Is this where D.B. Cooper went?

So I was scrolling through the headlines in the online edition of the local paper, and came to this story. It caught my interest even though I was only a kid when this happened, because I saw a show or two about it growing up. If true, I can't help but to find it intriguing. I grew up in the Flint area, and was familiar with Detroit, too. Places that aren't safe, and where sane people do not usually go, but something about this part of the country has always spooked me. People just disappear here. As in never seen again. When I think about it, I can almost think of them wandering into the Black Lodge, or some sort of equivalent, and all things being equal, there are some days when some mean streets seem a little less unsettling.

Full of Promise

Hot Coffee with Peppermint in the Stitch mug. Check.

Crunchy cold apple in front of me. Check.

Blinds turned so the sun doesn't cause my eye to be in "Glare mode". Check.

Keys on keyboard sounding extra melodic this morning. Check.

"Smellin' Coffee" resonating in my brain even though it is quiet in my office? Check.

Ok. I'm ready.

That's it. I refuse to play any longer.

I am 83% Geeky!!
More Fun Quizzes at QuizPox.com

Isn't this interesting?

I am 60% Crazy!
More Fun Quizzes at QuizPox.com



The best I can muster is 60 frickin' percent??? The damn thing is flawed, I tell you.

Can't imagine why this caught my attention...

Certainly something like this would be funny if it weren't something I'm afraid we're going to see more of...

Hell yes its important!

This was sent to me by a client. Its really too good not to share.

H/t to Scott.

22 Ways To Be A Good Democrat

1. You have to be against capital punishment, but support abortion on demand.

2. You have to believe that businesses create oppression and governments create prosperity.

3. You have to believe that guns in the hands of law-abiding Americans are more of a threat than U.S. Nuclear weapons technology in the hands of Chinese and North Korean communists.

4. You have to believe that there was no art before Federal funding.

5. You have to believe that global temperatures are less affected by cyclical documented changes in the earth's climate and more affected by soccer moms driving SUV's.

6. You have to believe that gender roles are artificial but being homosexual is natural.

7. You have to believe that the AIDS virus is spread by a lack of federal funding.

8. You have to believe that the same teacher who can't teach fourth graders how to read is somehow qualified to teach those same kids about sex.

9. You have to believe that hunters don't care about nature, but loony activists who have never been outside of San Francisco do.

10. You have to believe that self-esteem is more important than actually doing something to earn it.

11. You have to believe that Mel Gibson spent $25 million of his own money to make "The Passion of the Christ" for financial gain only.

12. You have to believe the NRA is bad because it supports certain parts of the Constitution, while the ACLU is good because it supports certain parts of the Constitution.

13. You have to believe that taxes are too low, but ATM fees are too high.

14. You have to believe that Margaret Sanger and Gloria Steinem are more important to American history than Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Edison, and A.G. Bell.

15. You have to believe that standardized tests are racist, but racial quotas and set-asides are not.

16. You have to believe that Hillary Clinton is normal and is a very nice person.

17. You have to believe that the only reason socialism hasn't worked anywhere it's been tried is because the right people haven't been in charge.

18. You have to believe conservatives telling the truth belong in jail, but a liar and a sex offender belonged in the White House.

19. You have to believe that homosexual parades displaying drag, transvestites, and bestiality should be constitutionally protected, and manger scenes at Christmas should be illegal.

20. You have to believe that illegal Democrat Party funding by the Chinese Government is somehow in the best interest to the United States.

21. You have to believe that this message is a part of a vast, right wing conspiracy.

22. You have to believe that it's okay to give Federal workers the day off on Christmas Day but it's not okay to say "Merry Christmas."

Ready to vote???

The word for this week is...

Diaphanous:
1. very sheer and light; almost completely transparent or translucent.
2. delicately hazy

Webster's Encyclopedic Unabridged Dictionary, Second Edition.

Use it in a sentance. Or three. Now shoo. I'm busy.

A Memory Explained

When I was in Boy Scouts (yes, I can hear you all snickering right now, keep it to your cynical selves), the swim trainers always stressed how you to have to be very careful any attempt to help someone who is drowning. This is because that person becomes desperate, and will start flailing around and possibly drown you as you attempt to save them. One instructor I recall went so far as to say that you want to knock them out first, then pull them to shore.

Drowning can happen different ways. Sometimes, you may not be in any doubt as to what's happening. Sometimes you may suddenly find yourself in over you head.
Sometimes you can swim out of it. Sometimes, you may be caught in currents that you can't see, and aren't strong enough to swim out of on your own. If you are very lucky, you may get a helping hand. If you extremely fortunate, someone with compassion swims out to you. And sometimes the current holds only you, for whatever reason, and you have a choice to make. Take your rescuer with you, or let go, and take your chances with the current. Sometimes the decision gets made for you.

To thine own self be true.

Easy words, hard to follow.

Really, it becomes very difficult when you and that person have not talked in many years. Its been an interesting journey. You'll note that I didn't say "Fun". There is a reason for that.

When I finally relented to the advice I was given last year about sitting down with a counselor, I had to confront the fact that I hadn't been myself for a long, long time. While I started to understand a lot of what I have been doing to damage myself for so many years, for reasons not entirely within my realm of control, I stopped going. That doesn't mean that I stopped my 'therapy', for lack of a better word. I stopped burying my emotions, even though I really didn't understand most of them. Instead I started to confront them.

This has been a big shift for those that know me. The person who might be visibly angry or happy is now (gasp) talking about a different emotion? There are feelings about feelings?

Seriously though, I have to say that it does make my day more difficult some days, when something happens or something is said, and I have to stop an consider it. Lately, most days are harder than others. The most difficult thing has been learning how much damage I did to others during my 'lost years'. When you are finally able to communicate in a healthy way and other people in your life no longer can, its a pretty bitter pill to swallow. More so as more circumstances are uncovered.

It does have its upside. I really am writing again. Something I haven't done for a very long time. I listen to music daily. I let myself experience that beauty mixed with other emotions. I think more clearly than I have for a long time, and I remember things. Good things. Bad things. The moments that end up making the sum total of who we really are. That part has been fun. Now it is about seeking balance. Wish me luck.

Recognition IS Only Half the Battle

I have come to the conclusion that being a Blue sucks.

"Fidus et Audax" indeed.

I can only hope that there is something worthwhile for the litany of traits the good Lord saw fit to instill me with, because if not, I'm the world's biggest sucker. And that realy would have been good to know long before now.

Five Questions

I wish I could say that I came up with them, but alas, it was someone smarter than I. I still like to ponder them from time to time. The answers have changed dramatically for me over time.

Who are you?

What do you want?

Where are you going?

Whom do you serve and whom do you trust?

The whole thing was actually very philsophical. A qwest about more than just the engine. It was more concerned about the cogs.

Swirling Around in the Mix of Turmoil in My Brain...

...we have this week's tunes, playing very loudly:

Trouble Is by Jars of Clay

Jealous Kind by Jars of Clay.


Update:

"Man, the trouble is, We don't know who we are instead. Man, the trouble is, We don't know who we are instead."

I really have had far worse phrases rattling around in my head all day long.

I guess its easier than focusing on things that matter.

Another reason not to go to NYC.

Lunch with a Princess, or How Not to Impress

Today was one of those days. You all know which ones I mean. The kind of day where the longer it wears on, the less things seem to go right.

Today was the day I got to have lunch with the Barista. I had to go to Seattle in the morning to get a client introduced to his new counsel, and normally this should have gone off with out a hitch. Today was not normal. This morning brought driving rain and winds to the Puget Sound area. This means that 95% of the people on the road have lost their minds and completely forgotten how to drive. I got to my office in lovely downtown Auburn just fine. I left shortly after 9 for a 10:30 meeting. Should have been no problem...its only about 35 miles. Yeah, right.

I didn't walk into the meeting until 11, and the Princess and I were set to meet on the other side of the freeway at 11:30. I called her, made my abject apologies, and asked if were could move it to 12:30. She told me that she would have to switch with someone who made plans, but she would see what she could do. It worked out. Unfortuantely, my client was feeling rather loquatious. This was a problem, because he takes a long time to get to point on a good day. I excused myself at 12:30 to use the restroom, called and left a message letting her knw we were wrapping it up, and I would be there as soon as I could. I asked her to start without me.

12:50 found me running down the street to the parking garage, and entering the circus of frustration that are Seattle city streets. I called her when I was on my way to the car, and like a truly gracious lady, she asked if she could order for me. Of course I accepted. She asked what I wanted. Being my easygoing self, I said "Whatever is good." Stepping above and beyond the call of normal courtesy, she actually read the menu to me. I made my selection, and I told her that since I was the one screwing up, lunch was on me today. I figured any gentleman should simply expect to do that.

After a 15 minute drive to go about a mile, I got to the parking garage across the street from the cafe, where I had to spend some time searching for a spot. Then I hustled outside only to wait what seemed to be an eternity for the signal to change. I finally got to the cafe, and when I entered, I saw the only Princess in the place waiving at me. I guess it was easy, look for the big guy in a suit and spikey hair. We only got about 7 minutes of face time, which was enough to make me feel somewhat self conscious about my tardiness and slightly dishevled appearance. Through it all, she displayed a certain je ne sais quoi that I assume all real Princesses have. A certain manner and bearing that can put anyone at ease, and is polite enough to overlook what might otherwise be perceived as a slight or offense.
I really could not stop myself from smiling as I rose when the short minutes were up, and she had to go. I ate my sandwich quietly, watching the people walking up and down the street, and when I went to ask for the check when I went to leave, I was informed that she had paid the bill. I have to confess that after my incusable tardiness, that made me feel rather small. Considering the fact I'm 6'4", that was no insignificant accomplishment.

Next time, if there is a next time, the lunch is on me. No argument, please.

Digital Age Recycling

Was going through some of my stuff from a time when I used to get reflective with a pen in my hand and stopped on this one. Somewhat appropriate since it is the fall now.

MAPLE'S SONG
Once, I was almost there.
Suspended, high in the air,
I could feel gravity's pull,
But was never subject to its power.
I was free to touch the sky,
To taste the fog's concealing cloak,
To drink the rain before it touched the ground,
To bask too long in the rays of the sun.

I knew what it was like to be part of the whole.

This cycle, like countless others, came to an end.
The days grew colder.
Gravity's tug felt like a death grip.
Soon I was separated, and riding the wind,
but this too, ended quickly.
I rested among the sleeping blades of green.

The tynes gather quickly, and soon I rested among the others.
The match was struck.
The flame devoured as it met, but I enjoyed it.
Once again, I was carried, on a column of air,
Skyward, ever skyward.

An Oversight

It was brought to my attention that while I gave a welcome to SoHos with the link on the sidebar, a certain Princess I have become acquainted with did not receive the same courtesies...and now I am in trouble and stuff. Therefore, for those of you who were not paying attention, please welcome The Barista to this little corner of the Realm.

Now, I expect that the remainder of making amends will have something to do with giving her a pedicure during lunch or something equally direct...

A Strange Day.

Stayed home in the morning to do my web CLE from there, allowing my Father in Law to borrow my ride while his was in the shop. Things were fine until 30 minutes into the program, the connection puked, and I got tired of being on ignore with West's tech support after 30 minutes.

Had to take the Heirs and FIL back to His house before coming to work. Then I had to get gas. $3.07 a gallon? WTF?

Got in to the office before the boss got back from Rotary, only no real work to speak of at the moment.

I feel like I can't keep my eyes open,and I have no idea why. Have Heir No. One's parent teacher conference tonight, and then I might go somewhere and walk around. The boys are staying overnight at the In-laws, so there is no reason to go home. All I have to do is stay awake. Or go home and sleep. I haven't decided yet.

Mulling Over the Human Condition

"There's two boys holding
stars for wishing.
One boy's sure,
one says "I don't know."
"Sometimes I feel we've been missing
love." and away they go."
------------------------------------
And hearts that fall in two
pretend they don't show
Holding back the rain
Baby let it go
You don't get much without giving
You don't get much without giving
Hey Hey Yeah."
The Bo Deans--"You Don't Get Much"

Its a funny thing. The human heart, the figurative one, is the seat of a tremendous longing that drives even the hardest, the coldest, the deadest of us to do things that we might otherwise be at a loss to explain.

Anyone who has read this page for any period of time can tell you that I wear my heart on my sleeve. What isn't as well-known is that this is a very recent circumstance.

I used to be a monocolor person. I could be happy. I could be angry. Hurt and sadness were never to be given any expression. Any other emotion was simply incomprehensible to me. And yet, even in this mindset as a teenager, I had longings. They weren't anything I could understand. Nothing I could ever find the words to express, but I'll be damned if they didn't find expression in the most pernicious places. In my case, they usually found their voice in music. Maybe in a motif I was playing. Maybe in a compelling drum cadence. Maybe a vocal harmony. Any of these could provoke a reaction in me that I could not explain, as some longing or emotion could find a voice in this medium.

As a junior in high school, I first heard the song I quoted at the beginning of this essay. I know now what it spoke to in me. That same year, our music teacher wanted to expand our performances to include vocals. Much to my surprise, I was asked if I wanted to sing. I was even more surprised when I heard my own voice say yes. When asked what I wanted to sing, I handed her this CD and told her which track. She put it in the stereo and turned it up. I closed my eyes and instantly, I rolled on the ever turning rhythm, my voice in harmony with the vocals, and I was awash in a mass of feelings that I couldn't even identify. When the music stopped, I opened my eyes to find hers regarding me with a quiet, fiery look. She was clearly fascinated. I'm sure she wondered where this incredible longing had been hiding in this inexhaustible fount of sarcasm. Bless her soul, she probed, and poked, and prodded, but couldn't get me to describe what had affected me so about the song. It wasn't any one's fault. It was like asking someone who was blind all their life and had somehow been given sight to describe color. The sensation was simply overwhelming, but it spoke to a longing I didn't know that I even had: to find the person in life meant for me. Much to my chagrin, I found that person later that year, but since I was completely unequipped to deal with emotions that person stirred up in me, I ran like a spooked rabbit. The point is that I have never met anyone who didn't have this kind of longing.

It takes different forms. Some want this other piece of themselves to proclaim the union to the world. Some want a quiet, restrained respect than comes with the assurance that the other is there, no matter what. Some want a silent simpatico, where nothing ever needs be said, the quiet anticipation of the other's needs being all the fulfillment they'll ever need. Some long only for acceptance, understanding, and the patience to allow each other to be who they are as the journey of their lives unfolds.

The variations are endless. And the greatest secret is that for many, if most, but not all of these longings are satisfied, then there is an incentive and joie de vive that cannot be suppressed, because each day brings the promise that the lover will grow into that need, or that you might stumble into a longing that you never knew you had, and is so much more satisfying than the one left behind.

Like anything in life, these can be the start down a dark path. Sometimes we stumble. Sometimes we get impatient. Sometimes we feed this unfulfilled longing to our own discontent, and that ininition will grow, until it towers over our emotional landscape so we are unable to see anything else. This usually doesn't end well, in a plastic society where the next upgrade is right around the corner. It is simply too easy to pack up our longings and move on than it is to invest the time, effort, and true emotion into a resolution. We are afraid of the changes we might find with commitment. Instead, the pursuit of fulfillment for our longings becomes a never ending chase after a mirage, and the traveller never sees that the excess is rooted in emptiness. Think I'm wrong? Look around you. Think about people you know. It saddens me to know that the simplest expressions of intimacy could take their feet off the path.

And I quietly marvel at the basic expressions of these longings we see every day, all around us. The spouse trying to redeem the other from emotional divorce. The simple expression of gratitude and dedication from one faithful companion to another. The sincere desire in another to have the same kind of relationship, and have it so honestly acknowledged. The quiet desire to leave this world holding the hand of the one who walked by their side for so long.

The expressions of our longings tell the world who we are, with greater truth and more focused detail than any words could ever express, even if we could even be counted on to tell the truth. And I'm glad for this. Without the expression of the longings of our hearts, we would simply be alone, together.

Another Belated Link

Please welcome Sohos a.k.a. Ms. Count to my own little corner of the Realm(tm). I actually should have linked her quite a while ago.

Oh. Yea.

And people think its funny that I don't like mushrooms.

So I took the color code personality test at lunch...

And whatta surprise. I'm Blue. Geezz, I coulda told 'em that without taking the damn test.

Congratulations. You are BLUE.

BLUES are motivated by INTIMACY. They seek to genuinely connect with others, and need to be understood and appreciated. Everything they do is quality-based. They are loyal friends, employers, and employees. Whatever or whomever they commit to is their sole (and soul) focus. They love to serve and give themselves freely in order to nurture others' lives.

BLUES have distinct preferences and have the most controlling personality. Their personal code of ethics is remarkably strong and they expect others to live honest, committed lives as well. They enjoy meaningful moments in conversation as well as paying close attention to special life events (e.g. birthdays and anniversaries). BLUES are dependable, thoughtful, and analytical; but can also be self-righteous, worry-prone, and moody. They are "sainted pit-bulls" who never let go of something or someone, once they are committed. When you deal with a BLUE, be sincere and make a genuine effort to understand and appreciate them.

Understand that no two BLUES are exactly alike. Although you share the same core motivation as many others, your personality is still unique to you alone.

Another forgotten treasure

Geez. I forgot completely about her. The best thing about Detroit. Period. I would listen to her sing the phone book.



How could I have gotten so far away from this?

New playlist

I just got done setting a new playlist for the cd I'm burning for the car this week. Its a good thing the boys are the only ones who are my normal passengers. Anyone else would listen for about 10 minutes, then figure I'm mentally ill and try to have me committed.

And yes, I am crazy, but not stupid. So take that. :lol:

I just watched the trailer

For Babylon 5: The Lost Tales. I know what I want for my birthday/Christmas...well, that and Dick's book.

You just have to love a series with a true story arc, and people at their best and worst, and how life brought each of them to those points. Besides, how can you resist a show with lines such as the famous Molari quip : "Arrogance and stupidity, all in one package. How effecient of you." or "What is it now, you moon-faced assassin of joy?"

or Vir's response to Morden's question "What do you want?": "I want to live just long enough to see your head separted from your body and placed on a pike outside the palace as a warning to the next ten generations that some favors come with too high a price."

Or the infamous Sheridan non-apology apology. No I won't quote it. You have to see Boxleitner's delivery to truely appreciate its impact.

So while I was cleaning today

...I came across this gem on the mp3 player. I forgot how much I have always liked this song. It just seems appropriate.








Thank you.

Saturday AM

Chilly and foggy. Made cinnamon muffins because Heir No. One asked politely. Washed down with hot tea. Hope y'll have a good one.

A Gift From A Client

A client brought me a gift certificate to here this week. Now the question is: when do I go?

I can almost see again

Got my eyes dialated this morning, and have been walking around with my sunglasses on all day. I can finally read without squinting.

I Just Had To See...

...and the answer is yes, it still gives me chills, just like the very first time I heard it.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

That's the sound of my head banging against my desk. Don't mind me. Carry on.

The DJ Tracks At the Gym

For the Cardio? Jesus Jones, Doubt and Liquidizer

For the weights? A playlist with Grand Funk Railroad, Bad Company, U2, and the Black Crowes.

Things that I am thankful for

In no particular order...

1. Breathing. No matter how much some things in my life cause me grief, pain, or just generally suck, it beats the alternative.

2. Losing weight. I'm actually wearing pants and shirts that I haven't worn in a while. The walking and the gym also help with stress, so I don't come across quite as frazzled as I feel lately.

3. Music. For few minutes, at least, I get to just stop and enjoy something that has always given me pleasure.

4. Employment. It hasn't exactly been a banner year, but I have a job, and most days, I like what I do because I actually get to help people. Besides, some of the stuff that comes across my desk is really high on the novelty factor.

5. My Boys. Seriously. I always knew that I would love my kids, but I never understood just how much. The fact that they are ALWAYS glad to see me when I get home or they get home has been a blessing beyond measure. I love watching them grow, and learn, and the fact that the things they have encountered and dealt with so far in their lives has done nothing to diminish the pure goodness in their hearts is such an inspiration, and caused me to change some of my sarcastic, curmudgeonly ways.

6. Living Conditions. Both cars paid for, food on the table, clothes on our backs, and a roof over our heads. Is it perfect? No, nothing ever is, and money is tight, but if I saw fit to complain, I would truely be an ingrate.

7. Faith and Hope. Cynics would see faith as a crutch. I see it as a catalyst for change. If you don't have faith, then you have no incentive to do what you ought to and try to become a better person. Without hope that is packaged with faith, there is no reason to believe that the changes faith creates have any meaning, purpose, or staying power.

8. Relationships. No man is an island, nor was he designed to be. That little bit took me a long time to learn, especially since I didn't have the best role model as a child. Now the most important relationship in my life, the flower that God meant me to care for, to cherish, and treasure, and to grow with, is in the midst of a garden that is completely overgrown with weeds, and trees. Still, I would rather be feeling the pain and despair of this dark place in which I find myself this with every iota of the pain that it brings, than to be the emotional cripple that I was. I'll never be perfect. I may never be enough...and that is a really hard blow to take, but I'd have a harder time living with myself if I didn't try. It is important. I need to finish what I start, no matter how much it hurts. No matter how many times I get hurt in the process.

9. Freinds. They are the ones who can cheer you up on a bad day and make you laugh even when you don't feel like it.

*I got this idea from Folly, who got it from DangerDoll. Sorry if I disappointed you by taking it in this direction, ma'am. If I went the other way, I'd still be typing.*

The Lynch Mob

Many moons ago, when I was a lowly college student at the University of Michigan-Flint, I found myself installed on the student body's version of a court as a judge. In truth, this was no small feat, considering that I was a middle-class white kid on an urban college campus where 'diversity' was one of the watchwords of the day. There were 5 of us on the panel, and some years, we didn't do anything, but had all the perks of being a member of student government.

Then came "the dispute". The student government president, himself a middle-class white guy, with a rapier wit, and likable way, had had enough of one government member's constant flouting of the attendance requirements, and decided to convene a hearing to review the member's attendance records and determine if he should be removed.

There was only one problem. The member was a "person of color".

Within a day, other members of the august body, in collusion with other interests that are typically quick to condemn "the man" and had swooped into action. Before long, there were flyers all over school advertising the hearing. "Come see racism in action" they proclaimed, the inplication of course being that the five, of which I was one, were racists, and that the member's removal was certain. Pressure continued to build over the coming week.

When the evening of the hearing had arrived, I walked into packed meeting room that no longer even had standing room. Campus security people were very visible throughout of the room. We had a protracted discussion with the Dean of Student Services about whether we should hold the hearing, since we were a member shy. We decided to go ahead, and entered the hearing room. There were a lot of people present, staring at us, and not politiely, either. Then a funny thing happened. As the hearing progressed, it became clear that the member's attendance record was very bad. We also discovered that the member was one absence shy of triggering the hearing...the President had jumped the gun. There were still angry people, but most of the anger was directed toward the member himself, with a little reserved for the President. Many were upset at the poor standard of representation that the member had set. More than a few expressed the opinion to me afterward that it had been a waste of my time. End result? The "people" came to the right conclusions, the member resigned, the Pres was exonerated, and there was a newfound respect for the process. This kind of experience is why I haven't decided to write this country off yet, despite the pettiness, bickering, freightening levels of selfishness, combined with repeated and escalating acts against our own best interests. And some days I have to remember this.

Life In General

It hurts.

What the Hell Happened to Me?

I was watching TV with Mrs. BiW last night. She was watching "I Want to Look Like A High School Cheerleader Again." And watching her own facial expressions at different points. After, I got the inexplicable urge to look at our old yearbooks. I looked and looked. What the Hell Happened to Me?

He looks like a cocky bastard, doesn't he? I can assure you, he was not.

A shiny, new, still-in-the-box TSD No-Prize to the reader who can accurately guess the year it was taken. No answer from you, Alex. That would be cheating.

Now I have to go type. The melody the heart makes was unusually loud this morning. Don't worry, you won't have to read it. It will definately be NSFW, and probably NSFA.

Because I was asked

I'll post a picture of the haircut...at the end of a long day, so it is fair less spiky than in the morning.

Perpective is everything

I spent a half hour with a client this afternoon listening to all their troubles they are suffering at this time, which explains their erratic behavior. Frankly, it made my problems seem very small. It is funny where the humbling things come from.

So much for that

This morning, it was a triple sized cup, black with nothing in it, and it was gone in 3 minutes. Yeah, it was that good, and that necessary.

Something Inspiring

Was looking last night for a positive message to dwell on after considering Sunday's message with Deuteronomy 8, and happened on Psalm 51, which according to my NKJV, is a prayer of repentance. The biggest appeal for me?

Verse 12.

"Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, And uphold me with Your generous spirit."

and

Verse 17

"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, A broken and contrite heart---These, O God, You will not despise."

{crossposted at the other blog)

Another thought...

I know some people just can't stand his stuff, but I love C.S. Lewis. The man had a way of distilling things that I have pondered for years into a few short paragraphs, in a simple, elegant way. The problem is when I am wading in to his deep thoughts, I find I cannot read him quickly. I still have to unpack the contents of those few short paragraphs in my mind and still spend some time sorting it all out. Either I'm the world's biggest dumbass, or I'm deeper than I thought. However, I'm not going to make that call. Anyway, I came across another gem by the man today that demonstrates how he just seemed to get it.

<em>"Love anything, and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.'


And of course, I had to be the one who decided a while back to start living boldly...no real complaints though. Emotionally, I'm the healthiest I have ever been in my life. Although that may not really be saying much.

A Pleasant Surprise

I was milling around in my dresser this morning, A pair of pants that I haven't worn in a long time now fits. A few more pounds, and they they'll even look good. Followed up this evening, and a few of my older suits are starting to look like a possibility.

Sometimes a great notion...

Got an urge to do something different with my hair today. Went after I left the gym. Bad idea. I was tired of the conservative part to the side, and I wasn't really happy with the way it looked. Decided, after discussion with Mrs. BiW to go spiked. Had it spiked decades ago, and yes, it DID look good (despite what you might think, Dick). I told my barber "Not too short". She didn't listen. When she saw my face, she said "you no pay today".

Something like a cross between a roman legionaire and a retarded astronaut. Its gonna be a long few weeks while it grows in.

Three Weeks and Counting

Without coffee. I know, it is propbably a sin, especially for someone who lives in the Pacific Northwest, but I realized that I would be too easy for me to get out of control with it, and I don't need a pot-a-day habit. I've got too many other things to think about.

Go Sens!

At least the Senators are off to a good start, going two and oh against the Maple Leafs this week. They play the Rangers on Saturday. I hope that I can get lucky and find a channel here on the left coast that broadcasts the game.

Update: It looks like the CBC is broadcasting it, along with the other 4 pm game, so I don't know if the BC affiliate will show it or not. That early, it will just be bcakground noise while I play with the boys anyway.

Still Boiling Water...

And up in the middle of the night, spending time on the throne.

Now I get to wonder: Stomach pain from creepy crawlies in the water, or is it just stomach pain? When did Washingtonistan become a freakin' third world country? I mean, the politics are the same, but I could at least count on the water to wash the taste from my mouth. Now I can't even do that...

I get to boil water...

I got the news today that the local water company has found e coli in random samples of the water, so I get to boil the water we drink and cook with. Am I the only one worried about the condition of our nation's infrastructure? I'm pretty sure Issac Asimov had a few things to say about the deterioration of infrastructures in developed societies and the danger it indicates. Look around, and see if it doesn't appear true to you.

A Piece of my Past

An Open Letter to Tiffany

You asked me once
Why I turned my back
and shut the door
Closing all contact
Between out hearts.

I hesitated and fled, not knowing
The root of my own actions.

The passage of time
And greater awareness of self
have plucked the parcel of truth
From the unknown inside
And lain it at my feet
Silently awaiting opening.

You were more than I was ready for
A lake of commitment
With depth
Unfathomable from the surface
An early envoy of responsibility
With a tameness of character
I feared
And had no intention of matching.

And now things are different
Headstrong intentions
Have been replaced by cunning and craft
The angry young man
Seeks to make changes
Starting with himself
By seeking a peace
That he has rarely known
And wearily sought after.

A refreshing conversation

On the way home today, I had the pleasure of speaking with none other than Dick, formerly of Big Dick's Place. (And I heard his lovely bride, the OAG herself, Kelly, speaking in the background). Damn it was nice to speak with a guy about stuff again. Yeah, I maybe an uptight Yankee by birth, but I have some pretty good southern friends who have been good at reminding me that stuff it just stuff. Dick, if you ever find yourself back up this way, let me know. I'll buy the Jose'.

And the rest is silence

"Be still and know that I am God."
-Psalms 46:10

This used to be my favorite verse. I realized it wasn't anymore when I drove into work the this morning. The catelogue of outrages on talk radio wasn't compelling. The music on the other stations offered no joy. The CDs did not stir me. I drove along, the hum of the wheels beneath me, the whirring of the defroster going, and the uneven patter of the rain on my the roof and windshield of my car prompting me to wonder why something that used to offer succor now only clawed at me like a great void seeking to fill its inanition with my peace of mind. And the hardest part is know that you can talk to God, but sometimes his answer is no answer at all. It is hard to gain your equilibrium after such a drive, when the haunting strains of Blue Rodeo's singular melancholia strikes a little too close to home, and seems to cut a little too deep.

"Hey, hey I guess it hasn't hit me yet...
I fell through this crack and I kinda hit my head...
I stand transfixed before this streetlight...
Watching the snow fall on this cold November night..."

A Window to Chapter XX

Despite the tension, he felt oddly relaxed as they drove through the darkness on the way home. The heat was turned up, the temperature was warm as the rain fell on the windshield. The conversation had taken its inevitable turn when the distractions were no longer available. The show had been pleasant enough, though there was no question that it was definitely NOT Broadway bound. He had enjoyed the opportunity to get dressed up, and simply enjoy her company for a night out, even though she had been less than affectionate. He let his eyes wander over and settled on her empty ring finger. The question had been pointed; the response less than satisfactory. The rest of the ride home had been words. Soft ones. Loud ones. Words hurled with accusation, and anger, and words tinged with sorrow, and regret. It all seemed like meaningless details, as the statement intended by the bare finger seared into his brain like a brand on his soul, as he dangled from the most lasting effect love can inflict, the most exquisite pain that love can create: a thread of hope.

Its Raining, and I Feel Like Watching TV.

I'm thinking JAG, season 4. Yeah, I doubt the job is That exciting, but I confess that the show is a guilty pleasure.

If you get a chance, I recommend "Stardust". It actually had some good messages, and I enjoyed watching it. I don't think it will be out much longer.

Music Est Macht

Heavy Rotation in my car at the moment:

MercyMe: Coming Up To Breathe

Casting Crowns: Casting Crowns

Blue Rodeo: The Days In Between

And yes, I do play it LOUD.

Apologies

I'm sorry if I been a little cryptic and whiney this week. I suppose if it really bothered you, you wouldn't read any more, and it IS my blog afterall. It would be safe to say there is some serious stuff going down in this life o mine, and after the week I've had, emotionally I feel like a well-rung washcloth. The good part is I think I know more clearly where I stand, and that seems to have given me a certain measure of tranquility I didn't have before with everything that's going on.

It gonna be OK, whatever the final outcome. Thanks for bearing with me.

The Phone Call

Heirs One and Two are staying the night with Papa and Nana tonight. Mrs. BiW is working late, so I decided to stay here at the office for while, do a little extra work, and waste time until traffic doesn't suck. I wanted to see how everyone's day at school progressed, so I called over to my in-laws.

"Hello?"

"Hi [Heir No. One]!"

"DAD!"

"How are you doing?"

"GREAT! We're eating dinner!"

"What are you having?"

"Hamburgers!"

"Your favorite."

"Yeah, and [Heir No. Two]has Ketchup all over his shirt."

"That'll happen. How was your day at school?"

"Great! I got a green day! Here, say hi to [Heir No. Two]

sound of fumbling

"Hi [Heir No. Two]!"

"DA! unintelligible, uninteligible, unintelligible DA! BA!"

phone goes back to big brother

"I gotta go back to dinner. See you tomorrow Dad. I love you."

"I love you too."


I love the fact that they both are always happy to see or hear from me. It is great comfort sometimes. Now if we could just get some more progress on the little one's diction...

No Pain, No Gain.

I understand that pain generally is a component of spiritual growth, and feel like have been doing a lot of growing, but I'm starting to have my moments where despite faith and praising thankfulness, I feel like I just might crack. I feel like I have been living James chapter 1 for over a year now. If anything I trust God more, even though things seem to be getting worse. I simply cannot let go of the idea that things are the way they are for a reason, and the reason wasn't so only the difficulties are there, but that there would be something better...the blooms after the flood, the green after the fire, things of that nature. I believe that God has always intended something better, and that part of the reason for the landscape I reside in for the moment is the lack of faith, trust, and obedience I had in him earlier in my life. That doesn't mean he is done, but all actions have consequences, and I may not be done receiving mine. The trick is recognizing it, and remembering thankfulness for the things that go right, even if they may not remain. There are certainly enough biblical examples. I just hope that I don't have to live the entire chapter of Job to get to where I'm being guided.

For all the change that I have experienced in myself for the last year, I still am a work in process. I'm a better person now, but there is always something to do, and somethings simply cannot be renewed and revitalized by my will and act alone. I think I am learning that is the hardest part about faith. The acceptance that there really are somethings that you will fall short on and that you have to rely on God to finish, if that is part of the plan. That is where I live right now, and it comes with its own set of issues. Humility becomes a daily staple. I have apologized twice today for two separate things, when I reflected on them because I could see how much they hurt the person involved, who just happens to be the last person in the world I want to hurt, and now that I can see that it has been like that for a while, I begin to understand why things are the way they are, and I can see how much faith it took to deal with it this long. There is a lot to answer for.

Nitwit of the Week

Occaisionally, I go over to Grouchy's Liberaltopia, just to scope out what the BDS-inflicted are ranting on this week. Today, I stumbled upon this gem from the author named "damspot":

"Aside from their [Iran's] poor opinion of Israel, which most everyone in that area of the world seems to have, and their opinions on the Holocaust, which for good or bad, many Western Scholars are beginning to look at as well, they have not militarily threatened to bomb anyone."

It is indeed going to be a long war, and apparently we need to start at home, with those who are self-loathing.

Word for the day...

pol·troon /pɒlˈtrun/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[pol-troon] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–noun 1. a wretched coward; craven.
–adjective 2. marked by utter cowardice.


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

[Origin: 1520–30; earlier pultrowne, pultron, poultroone < MF poultron < OIt poltrone idler, coward, deriv. of poltro foal < VL *pulliter, deriv. of L pullus young animal; see foal]

—Related forms
pol·troon·er·y, noun
pol·troon·ish, adjective
pol·troon·ish·ly, adverb


—Synonyms 1. dastard.

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.


I'd start using it, but then my speech would be oversaturated with the word. Still, I'm sure you could find a suitable application in your everyday speech.

The Darkness Unleashed

Owen slowly opened one eye. Deciding that he wasn't dead, he tried to sit up. Pulverized concrete and dust left his mouth dry. Slowly, he surveyed his surroundings. Apparently when the Convention Center caved in, he was thrown clear. He couldn't explain why being thrown to the concrete three stories below hadn't killed him. He didn't even appear to be seriously injured. He then remembered what he had been doing when the floor dropped out from beneath him, and looked for his phone. The slim Motorola didn't appear to have fared as well as he had. I lay in two pieces, 10 feet from where he came to. The display was shattered. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, a breeze cloaking him in the smell of smoke, and death. The phone seemed to be a symbol of everything that had happened that day. Nothing would be the same. He looked toward what remained of the Convention Center. How many people had been in the building? How many now lay entombed in the rubble surrounding him?

He snapped back into the moment, his reverie cut short by the falling temperature. The sun was settling over the Puget Sound, shimmering behind the smoke and dust. Above, a few helicopters buzzed about, lights flickering, as they flew back and forth over the city. As he started to walk, he heard no shouts, no cries for help, no screams of pain. The bodies, and parts of bodies that he saw appeared to be lifeless. It took him nearly an hour to travel two blocks, climbing over the pieces of concrete that used to be fill the skies of the city. In the back of his mind, it seemed that a helicopter was following him, but it was a million miles away from his mental state of mind. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and something very primitive had been let loose from a cage. Thoughts now filled his head that didn't prompt any mental response at all. Bloody images, murderous acts performed with an emotionless, mechanical precision. The kinds of things that would strike terror into the heart of the most committed jihadi, executed with no more feeling than mowing the lawn, or taking out the trash.

After what seemed like hours, he walked onto an undamaged roadway. National Guard vehicles blocked passage through, and a nervous looking sentry, who couldn't have been older than 19 drew his weapon and trained it on the dirt and blood streaked man, who now loped toward him with a look of pure hatred on his face. Owen was so consumed with rage that he did not even notice the spotlight from the helicopter overhead. The soldier, who had enlisted six months before had never seen devastation like what lay before him, and could not fathom how anyone had survived. "Halt!" he shouted. Owen advanced until the rifle poked him in the chest. He looked down, looked up, and batted the rifle away, still oblivious to the spotlight focused on him. His expression softened slightly, as if the feral instinct recently unleashed recognized that the soldier was nothing more than a kid who was out of his depth. Through clenched teeth, Owen growled "Next time you point a weapon at me, you better be ready to use it." He continued walking past the sentry, as another soldier ran up and grabbed him by the arm. "Where did you come from?" he asked. Owen stopped and looked at him for a moment. "I was in the Convention Center. I was thrown clear. Do you have the keys?" as he nodded toward the Humvee. The second soldier was not so easily dismissed. "Is anyone else alive? Did you see any policemen, or firefighters?" Owen sighed. "I didn't see anyone else who appeared to be alive." "What happened?" Owen turned and looked the second soldier in the eyes. "There were buildings exploding, shouts to Allah, more buildings exploding, and then more buildings exploding. Give me the damn keys."
"What? No. You'll have to come talk to the Major, and tell him what you saw and heard." What happened next surprised even Owen. The combination of rage, adrenalin, and irritation coalesced, and in a lightning quick move, Owen grabbed the soldier by the neck, slammed him against the Humvee, and lifted him of the ground. His lips twisting into a sneer, he said "Keys! Now! I'll give you my damn driver's licence, and your Major can send someone to debrief me tomorrow morning. If you send anyone before then, I cannot guarantee their safety." The soldier handed the keys to the man who held him suspended in the air. Owen tossed him to the side, got in, and drove South on a deserted I-5.
**********
Rebecca sat motionless in the chair, where her coworkers had placed her after picking her up off of the sidewalk, where she lay sobbing. Even though the sun was going down, the authorities had order everyone to stay where they were, since no one knew if the attacks were over, if they were attacks. Her coworkers all sat in clusters around the office, watching the video coverage on CNN on their computers. The reporter stated that a group calling itself the Islamic Army of Jihad was taking credit for the destruction in Seattle and threatened to do the same to another city or town in the United States for each day the United States maintained a military presence in the Middle East. Then the image changed, and a man, covered in dirt, debris, and blood was making his way from the Convention Center area to the the south. The officeworkers spoke to each in hushed tones "Who is this guy? Where is he going?" More and more people watched as time passed. The ambient noise in the room faded, until the eerie sounds of the same newscaster's voice echoed from different locations around the room. When the man batted away the first soldier's rifle and headed for the Humvee, the reaction was mixed, but all were amazed. When the man picked the second soldier up and slammed him against the Humveee, a few people uttered "My God, who is this guy?" As the man climbed in the camera zoomed in on his face. Which still was not clear on the computer monitors around the room.

A few minutes passed and the newscaster announced that they had enhanced the zoom shot of the man's face. The picture cut away from the newscaster and a grainy, blurry image of Owen filled the screen. Gasps immediately fell to the floor. Rebecca's friend Amy shouted "Becky! Its Owen! He's alive!"

Rebecca still stared ahead, but said, almost inaudibly "Alive?"
"Yes, Becky! Look!"
The light of hope filled her face, bringing her back from the place between life and death where she had spent the last few hours. She swiveled toward the nearest monitor, where she was greeted with the sight of her husband. Dirty, bloody, disfigured by a look she did not recognize, but it was him. "Alive!!! Alive she said as the tears streamed anew down her smiling face.

Did the Puyallup

For those out you who do not recognize that phrase, let me explain.

Every fall, Puyallup, Washington, hosts the Western Washington Fair, better known as the Puyallup. Rides, games, junk food, exhibits, sales, animals and more. Heir No. One gets more excited about this than he does about Disneyland.

I took a half day, left work, came home to Mrs. BiW who took the day off, and both heirs, and headed off. Another learning experience. Heir No. Two was a complete snot. Heir No. One did get to ride some rides, Mrs. BiW got her Elephant Ear and Roasted Corn, I got my empanada, and the boys got their lemonade. Heir No. One rode the scary ride, Mrs. BiW freaked out and got worried about him. Hopefully next year, the little one won't make it a chore for the rest of us, so everyone can relax and it doesn't end with everyone getting mad at each other. Hey, I can dream, can't I?

The Closed Circle

He turned from the windows as the debris that used to be the restaurant across the street shattered the titanic panes of glass and turned them in to glittering projectiles. He lay still on the floor, with chunks of stone and glass falling on him, the rumble from the explosion fading, only to be replaced by the screams of the dead and injured. Silently, he took inventory, and concluded that aside from the impact itself, he was uninjured. As he slowly lifted himself off the floor, he muttered under his breath about waiting till the last minute to take his CLE courses for this reporting period. As he dusted himself off, he looked at the shattered remnants of his favorite coffee mug, the contents spreading a dark stain on the carpet. "DAMMIT, I HATE COMING TO SEATTLE!" he said to no one in particular.

He looked to his left, to see the well-dressed brunette who had made such a spectacle of herself coming in late to the session. He only had to linger a moment on the sight of the huge shard of glass sticking out from the crimson stain on her chest, and her sightless eyes, frozen in a look of surprise, to know that she was dead. He looked around the third floor lobby of the Washington Convention Center, and saw several people around the space, in varying degrees of health. Another explosion two blocks away added to the cacophony outside. Then another, then another.

He knew that he had to try to help some of the injured to safety, if any could be found. He also knew that it must be on the news by now. He pulled out his cell phone, and by some miracle, it still had a signal. Another explosion rocked the building, causing pieces of glass still in the window frames to fall to the street below. He held own the "2" button until it dialed, and he raised it to his ear. "Hello, you have reached the voicemail box of..." This time he could not contain his rage. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!" He paused for a minute, and considered calling her cell phone, despite the fact that she rarely heard it ring in her desk drawer at work.

Another explosion rumbled beneath his feet, sounding as it it came from the parking garage. From outside, he heard a fevered cry, the only intelligible word being "Allah". Another explosion rang out from the other side of the street. Realizing that if he was going to say anything, he should act quickly, he rifled through the menu to "Text message", and started to plunk away with both thumbs.

*****

For an hour now, she had been trying to call his cell phone, ever since the head of the department came by and announced that a series of explosions had ripped downtown Seattle apart, and appeared to be timed in a fashion to kill or injure as many of the first responders as possible. After the first call went straight to his voicemail, she logged onto the internet and looked at the pictures posted on the CNN website. Downtown was unrecognizable from the air. The Convention Center had completely crumbled, completely blocking I-5 from both the North and the South. She picked up her phone, dialed again, and again heard his voice telling her she'd reached his cell phone. Angrily, she slammed the phone down, and watched the plumes of smoke curl up from what had been a typical urban center a few ours before. The phone rang. Her heart lept as she practically pounced on the handset and frantically said "Hello???" The voice on the other end was his assistant. "Has he called you?" the assistant asked. Brokenheartedly, she replied "No." "Well, if you do, call us. Please." Slowly, she hung up the phone when the thought came to her.

Torn between the desire to know, and not to know, she opened her desk drawer, and pulled out her cell phone. She took it, walked downstairs, past her coworkers,who were milling about, and talking in hushed tones. Thirty seconds after she walked outside, the lights on the phone flashed, and it beeped, indicating a text message.

Her heart was in her throat as she flipped the phone open with a quivering hand. The message was brief: "I'm OK. I lov"

Liberals. Always Looking Back

The headline on Comcast.net?

"Protests harken back to the 50s, 60s"

The story is about Jena. You know, the place ALL the big-name race-pimps couldn't wait to get to. I'm already irritated with this story. The headline ws just the last straw. You can almost hear them in the newsroom: "Man, its JUST like the 60s. We can protest. It will change the WORLD, man."

Newsflash: IT DID. Progress was made in the 60s. And yes, some of it was necessary, but these same activists also brought free love, stds, crumbling families, soaring divorce rates, because they were unable to discern that what they wanted was perhaps not the best thing for society. Kinda like a self-indulgent shop-a-holic with a fist full of credit cards. surround by the bill (in this case a society that has no structure, a zeitgeist that screams "mememememememe....I want it so I have to have it!"), the modern day liberal thinks "kumbaya", protests, and more taking from others is the answer.

I really can't wait for most of these people to die off and leave the adults in charge. I just hope we have a country left when we purge them from society.

Stayed up too late last night watching a movie...

The Fountainhead-Gary Cooper, Patricia Neal. Good story, great cinematography. The Mrs. and I had a quiet couple of hours watching it. I recommend it.

On a more serious note...

What is everyone's poison of choice?

Back in the day, I used to partake of v'da, and good Canadian whiskey, chased by a good Canadian Beer. In Michigan, Canuck beer is everywhere, and I confess I prefer it to Bud, Miller, or PBR. I used to hang around some Lithuanians, so that's where the v'da comes in. Oh, and the one drinking tip of note I can pass along? When I did my internship in the Canadian House of Commons, I went out drinking with some staff members from Newfoundland. Don't. Ever. I barely remember the trip back to the dorm from halfway across Ottawa (in the bed of a pickup), and I don't remember getting to the 19th floor at all. The next morning, I remember wakng up on the floor, feeling as if my tongue had sprouted a full head of hair.

I'll start us off:

Me: No liquor. I'm way out of practice, and a few ciders or beers I feel more than I should.

Dick: Three fingers Jose' Cuervo Black...and only put ice in it if you have a death wish.

Your turn.

The Poll

I see it is popular. I guess I'll refrain from serious questions and ask what Americans really want to know: Boxers or briefs.

Oh, to be a kid again...

Conversation with No. One Son when Papa dropped him off this evening:

"Dad, I had a yellow day at school today. I'm sorry. I know you're really mad at me."

"No, I'm not mad. Everyone has a bad day now and then. What happened that you got a yellow day?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember?"

"No. But a bee stung me in the nose at second recess."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"But you don't remember why you had a yellow day?"

"No."

Why can't my life be that simple?

Looking Up to See the Bottom of My Shoes

It was suggested to me today that I am failing as a father because I don't have a group of guys, or a least a friend or two that I go out and do "Guy things" with, and therefore, I am not showing my son by example that it is ok to have freinds, to do things with freinds, and to occaisonally have freinds over. This is a pretty sore spot since he does have a certain set of social difficulties and could use this example to his advantage.

It was also suggested that I like being on the computer more than I like being with people. I countered that it wasn't true, but that I deal with other attorneys all day and that I think that many of them are jerks. Many of the people I do talk to online I would try to do things with, but most of them live in other parts of the country. The computer simply fits my schedule (work and being Dad) better than cutting "Dad time", which usually only averages a few hours a day.

I need to find a hobby, and connect with a freind who is a lawyer-non-knucklehead here in the state, and figure out if I have been cheating myself out of contact that I need to really be me. And I need to figure out when I'll have time for this. Any suggestions?

That's More Like It

U of M beat Notre Dame in the Big House today, 38-0. If we give Michigan State the same kind of righteous beating, I will forgive Lloyd Carr.

Sorry.

I was doing some upgrading (Haloscan comments!) and apparently the comments got eaten. It was not intentional. I actually like the feedback. Unless you're a troll. Then you can take a long walk on a short pier. With your favorite brick tied around your neck. Thatisall.

I may be about to become PNG'd from the Washington State Bar Association

I got my new copy of the Bar News this week.

I am purposely not a member of the ABA and the South King County Bar Association because of their tendencies to support poticial causes that I do not.

Earier this summer, I was surprised to hear that a member of the WSBA was admonished for telling an off-color joke in the courthouse while examining some evidence. It appears we have a Rule of Proffessional Conduct (RPC) that prevents such behavior because we might offend someone.

"Freedom of speech for thee, but not for me", apparently. I understand not bad-mouthing the judiciary or the system. If we don't respect it, then no one can. I will gladly abide by that cannon of the profession, but the political pontificating and meddling is tiresome.

There was a letter to the editior of the Bar News this summer from a bar member in another state, who remarked that it was a joke in his office to see who the 'vicitm of the month' was in his latest copy of the Bar News.

Ealier this year, we had an article written by a law student questioning the reason and logic of beastiality laws. (It was kinda topical around here since the discovery of a group that was having sex with animals in a local town. You might have heard about it.) The general gist of the article seemed to favor repealing the laws and letting Paully the Pervert really love his dog, or horse, or whatever floats his boat. I was just so proud that my manditorily paid dues money brought me that fine bit of convincing that I simply am not enlightened.

This month? A series of articles on same-sex marriage, a topic that our state *spit* legislature is likely to take up this fall. Officially, the state bar is not supposed to take an opinion on such matters, but because the editorial board feels that the articles were "informative" and meant to stimulate debate, rather than simply "advocating" a position, that it was OK to do so. Much in the same way any litigator knows that you can say something you want the jury to hear, even though the rules may prevent it because the judge's instruction to strike the remark and for the jury to disregard it is about as effective as using a bucket lettered with holes to gather water. Anyone in favor of gay marriage will be able to quote the "pro" articles from the Bar News as proof that the WSBA supports the topic when some members, such as myself, do no such thing. The rub? Not only did a small group of members determine that it was OK for our organization to whore ourselves out this way, I have to continue to pay dues to this organization. I am not allowed to practice law in the state of Washington without being a member. If I was one of those stereotypical wealthy attorneys, they'd have my resignation Monday morning. However, I have student loans, mortgages, and credit cards to pay, so I may just register my displeasure and ask for the cost of publication for latest issue. I really haven't decided yet.

This is what I mean...

This makes me believe that there was a time when out English cousins had some backbone.

I'm Convinced.

I watched this earlier this week. I saw the original version of 'Get Carter' last winter. I'm convinced...the originals with Michael Caine are MUCH better than the remakes. Especially "Get Carter". Stalone made that movie suck.

This is exciting...

I saw this at Dick's before he shut down this week. I'm ready. Sign me up.

Rumors

No, I would not even consider running for office. I love my family too much too put them through the MSM's "Extreme BS Scrutiny."

As for an appointment to the 9th Circuit...Bwaaahahahahahahahahahaha!

I don't think I have been in practice long enough, I believe in the concept of stare decisis, and I am nowhere near liberal enough to be considered for a seat on that bench.

I'll just await the coming Rottie Empire, and graciously assume the USSC Chief Justice Position when Misha sees fit to offer it to me.

Blueprint for Extinction

I let myself get scared last night.

I was driving home from the office, listening to the Glenn Beck show. He started his week-long series on "The Perfect Day", which is the moon-god worshipper's euphemism for the day when attacks are launched all over the country against us by the cowards and savages that comprise al-queda and other terrorist groups. The focus last night was the threat to our schools.

Apparently, the murderers got the bright idea that attacking elementary and grade schools---you know kids not old enough to fight back, the dead bodies NO ONE wants to see the and the rape victims that will NEVER recover, would be so inflammatory that we as a nation would be pushed to the point where a violent, bloody retribution on all things muslim would be a foregone conclusion, thus giving them images to shop around the muslim world to "bring the jihad".

I thought about my boys. 7 and 3. I'm naturally hardwired as a cynic. I'm never gonna be a lovey-dovey, touchy-feely kinda guy. Having said that, nothing could have prepared me for the sense of love and protection that I feel for my family (yes, that means Mrs. BiW, too.) The thought of anybody taking these children hostage, and murdering them in cold-blood takes my mind to dark places that civilized people do not discuss openly, even in the face of extreme provocation. This is especially true in my case. As St. Garibaldi once quipped to a bad guy in B5, "I can dream REAL dark."

It started to dawn on me that people really don't learn from history. The Japanese thought they could kick us in the groin because we weren't giving them the stern beating about the head and neck which they had so richly come to deserve. They kill over 3000 of our citizens on our soil, and because we didn't respond in kind, they assume that we are weak pushovers, lacking both the courage and resolve to join them in battle and see it through to the bitter end.

We now have evidence and suspicious events that would lead normal people (not the currently prominent liberalus self-loathus spinelessicus so commonly seen pontificating about dialoguing with our enemies into the nearest microphone) to believe that multiple attacks on infrastructure and our children's schools are being planned, with an eye towards inciting the war that they are falsely convinced that islam will win. This only shows how screwed up these backward savages are. It is possible, indeed likely that a series of schoolhouse massacres will incite Americans to violence against muslims in our midst. I don't advocate it. I don't approve of it, although I wouldn't be in favor of allowing them to live freely among us after such horrendous events, either. A religion that advocates deception and slaughter of your enemies, who just happen to be anyone else simply cannot be allowed to exist free of restraint and surveillance if we are to survive. But it won't stop there. The truthies, the kumbayas, the 'legislators' and 'entertainers' who can't fall to their knees fast enough in their fervent bestowing of complimentary verbal blow jobs of despots and our enemies everywhere would experience a similar wake up call.

It is easy for the muslims to misinterpret the potential effects that such murderous orgies would have. If I wasn't born here, if I hadn't lived in this country all my life, if I didn't know the man on the street from being one, and if I actually watched the news for news, and believed what our conresspersons and senators were babbling, then I might believe that I could touch off jihad with such an unforgivable act. The problem is that I know better. I know that the average guy on the street is getting a little tired of Jamal the jihadi's bullshit. I know that the average guy on the street is slow to anger. I also know that once he gets there, the appropriate response will be meted out in short order. Memo to Jamal: Don't confuse the 'prominent' citizens of this country with the ones who take care of business. You haven't heard from Joe Factoryworker, Ollie Office Worker, and Marty Mainstreet because they are too busy making things work, so the idle rich, and politicians can strut about in the limelight and generally make asses of themselves. You come here and do unspeakable things to our children, and you will get a response. It won't be what you bargained for. The people in flyover country, those sneered at and disrespected by the empty suits wandering through the corridors of power, they are the ones who get up day after day and do what must be done. They are the ones with the will to things that must be done. When you threaten the things they hold sacred, family, home, hearth, then you will find out what the words "terrible resolve" actually mean. We know how to deal with a mad dog, and once the mad dog is dealt with, we KNOW it will not be a threat again. Ever. Dead American children and raped little girls on the six o'clock news will unequivocally give notice to all who see that Islam and all who subscribe to its perverted, vile, disgusting teachings are simply beyond redemption. You'll get a holy war. It won't last long, and you will be 'enjoying' Allah's 'tender mercies', most likely before the sun goes down on your moon rock in Mecca. It will suck to be you. But not for long.

Ruminations of Fred's Announcement

The day sane, reasonable people have been waiting for finally arrived this week. Fred Thompson officially announced his candidacy for the US Presidency this week.

The following day, a 14 minute video was playing on th Rott, in which Thompson, displaying his trademark directness, did something no other candidate has done thus far: He made a brief statement in which he clearly stated his reasons for running, and by actually saying something, staked out a position.

I have no doubt that if he is elected, the rest of the world, not to mention the mainstream media here, will undoubtedly get their panties in a wad. This is a man who will do what he says and say what he means. No 'nuanced' responses. No continual strings of warnings and admonishments to the world's no-goodniks. If he tells another country to "knock it off", there won't be another warning. Just the global political version of a swat with a rolled-up newspaper.

And no gazing into the eyes of another leader ala Bush and Putin. If Fred looks into Putin's eyes, it'll only be to confirm that Putin understands what Fred is telling him, so there is no "surprise" later on.

Who knows? In the face of such real leadership, even some of the lefies in this country might get motivated to work for a living and stop trying to spend everyone else's money and kowtow to people who would like nothing better than to kill us.

Naaaaaahhh. He'd be a great President, but only God can unscrew-up those malcontents.

Oh, and today?

Holiday Peppermint Coffee in my Warhol-esqe Stich mug. Why Stich? I figure he's a good role model for me. The Shrink I saw last year said I was "stuffing" my emotions too much. Stich doesn't stuff anything. You have a good weekend, y'hear?

Busy Week

Its been busy here this week.

I talked to fellow LC and IB Alex of Alex in Essex over the weekend. Everything seems to be OK in Britanistan.

The teachers in the local district were on strike when they should have been teaching. We found out at 8:00 pm Tuesday Night that No. One son had school the next morning. Yikes!

Kept pretty busy at work. Got some Honeycrisp apples fresh from eastern Washington. The BEST apple on the planet.

The conversation Rott about Starbucks in Moscow got me considering coffee and the magnificent vessels that it comes in.

T and A

Just my gratuitous bird flipped to the browsers searching for porn and stumbled on to my sight.

Sorry, nothing for ya...just messin' with yer head.

Get Over It.

I have been watching all the stuff about Lady Diana and the 10th anniversary of her death this week with confusion.

I have have to admit that my age was single digits when she married the windsor mutton head, but I just don't get the attraction. I'm sure she was a kind and polite person, who loved her children, and like many in the limelight, had her own pet causes that she supported. When did that qualify her for freakin sainthood? I confess, I really do not understand this. At all.

My amusing moment? An ad for yet another retrospective was on last night. Mrs. BiW saw it and said "Let her go already! She's dead! Get over it!

The Arrogance of Our Enemies

For those of you who haven't heard, the FBI is looking for two men in a photo posted at Michelle Malkin's site, among others, who took multiple trips on Washington State Ferries and who seemed to take an unusual interest in the structure and workings of the boats. So unusual that they created enough suspicion that crew members snapped the picture that got the FBI looking. The Seattle Post-Intellect refused to publish the photo, under the pretense that it would violate them men's civil rights. No such reluctance for the Duke LaCrosse players, but hey, they were obviously guilty, right? So in today's Seattle Times, we get treated to this offensive piece of crap:

For Arabs and Muslims across the Puget Sound area, a rise in the nation's threat level or a bombing halfway around the world often can mark a period of unease.

Yeah. The same is true for ALL of us.

In the years since the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, leaders in that community say incidents of profiling and harassment have ebbed and flowed -- increasing when Muslims are linked to news of the day.

There are two appropriate resonses to this. The first is to cut to the chase and call BULLSHIT right now, since much of the Puget Sound is populated by liberal nutroots far to busy wallowing in their own self-righteous guilt over being white to bother profiling anyone else. The second would be to say in a world where acts of violence, generally by exploding things, are committed by middle-easterners on an almost daily basis, common sense would dictate some extra scutiny and yes (gasp!) profiling.

Now the FBI's release of photographs of two men of unknown origin, who the agency says were observed acting suspiciously aboard as many as six different Washington ferry routes in recent weeks, is creating new worries in the community.

If their origin is unknown, then why are the arab-americans worried?

Muslim- and Arab-American leaders are upset that the FBI didn't consult them -- as it has done in other instances -- before releasing the photos on the Internet and to news organizations. They worry that the action may fracture the relationship the agency and the community have carefully built.

EXCUSE ME??? We have to ask self-appointed representatives of a community if they know some one first??? How would we know who to ask if their origin is unknown???

The FBI has stressed that the release of the photos is a rare move, taken only after it had exhausted other efforts to identify the men. The agency also has said the men's actions could be innocuous, but it needs to question them.

Maybe the FBI did not come with its hat in its hand because it did not know who to ask??? Or maybe they simply woke up and realized that the caliphate has not yet been established and they don't have to ask any certain segment of the population before publishing photos of persons they'd like to talk to!

The photos were snapped by a ferry captain last month after crew members alerted him to suspicious activity. The men seemed inordinately interested in the operation of the vessel, took photographs of the interiors of the boats and went into areas tourists and commuters don't normally go, the FBI has said. The agency has received many tips but has not yet found the men.

Yep. Typical tourist activity. Move along. Nothing to see here.

Dozens of Muslims and Arabs have complained to community leaders about the photographs. The fallout has led to a meeting planned today between Muslim- and Arab-American community leaders and law-enforcement officials.

"We need to get some type of apology from them and figure out how to get back to where we were," said Rita Zawaideh, head of the Arab-American Community Coalition.

WTF? I mean, WTF??? Excuse me? Where's my apology for your people flying planes in skyscrapers in NYC? Who the Hell do you think you are to come to my country and act all indignant when "your" people behave badly and it reflects on all of you??

Community leaders also expect to raise questions about another recent incident. On Aug. 12, leaders say half a dozen men of South Asian and Middle Eastern descent were stopped and questioned for up to six hours as they left a ferry in Seattle following a trip to the Olympic Peninsula. Those men contacted Zawaideh to report the incident as profiling.

What were they doing that got them stopped? I'm fairly certain that the authorities didn't question them for shits and giggles. They really have other things to do than harrass people for no reason at all.

David Gomez, assistant special agent in charge of the FBI's Seattle office, said he was aware of an incident in which five or six ferry passengers were questioned, but wasn't clear whether it was the same one.

Zawaideh said she met with FBI officials about the August incident three days before the agency released the photos of the two men. But the FBI didn't bring up that subject.

Which, the last I looked, was their prerogative. That whole "Don't discuss ongoing investigations with people who don't need to know" stuff.

"Why not ask us then and we would have had a way to ask people in the community," she said.

Maybe they don't trust you. That whole 'taquilya' thing kinda puts in doubt anything that might tumble from your lips, doncha know?

Gomez said the agency needs to address certain sensitive issues, but "people in those communities have to get over this sensitivity toward feeling victimized."

Keep speaking sense like that, and you'll get assigned to some unpleasant duty soon.

Many passengers have been stopped and questioned recently, as the ferry system has stepped up security once the FBI concluded the men might be watching the system. The stops are based on activities, not skin color, Gomez said.

The Horror!

Two days ago, a Seattle Times photographer, who is white, was stopped and questioned after taking photographs near the Mukilteo ferry terminal.

Go figure.

The FBI didn't take the photos of the two men to the Arab- and Muslim-American community because the agency doesn't know if the men are Middle Eastern, Gomez added.

Apparently, the community did, hence the outrage.

"That seems potentially prejudicial to me, and in some ways worse than simply putting [the photos] out the way we did," Gomez said. "It is not us saying these guys look Middle Eastern."

Speaking sense, using logic? No future in the government for you, Gomez.

Zawaideh countered: "They're not saying these men are Arabs, but insinuating they are."

Because I said so. Don't worry about corroboration. Its just the man, being prejudicial.

This all comes at a time when some local Muslim and Arab-American leaders say they've seen a new spike in discrimination complaints.

Because they know that they can effectively blind us with them.

The concerns over profiling following the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks had begun to ease about three years ago, they say. But with each new incident tied to Muslims or Arabs -- bombings in the London subway or a raising of the terror alert -- has come a rash of new complaints.

Maybe if another group was behind this asshatery, they wouldn't be subject to scrutiny.

Both Zawaideh and S. Arsalan Bukhari, president of the Seattle chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), say their organizations have been receiving more reports lately involving allegations of discrimination.

CAIR can kiss my sausage-eating ass. They simply are the advanced unit for the caliphate-hunting wanna-bes who are busy blowing things up the world over. Here's a clue for you, you rock-worshipping savages: If God wanted the rest of us dead, he wouldn't need you to blow us up or chop off our heads. Being the ruler of the Universe does have its perks.

Bukhari said he's heard of delays at the border, as well as cases of people being asked questions at the airport and searched so thoroughly they missed their flights.

Like my lily-white, multi-generation American self who was singled out for the TSA's 'special attention' two years ago when I flew out of Sea-Tac back to Michiganistan for my father's funeral? Nope. Your plantive bleats didn't even budge the needle on the Give-A-Damn-O-Meter.

Aziz Junejo, who hosts a cable TV show on Islam and who writes a column from the Islamic perspective for The Seattle Times, said a group of Muslim kids who were planning a trip to the Olympic Mountains this weekend phoned to ask if he thought they should take the trip.

And?

"I said: 'I would stay off the ferry if I were you.' "

What does he know that we don't?

Time to Unsheath the Clue Bats

I came back to the office with my lunch and found this story waiting for me.

AMSTERDAM - A Roman Catholic Bishop in the Netherlands has proposed people of all faiths refer to God as Allah to foster understanding, stoking an already heated debate on religious tolerance in a country with one million Muslims.

WTF? I mean WTF?

Bishop Tiny Muskens, from the southern diocese of Breda, told Dutch television on Monday that God did not mind what he was named and that in Indonesia, where Muskens spent eight years, priests used the word "Allah" while celebrating Mass.

Great. Another "let's subordinate our culture to that of others" knucklehead.

"Allah is a very beautiful word for God. Shouldn't we all say that from now on we will name God Allah? ... What does God care what we call him? It is our problem."

Uhhh, Bishop Tinybrain? God is God and "Allah" ain't him. "Allah" is an excuse for 13th century misfits to take acting up to the next level and start killing people for refusing to pray to a rock.

Call me crazy, but I think that Pope Benny might have a thing or two to say to this guy.

Almost There

I am soooooo ready to get on the plane Friday morning and fly to SOCAL with my beautiful wife. A weekend with her and the Mouse. No kids, and get to do the stuff we can't do with them. A nice dinner at the Blue Bayou on Saturday night, and then I fly back here Monday morning for a week of solo parenting while she works at her plant there. Is there a cure for vactionitis?

It Was Only A Matter of Time

I've been waiting for this. Modern American 'Victimhood' at its finest.

NEW YORK - A member of the Rutgers women's basketball team has sued Don Imus and CBS, claiming the radio personality's sexist and racist comments about the team damaged her reputation.

College wasn't that long ago. I don't believe this for a second.

Kia Vaughn filed the lawsuit alleging slander and defamation of character in state Supreme Court in the Bronx Tuesday, the same day Imus settled with CBS Radio in a deal that pre-empts his threatened $120 million breach-of-contract lawsuit against CBS. The settlement allows him to make a comeback bid at a new station.

Good for him. Pilloried at the alter of political correctness, he deserves the chance to return.

Vaughn's lawsuit, believed to be the first by a player in the case, says Imus and his former co-host Bernard McGuirk, along with CBS Corp. and CBS Radio, are legally responsible for damage done to her character and reputation. There is no dollar amount listed in the suit.

But I'm sure she has a figure in mind. One with LOTS of zeros.

Vaughn was humiliated, embarrassed and publicly mocked for the comments, the lawsuit claims. Her attorney, Richard Ancowitz, said: "The full effect of the damage remains to be seen."

BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT.

"This is about Kia Vaughn's good name," Ancowitz said. "She would do anything to return to her life as a student and respected basketball player _ a more simple life before Imus opened his mouth on April 4."

Who? Honestly, I wouldn't know her if I bumped into her on the street. I don't believe she is being prevented from being a student or respected as a Basketball player.

Imus referred to the basketball players as "nappy-headed hos" on his nationally syndicated radio program in April, becoming the target of heated protests. He was fired shortly after.

While every male rapper in the universe continued to put the word "Bitch" and "Ho" in every utterance that fell from their lips, thus demonstrating a flagrant double standard, since there is no question that they mean it when they say it.

'Ho' is a slang term for a prostitute. After the comments were made, Vaughn said at a news conference: "Unless they've given 'ho' a whole new definition, that's not what I am."

Well, at least maybe you weren't before suing and holding a press conference.

A telephone message left for Imus' attorney was not immediately returned Tuesday. There was no phone listing for McGuirk in the New York area. A spokeswoman for CBS Radio declined to comment, and CBS network spokesman Dana McClintock did not immediately return a message. MSNBC said it hadn't seen the lawsuit.

Because any appropriate comment would have resulted in more faux outrage.

Rutgers women's basketball program spokeswoman Stacey Brann said that the university had no comment on the lawsuit and that she didn't know whether other players had sued.

At least not until someone asked her about it.

Vaughn, who was a center, had spoken out about Imus on "The Oprah Winfrey Show" in April. She said that the comments overshadowed her team's amazing season, one the coach has called the most rewarding of her career.

I guess all that hard work didn't mean a thing. Its all about something some old guy said. Waaaaaaa!

"Our moment was stolen from us," Vaughn said then. "Instead of us coming here to enjoy what we accomplished and how far we came, we had to sit back and look at media asking questions about what he said."

Yeah, because you were forced to show up and talk to those mean media types. Perhaps you should sue them, since they are the ones who decided that this was somehow a story.

Life on Hold

I seem to spend far more time than I want on hold with the government. Doesn't matter which branch or agency. Tem minutes here, an hour there. It all adds up.

Power to the Poofters!

Al-Reuters has an interesting story today.

Hundreds of Italians protested in the northern Italian city of Treviso on Saturday after the city's deputy mayor called for the "ethnic cleansing" of homosexuals from the area.

One might question his choice of terms, since being a deviant doesn't qualify as an ethnicity.

The protesters gathered outside city hall to demand Giancarlo Gentilini's resignation, some wearing pink triangles like the ones homosexual men had to wear in Nazi concentration camps.

How nice of them to identify themselves. I'm guessing it probably wasn't necessary.

Prosecutors were also looking into the deputy mayor's comments to see whether they might warrant a criminal investigation, Italian media reported on Saturday.

"Ittttssss aaa crriimmeee!" whined the limp-wristed queens of Italy.

"Today's protest, which is joined by hundreds of people, will not be the last. It will be the first in a long series," said Aurelio Mancuso, the head of gay rights group Arcigay.

Arcigay? Why don't you nmae yourselves some thing a little less stupid, like "Rights for Rump Rangers" or "Fear the Frantic Fudge Packers"?

A member of the right-wing Northern League party, Gentilini said on Wednesday he was so fed up with gays having sex in a car park that he was going to order police to carry out "ethnic cleansing" of homosexuals.

Deviants publically being deviant, and he has a problem with it? The horror!

"I will immediately give orders to my forces so that they can carry out an ethnic cleansing of f," Gentilini told a local television station, in comments later posted on Web site YouTube, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6soZnWfUgdo

Cool. A floor show.

"The f must go to other (cities) where they are welcome. Here in Treviso there is no chance for faggots or the like."

San Fransicko is always looking for a good few sphincters.

His comments were roundly condemned, with some members of his own far-right party siding with angry ministers in centre-left government of Prime Minister Romano Prodi.

Because we can't have politicans, especially european ones acting like they have a pair. That would be wrong.

Some lawmakers accused Gentilini of breaking Italian law by inciting hatred, violence and discrimination against homosexuals.

Can't make a decent car that doesn't cost a bazillion dollars, can't make laws that make sense.

"The term 'ethnic cleansing' evokes tragic chapters of history which have brought death and suffering to millions of people," Family Minister Rosy Bindi was quoted as saying by Italy's ANSA news agency.

True, but see above.

"Nobody, and certainly not somebody with public responsibility, is authorized to use such language."

Because words may cripple! How dare you speak something that the nancyboys don't like!

Prosecutors obtained a recorded copy of Gentilini's remarks on Friday to see whether they broke the law, but no criminal probe was under way, Italian media reported.

No probe was under way? Give it time. The Pink Swastikas are sure to hunt him down!

Am I Blue

Can't say why exactly. Things are going much better at home. I get to go away next weekend for a trip with the love of my life. The boys are doing well. I just don't feel great about work at the moment. I'm not sure why, other than the uncertainty of working in a small office. The sun still rises in the east. Politics is still the Theatre of the Absurd. Bills still come in the mail. Yet my job satisfaction is at a two year low at the moment. I guess it will pass.

The Reason Why Law Is What I Do And Not Who I Am

This pretty much sums it up. If I had it to over again, I don't think I'd even go to law school. I'm going to go play with my kids now. You have yourself a nice day, ya hear?

More Fun with Doctors

When to see my doc again last week. Blood Pressure was 163/93. I let him talk me in to taking something for it. I've been "enjoying" some of the interesting results. Not.

Golf Lesson No. 3

For anyone who cares, lesson 3 started well, but got a lot harder. I started---cold---with my 6 iron, set up, and hit it straight as an arrow for 150 yards. My teacher was standing behind me. His reaction? "Damn, Blackiswhite! You've had an hour of instruction and walked out here and did that cold. Moved up to the driver. Had some fun with it. Then came chipping. *^%$@!%^##$$$##

Next week? Putting.

Somehow I knew my shortgame would suck.