War Crimes Executions: Just to clear things up…

You’ve probably seen the headline. They killed Saddam – after a lengthy, botched, secretive “trial” – for what they’re calling “war crimes”.

Okay, let’s accept that at face value.

So, are the Americans who sold Saddam the gas he used to commit the war crime also going to be tried and, possibly, executed? I’m talking about Donny Rumsfeld. Are they going to execute him?

Of course, not!

Does this mean that we’re executing people who commit war crimes now? I’m talking about Shrub, Mr. War of Aggression, Mr. Torture. Are they going to execute him?

Of course, not!

Don’t be confused. We didn’t kill Saddam because we’re a just people who kills those who commit war crimes. We killed him because… we could. We are not a society ruled by law, people. We are just ruled. The message from those with the guns is clear: Don’t fuck with us.

Appalled yet?

Shameless Plug: Toothpaste???…

Yeah, I know. It might seem like I just wanted to fill space today – not that I’ve never been guilty of that – but I really wanted to tell you about this!

Toms of Maine – Natural Whole Care Toothpaste: Orange/Mango Flavor!!!

You think I’m nuts, don’t you? But the thing is, it’s damn good! It’s not too sweet and it’s not to bland and, if you like tropical citrus flavor – oh my god! Good stuff!

And good for you! Hello! All Natural! A portion goes to help communities! Recycled packaging! Not only is it a good way to help makes things better in this crazy world (if only a little – after all, it is just toothpaste), it’s good stuff that’s good for you!

(I’ve seen Tom’s in “regular” stores but I don’t know if they’d have the Orange/Mango. Vicky and I picked ours up at Henry’s. Whole Foods might be good as well.)

As long as by "craft" you mean "bungle"...

I always love finding examples of horrible writing and here's one for today.

This headline on Yahoo reads: Bush taking more time to craft Iraq plan.

It's the word "craft" that makes this art. Who would have ever thought Shrub would "craft" anything? Now, suddenly, he is "crafting" his "plan" and his "plan" is a "craft"...

... a little honesty? Folks? Hello???

The Sundance Kid could’a used one…

LIFE JACKETS OF THE OLD WEST

(We join our story already in progress, somewhere in the Arizona desert, 1875.)

Black Bart: What the hell’re these for?

An Atheist at Christmas…

Vicky’s out wrapping gifts. I’ve been confined to the garage (with my WoW… and by that, I mean the video game) so I can’t see what she’s wrapping.

It got me to thinking. Here I am, Mr. Atheist, and I’m getting ready to celebrate another Christmas. I thought about what certain readers might be thinking and about what any future child of mine (should I be so lucky) might be tempted to ask… actually, about how they’d be ready to blow the Hypocrisy horn at any minute!

Sure. I’ll admit it. It’s odd for an atheist to celebrate Christmas. For that matter, it’s odd for anyone to celebrate it. It’s a mixed up holiday, confused as hell, cobbled together with big chunks of paganism and folk traditions, Christian self-righteousness and Roman leftovers – indoor trees and cynical drummer boys and nose poems by Robert May and let’s not forget good old, American CAPITALISM!

It’s about at fucked up as a holiday can get in this day and age.

And yet, I do celebrate it. Every year.

For all of its befuddlement, it’s a reason for loved ones to come together – which is a reminder (for me, personally) that there are loved ones and that I am loved. It’s one of those regular reminders that we have each other in a world where we seem so alone.

And maybe, for a minute or a second, there’s good will toward men… unless you’re a Republican, then it’s mostly just White Men… Rich White Men.

Merry Christmas, folks.

More un-News...

I could do this every day. I swear. Every fucking day. (............. but I won't.)

So, this time those geniuses at Yahoo are telling us that Quitting Smoking is Beneficial After a Cancer Diagnosis. Seriously.

So, let me see if I have this straight...

...

...

You've been diagnosed with cancer...

...

...

So, it's probably not a good idea to get more cancer?...

...

...

NO FUCKING WAY!!!




(Breaking news tomorrow: Quitting Smoking Even More Beneficial Before Cancer Diagnosis.)

(Dumbfucks.)

No better picture than this...

When I was a kid, growing up in a post-Watergate America, some things still had meaning. Like Miss America, for instance. Even the most cynical person would say that for all the misogynism - boob, butt, and all - Miss America represented our nation... in an objectified kind of way.

And so, here we find ourselves deeply plastered in the 21st century, and it is without a sprig of irony that Miss USA and Miss Teen USA really do in the truest sense represent America.

There they are. One of them going into rehab due to her drinking and the other one still young enough to get goofy blitzed and fucked in a bathroom stall.

There's no better representation of America - a country that wastes and murders and maims and lies and steals and just doesn't give a fuck - than that right there.

Long may she wave, folks - and let's hope she picks up the bar tab...

Not necessarily the news…

Prior to the days of The Daily Show, there was a show on HBO called “Not Necessarily the News”. Funny shit.

That’s not what I’m going to talk about today…

I’m getting tired of these fucking “news” articles that aren’t just “not news” but that don’t even have any bearing with our universe!

Take a look at this article from Yahoo, for instance. These bozos wrote a whole article, trying to make it appear as news, about something that never happened and probably won’t happen. It’s about what the possible results of things that could happen!

Sure, and we’d all freak out if Galactus showed up to eat Earth or if King Kong really went to New York only to find the World Trade Center long gone!

The point of the news is to inform us about our world, not to conjecture like a bunch of bored 4th graders during recess, you underdeveloped, pointy-toothed cock suckers.

…. Honestly, I don’t mean to sound bitter but some of us writers know what the fuck we’re doing and we’re out here looking for a job.

All the Christmas cards…

I’m kinda weird. (Great going, Ken. Now, you’ve said it all! No need to write anything else!!)

When it comes to buying cards, the only thing I hate worse than buying them is not having one to give when someone gives me one. And so, here we are at Christmas.

“You didn’t buy me a Christmas card, did you?” I asked my beautiful wife the other night.

“Yes, and don’t freak out and think you have to buy me one just because I bought you one.”

Dammit. You think she’d know me by now.

So, today I drove on over to Target, hoping that my eternal love and devotion, my gratitude for how she’s stood by my side through all of this unemployment, my irritation at how difficult it is to find anything to say that she might find witty, the happiness that fills my heart when I think of how lucky I am to have Steve and Noriko and Mike and John and Rayna and so many others as in-laws, can all be summed up in a way that’s marketable enough for every shopper this holiday season.

You can probably imagine how long I stood there, reading card after card. You can probably imagine the dull hatred descending from my tired brow after reading pap after pablum. Every card for a wife assumes you met in elementary school. Every card for a “loved one” assumes you haven’t yet proposed. There’s no winning.

Then again, maybe it was me.

You see, Vicky and I have had some problems of late that I haven’t discussed in these parts. Rosa problems. (Forgive me for being redundant.)

A couple of weeks ago, before the attack, my sleep was disturbed for a couple of nights thanks to Rosa popping up in my dreams. Actually, she sort of just waltzed on to the set like an unwelcome groupie. I didn’t want her there but there she was.

We later found out that, right about that time, she was selling her home, the home she and I had shared together. (When I say “we”, oddly enough it was Vicky.) Not only did I find it strange that I was dreaming of her those nights but news of the sale also gave me a creepy feeling. After having several days to think of it, the only way I can describe it is as if you learned that someone moved your grave. (Take a minute. I’ll still be here.) Or, perhaps better still, it was as if someone sold Auchwitz.

Vicky didn’t get it and I didn’t do a great job helping her understand. Think about it from her perspective. Here I am dreaming about Rosa and then I’m shocked to hear she’s moved. It didn’t look good. And Vicky hit me with the worst thing she could think of – she went for the big one – and told me that Rosa was “the love of my life”. (My life. Not hers.)

Ouch.

And there’s no coming back from that, no way to defend yourself. I loved her; I can’t deny that. Losing her tore me apart. It was the end of my life as I knew it.

It’s a cheap shot and Vicky knows it. That’s why she saves it for the big whammy.

It’s cheap because Vicky knows the truth. She knows that, as much as losing Rosa was the end of my old life, Vicky is my life now. Rosa was the love of my old life but Vicky is my present and my future, the love of my life now and from now on (if I can help it). I hated losing Rosa but I’d never give up my life now for her and what I had then.

What Vicky probably doesn’t realize is that I know how horrible it would be to lose her and I don’t ever want to risk that. If losing Rosa tore me apart, losing Vicky would break me like cheap glass. I’d never recover. Vicky probably thinks that my years of obsession over Rosa mean more than my years of love with Vicky but nothing could be further from the truth. The thing that makes my love for Vicky more powerful is that I don’t need to work so hard for it, I don’t need to fight for it. Vicky makes me feel loved. In a time when everything is about to fall apart around us, Vicky makes me feel safe.

And how the hell do you find a card that says that?

You don’t.

You walk out and you tell her. That’s all.

You mean more to me than anything, Vicky La Celle. Merry Christmas.






(Then, I went to Hallmark. After all, I’m not crazy!)

The joy of receiving...

I think I've figured out what Ken is getting me for Christmas this year...

Progress, not Perfection…

Just thought I’d pop up a follow-up to Friday’s entry.

I know that might have come as a bit of a shock or surprise to some of you – others probably just thought “that’s Ken” – and I probably (in hindsight) shouldn’t have even posted it, but I assure you things are much better.

I’ve spent the past couple of days in a strange state. Every moment stops and starts instead of running fluidly so I’m shaky on my feet. And things feel very close.

… it’s like being hung over, without the benefit of getting drunk.

But I haven’t let this stop me. I got in my car and drove yesterday. Today, I even took the freeway. In fact, I even went to the gym tonight. While I only jogged five miles, it made me feel A LOT better. Guess there might be something to that talk about endorphins.

Okay, Vicky also got me some St. John’s Wort. Those of you who’ve known me a while might remember how that helped me out (not so) long ago, when I was trying to stop me from killing myself. (Okay, that sounded weird.) Well, since I’m going on the belief that this has all been stress-related, some of the Wort might help. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

One more thing. While I was at the gym, I thought of a couple more ways I can get more aggressive with the job search. There’s no way I can have the faith in me Vicky appears to have but I can try by getting more aggressive, which is what I’ll do.

I’m down to less than eight weeks left of unemployment insurance. I better do something soon. We’ll see…

Merry Christmas, You Morons...

Once again, the Daily Show nails it...

How is this news?...

Looks like a whole lot of people got sick from eating at Olive Garden.

Listen, having eaten there before, now I get sick whenever I drive by one!

The return of crazy Ken…

I’m not too prone to use the “c” word (which is different from the “C” word, by the way). I’ll say that I was having problems or issues or that I might be having problems “up there” or even use the phrase “unstable”… but never “c”.

Today, I was “c”. And I haven’t been for a long, long time. I wasn’t nearly ready to assume it would never happen again but I was hopeful. So much for hopeful.

I’ve heard voices – screaming in my ear. I’ve seen people that weren’t there. I’ve had anxiety attacks that made me want to run screaming.

And those weren’t fun.

But never before – never before – nothing like this.

It was about a half hour ago… maybe forty-five minutes.

I had just brought my car in to have a brake light fixed. Vicky insisted that I stop by Pep Boys on the way home and change my windshield wipers, too… and I even grumbled about what a pain in the butt she was. Vicky, thank you for being a pain in the butt. (Add another reason why I love my wife.)

If I hadn’t left the freeway to drive up Katella, I would have had the attack while I was driving on the freeway. No fun.

Don’t ask what set it off. Don’t ask me to tell you why it happened. It just did.

I was stopped at Batavia, waiting at the red light, and I noticed some static coming off of the book I was listening to… Actually, it’s hard for me to write this in the first person. (Put yourself in my shoes!)

Imagine yourself hearing this static and it’s buzzing in your right ear. It gets louder and louder until it’s deafening and then you realize that the buzzing is gigantic bugs, fierce bugs. And you know that they exist only in your head but you start swatting at them because you also know that, if you don’t, they’ll bite you. And your vision starts going all over the place – it’s like the world is on roller skates. So, you’re sitting in your car, swatting and screaming and deafened – fucking incomprehensible.

Now, imagine you were the lady at the light next to me! That poor woman. The look on her face.

Oh, it came and went in the time it took the light to change – crazy has its own schedule – and I realized what was going on, and the look on her face.

Granted, I was shaking and crying and out of breath and my face itched (don’t ask me why – I think it was the bugs), so I pulled my car off to the side.

I got the wipers, by the way, but I was shaking the whole time. I’m still shaking after driving home.

(I haven’t even called Vicky to tell her. Part of me doesn’t want to. Part of me wants to just shut this away. But that’s not me. I think it’s a part of my upbringing. Back when I was a kid, whenever I was sick, my mother would say I was doing it to get attention.)

Now, I know what you’re going to say – and if you’re Vicky you’re bound to call me and say it – I know I need help. Moreso than ever. But I need to get a job first. My rational mind is telling me that increased stress is pushing all my mental buttons and that’s what is causing this. (Trust me, this isn't the first bit of instability recently.)

But I promise you right now that once I get a job, I’ll seek help.

Sometimes crazy can be fun – the odd, hallucinatory visit can be enjoyable – This was neither. This was fucked up.

Fatness?…

I didn’t really feel like going to the gym today so I called up Vicky, hoping she’d let me off the hook.

I said, “Hi, honey. I don’t really feel like going to the gym to day. Do I have to?”

And this is what I heard her say:

No. You don’t have to. Odds are you probably won’t get off your fat ass long enough to take a shit, shamu. Stay on the computer and order a new crane for wiping your ass, you lethargic fuck. You corpulent pile of crap. We’ll just hire Exxon/Mobile to cart you around from now on if they can afford another environmental disaster. And you can stay in front of your fucking computer playing World of Warcraft in an attempt to remember what real movement is like until the cheese between your ass cheeks sprouts grubs! Hell, you can keep them as pets! You really want to find a job, you unctuous, swollen leech? Why don’t you auction off your methane and solve the world’s energy crisis? You wanna write a book? Write down your last meal and fill a thousand pages? Can’t act? Bitch, you can’t fucking fit on a screen, no less a stage! I realized why you remind me of working on my old VW Bug – cause it’s all I can think of when you roll that tanker truck you call a body on top of me and “have sex”. We’ll have sex when the dough boy comes out of the dough – shit, it’s like watching a twig being swallowed by an avalanche! That Rolo hasn’t seen air in months – it could be dead! How about you get your flabby ass out of that chair for five minutes? Or are you afraid the fat whiplash is gonna crush your spine?!

…

What she actually said was, “Probably.”

Which makes me think I might be slightly neurotic.

Looks like Coca~cola will be needing a new mascot soon

Wake up and smell the melting ice…

PMS SURVIVAL TIPS

"Why can't you be more like Brad Pitt?"... indeed...

The 109th...Movin' on... OUT!

This is just about the only thing I could use to follow up Vicky's terrific post.

What has the "Hard Working" 109th Congress done for you lately???

Well it seems that the 109th Congress was hard at work (insert sarcasm please) for the past two years...here is a summary of all the 109th Congress (which has worked fewer days than the "Do Nothing" Congress of 1947-48) has accomplished ...

109th Congress a success at naming buildings
WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Despite criticism for adjourning last week without acting on several major legislative initiatives, members of Congress can boast significant achievements in at least one area of federal lawmaking -- naming post offices.

Of the 383 pieces of legislation that were signed into law during the two-year 109th Congress, more than one-quarter dealt with naming or renaming federal buildings and structures -- primarily post offices -- after various Americans.

Three post offices were named after entertainers. Ray Charles, the late singer and musician, was honored with a post office in Los Angeles in July 2005 in a bill sponsored by Rep. Diane Watson, D-California Rep. Henry Waxman, D-California, authored a law naming another Los Angeles post office after actor and former American Express pitchman Karl Malden.

And in March, Congress passed and the president signed legislation naming a Smithfield, North Carolina, post office after actress Ava Gardner. The bill was sponsored by Rep. Bob Etheridge, D-North Carolina.

Several members of the U.S. military killed in Iraq or Afghanistan were honored with post offices, and the late civil rights leader Rosa Parks was honored with a federal building in Detroit, Michigan.

Some federal facilities were named after deceased members of Congress. The late Rep. Robert Matsui, D-California, was honored with a courthouse in Sacramento. A Brooklyn, N.Y., post office was named after former Rep. and one-time candidate for the Democratic presidential nomination Shirley Chisolm, D-New York.

And one of the final actions Congress took before adjourning early Saturday was naming a Delaware bridge after that state's long-time GOP Sen. William Roth.

-- CNN Political Research Director Robert Yoon

Now I don't know about you, but I can think of just a few TINY more pressing issues to be dealt with...oh like war, poverty, and racism...just to name a few.

At a time when our elected officials find it more important to their own business than the people's business, this serves as a reminder that we need to do more than just elect people and expect them to do their job.

Oh, and one more thought… I haven’t offended enough people…

And, in keeping with this holiday season – there is no heaven. Jesus is a fucking myth. And Santa is actually your alcoholic father who’s about to die, not from said alcoholism, but from syphilis.

You wanna tell your mom?

The danger of stupid beliefs…

So, I was at the gym this afternoon and my timing stunk because right before me a TV was showing the Montel show. His guest was some kind of “spiritualist” or “psychic”… what we used to call full of shit. You see her job was to make you believe that, regardless of any lack of proof, she could speak to the dead and then get gullible people to believe that her intentionally vague answers were really meaningful, even though they weren’t.

Calling John Edward!

These charlatans, frauds, crooks, what have you have been around forever but have only recently gained celebrity status. We live in a society that is, more and more, abandoning reason and logic for threads of desperation and these people feast on that. It’s not just a waste of time; it’s dangerous to any attempt at reasonable thought.

A woman on the treadmill beside me, speaking to another person, said, “I don’t really believe in that but I love to watch it ‘cause it’s fun.”

To encapsulate: She find this completely irrational behavior… “fun”.

I wanted to punch her.

After all, how many other irrational beliefs have we been tolerating lately that seem harmless on the surface but end up soiling any attempt at a reasonable society? How about giving tax cuts to the ultra-rich in order to create jobs for the poor? How about torturing the innocent to win a war on terror? How about brutalizing a country so that it might have “freedom”? How about Exxon’s newest attempt at donning the corporate image of an environmentally friendly benefactor? Or underfunding public schools? Or letting corporations monitor their own pollution?

When I get upset at the sickness of irrationality in our society, its recoil from reason, I am often told not to worry. That it’s harmless. To me, that example is like saying that gangrene is fine if left to the feet.

People don’t talk to the dead, folks. Just accept it. It might be a good start.

Now I know you won’t believe this…

I tend to post a few things on this site that some people just find hard to believe… you’re about to see another one…

According to conservative rag WorldNetDaily and self-professed “health food guy” Jim Rutz, the secret ingredient to the world-wide gay conspiracy is… SOY!

Yes. Soy. You know. The bean.

Beans are turning your kids gay!!!… or so Rutz would have you believe. According to his… um… logic, soy contains estrogen so that when you drink you are slowly and secretively being turned into A WOMAN!!! (No shit. He also insists that it shrinks penises... we won't ask him how he found this out...)

… pardon me while I dip my head in shame for all humanity.

Listen. Soy contains estrogen-like compounds and isoflavones that are incredibly weak, 1/1000th of estrogen, so even if there was a connection it would be slight at best. (All of this has been heavily documented with regards to breast cancer.) Where the argument really falls apart is in the fact that estrogen is in guys who don’t eat soy. In fact, it’s a very necessary hormone!

I guess if I was going to humor this guy, I’d say…. Okay. To get the effects you want, you’d have to increase a man’s soy intake A THOUSAND FOLD! The guy would die from overeating before he sucked his first cock!

But let's humor this guy. I suggest he start the experiment. Any volunteers? Bush? Cheney? Robertson? Gingritch?

Do people really take this guy seriously? Sure. They’re called “stupid”.

This was the moment...

Imagine this. Two months after we met. I'm on one knee in front of Vicky, and in front of Vicky's parents. I was proposing. What the hell did I know? We'd only just met!

I must have known something - I was the luckiest guy in the world.

What I didn't know what that, behind me, Vicky's dad was taking pictures, capturing the moment on his cell phone's camera! And only recently has he forwarded those pictures to us.

Now, there are a few pictures but I'm only posting one for now. It's this one. This was the moment...

You'll notice that Vicky's looking down (she calls herself "Cousin It" in this shot) but that's because she's blown away by the enormous rock! (... kinda) You may also notice the bottle of champagne that her father so kindly put out for us. (Okay, he had an employee do it. Still...) And, yep, that's her mom's restaurant.

It's one of those moments you wish you could live over again. Thanks to Vic's dad, we can a little.

Give Guns to the Blind… only in Texas…

From the state that brought us Shrub, more death penalties than you can shake a stick at and… well, Shrub, comes yet another abomination. Now, let me start by saying that blind people have my sympathy. I’ve only been marginally sighted my whole life so I can get this whole “not seeing” vibe a bit.

But this jackass wants to let them have guns!

What the fuck?

Yep, Texas State Representative Edmund Kuempel wants to let the blind hunt. He says, “This opens up the fun of hunting to additional people, and I think that's great.” Sure, you do.

This is actually a joke with no punchline – or, at least, there was none, until Vicky walked through the room and suggested they hunt near Tom Delay’s house.

Back in Black: "Happy" Feet...

If I thought this movie was an animated version of An Inconvenient Truth, I would have seen it on its opening weekend. It's more likely the Repugs are enacting their "hatred against all things different" for the week...

Death Plans a Holiday…

What about the Bahamas? I hear the Bahamas are nice.

What? Are you kidding me? The Bahamas? What do you have to tan, dahling? I’m asking you. What do you have to tan? You’d be out there with tropical drinks leaking onto your robes – those little umbrellas got more meat on ‘em than you.

Okay. Okay. No need to get personal. Well… how about a cruise to Alaska? I heard those are a lot of fun.

What? With your bones? You know what they got in Alaska, doll? Nothing but cold. With your arthritis, you’d be cursing the day I sold you the package. You’d be out there on the ice flow with your arthritic knees knocking together, saying, “When I get back… ohhhh… I’ll give her the finger of death!” And that’s what you’d do!

I would not!

You would!

No!

Listen, cupcake. I had Adam Sandler in here. Said he’d stop making bad films. Enough – I know!

Well… what about the Colorado Rockies? Huh? That’d be nice! I could get some mountain air. Take a hike. It’d be good for me –

Sweetheart. Dahling. Pumpkin Pie. You know what they have in Colorado? Bears. I’m telling you, they feast on bones like yours.

Well, I don’t care! I’ve had it! I need a break! You know how long it’s been since my last vacation? Do you? Decades! Years… at least! Look, they got me on fourteen hour days! Fourteen hours! I get home. Have some rat – go to sleep – and I’m at it again! You think I like that! Do you?

Calm down, bologna-on-rye. Listen. You gotta take it easy.

I know! This is what I’m saying!

Why don’t we set you up with something easy. You do a little Sedona. A little Santa Fe. I get a discount and –

Um, excuse me. But you have a little shmaltz on your face there.

A what?

Just a little…

Where?

On your – just – right beside your nose.

Did I get it?

No, it’s still there.

Did I –

No.

How about –

Here, let me get it for you.

…

…

…

Oops.

“Drive-Through” Mastectomies

This is new to me and hard to believe. Please read and sign the petition…I will.

Undiplomatic diplomat???

Just how does that work? Well, I've been listening to Rachel Maddow a lot lately and she had great opinion about JOHN BOLTON on ABC News.

Certainly makes me wonder exactly what qualificatons appointees of this administration have exactly...

Kick a person…

Here’s something they never tell you about getting older: it takes a lot more perseverance than when you’re young. When you’re young, you always have the luxury of staying down for a while when you get knocked down. As you get older, that luxury gets slimmer and slimmer.

I’ve been taking a lot of hits lately from just about all sides. I’m outta work. I can’t get an interview. I can’t generate any interest in my writing, my acting, just about anything. I keep getting knocked back down onto the mat.

And every time it’s been happening recently – and let me tell you, it’s a daily occurrence – I realize I can’t stay down, even for a rest. I have to get up faster every time because time has become such an essential element. I’m not a kid any more. I’m supposed to be saving for retirement, supposed to be done raising kids not looking to start, supposed to be comfortable in my career not scrambling for any work I can find…

There are days when I just want to sit down and give up – if, at least, for a while – but then, I realize how little time I have.

Nobody ever told me about that.

Feeling a bit gasy??

Well, if you're on a plane you might want to rethink your strategy...

Today’s Advice on Child Rearing from Ken…

Said today on the phone with Vicky, “I don’t believe in hitting but a cattle prod will work wonders.”

Sleepwalking… without the walking…

I try not to tell every one of my sleepwalking stories because, after a while, you’d lose track if I was awake or not. (Trust me. I know.)

But last night’s was pretty good.

Vicky was sleeping on the guest bed due to her back (it’s a firmer mattress) so I had our bed all to myself. We usually keep five pillows on the bed for reasons clearly unbeknownst to me.

When I woke up, I was pillowless. I turned around and found the pillow.

They were all stacked up in a single column. It’s a balancing act, to be sure, but even more impressive when you consider I was asleep.

… I wonder if I know how to juggle when I’m sleeping…

And now, a little traveling music!...

Christian Bloggers – HO!…

True story.

I’ve been known to post a blog or two about Christians. I’ve even been known to post a blog or two that quotes the Bible. My overall point is to show how the public face of Christianity is usually quite un-Christian and that each of us could actually be better people if we really listened to Christ’s message.

… I’m not saying I do a good job of it.

Anyway, Vicky was reading her email the other night and, in the midst of chuckling at one of them, asked me, “Did you read this?”

“How could I read that,” I asked, lying in bed. “I’m lying in bed.”

“No,” she amended, “did you read the one you received?”

“The one what I received?”

“The email from Christian Bloggers?”

Well, that certainly got my attention! I sat up and quickly asked her to tell me more. She did. I wanted her to post a blog about it but, considering that it was my blogging that evoked the email, I figured I would.

So, here’s the email:

Dear blog author:

We recently came across your site, twolivesonepath.blogspot.com, while searching for fellow christian bloggers.

A small group of us have started a new site called Christian Bloggers. Our prayer and intent is to bring Christians closer together, and make a positive contribution to the Internet community. While many of us have different "theologies", we all share one true saviour.

Would you be interested in joining Christian Bloggers? Please take a few minutes to have a look at what we are trying to do, and if you are interested, there is a sign up page to get the ball rolling. We would greatly appreciate your support in this endeavour.

… now, call me evil but… well, with all the laughing I was doing, I guess I sounded evil. I mean here they were, the Gay-Hating, Science-Loathing, Reason-Repelling, War-Mongering, Hypocritical as a Christian, Christian Nutbars knocking at my door and asking Vicky and I to join.

How beautiful is that?

But then, I got to thinking just what a disservice I would be doing if I didn’t, at least, visit their website. So, I did.

Sure enough, there were your articles against Islam, your articles against Democrats, there was even an article that addressed "speaking in tongues" without breaking into laughter or Excorcist references. The whako contingency of Christianity in full regalia.

But the most startling part and relief to my mind were the pro-environment articles and the articles about tolerance, even indictments against the Westboro "Baptists".

Listen, I’m not going to start reading Christan Bloggers – and I’m certainly not going to write for them – but it felt pretty good to see the administrators allowing (at least somewhat) differing viewpoints from their contributors. It wasn’t Faux News by a long shot, I can say that much.

So, Vicky and I had our laugh over the irony in the situation and I originally felt I’d be writing a very different blog. It might help public perception of Christianity a great deal if the administrators of Christan Bloggers allowed real people to contribute and left the money-grubbing praisathoners and the right-wing hate mongers to the television. We’ll have to wait and see.

(Meanwhile, I’m gonna go sacrifice me up a virgin! – punchline added because I couldn’t help it.)

Cause the times they may be a’changing…

Only hours after the last election results were in about a month ago, Von Rumsfelt resigned, signaling that the Republicans could see the writing on the wall and the writing was not flattering.

Now, a month later, John Bolton – Ambassador to the UN and that guy who also said the UN didn’t exist – has resigned. Basically, Shrub’s folk knew he wouldn’t get confirmation. They’re actually going to have to find someone… qualified!

Big changes? Earth-shattering?

Not really.

I actually think the Dems might be a bit too gleeful in the midst of the fresh taste of winning. They’re getting a bit optimistic. That worries me. Remember what happened last time they got optimistic – the Supreme Court put Shrub in power.

I think this is all only the beginning and the Dems have got to work even harder if they really want to turn things around.

First, and in no particular order, they need to run absolutely tight ships. They have to be the most ethical politicians the country has ever seen – and considering that we started with slave-holders, it shouldn’t be tough… but it will be, so watch out! Next, they need to start holding those impeachment hearings – not to actually impeach, because the odds of that aren’t worth putting money on, but to get the proof out, to make sure the history books get it right and it doesn’t happen again.

Then:

Get us out of Iraq
Repeal all those tax cuts for the mega-rich
Sign Kyoto
Make sure our other treaties start getting honored while they’re at it
Yes, I mean like the Geneva Convention

After they’ve done that, I’ll consider it a good start.

We’ve still got a world of work ahead.

Thanksgiving and… well, a bunch of other stuff…

I had quite a bit of stuff to mention about the Thanksgiving trip… originally… but you know how life tends to take over, which it did, and there I go. But there are a couple of things I’d still like to mention.

While I was away, I learned that my dad is very ill. I don’t know what this will mean in the end but it did stop me long enough to realize that, somehow, in the midst of everyday confusion, I’ve grown to love the old man. He and I have something of a relationship – not perfect, of course (he is a Republican), but something – and that’s enough. Learning I could lose him helped me to appreciate what I do have.

I got to spend a bit of time with my youngest brother, Richard. Turns out that, despite the lost job and failed dreams, he still thinks I’m pretty cool. I think everyone should have somebody like that in their lives.

My mom and I have had another falling out (in a lifetime of falling outs). I won’t go into details but just say that it added a kind of punctuation to the whole story. Family is impossible and we all try to make the impossible work as best we can.

Anyway, Vicky helped Jenn decorate her apartment for Christmas while we were up there and, this weekend, Vicky decided to let the Christmas spirit explode in our own place. It all looks beautiful – she should post some pictures (HINT). Meanwhile, Vicky has also decided that I make up words…

… which I do, of course. That’s not the problem. The problem lies in the fact that I made up some real terms I bandy about (Yes, I said bandy about). Like nook, for instance, as in a baby's nook. She doesn’t think there’s such a word. Oh sure, it’s a slang word, but it’s a word just the same. Or lie in – I said, yesterday, that I really enjoyed our lie in… she thought I was looney. But I meant it!

Anyway, that’s enough for news from down here. Yes, I’m still out of work – still looking! Still working hard… just not getting paid. Back to real life…

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Love the troops?...

Not these guys.

Nobody's Watching - Friends in 90 seconds...

Now I don't have to buy the DVDs for Vicky.... whew!

Losing sleep…

Here’s an old tune I know many of you have heard before: I’m not sleeping.

I don’t know what to say short of how much I hate it. Most people can just close their eyes and drift off but that’s not my lot. Tonight, when I put my head back and closed my eyes, I saw my bed and room around me – then I saw my old apartment – then I saw my old place of employment – then Interstate 5 – then Washington – then a map – and on – and on – finally I opened my eyes. I was fed up. My mind just won’t shut itself off like most people’s.

This has been going on now for a little over two weeks. Occasionally, I’ll force some sleep onto myself with some melatonin but that knocks me out and I’m not much of a fan of that, either.

And that’s pretty much it. No story. No revelation. I’m just not sleeping.

Vicky’s up there right now, snuggled down in bed. I’m glad she can sleep. I wish I could join her. I figured I’d come down to my computer and do a little writing.

Nice talking to you.

Freedom must take the day...

A quick note from Keith Olberman on Newt Gingrich.

This one's for Vicky or Hurts so Good...

Quite a few moons ago, Tim gave me a Nintendo Gameboy. Five seconds later, Vicky was breaking every record known to man on a game called Bookworm. She was addicted. She couldn't stop herself. Fortunately, thanks to a Home in southern Montana, we were able to break that addiction with plenty of crystal, clear water, wholesome oatmeal, and beatings. Lots and lots of beatings.

Actually, I thought it was nice to see her enter my world of the video game addiction, if only for a while.

And I think it's time to welcome her back again. This time, it isn't Bookworm.

It's even better!!!!

See you in a few months, Vic. I love you!