire's flat!", and then he walked away. She finally stopped at one of the gas pumps. Now I noticed all of this around me and almost thought to just get in my car and drive away. Suddenly something changed in me. I jogged over to this woman, who was casually pumping gas at the time, and I informed her of her predicament. She looked and said "Oh gosh, this isn't even my car, it's my son's. He's fixing mine right now and he loaned it to me." I then asked her to pop the trunk to see if there was a spare in there. Luckily there was. I promptly changed her tire and was about to leave. She then told me "You are a life-saver." What? For taking 10 minutes of my time to help somebody out? She tried to pay me, but I refused, until she shoved a five down my shirt. She also told me if my car ever needed to be fixed her son would be happy to help me (an offer I never followed up on). We then went our own ways and I never saw this lady again. I sit here thinking about her and I wonder if she remembers me. I would just like to use this time to thank all of the "little heroes" that are around us all the time. I don't know if there are such things as "little heroes", but I guess that's just a matter of perspective.

Well, enough of my rambling, for today anyway. I promise that on the next post I will have something new to write. I hope that everyone enjoys today, and every day to its fullest. Just remember, The Truth is out there, sometimes we might just have to dig a little deeper to find it...

2002-09-10T11:36:00.000-05:00

First day on the Blog and already so much to say. I suppose I'll start with what is the freshest in my mind. Today is September 10^th, meaning that tomorrow is September 11^th. Frankly, I am getting pretty sick of all the press that Sept. 11^th is getting, even one year later. Sure, many people lost their lives that day, but many people lose their lives every day. Why don't we just have a nationwide candlelight vigil every night of the year? I work at a school, and tomorrow at our school there is going to be a big Patriot Day memorial. (Patriot Day? Who the hell came up with that?) I don't plan on attending. Is it because I am unpatriotic? Is it because I am a Nazi? Or, maybe, is it because I choose to move on and not dwell on the past? I really think the kids in this school will read enough about the events of that day in history books for the rest of their school career. Do they really need to be reminded about how tragic that day was in some sort of holiday? I bet that of all the kids in this small-town Colorado school, maybe one of them knows someone who died that day.

What is strangely ironic to me is that so much fuss is being made about memorializing that day, but as far as I can see nothing has really been done about it. Sure, airport security has been stepped up, military personnel have been sent, and bombs have been dropped, but what exactly has been accomplished? I laugh so hard that so much emphasis has been placed on airport security. The terrorists were smart enough to coordinate the first attack, do you really think they are dumb enough to try that stunt again? I can just see it now. Six armed gunmen stand up in the middle of Flight 666 and say "Ok, now everyone remain calm." What would you do? Would you:

Sit quietly in your seat and do exactly what the nice terrorists say? or
Say to hell with this and mob them, even if it means crashing the plane into a corn field?

Me, I think I would rather die a hero than die an idiot. I can see the headlines now: Hostages Do Nothing, As Terrorists Fly Plane Into the (name of building here). I was going to put a specific building there, but with my luck it would probably really happen, then I would be in the papers myself: Internet Blogger Primary Suspect in Latest Terror Attack. I'm sure the press would eat that one up.

Now about all the forces sent overseas and all the money spent on the so-called "War Effort", being a former military man myself, I have one thing to say: Better them than me. I think the real tragedy is when I read headlines like Abandoned Underground Bunker Destroyed or American Helicopter Downed In Friendly Fire. The government is spending billions of dollars blowing up abandoned countryside and killing our own men it really is a tragedy. Meanwhile, the Terror Network is still in place, Americans still live in fear, and Osama is off somewhere, probably giggling his ass off, celebrating Patriot Day in his own special way. Well, Osama, this message is for you. (That is if you enjoy reading blogs): You may be able to hide from justice for a while, but eventually, you will die of old age. How is that for a threat?

Well, that is about all for today. I have more planned for tomorrow, "The Day That Will Live In Infamy". I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. If you don't like what I say, don't badmouth me, email me and let me know what you think. All opinions are accepted and welcomed. Why is that? Because it may take many people's input, until I finally realize "The Truth".