My Valentine…

Yes, it’s that day – so you know I’m going to get all mushy. You can’t say I didn’t warn you in advance.



This is her. This is my valentine. My beautiful bride. My wife. My Vicky.




Pretty, isn’t she?








We had company over the other night. Gail, the woman who married us, and I were sitting on the sofa and I told her I don’t know how I got so lucky. Especially with everything that has been going on, how long I’ve been out of work. Vicky has been incredible through all of this, certain that things would turn around for us, never once freaking out. Delusional? Sure, but it’s nice.

You hear guys talk about how the woman in their life has been their “support”, their “rock”. Well, Vicky is undeniably mine. Not only has she kept us afloat financially, as I scramble and fail to secure every job I can find, but she’s kept our relationship grounded, as well.

She’s a miracle.

And I still don’t know how I got so lucky.

I love her more every day and I know what a cliché that is but it’s true.

So, I’ve been thinking for a few weeks now what I could possibly get her for Valentine’s Day and have come up empty every time because it’s not easy to buy presents when you are flat broke. It was beginning to look like I’d have nothing for her – and, ironically, she would have been fine with that – when…

I was doing some chores last Friday… and I was thinking about how frustrating everything has been. I mean, we can’t refinance the house until I get a job. We want to have a child but don’t dare until I’m employed. We have all these hopes and dreams but you need money for that to happen. It seems like our tomorrow is taking its own sweet time, you know? It seems as if tomorrow won’t be here tomorrow… it won’t be here until next Thursday!

Most people don’t know this but when I started writing, it was poetry I wrote. And I wrote a lot of it. For many years. And when I was in the couple of bands I was in, I wrote songs. But something happened as I grew older and my poetic muse just faded away.

However, as the thought about tomorrow not coming until next Thursday sounded in my mind… I put down the cleanser and the sponge and knew I had my Valentine’s Day gift for Vicky.

It’s not much, honey, but it’s for you. It may not be my best poem/song ever but it’s from the heart.

I haven’t written poetry for anyone in years but you inspired this song.



No one said tomorrow wouldn’t come until next Thursday
Or said that when it came it would be my day or be your day
Putting off the million little plans
The things we never said while holding hands
And brushing far away the second chance
Leaving it for you and I to find.

And no one ever said there’d be a rainbow we could follow
But we set off to find where it could be just like tomorrow
Leaving us an endless road to drive
Leaving us nowhere we could arrive
Leaving us together you and I
Together, it’s for you and I to find.

So off around the bend we end up driving ‘til tomorrow
And who knows where or when without a map that we can borrow
Missing out on nothing else around
Grounded by the simplicated sound
I hear your voice, I know I have been found
Together
And who knows
Just what we’ll find.

Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart. I love you.

Challenge - Week 3

Here's how the pounds stacked up...or rather came off...

Vicky ~ 1.2 lbs, for a total of 5.2 lbs

Ken ~ 0.8 lbs, for a total of 5.0 lbs

Told you I'd let Ken win for a week. Actually he is doing great and I'm proud of him!

Junk psychology for the painfully ignorant…

I get a lot of crapmail in general and I came across one of the crappiest examples just a few minutes ago. It was one of those “fun” questionnaires that gets sent around, using common household items to describe just who you are deep within.

I’m sure you’ve seen these. What kind of footstool are you? What kind of silverware are you? What kind of belly button lint are you? The survey has you choose your favorite and then tells you pleasantly vague things about yourself based on the answer. The things it says are always pleasantly vague. They have to be pleasant, since oftentimes these come from people who want you to consider them friends (if only of the “emails me crap I wouldn’t otherwise read” variety), and they have to be vague, because it’s patently obvious to anyone with a brain that EMAILS DO NOT HAVE BRAINS!

Why don’t we take a look at the one I just got (which I received from several people, the way a deadly disease spreads) and dissect it critically.

This one purports to tell you about yourself based on what type of dessert you may presently be in the mood for. This must be a thing of miracles because, after all, your mood for dessert could be based on so very many things: what you just ate, if you just brushed your teeth, if you have teeth…

It starts by having you make a choice. Now, remember, you are only able to make one choice! Disregard the fact that this is clearly untrue, that you can clear make more than one choice – THE EMAIL IS ALL POWERFUL! THE EMAIL IS SMARTER THAN YOU!

Here are your choices:

1. Angel Food Cake
2. Brownies
3. Lemon Meringue
4. Vanilla Cake with Chocolate Icing
5. Strawberry Short Cake
6. Chocolate Icing on Chocolate Cake
7. Ice Cream
8. Carrot Cake

Then, the email explains that “research” has been done to determine who you are based upon your one dessert choice. Imagine the astronomical amount of research that must have been done to make this distinction! Why… lots of dessert must have been eaten by… lots of people… right????

Then, it gives you the answers.

If you picked Angel Food Cake, you are sweet. If you picked Brownies, you are adventurous. If you picked Lemon Meringue (and no, they make no distinction about pie or no pie), you are sexy. If you picked Vanilla Cake with Chocolate Icing, you are fun-loving. If you picked strawberry short cake, you are romantic. If you picked Chocolate Icing on Chocolate Cake (but notice you did not pick the cake, just the icing on the cake… somehow you are eating the icing but avoiding the cake… which must be far more popular that I thought), you are also sexy… wait, I thought that was for Lemon Meringue eaters… If you picked Ice Cream, you like sports. (You don't have to play them. You don't have to watch them. You just have to like them... any of them... isn't that convenient?) And if you picked Carrot Cake, you are fun-loving, which you would also be if you liked Vanilla Cake with Chocolate Icing. Fun loving people are everywhere.

As you can see, it’s not very clear. All the answers are intentionally vague - who doesn't like to think of themselves as fun-loving? Or sexy? It's based on the idea that people like to has smoke blown so far up their asses that it clouds their vision. I am obviously not amongst them.

Now, I’ve been told that the reason to do these things is because they are “fun”.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

Fun?

Listen: sex is fun. Roller coasters are fun. More sex is fun.

Having your personality, your very essence reduced down to a FOOD CHOICE is not fun! Being provided with some bullshit story about some fucking research done so I can be minimized – as if the complexities of my personality don’t mean shit – if I like ice cream, I like sports and no arguing about it – is not fun!

The whole point of these emails, besides being monumentally insulting to anyone with a brain cells, is to provide a cheap compliment, a faux kind of understanding. It’s a way of saying, “This is about as far as I want to get to know you. Let’s keep it superficial.”

How anyone could possibly NOT be insulted by it is beyond me! I know they’ll keep getting sent, simply because people will keep on being superficial and stupid, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them. It just means that if you send me one, my opinion of you is going to drop just a little bit further.

… Oh, and I can't help but feel sorry for the poor son of a bitch who likes pineapple upside-down cake for dessert!

Thus the gloating starts...

You know, it was one thing for the Republicans to gratuitously insult the Democratic party and the folks they represented on a daily basis but that doesn't mean that progressives (in this case, a Democrat) should do the same. We shouldn't mispronounce their party's name; not only does it appear petty but it discounts the damage they do to their very party itself. The Republicans of today are undermining any good their party may have once done and should be reminded of that by using their real name...

With thanks to Jack Cafferty...

JACK CAFFERTY, CNN ANCHOR: Is Anna Nicole Smith still dead, Wolf?

WOLF BLITZER: Yes, we're going to -- updating our viewers coming up shortly on...

CAFFERTY: I can't wait for that.

BLITZER: ... the mysterious circumstances surrounding that, Jack. Thank you.

(Meanwhile, more senseless deaths in Iraq are going ignored here at home.)

I'll take bad jokes about fucking for $500, Alex...

"Four."


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...


...


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... "How many nications does it take to make a baby?"

Randy Newman - A Few Words in Defense of Our Country

I saw this posted over on "I'm Just Saying" (top blog on the right) but I just had to share it in case you missed it. This is Randy Newman showing he still has chops. My hat's off to you, sir.

New Voyages – Old Pain…

What was so painful about the original Star Trek series? Bad acting? Bad production values? Bad stunt doubles? Bad acting? Sure, we all had our own list.

But, fortunately, that was aborted in 1969 when someone wise and wonderful at the network watched it… and threw up a little in his mouth. Let’s face it, the original series was really bad at times and an early death did it good. After all, the movies were only half bad and the Next Generation was (I can’t say anything bad or Vicky will KILL ME)…

I thought all of my original series pain had been suffered.

Um.

… No.

Because, thanks to the fans… actually, thanks to fans with lots of money who can afford to produce new shows, new shows are, well, being produced.

Yep. It’s Star Trek: The New Voyages.

Now, I don’t know how many of you have watched this or how many of you care but I do because I did and I have… so I will…

Here’s the idea: Recast the whole thing but use the same characters and start again as if it’s the next week’s show. (The next week after the week when it was so mercifully cancelled, that is.) Good idea? Sure. Problem is it sucks. I mean, recast? That’s great except that the new Scotty never – I mean NEVER - sounds Scottish. Can’t someone get him a dialect coach? And starting from the next week? As if the movies never happened?

Yeah, but they did. Remember? The odd-numbered ones sucked. Remember? “KAAAAAAAAHN!!!!” Remember?

Also, the only way to watch these things is to download some real beefy files – not their fault, I know. I’m just saying.

Okay, so what’s good? I should mention something that’s good…. Right?

Well, to tell the truth, take everything about the old show and just flip it – make a negative image – for the new one. So everything that was good then is bad now, and everything that was bad then is good now. For instance: effects. Sucked then – pretty now. Sets. Cheesy then – retro and kinda cool now. (I mean, everything is the mother-fucking same! It’s like they went to Shatner’s garage sale or something!) Actors. Good then, which is to say they fit their part – bad now, which is to say I can’t help getting the feeling this is the Federation Fanclub Presents Star Trek. Acting (and, I know this is confusing but)… bad then – equally bad now but in wild and purple ways.

Is there a bottom line? Yes. You have to watch this. If you loved the old Original series, you have to watch it for nostalgia. If you hated it, this just gives you more creamy goodness to hate.

Enjoy it with someone you love… and throw up a little in your mouth.

(And, yes, if they read this you better believe I’d sell my wife’s left kidney for a chance to be cast on the mother-fucking show!)

(Don’t worry, Vic. They’re not reading.)

(Kidney. Yummy kidney. I’m just saying)

Insult meet Injury…

Did I mention I’m still out of work?

I got passed up for another job today. After over a month of interviewing and talking on the phone, the manager decided to go with a last-minute internal candidate.

This isn’t about how they should at least buy me lunch for all of the sleep I’ve lost and gas I’ve used and pants I’ve needed to squeeze into (which has nothing to do with it but, dammit, someone’s responsible!) – this is about what happened after I got turned down.

… the phone rang.

… it was an employer.

… calling to talk about a job opportunity.

… they wanted Vicky.



… you may laugh now.

Just a note about Nader…

There have been some rumors popping up that Ralph Nader may run for office again and, amidst all of the clamor about how he “stole votes from Al Gore”, I feel I need to comment.

First of all, more people running for office is not a bad thing. It’s a good thing. It means more choice for you, the voter. People are always complaining about how elections have turned into the “lesser of two evils” and, yet, they complain when another candidate (Nader) may run – idiots!

Secondly, and most important, Nader did NOT steal votes! Any votes he got in Florida during the ’00 presidential election, he got fair and square. It was Bush who stole the votes! Remember? So stop blaming Nader, for crying out loud! Turn your energy to the real culprit – Bush!

… and, of course, if you never thought that way, you’re free to go about your business…

Challenge - Week 2

Well folks the results are in........

Vicky ~ lost 0.4 lbs for a total of 4.0 lbs

Ken ~ lost 0.8 lbs for a total of 4.2 lbs

Yes, I'm letting Ken win for at least one week (Superbowl Sunday was a day of eating bad food, so I may pay the price this week).

Overheard at the gym today…

Obviously ignorant young woman on the treadmill: “I have a friend whose brother is in Iraq right now. That’s why I hate those liberals…”

You mean the ones who are trying to stop the war??? No, she must mean some other “liberals”…

Ironically, this was on the same day Senate Republicans blocks the Democratic effort to have a debate on the war, saying that they “welcome the debate and are happy to have it.”

Yes, the people who stopped the debate are those who want it and those who want to stop the war are those who don’t support the troops.

I just checked the calendar to be sure – it’s 2007, not 1984.

Chili…

“How come you used to cook for Rosa but you never cook for me?”

There it was again. I’d heard it before and I knew I’d hear it again. It was Vicky’s way of saying, “Would you like to make dinner?”

So, of course, I replied, “What would you like me to make, hun?”

“Anything.”

“Anything” meant “I have one specific thing in mind. If you guess incorrectly, I will cut off your head and devour it like a pineapple and you will forever be crushed beneath the boot of my guilt.” I had to guess correctly.

Fortunately, the conversation had resulted from my mentioning how I used to make chili… I had a clue what she wanted.

I had my own way of making chili before but I wanted to do things a little differently this time; I didn’t want Vicky thinking I was making the chili “she” used to eat, ya know?

I started by scouring the Internet(s) for really cool chili recipes and, after I found a few, put them together and sent them off to my cook-buddy, Jenn. She sent back her ideas, I tweaked them, and I was off to the store where I changed the recipe again. And yes, you’ve probably guessed what a disastrous recipe can result from combining several recipes, tweaking that, and then improvising on a few things as well. Surprisingly, it was pretty good.


Ken & Vicky’s (and Jenn’s)(and other anonymous folks on the Internet(s)) Chili…

2 lbs. ground beef (chili grind)
1 lb. Pork (cubed or ground)
12 oz. chorrizo
1 tsp. black pepper
3 beers
2 tsps. Oregano
1 can of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce
1 tbsp. cumin powder
3 tbsps. chili powder
1 tbsp. Salt (kosher, of course)
4 cloves crushed garlic
1 28oz can crushed/diced tomatoes
1 med onion diced
1 med bell pepper diced
1 large Poblano chili
½ pound of red beans

First things, first. Soak those beans! You can put them in a bowl of water overnight or (if you get in a rush like me) boil a pot of water, remove the pot from the stove, and soak the beans in the water for about two hours.

Then, brown the meat. This might be a slight misnomer when it comes to the chorizo. Anyone who’s ever cooked with the type of chorizo we have in southern California will tell you that, after you squeeze it out of the tube, it’s more about grease management than browning… but do your best.

Set aside the meat and wilt/caramelize your onions and bell peppers in a very large pot. (You’ll be adding everything to this pot so make sure everything can be comfortable.) After the veggies are nice and relaxed, move the meat into the pot. Then, add your garlic, poblano, two of the beers (the third is for you – you deserve it), and the whole damn can of chipotles! (You can smooosh the peppers in your hand to break them up a bit.) (And remember, this recipe was made for someone who loves spiciness so, if you don’t like it spicy, you might want to tone it down a bit.)

Add about half of the spices. Later, you can use the rest to spice to taste.

Add the beans but be sure to toss the reserve “bean water”.

Let that get going for a while – time is meaningless – until you’ve got a good boil going on. Now, add the tomatoes and put a good lid on the pot. Let that boil for about 5 hours, stirring occasionally. You shouldn’t run out of fluid but, if you do, just pour in some water. Make it whatever consistency you want.

Spice to taste.

This recipe will probably be revised as the years go on and you’ll probably find ways to amend it, too. Change up the peppers. Take away the beans if you want. It’s up to you.

I’m off the hook from cooking for a little while… but now that I’ve said that…

And now, from the “What the hell are they thinking” department…

It’s galling, the level of disgust to which the Republicans can descend.

First, they get us into a war in a country that never did anything to hurt us.

Now, they’re trying to do it again. This time, it’s Iran. They tell us that Iran harbors terrorists (just like they said about Iraq) though they have no proof. They tell us Iran has weapons of mass destruction (just like they said about Iraq) though they have no proof. In fact, there’s proof out there against the assertion. The Repugs say that Iran has nukes when Iran is decades away from this.

But, let’s face it, folks, war has been very good to these people and their crony multinationals. Where do you think the additional $245 billion are going? Whose pockets do you think those line? And now, they want to go to Iran under equally egregious, equally dishonest grounds.

And it’s only just starting. Today one Repug said that Clinton wouldn’t make a good president because she was “too timid” in her attitude towards Iran, as if a presidential prerequisite must be “war criminal” or, at least, the desire to become one.

They’ve led us down the rabbit hole to show us it’s an abattoir.

And I’m no fan of Clinton’s. I’m not even a Democrat. But I think one clear distinction that continues to show is this: Mention “war” and you can tell who not to vote for by measuring the drool on their chins.

State of the Liar...

Since I started Tivo'ing KO, I've been neglecting to post video on the blog. This one has to go up, however, as just another example of Shrub's unashamed dishonesty - unashamed, uncaring, etc.

Challenge – Week #1

A couple of weeks ago I told Ken that we are having a weight loss contest. See, we both joined WW last year, but havn't been really serious. We've decided that it is time to get focused, so I issued the challenge.

Drum roll please…..

Ken: Loss of 3.4 lbs
Vicky: Loss of 3.6 lbs

And, I’m winning….

Stop the Escalation...

I'm waiting for someone to call these guys a bunch of "cut and runners"...

Toes... Toes... Toes...

Can I just start by saying that the word looks wrong? "Toes." Is it really spelled that way? I mean, if someone tows your car, they...

Okay. Okay. Fine.

Anyway, I figured I should come clean. I mean, my 41st year has been the year of the loser, so far and, as my mom asked when I called her this morning, "How could it get worse?" (A rock, that woman.)

The thing is, Vicky is sure that I've broken something. I, on the other hand, am sure that we cannot afford medical bills, which means that I most certainly did not.

So, then, why are my toes all black and blue (two of them, at least) and why do three of them not want to move so much?

... Iranian terrorists?

... probably not.

Seriously, I'm thinking it's soft tissue damage. I learned a lot about medicine during my 15-year incarceration and I know my toes are moving enough to show that they're probably still in one piece. I also know that the day after an injury always looks and feels worse than the day of. Anyway, it could be a lot worse. The way I fell - which was pretty much straight down like a cut marionette - I could have dislocated, broken, smashed, or just generally fucked up a lot of parts. Three toes (again, that just looks wrong) ain't so bad!

What Vicky hasn't thought about - and here's my real concern - is how could my leg have been that much asleep? I mean, I got a big, old ham for a leg. What could have put it under?

The obvious answer: blood clot. Yep. Blood clot. I figure I'm due for a massive aneurysm inside of a week. That's it. It's traveling up my body right now, laughing all the way to the cerebral cortex, empowered by every girl I ever dated and their subsequent disdain. If my last word is "Rosa", you know who to blame.

Anyway, Vicky is threatening me with a doctor's visit - just like as if I was eight years old, I swear - if I'm not up and hobbling in the next few days. So, I've decided to start some serious icing. No, not like on a Cinnabon (drooooooooooooooooooool!), I mean like ice-cold icing. I did it this morning. Actually got freezer burn. My middle toe was frozen solid and, when I flexed my foot, I flipped myself off.

I wonder if it's trying to tell me something?

Iran so far away...

(Don't I wish!)

At a time when Shrub seems intent on making WWFucked into WWIII, news that Iran has been trying to prevent this conflict probably comes as no surprise.

However, there it was, reported by the BBC, news that as early as 2003 Cheney has been telling Iranian peace envoys to go fuck themselves.

Meanwhile, Shrub's talking about killing as many more Americans as he can, this time on Iranian soil.

Makes you feel all.... RAPTUROUS, doesn't it?

And this from the Ministry of Silly Walks…

My left leg was asleep when I woke up this morning.

… I sure wish someone had told me that.

The thing was, it wasn’t tingling or feeling at all asleep. It wasn’t numb. It was just dead.

So, I rolled out of bed like I do every morning. I put my feet down like I do every morning. I stood up like I do every morning.

… and I fell on my ass screaming like a little girl. Most mornings, I don’t do that.

Vicky came a’running at the sound of my pleas but there was little she could do… except, perhaps, laugh.

So, I guess I won’t be calling her a klutz for a while…

This is what insomnia with Ken is like…

There are times when my mind goes so fast, I feel like yelling, “Stop the ride! I want to get off!” This afternoon, it was tearing donuts in my head, a combination of lack of sleep from the night before and the misfortune of having “all you can eat pancakes” from IHOP. (The pancakes weren’t bad but what was I thinking with all that syrup? Sugar in a hyper mind? That’s nuts!… um, scratch that.) Tonight, well…

See, my brand of insomnia is what I call “busy head”. There’s no rhyme or reason. My brain just throws up everything I’ve experienced all at once and random selections pass into view. There’s a song from Moonwash. There’s that girl from the TV show, F-Troop. There’s some algebra. And all the time, the librarian in my mind is cackling relentlessly.

It’s pretty exhausting… you think it would make me tired!

Well, it does, of course. It just doesn’t let me sleep.

And as for tonight, well, insomnia kind of feeds on itself. Once you start – or once I start, I’m on the ride for a couple days, sometimes for as long as a week. I just have to ride it out.

Or take melatonin. This beautiful discovery was Vicky’s doing and it works like a charm. The only downside is it works too well, hits me like a sledgehammer. So, I think I’m going to pass on the sledgehammer tonight. Instead, I figure I’ll go do a little jogging at the gym and see how tired that makes me.

Sleep tight!

A progress report – six months later…

Mid-August I got canned.

This is where I am now. Right here.

No. Here.

I suppose it would be the summit of Mount Obvious to say that I’ve had a bit of misfortune in finding work. Actually, it stinks. Many employers have told me how impressive my portfolio and my experience is but none will tell me that I’m hired. So, I keep looking. Vicky had been awe-inspiring in her support; given a reversal of roles, I probably would have started freaking out sometime in September. But she has a certain quality that allows her to see a positive outcome in all of this… sheer stupidity, I’m thinking. But I love her for it, all the same.

We’re sending out With Eyes to See and I’m assembling material to begin submitting Love of Your Life. She just completed proofreading No More Blue Roses and I’m almost 33% complete with the new book. So, the writing is moving forward with all the certainty of an glacier – certain to do what, I’ll never know.

Speaking of the new book, it’s become an amalgamation of fiction, memoir, and philosophy. I’m following almost a literal timeline of when I lost my job until Megan’s death but I’m ignoring certain truths. For instance, there’s no mention of this blog in the book. So, blog entries have become one-sided conversations. I have no problem making them into one-sided conversations because, when it comes to discussing philosophy, I often find myself in one-sided conversations. I’ve just reached the first of two philosophical deconstructions; this being Plato and Aristotle and the achievement of the impossible. After that last sentence, you can probably understand why such conversations are often one-sided.

I’m keeping my wits about me and my sanity in a plain, brown wrapper. It gets a little sunlight now and then but mostly I store it in my inside coat pocket, its assuring heft reminding me that I’m not quite crazy…

I think the strangest thing about being out of work all this time is the distance I feel from who I am and who I used to be. I used to be a guy who wrote every day but that grows more distinctly separate, like a museum display behind thick glass so close you imagine you can touch it, with every rejection.

Fuck, I want a job.

Nature flips off religion yet again...

After all, if lizards can have virgin births...

(Don't sweat it, ye of little faith. The concept of the "virgin birth" is metaphorical and is not meant to be taken literally... unless you're a dragon, of course.)

Drunken Vicky II: Electric Buahshoelnghzxoi

I couldn't help but include part two... especially since Jenn went through all the trouble of writing it!

So, what did Vicky do once she got nice and blotto? She IM'ed Jenn, of course! Read all the fun over on Jenn's blog.

Drunk to Bush…

“I was going to write a blog about drinking games you can play with the State of the Union,” I told Vicky today as we watched the pre-game show before Shrub took the podium. I doubted I’d make it for very long. And then, I turned off the television.

But Vicky had other ideas. “Come on! Let’s do that!”

“Pardon?” I asked her, the way you’d ask a mailman who offered, “Would you like fries with that?”

She turned on the television. “Let’s play! It’ll be fun!”

Now, I’m no one to refuse Vicky and when it comes to getting her drunk and the possibilities that arise from that, well, I’m less than no one. I had the rum out and she got the shot glasses.

“Okay, when do we drink?”

“Whenever he says terrorism or refers to 9/11,” I suggested.

“Or when he says Iran or troops,” Vicky added.

“Or when he says freedom.”

Excitedly, she finished our list with, “Or if he says augmentation.”

So, we had our list.

What we didn’t realize was just how many times he’d say those things. We couldn’t pour shots fast enough. We started missing shot. We had started taking a shot at any mention of terrorists but eventually waited for the exact use of terrorism. Our shots got smaller and smaller as Vicky got drunker and drunker.

She started leaning. Then, she held herself up on the counter. (For some reason, we did this all standing up.) Then, she started dancing and getting, well, silly. Eventually, she got completely out-of-control, blotto and I had to put her to bed.

And Shrub never said augmentation.

Peanut Butter and Jelly… Oatmeal…

Strangely enough, I tend to think of things sometimes that Vicky finds, well, offensive.

And so it was this morning while we were at our Weight Watcher’s meeting. I would have much rather been just about any other place in the world, so I figured that was mostly just wasted time… and I began to look at some of the WW food they had. The good thing about WW is that you don’t have to buy their food but this is supposed to be a capitalist country, after all, so…

Vicky said the oatmeal was supposed to be good, and I could help notice the flavors: Apple & Cinnamon, Maple Brown Sugar. Pretty much your standard flavors.

“They’re not very inventive with oatmeal flavors. You ever notice that?” I asked Vicky.

She did what she usually did when I start asking strange questions. She ignored me.

“You never see Orange and Peanut Butter, or Chocolate and Peanut Butter.” For some reason, I was on a peanut butter kick.

Vicky kept ignoring me… so I continued.

What would go with peanut butter.

“Peanut butter and jelly oatmeal!” I exclaimed. “Of course, it’s so simple!”

It is. Really.

And here’s the recipe:

1 package of plain, instant oats (or one bowl of plain oatmeal)
1 heaping teaspoon of peanut butter (crunchy or creamy, you choose)
1 heaping teaspoon of jelly

Make the oatmeal, stir in the flavors. It’s that simple!

Now, I’m just dying for someone to try it!

Olberman 24...

Time to think.

Got my WoW on...

I figured it's been a while since I did any steady "blogging" hereabouts and I thought that, just in case our readers were wondering why, I should explain things.

And to both of you, let me just point you towards WoW: The Burning Crusade! It's addicting. It's pointless. It's mine!

Don't worry, though. I plan to start blogging again regularly... just as soon as I'm... done...

Because I know you'd want to know...

Two "news" stories struck me as interestingly ironic as they sat side by side on Yahoo today.

First, we've come to learn through the auspices of the UN - you remember, that organization that Shrub's folk are sure doesn't exist - that we Americans, the good guys, only killed 34, 452 Iraqi civilians last year. (Were they our bullets? Did we fire? By starting the present atrocity, we are just as guilty.) Now, if this was the yearly total for the past few years, I'm sure there are a whole lot of Americans who would be happy - nay, sexually slaked - to know that we're raining down a 10 to 1 payback for the deaths of 911...

... oh wait. That's right. They had nothing to do with 911, despite Shrub's remaining insistence to the contrary whenever it's convenient.

Too, the supposed attacks on 911 were in no way about a missile striking the plane (missiles posing as planes is another story), and yet the idiots in charge are prepared to spend billions to equip commercial planes with anti-missile technology. (Which probably won't work.) Good going guys... now how about some anti-stupid technology.

Just more examples of just how stupid they are and how stupid they think we are.

Never too many pictures of us...

So, remember that wedding we went to in November? Well, thanks to my terrific mom, Blanche (I've known her TOO long for her to be just a "step"), we have some great pictures to share.

Now, the baby is my nephew, Hayden - Richard and Teri's kid - but you can just imagine what we're going to look like in (fill in your guess here) when we have our own kidling!

Olberman dissects Shrub's speech...

Olberman Assesses Shrub's Credibility...

Just imagine what the history books will say...

How dare we act appalled…

By now, everyone’s heard about the rocket attack on the US embassy in Greece.

But how many have heard that the attack was on our toilet?

And as shitty as that might sound, it’s just as bad as how overblown the American reaction has been. A day after we attacked the Iranian embassy in Kurdistan, how fitting is it that someone attack one of ours?

And how equally fitting that they hit us in the crapper? Just another way of reminding us that we’re full of shit.

Strange Juxtaposition...

G'morning folks. I'm just about to head off to the gym - don't you envy me?!

Anyway, I just remembered something from yesterday and it was so strange, I thought I'd tell you.

I was on the treadmill. Benny Hinn (televangelist extraordinaire) was on the TV in front of me and Frankie Goes To Hollywood was singing RELAX on the radio that was being broadcast!

It was a lot like having your eyes pulled out and your ears lovingly fucked (as if such a thing is possible)... while thinking, "Am I almost done with this treadmill?"

And now a bedtime story

As you know, Ken is working in a temp position and, well, he was rather bored today. So being the good wife that I am, I suggested that he write a short story for me to read later. You know, something to keep him busy, nothing too involved. I provided a topic...Suki (our dog)...and our baby (not yet conceived)...and well here it is, hope you enjoy it as much as I did...I actually laughed out loud...

I was walking Suki this morning when we ran into little Vicky. (I call her “little Vicky” because the name Vicky and I have picked out for our baby is a carefully kept secret – lest someone steal it….)

Little Vicky was time traveling from 2015, a time when people regularly do such things (in, at least, an alternate universe), and she appeared from behind one of our neighbor’s apartments with a blinding flash.

It didn’t bother me. As far as I knew, I was just hallucinating again.

“And who,” I asked, “are you?”

“My name is Vicky,” she replied without compunction, “and I’m traveling from the future.”

“Great,” I said – and by this time I was sure I was hallucinating. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet.”

“I could have told you that.”

At this point, Suki had grown interested in the little girl and, just like she always does, walked up to her and stood ready for attention. Little Vicky complied – we humans are powerless. “Is this Suki?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“She looks just like our Suki – I guess that’s why mommy named her that.”

“Who?”

“Mommy.”

“Excuse me. I need to go get a very large drink.”

“Oh. Right. You probably still drink during this time.”

“Probably,” I told her. “Want proof?”

“That’s a pun!” she exclaimed.

“Pardon?”

“What you just said. It’s a pun.”

I squinted, trying not to appear too annoyed. “Little girl. Let go of my dog.”

“She’s my dog, too.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Yes, she is. Mommy let me keep her! She’s in my room! Stuffed!”

“Ewwww…. Don’t tell Vicky that.”

“She already knows.”

“Not now, she doesn’t.”

“No, but she does later.”

As much as I like word games, this sounded like something I’d write. “You mean she will later.”

“Right.”

Now, I wanted a cigarette, a martini, and several hits from a hash pipe. “Am I hallucinating you? Or are you real?” Her hair was long and straight like Vicky’s and she was also a girl, just like her mom. But she and I had nothing in common.

“Yes and No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am real but I’m not presently –“

“Stop,” I told her. “Enough.”

“You hate it when other people do that to you but you have no problem doing it to others.”

“That’s because I’m good at it,” I said. “You only have the benefit of having traveled through time… wait a minute. What do you mean, she’s like your Suki?”

Little Vicky was, by this time, sitting in the grass, with Suki on her lap… she put her there. “Mommy names every dog Suki.”

“And does she name every cat Harley?” I asked with a grin.

“No. Harley’s still alive. She’s just very, very old.”

“Great.” I wasn’t overly fond of the image of owning the world’s oldest cat. “I guess I am, too, huh? And fat?”

“No. You’re thin when you’re old. But you lost all of your hair – I mean ALL of it – in a freak video game playing accident.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. How’s your mom?”

“She’s much taller in my time. She had a problem losing weight so she gained height. They can do that in my time.”

“Really? How tall am I in your time?”

“Ten foot six.”

If it was good enough for movies...

Isn't the greatest threat that which lies beside us?

TO THE NORTH??

A picture of you in the world

Next time you think that your life is difficult, get some perspective.

Throwing money at a problem won’t fix it…

That’s the old Republican battle cry. Hunger? Throwing money at a problem won’t fix it! Ignorance? Throwing money at a problem won’t fix it! Disease? Throwing money at a problem won’t fix it! Environmental devestation? Throwing money at a problem won’t fix it!

But now that Shrub has wasted billions in Iraq, now that he’s sacrificed thousands upon thousands of lives, we see just what he’s been saving all that money for… Hey, asshole! Throwing money at a problem won’t fix it!

They can waste lives and money and time and resources on killing. They can dump the surplus we once had into the laps of their wealthy friends and family. The can call those who work for peace traitors.

But ask them for a penny for a hungry child or ask them for a book or ask them not to pollute…

Kinda Working…

The job saga continues. I’m still applying, interviewing… looking…

But now there’s something new in the mix. I’m working temp as a copywriter this week and, maybe, next. I work for a trade association that represents aftermarket auto parts.

Exciting stuff… really…

But, at least, it’s not unemployment.

Jesus in a tree trunk…

Vicky sent me a link to this story today, telling me how much she wanted to write something about it.

Let’s face it, it’s easy prey for humor. Anyone who would call a tree holy because it was marred, as if every tree – every living thing – wasn’t holy, deserves to be laughed at. It’s like the old joke about the Hi-C Fruit Punch-spitting Madonna or the cash-eating statue, which is to say there is none.

More than that, though, this does nothing as efficiently as show one of the fundamental weaknesses in religion as a whole. The desperation these people feel, hoping beyond sense and reason that this defaced tree is the son of god, is akin to the angst those feel who believe that there’s an old man in the sky with a special list of those people who will be saved and those who won’t and that it’s the same old man who granted all of us free will or the desperation felt by those who believe there’s a god at all.

We live in a time when desperation rules – look in Iraq, look in the White House, look in the schools and on the streets – scientific analysis is undermined by desperation for things to be otherwise.

It’s easier to believe that a tree can be a sign from God or God him/her/itself than to believe that the tree is just misshapen. It’s easier to believe that earthly deeds will be rewarded in some spooky afterlife. It’s easier to believe that somewhere, anywhere, things are going to be all right.

But it’s just not so. This is the world we live in and that’s all. And that’s just a fucking tree.

Keith Olbermann: Sacrifice - Conclusion...

As I've said from the beginning, things have to get worse before they get better and, sadly, they must continue to do so.

Keith Olbermann: A few words on Sacrifice...

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…

Looking for a website?

All of these are legitimate companies that didn't spend quite enough time considering how their online names might appear ... and be misread.

1. Who Represents is where you can find the name of the agent that represents any celebrity. Their Web site is www.whorepresents.com

2. Experts Exchange is a knowledge base where programmers can exchange advice and views at www.expertsexchange.com

3. Looking for a pen? Look no further than Pen Island at www.penisland.net

4. Need a therapist? Try Therapist Finder at www.therapistfinder.com

5. There's the Italian Power Generator company, www.powergenitalia.com

6. And don't forget the Mole Station Native Nursery in New South Wales www.molestationnursery.com

7. If you're looking for IP computer software, there's always www.ipanywhere.com

8. And the designers at Speed of Art await you at their wacky Web site, www.speedofart.com

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!

The Siskiyou Land Conservancy and the strangest comment I've ever received...

Folks, I've received hate mail by the score and love mail by the one but in all my days writing this here (and other there) blog, I've never received something like this. To provide a little context, I recently wrote about the night(mare) drive Vicky and I took through northern California. I know if probably sounded like a real pain in the ass - that would be the result of my forgetting that we were in the midst of some beautiful countryside. (Lack of sleep will do that.)

Towering redwoods. Glistening falls. Thundering rivers. And all too intimidating mountainsides. It was sublime... which is to say that the beauty was easy to miss through the sense of never making it home. One thing this comment (which you're about to read, I assure you) reminded me of was the many times Vicky and I told each other how great it would be to spend some time hiking up there... one of these days.

But now, the comment in its entirety:


Hi Kenneth,

I enjoyed your travelogue. I am former Executive Director of the Smith River Project, and I now run the Siskiyou Land Conservancy. Both organizations have a lot to do with protecting much of the land you and Vicky drove through in Northwestern California. I would like to send you more information about our work, for even though you got rained on, and couldn't enjoy it much, this territory is some of the most beautiful, biologically diverse and ecologically important in the world.

Please see: http://www.SiskiyouLandConservancy.org/ for more information.

Yes, we are seeking donations. We rely on donors from outside the area to keep our programs afloat. Our work benefits all Californians, and Americans. Can you help?

Donations may be sent to:

Siskiyou Land Conservancy
P.O. Box 4209
Arcata, CA 95518

We are a non-profit organization, and all donations are tax deductible.

Thanks for your good writing, keep it up!

Greg King
President/Program Director
Siskiyou Land Conservancy
707-826-1994

Yes, it was a sales pitch - and I have to admit its message, if not its timing, was perfect. After all, looking back I wish we'd taken pictures for both of you readers to see how beautiful it was. Did I mention we saw elk? How cool is that?

Okay, so I don't have any money right now, being unemployed and all, but that doesn't mean one of you readers don't have a job. Looking for that tax write-off with a terrific cause? I don't ask for money much (which may explain my current financial situation) but I think this guy is a part of the values Vicky and I are always trying to espouse.

Take a look at his website.

And listen, Greg, though I cannot offer money (sometimes I cannot remember money), let me know if you ever need any writing done. I owe you one.

Sex Sex Sex Sex and more Sex...

... and Paul F. Thompkins... and K-Fed... and the jingling of keys...

Keith Olberman: NTSA = oil whore...

You probably have your own list but this one will work for today...