Movin' on up.

Much like the Jeffersons, I'm movin' on up. Unlike the Jeffersons, unfortunately, I'm not getting a deluxe apartment in the sky. Instead, I'm just getting a new blog address over on wordpress.com that allows me a little more flexibility and ease of use when it comes to designing the sucker.

Wanna check out the bare-bones version of the new site? Then head on over to creativepetrol.wordpress.com

Rejoice! Rejoice! Maximum Lazy now possible!

If there's one thing I know, it's this: NetFlix NetRox. I really didn't think there could ever be a better man-made creation than a monthly-fee-based mail-order movie rental service.

Then I saw the Roku box that streamed said movies right to my TV. "Touche, NetFlix," I said. "Well played." I was indeed thoroughly overjoyed by this new creation, and thought it to be the pinnacle of human innovation. In fact, once I had the money to flush down the shitter on unnecessary crap, I was to own one.

But, sadly, now Roku will never get their hands on my hard-earned dough. Why, you ask?

Lo and behold -- NetFlix on XBOX 360. Coming this fall to a living room near you. I can't believe I'm saying this, but blessed be Microsoft and the most heavenly game console/media server she has bestowed upon us.

Amen.

Need proof that the miracle is actually happening? Check the pic. It's the new XBOX 360 Dashboard (again, coming this fall) with a NetFlix queue on it. Thanks, Engadget.

My missile's bigger than your missile

As you may have heard, Iran held a missile test yesterday, which was made 100% more spectacular when they photoshopped a few extra missiles into official photos of the event. This is the chopped pic:



What you probably didn't hear in the news is that I also held a missile test in my back yard. Personally, I think mine was better. Massive ogre baby FTW. And yes, as you may have gathered from the pink trail on the left missile, I fully support breast cancer. And by "fully support breast cancer", I mean "boobies make me tingly in my no-no spot."

Cock Shots

About 20 minutes ago, my pal Ralston IM'd me this webpage, which is supposedly what some blogger got when he left a disposable camera out on a public park bench. After taking a look at the photos, I call bullshit.

Why? Why? I'll tell you why.

Because after a total of about a day sitting out in a public place, there are pics of too-smiley lady, inanimate objects from off-kilter perspectives and psuedo-alternative-halfway-annoyed-but-really-loving-this girl (all pictured here):







But there isn't one (and by 'isn't one' I mean 'NOT EVEN FUCKING ONE') cock shot in the bunch! I mean really, folks. What's the world coming to? I don't know how, if anybody left a random disposable camera out for a whole day for random people to use, you wouldn't get even one guy who powers up the flash, pulls out his waistband and, well, pops a shot.

Apparently, cock shots weren't anybody else's first thought (worrisome), but once presented with the situation, most joined me in stunned disbelief. Or maybe they were just REALLY weirded out. Regardless, Mary thought the whole thing was pretty funny, as you can see from the following conversation.

Mary: ralston told me what you said about the roll of film -- it made me pee.
Nick: I sincerely do not know how there isn't a dick on that roll of film
Nick: In fact, I think he might have snipped out that frame when he posted the pics online.
Mary: i told ralston i might try that downtown and see what happens... i'm certain we would come up with cock shots...
Nick: I would hope so...if not that's strike 3 against Lawrence as far as I'm concerned
Nick: Strike 1: Goddamn hippies
Nick: Strike 2: Mutha-fuckin' hippies
Nick: Strike 3: lack of cock shots on a disposable camera
Mary: noted. i can't do anything about the hippies, but i might be able to get some cock shots on a disposable camera.
Nick: And even if you don't get cock shots, you'll at least get a few pictures of some son-of-a-bitch hippies
Nick: Just consider yourself lucky you don't have a smell-o-camera.
Mary: ooh -- lovely thought.

Lovely thought indeed, Mary. Lovely thought, indeed. But the question remains: Just what are the men of Lawrence packing? Whatever it is, I'm betting it's organic, locally grown and smells a little something like - you guessed it - hippies.

Your fave blogger (probably not) in Ink

And by "your fave" I mean "you've at least seen his blog once."

Check out the Kinney-ized version of the free local rag Ink's Office Space story here.

To my 5-7 hits per day: Sorry, yo.

As some of you may have noticed, but probably not, I haven't been posting here quite as frequently lately. The reasons for this are three-fold.

First, I have just been a busier guy lately. Between figuring out this whole home ownership thing, being swamped (and therefore frazzled in the evenings) at work and preparing for the wedding, I just haven't had as much time for the ol' blog.

Second, I don't yet have internet access at the new house, so my time on a computer is much more limited.

And third, I've been thinking about what exactly this blog is. Over the last month or two, it seems that it has become a "best of reddit" site instead of a way to further my own creative drive. Soon, I shall get back to posting more of my own writing (and I hope a few pics, too), and I guess we'll just see where things go from there.

So look out for some new posts soon -- I'm still staying busy, but I'm sure I can find 15 minutes a day to get a few words down on my digital notepad.

Until then,
NK

Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, CockSucker, MotherFucker, and Tits

I don't usually care when celebrities pass away, as most celebrities just aren't worth caring about. George Carlin, though, was a funny man with huge balls who I greatly admire.

That's all I'll say. Now, enjoy a couple of Carlin's greatest hits (thanks, YouTube):


First, on religion:


And now, the great one:

Time to get some dirt under my nails.

I went to buy my wedding band last weekend, and much to my surprise, they don't make the one I want in the size I need. I'm a size 14.5. The ring only goes up to size 13. What a predicament.

All last week I thought about shopping around or having one custom-made. I suppose that might work, but it seems like the problem isn't necessarily that the ring is too small. It just may be that my finger is too big.

So, as of this weekend, I'm going to make my life a better one. Run more. Eat (and drink) better and less. Take control of my health and my life. Because as (and talk about great advice from unlikely places) Chad Johnson in the latest ESPN Magazine:

"Some people say the grass is always greener on the other side. I say be the gardner. Water the grass. Feed the grass. Make your own grass grow.

I make the grass grow wherever I am.

I am the gardner."

Esquire? Really?

(Good) Relationship advice come from unlikely sources sometimes. Here's some from the typically annoying Esquire:

"The Faithful Man is a stranger among men. Among men, where it is an article of faith that no man is capable of sexual fidelity--that sexual fidelity is, in evolutionary terms, unnatural--the Faithful Man is considered suspect. Because infidelity is seen as entrepreneurial, he is seen as lacking in the drive and daring that make for compromised husbands and successful capitalists.

Go to a steak house: At the same table where an Unfaithful Man counts his latest conquest, the Faithful Man keeps a prim silence about his principled surrender. Even when a friend who avers that he could never stay faithful asks the Faithful Man how he does, the Faithful Man makes excuses for his success rather than boasts about it. "I dunno," he says. "I guess I have a great wife."

Among men, he accepts the moral equivalence of fidelity and infidelity, because moral judgment is one of the few deal breakers in male friendships. Among men, he presents his fidelity as a condition passively acquired--as something that just happened to him--because he doesn't want to present it as an ideal he has actively pursued. And so, among men, he has a secret, and the secret is this: He does judge. He does presume that fidelity is morally superior to infidelity. He does idealize it, and he does actively pursue it. Indeed, he knows fidelity wouldn't be worth the bother--it wouldn't even be possible--if he didn't tell himself it was the most important thing in the world.

In the absence of a sustaining mythology of male faithfulness, he has had to develop his own private one, wherein he struggles to be true not just to his wife and his family but also to himself. At issue is the question of choice, and choosing is the difference between surrender and defeat. Sure, the Faithful Man has surrendered to his vows and his marriage and, yes, his wife. But he has chosen to surrender, because the choice, as he sees it, is not between cheating and not cheating; it's between love and the utter desolation and meaninglessness of lies. He has had to draw the line in order to walk it, and he has had to give up some part of his volition in order to keep himself whole.

How does he know that he's chosen? Well, he knows he's chosen because he knows he chooses. Every day, when he wakes up to his home and his life and his wife's face on the pillow, he makes sure to say, "Yes, this," or more important, "Yes, her," because fidelity without active assent is just as futile and confining and absurd as other men say it is. Every day he chooses, every day he has to choose, every day he has to keep on choosing, every day until he's dead. And when one of his friends asks him how he does it, he's only trying to tell the truth when he mutters, "I dunno. I guess I have a great wife."

New Home.

I'm in, and I'm thrilled.




That's what he said.

Another quote, this time from a Salon.com article entitled "How Rock Band Saved My Marriage"

Life is filled with unpleasant realities. We have to watch what we eat and go to the dentist; we have to control our spending and unplug our electrical devices at night, lest we become obese and toothless, drowning in a sea of consumer debt and glacial melt. None of us can stay 18, and very few of us will ever be rock stars. It's important to acknowledge this; it's healthy. But sometimes we need to escape into a daydream in order to face what we've become, and what we will be. And if once in a while you can escape with someone else, then that's about the best you can do.

I know I'm not in my 30's or 40's yet. Hell, I'm not even technically in my mid 20's yet. But still, I see myself aging. Getting bigger. More mature. Less energetic. I'm starting to realize that if I ever want to get better or thinner or smarter, then the time is now.

Pretty soon I'll be staring at my life and I'll be too far gone to ever go back. This scares the living shit out of me.

And that's why, starting today, I'm making life a more fun, more centered and just all around better trip. Join in if you want, but brace yourself. If I know myself as well as I think I do, then it's gonna be one wild and crazy ride.

Quote

I would say I want to do a quote of the day (and I will try), but it'll probably just end up being whenever one smacks me across the face.

Here's what hit me today:

"Wars are poor chisels for carving out peaceful tomorrows."

-- Martin Luther King, Jr.

What the fuck?

OnePlusYou Quizzes and Widgets

For those of you that know me, you know this just ain't right.

Damn it! That sentence contained no fucking swear words.

OK, I think we've probably beaten that one into the ground now.

Ass.

The end is nigh.

Just take a look at this superstorm in Chile (which, by the way, hit them at the same time as a volcano eruption) and tell me I'm not right.

Clarity

Ever since the day I graduated from what today still feels like my home, I've struggled.
I've struggled with selling out.
I've struggled with the day-to-day grind.
I've struggled with what's become of my life.

But every day I see her, I regain my purpose.
She is my happiness.
She is my fun.
She is my clarity.

I come home every day to stories of pre-schoolers.
They could care less about the concept.
They could care less about the big idea.
They could care less about the best way to sell.
And they make me care about it a little less, too.

And it's oh so refreshing to forget about it all.

What's the goal in your life?
What's the objective?
What's the point?

Let me tell you.
For me, it's her.
It's them.
It's It.
And I'll never forget It.

Don't you ever, ever, ever forget It, either.
Because It, my friends,
It is all that matters.

This is the better than anything we do

I found this picture on reddit.com. Not trying to sell anything or anything. Just a picture. And it makes me want to buy the best food for my dog worse than anything we've ever created in this place.

Despite all the problems, all the fighting, all the war, America is still an OK place. Here's why:



"There was recently a report that someone in Pakistan had published in a newspaper an offer of a reward to anyone who killed an American, any American.

So an Australian dentist wrote the following to let everyone know what an American is, so they would know when they found one:

An American is English, or French, or Italian, Irish, German, Spanish, Polish, Russian or Greek. An American may also be Canadian, Mexican, African, Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Australian, Iranian, Asian, or Arab, or Pakistani, or Afghan. An American may also be a Cherokee, Osage, Blackfoot, Navaho, Apache, Seminole or one of the many other tribes known as native Americans.

An American is Christian, or he could be Jewish, or Buddhist, or Muslim. In fact, there are more Muslims in America than in Afghanistan. The only difference is that in America they are free to worship as each of them chooses. An American is also free to believe in no religion. For that he will answer only to God, not to the government, or to armed thugs claiming to speak for the government and for God.

An American is from the most prosperous land in the history of the world.

The root of that prosperity can be found in the Declaration of Independence, which recognizes the God given right of each person the pursuit of happiness.

An American is generous.

Americans have helped out just about every other nation in the world in their time of need. When Afghanistan was overrun by the Soviet army 20 years ago, Americans came with arms and supplies to enable the people to win back their country. As of the morning of September 11, Americans had given more than any other nation to the poor in Afghanistan.

Americans welcome the best, the best products, the best books, the best music, the best food, the best athletes. But they also welcome the least.

The national symbol of America, The Statue of Liberty, welcomes your tired and your poor, the wretched refuse of your teeming shores, the homeless, tempest tossed. These in fact are the people who built America.. Some of them were working in the Twin Towers the morning of September 11, 2001 earning a better life for their families. I've been told that the World Trade Center victims were from at least 30 other countries, cultures, and first languages, including those that aided and abetted the terrorists.

So you can try to kill an American if you must. Hitler did. So did General Tojo, and Stalin, and Mao Tse-Tung, and every bloodthirsty tyrant in the history of the world. But, in doing so you would just be killing yourself. Because Americans are not a particular people from a particular place. They are the embodiment of the human spirit of freedom.

Everyone who holds to that spirit, everywhere, is an American."



Let's be generous, let's be kind, let's be welcoming to all. Let's be understanding so that we may all be free. Let's be Americans.

Practice more, preach less.

Visitation Catholic Parish down on 55th and Main recently completed a $14 million renovation. They claim it is because they needed more space to accomodate an increasing number of parishoners. I went in today, and saw Italian marble tiles and custom-made solid oak pews.

Saddened, but not unsurprised by this number, I wondered aloud why they needed that much.

My mom explained that "A house of God should have nice things out of respect for Him."

"I guess," I said, "but I think feeding a few of His less-fortunate creatures would have sat well with The Big Man, too."

Good luck, boys.

I saw this photo of a bunch of guys my age headed to war on one of the social news sites. The fact that a few of them may not come back saddens me. Then I got an email from an old friend. He informed me that we have an old shared co-worker and friend on that flight across the Atlantic. Now the thought that even one of them might not come back REALLY saddens me.

Gotta love the Christian Right

Just found these 10 quotes from McCain's spiritual advisors, John Hagee and Rod Parsley. Check 'em out.

1. "Do you know the difference between a woman with PMS and a snarling Doberman pinscher? The answer is lipstick. Do you know the difference between a terrorist and a woman with PMS? You can negotiate with a terrorist."
- Pastor John Hagee in his book What Every Man Wants in a Woman (Charisma House, 2005)

2. "The Quran teaches that [all Muslims have a mandate to kill Christians and Jews]. Yes, it teaches that very clearly."
-Pastor John Hagee

Living Liberally :: Top 10 Outrageous Quotes From McCain's Spiritual Advisers
3. "I believe that the Hurricane Katrina was, in fact, the judgment of God against the city of New Orleans...I believe that New Orleans had a level of sin that was offensive to God, and they are -- were recipients of the judgment of God for that...There was to be a homosexual parade there on the Monday that the Katrina came. And the promise of that parade was that it was going to reach a level of sexuality never demonstrated before in any of the other Gay Pride parades.... The Bible teaches that when you violate the law of God, that God brings punishment sometimes before the day of judgment."
-Pastor John Hagee

4. "The military will have difficultly recruiting healthy and strong heterosexuals for combat purposes. Why? Fighting in combat with a man in your fox hole that has AIDS or is HIV positive is double jeopardy."
- Pastor John Hagee on Don't Ask Don't Tell

5. "[Gay marriage] will open the door to incest, to polygamy, and every conceivable marriage arrangement demented minds can possibly conceive. If God does not then punish America, He will have to apologize to Sodom and Gomorrah."
- Pastor John Hagee

6. "It is impossible to call yourself a Christian and defend homosexuality. There is no justification or acceptance of homosexuality.... Homosexuality means the death of society because homosexuals can recruit, but they cannot reproduce."
- Pastor John Hagee

7. "Only a Spirit-filled woman can submit to her husband's lead. It is the natural desire of a woman to lead through feminine manipulation of the man...Fallen women will try to dominate the marriage. The man has the God-given role to be the loving leader of the home."
- Pastor John Hagee in his book What Every Man Wants in a Woman (Charisma House, 2005)

8. "I cannot tell you how important it is that we understand the true nature of Islam, that we see it for what it really is. In fact, I will tell you this: I do not believe our country can truly fulfill its divine purpose until we understand our historical conflict with Islam. I know that this statement sounds extreme, but I do not shrink from its implications. The fact is that America was founded, in part, with the intention of seeing this false religion destroyed, and I believe September 11, 2001, was a generational call to arms that we can no longer ignore."
- Rod Parsley in Silent No More (Charisma House, 2005)

9. "Gay sexuality inevitably involves brutal physical abusiveness and the unnatural imposition of alien substances into internal organs, orally and anally, that inevitably suppress the immune system and heighten susceptibility to disease."
- Rod Parsley

10. "Only 1 percent of the homosexual population in America will die of old age. The average life expectancy for a homosexual in the United States of America is 43 years of age. A lesbian can only expect to live to be 45 years of age. Homosexuals represent 2 percent of the population, yet today they're carrying 60 percent of the known cases of syphilis."
- Rod Parsley

Jeez. These guys even make Obama's pastor look good.

Our little boy is all groweds up

Tonight was somewhat of a microcosm. All day I looked forward to getting a video game. I $60 shoot-em-up sign of youthfulness and time to spare. I went and got that game at midnight -- where I realized I might be getting too old for this.

And after all that trouble, the only game rated a 10 by IGN in a DECADE wasn't my best purchase of the day. That, my friends, came in the form of a 2-bedroom, 1-bathroom house with a screened-in front porch, a gorgeous back deck and a 2-car garage. I am a homeowner, folks, and I love it.

I think that Trent (aka Vince Vaughn) can better explain how I feel. Start this clip at 1:05 (then watch the whole thing, because it's pretty god-damn hilarious).

I'm doing OK these days.

As much as I sometimes hate life, at least I ain't these guys (although some days, my G3 iBook really deserves it):

I don't love the whole world

Recently, a friend and co-worker of mine posted this video on her blog:



I like it. In fact, I almost love it. There's just one problem: I don't love the whole world. In fact, I very much dislike a good bit of it.

For example:
I don't love racism
I don't love global warming
I don't love "supporting the troops" by keeping them in a hot, vast desert full of people trying to murder them.
I don't love those who mistake a sale piece for artistic expression
I don't love self-importance
I don't love free agency

And besides these, I don't love a lot of other things. Let's face it, folks, there's a lot that's easy to not love in the world we live in.

But, thank God, there are a few things on this big blue ball that I do love.

I love sunny spring days.
I love rainy spring days.
I love hellos and smiles given away to unknown passers-by.
I love good fights between loving friends.
I love Sunday afternoon baseball.
I love love.
I really love love.
I really, really, really love loving, love-filled lovederful love.
Don't you?

Touche, Bentley. Well played.

Copywriter 1: Look at what this car won.


Copywriter 2: Oh yeah? Look at what THIS car won.


Copywriter 3: OH YEAH?? LOOK AT WHAT THIS CAR WON!


Ultimate Master Writer of the Universe: Fuck awards. Bentley, motherfuckers.

We don't like to think about it this way.

Help me make a wedding

I've spent much of tonight putting a soundtrack to the happiest day of my life together. Nothing's in any order yet, and obviously some cuts need to be made before the big day, but I feel like the list is incomplete. To take a look at the list in a readable form, just click the images to make them bigger.

Anyway, I feel like the people in my life, whether they be at home, at work or back in Columbia, need to contribute.

So PLEASE, if you know who I am (and I'm guessing you do if you read this) please help me.

It's really easy to do. Just open iTunes, search for your favorite love, dance or background songs and post them in the comments section.

Sounds easy enough, right? Good -- then get to posting. I'd really love as many perspectives as I can get on this thing, as I'm sure I'm missing a few gems that you undoubtedly know all about.

Oh, and one more thing: No Jovi or Panic allowed. I'm talking to you, carpoolers.

I love you, davesecretary.

OMFG. LOL. ROFL.

These stories are funny.

Fuck the Man

I've noticed lately that a lot of my most creative, motivated days come on Sundays. I'm starting to think that that's just because I've been away from work for a couple of days.

I work on a variety of things, you see, and I'm starting to think that those dog food, bank and cell phone promotions are starting to suck my creative energy to the point that I don't have any left when I get home. Sure, I get paid for my work, but is it worth it? I don't know yet. I've not been doing this a long time, and I realize that my job affords me stability that many creative professions don't. I also know that my job affords me a great many limitations that other creative professions don't.

So what's better? Money and stability or freedom and expression? I'm not sure yet, but you can be sure I'll let you know when (or if) I figure it out.

Making the most of it.

There are lots of days I feel like this:



No, I didn't go to school for a lot of years to learn to play the piano. But what I did do was go to school for a lot of years to learn to write. I wrote story after story, poem after poem, essay after essay and ad after ad.

And then I graduated to write about dog food.

Sure, I know it's more complicated than that. I know I'm driving business and influencing people's purchase decisions and helping, in a small way, a big business get even bigger. At least that's what I tell myself when I need to feel better about it.

But my reasons, valid though they may be, just don't do it for me these days. I don't care about dog food for fat dogs or young dogs or dogs with sensitive stomachs or really fat dogs or dogs with itchy skin or dogs who puke a lot. I don't care about fucking dog food.

So what do I care about? Well, it seems I've lost track of that, too. If I looked at my current ways, I'd probably say drinking too much and watching a lot of TV. If I'm talking ideals, I'd say sports and walks in the park and movies and books and music and good food and great company.

Funny, now that I see it all there on the screen, it seems not impossible to fit it all in. In fact, it seems like with a little work, doing it all would be pretty easy.

Maybe I should get going on that.

Wow.

Most people don't think of MU as a baseball school, but the truth is we've been one of the elite programs in the country for the last couple of years and have produced several early 1st round picks in the MLB amateur draft.

The next one of those, Aaron Crow, has quite an amazing scoreless streak going. Currently, he's sitting on 42.2 innings of goose eggs.

The most amazing part? He managed to make his way out of the pit of darkness known as Lawrence (well, Wakarusa technically) Kansas, convert from the dark side and became a good kid and a Missouri Tiger. Nice to see somebody from that neck of the woods buck the trend and make the right choice for his education and career.

The Tigers face off against Texas this weekend, and Crow will be starting the Saturday game. Tune in if you want to watch an amazing young talent do some amazing things with a right arm and a baseball.

Love

I've gotten a lot of advice over the last seven years.

"Play the field," they say.
"Don't settle," they say.
"You'll know when the time is right," they say.

But the most puzzling thing to me,
the most frightening thing,
is when I hear this little nugget:

"She's going to be your life. Choose wisely."

Because I, you see, am a man of independence.
A man of my own will.
An unwavering beacon of what it is to be smart and clever and unwavering.

Sure, she's the one I love, but I have a life of my own.
I won't be held back.
My ideas and my ideals will never be compromised.
I know what's best for me, and what's best for you, too.

Or so I thought.

Then she said it.
She said the only words that have shaken me to my core.
She said the words that made me know,
after acting like it for much too long,
that I am not just about me.

"Do you want this ring back? Because I don't want it."

Oxygen leaves my chest like a shot from a gun.

Of course I don't want it back.
Please no, I don't want it back.
Jesus, just keep it on your beautiful finger.

You are the only one that keeps me going.
You are the only one that keeps me in check.
You are the only one that I never, ever, ever want to lose.

Please don't give me back the best money I ever spent.
Please don't make the best years of my life for naught.
Please, please, please don't leave.

Because in the end, sweet little girl,
you are what I really want.
You are what I am really about.
You are the most treasured part of my existence.

Please, for God's sake, just stay that way forever.
Because I don't know what I'd do without you.

I love you NIki, and I always will.
I hope you will always love me, too.

What wasteful bastards are we.

An art exhibit came out recently entitled "Running the Numbers: An American Self-Portrait." Most of the pieces featured in it are more or less pictures of just how much of many different disposable items (plastic bottles, cell phones, plastic bags, paper bags, jet fuel exhaust fumes, etc...) Americans use.

The images are absolutely mind-boggling. It's no wonder there is a trash dump in the Pacific ocean that's nearly the size of Texas.

Yes, I said there's a trash dump in the Pacific Ocean that is THE SIZE OF FUCKING TEXAS.

We've gotta do something, folks -- and sooner rather than later.

Ahhhhhh...

I think, some time during my college days, I lost my passion
my fire
my soul
my want-to.

I'm not sure exactly when or where or how or why.
I think it just drowned in beer-fueled nights and was pissed away during hung-over mornings.
It doesn't matter, really.
Because that is that past.
And I'm not going back there ever again.

I like here much better.

My brain is moving quick again.
My body is looking and feeling better every day.
Music has rekindled it's long and glorious friendship with this midwestern soul.
Baseball speaks to me again.
Reading speaks to me again.
Writing speaks to me again.
Movies speak to me again.

But best of all, lately I I just find myself wanting to get out more.
Go more.
See more.
Feel Hear Speak Listen Taste Smell Create Love more.

I've got a hitch in my giddy-up.
A spring in my step.
A smile on my face.
And the sun on my skin bathing me in a warmth and light that I haven't known for years.

Yes, I think I've found myself.
And boy does it feel good to be back.

April Fool's Day Round-Up

From Google.

From IGN

Google again, but this time Virgin got in on the act.

Hillary? Really?

YouTube: Click on any video on the front page. Then prepare to get RickRoll'd.

Twas the night before Christmas

Sure, it may not be December 24th, but for this young lad, it may as well be. Because I know that no matter what happens tomorrow, no matter how bad work is, no matter how much I hear about kU and their final four appearance, I will at least have sweet, glorious, wonderful baseball to watch all afternoon.

Thank the heavens. It has been too long.

And now, Mark Fenske's thoughts on the matter:

Leaving work to go to a baseball game will make a difference inside you.
Leaving work to go to a baseball game opens something inside your heart that advertising has been doing its best to lock up.
The quest for award-winning work keeps you at work late.
The struggle to do better than those around you makes you work through dinner, get up early, cancel the vacation you planned.
There are times these sacrifices bear fruit.
Mostly they don't.
Because greatness at writing ads comes only partly from how hard you work at reaching inside yourself.
A greater deal of it has to do with being a person worth reaching into.
Leaving work to go to a baseball game is a sign you have taken charge of your life.
It's a sign you accept death is coming and have chosen what to do about it for today.
It will do you no good to learn to write from your heart if you have nothing in your heart.
I was slow to learn this.
Here's hoping you won't be.

Go give your heart away for the afternoon to a team who can break it.
Eat the hot dogs and damn the sodium because we are for lives that are more full than they are long.

What do 4,000 dead American boys look like?

Yikes. Click for the full-size image.

How do you keep this off the field?

Joey Gathright is raw, not doubt. He's only been playing baseball since he was 17, and his bat-handling and glove-handling skills are not yet refined.

But I don't care.

This kid is not only the most athletic player in baseball, but maybe the most athletic in all of sports. Don't believe me? Just watch this video from him in college:



And this one from a spring training game last night. Keep in mind, he did all this on the fly and without any sort of pre-meditation:



And they say football players are the real athletes. Puh-leez.

Nice framing

Mike the Mad Biologist wins a gold star for this quote:

The other thing we evolutionary biologists don't do enough of, and this stems from the previous point, is make an emotional and moral case for the study of evolution. Last night, I concluded my talk with a quote from Dover, PA creationist school board member William Cunningham, who declared, "Two thousand years ago someone died on a cross. Can't someone take a stand for him?"

My response was, "In the last two minutes, someone died from a bacterial infection. We take a stand for him."

Trapped

Ever feel like you're trapped in a glass phone booth that's surrounded by cement in every direction? No? Well, here's what it would be like.

The world is coming to an end.

We just haven't figured out why yet. In stories by the Palm Beach Post and New York Times, it seems that bees, pollinator of most of America's crops, and bats, eater of most of the world's creepy-crawlies, are dying. The scary part? We have no idea why.

The government, as per the usual, is attempting to fix the problem by (what else) throwing money ($100 million over 5 years, to be exact) at the problem. As per the usual, though, the bill to acquire the money is stuck in Congress, and won't likely be passed any time soon.

Get on the Bandwagon.

I don't know if you've heard the local, regional or national rumblings about our Boys in Blue, but word is they're going to be a lot of fun to watch this season. We all know they probably aren't going to win the Series, but they're getting closer and in April, we've got just as good a chance as anybody.

If you don't believe me, check out this 2007 highlight reel to see just how good these young ballplayers can be.

Whoa, wait, wha?

That's all I could really muster. Check out the article/pics that have me baffled here.

It's here.

A buddy of mine snapped this photo in California. The only question now is this: How long before I'm paying $4 in Missouri?

This is America's Game.

Why is baseball referred to as America's pasttime? Well, this story on ESPN pretty much says it all. A legend. A legendary place. The better part of a century of history. All wrapped into one nice, sunny package in Vero Beach, FL.

Somebody tell me how River Falls could ever come close to this.

Inanity

causes insanity.

This guy is smart.

I wish more of my college professors took this approach. I know I would have made it to class a lot more often.

A quote from the genius:

"It took me a decade to come to the realization," says Lewin at his MIT office, "that really what counts is not what you cover, but what counts is what you uncover."

That sounds like pretty good advice to me.

Does this kind of scare anybody else?

I'm proud to say that in my 23 years here, I've never shot or even held an actual firearm. To be honest, I don't think I ever really want to. I just don't like the idea of wielding an object that is designed with killing in mind.

What I'd like to know about guns and America is this: what's the fucking draw? I certainly don't know, but I bet these people do.

I want to hug the enemy.

Maybe I'm just weird, but I guess I'd rather think than believe.

Can you keep up with me?

Doubtful, but if you want to find out, go here.

I am white people

Today is March 11. Today, it was warm outside for the first time in ages. Today, I am white people.

If you don't believe me, look here.

Progress.

Well, my thoughts are still all intertwined and knotted up, but slowly and surely I'm making progress to straighten them out.

A good friend and (I think) regular reader of this blog told me to do one analog thing everyday. That's helped. I'm starting to rediscover the joy of being without the information and boxed entertainment that surrounds me. Today, I just sat with the one I love and talked and talked and talked in a room with the TV and the radio and the computer off. It was fun. It made me realize that maybe always devouring knowledge and information and words and pictures and canned stories isn't such a good thing. Maybe sometimes it's better to really try to wrap your head around what you've already got instead.

I'd type more, but I'm off to think for awhile -- with the lid of this laptop closed. Lately, I seem to do it better that way.

Halo doesn't kill people. People kill people.

I saw today that some senator from Illinois (let's just call him Douche McGee) is trying to push through a bill that would help to curb the sale of violent video games to kids, parents, full-grown adults or just about anybody else who wants to get their shoot-em-up on. He's claiming that committing violence on a TV screen prepares and encourages people, and especially teens, to do the same thing in real life.

You have GOT to be kidding me.

I can tell you right now that 99.99% of gamers are jerks. They scream into their microphones. They berate you for having a negative kill-to-death ratio, for stealing their kill or even for getting in their way. They use racial epithets. They are annoying in the most annoying sense of the word.

But they are NOT killers.

I know a lot of online gamers who play FPS (First Person Shooters, for the uninitiated) games with both online and offline friends. We think they're fun. We think they're a great way to entertain ourselves for hours on end. But most of all, we think that a little meaningless online killing is a great way to relax at the end of a long, hard day at work.

All that said, here's what video games are really all about:

How are changes made?

I'm a simple guy, and I try to live a simple life. But sometimes (and by "sometimes" I mean "for the last few months") I feel like all the thoughts in my head have been tangled up together in a big undoable knot that looks something like this:



Is this normal?

Is this the mindset of adulthood?
I hope not.
But if it is, I don't really want to grow up.

Is it just because I think too much?
Possibly.
My mind, though it seems unfocused at times, is always devoting its electric pulses to one facet of life or another.

Is it because secretly, deep down inside, I secretly don't like the nest I've made for myself?
Yes.
But I think, to a degree, we all deal with that problem.

But even so, I'm just not happy,
and I never want to become the frustrated suit with a short temper.
I don't want to be the one that flips the bird at the car following too close,
or the the boss that flips out on the intern for no reason,
or the angry drunk who looks for someone to fight at the bar,
then finds her at home instead.

But what do I do to get happy?
I know I've got to slow down.
Stop shooing away the minutae of life with mind-alterers
and start welcoming them with open arms.

I know I need to start living right.
Thinking. Reading. Challenging. Expanding my mind.
Instead of sticking to the same old routine of mind-numbing entertainment from the big black box in the corner.

But what else?
How else do I start on the path to a healthier body,
and uncluttered mind
and a simpler, fuller life?

I'm going to keep searching for the answer to my question,
but, if you have a minute or two, I'd like your help, too.
How do you get happy?
How do you calm yourself?
How do you fill your days with happiness and serenity?

Tell me.
Because lately mine are full of something else.
And it smells awfully bad.

This is why I use blue.

Check out this glorious review of a simple black pen.

Just drink it from the tap

Bottled water has long been near the top of the list of things that annoy me. Here's why:

Yep, that pretty much sums it up

I've always been of the opinion that good work is good because it speaks the truth. That said, check out this good work from Grey Hong Kong:



And by the by, this may or may not (may) be a mistake I made.

The other side of the coin

I thought this comic was funny since, growing up in the upper-middle class and going to private schools as I did, I knew a lot of these little shits that couldn't find it in their heart to admit that they had it good. If you can't read the text, just click to enlarge the image.



And just in case you've complained about how much life sucks (as I know I have recently), then check out this supremely interesting photo series entitled "The Life of the American Vagabond"-- you'll be feeling pretty good about yourself by the end, I'm sure.

Hi, this is my heterosexual life partner Mario.

Few friends have stuck around since I was a small, small child. As elementary school turned to high school turned to college, most of my friends and acquaintances came and went. But these guys, digital though they may be, have always been there on a boring late summer day or a cold winter night. I think it's nice to see that they've grown as I have.

Look! I wrote that!

I was looking through a few creative portfolios yesterday, and as I was doing so I thought of an article I read recently in the Wall Street Journal about cubicle culture and how many professionals never see any results from their work aside from changing numbers on a computer screen or paper. It begins:

"When David Fahl worked for an energy reseller, which bought and sold energy from generating companies, he noticed that getting things done right wasn't always as high a priority as making deadlines, meeting deliveries or being on budget.

"You can get all those things done without doing any good work," he says. It wore on him and didn't give him a sense of accomplishment. "Not even the marketing people could come up with a plausible explanation for why the company existed," he says.

Sounds pretty bleak, eh? I thought so too. And I must say, despite all it's shortcomings, there most definitely are a few reasons why it's great to work in advertising. The results are one of them. Everything we do, everything we work on (well, minus all the stuff that gets axed), all the stuff we dream up ends up somewhere. People see it. It makes people buy something or use something or discover something.

Sure, you may say, you make stuff -- but don't most people dislike it? Don't most people hate the advertising that assaults their senses at almost every turn? Here's what I say: They don't hate advertising, they hate bad advertising. People love good advertising (I bet you giggle at those Sonic TV ads that Barkley keeps pumping out). That's why good advertising almost always sells.

And hey, even if people do dislike advertising, answer me this: Is it better to be disliked or to not exist at all?

Check out this Sonic commercial. It's definitely my personal fave:



And for the more studious/industrious/smarty pants readers, here's the Wall Street Journal article about how much the corporate world sucks.

Nobody sees the elephant in the room.

Sure, we may be involved in a war with Iraq that's cost us thousands of young American men and women, not to mention $600+ billion dollars.

Sure, we're about to begin a war with Iran that will no doubt cost us even more.

Sure, the country's being run into the ground both fiscally and politically.

Sure, we may be on the edge of a recession.

But none of that matters.

You know what we should really be worried about?

Whether or not Roger Clemens might have put a couple of syringes in his left butt cheek.

I was doomed from the start.

So, maybe that no drinking thing didn't go quite like I planned. I had a work outing Friday that, after only two days, cracked me. I drank, and by george, I liked it. I've been clean since then, though, and I think I'm starting to like cutting back. I feel better each morning, and I've started to fill my time with other activities that are much more constructive (and much less fattening).

In short, I'm not sure I can give up the booze completely, but it seems that less is definitely more when it comes to drinking lately.

The uneducated masses.

As a midwesterner, I know I've met a lot of people with this kind of mindset and this kind of ejucashun. How bout you?



The moral of this story? GO TO COLLEGE!

LOLCat Fridays

Let's make it a weekly thing. Cool? Cool.

Today it begins.

I was raised Catholic, and now (mostly out of habit) I'm feeling compelled to make my yearly Lenten season sacrifice. This year, it won't be a religious experience as much as it will be a challenge within myself. This year I'm really giving up something that is a (maybe too) big part of my life.

I'm giving up alcohol completely and totally for the next 40 days.

This place may act as a journal of sorts -- helping me document the changes that will have to occur in my life without the bottle.

I think that's it for now. Stay tuned, kids. It should be a wild and (hopefully) interesting ride.

This is why I'm a dog person.

The Dog's Diary

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!

9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!

9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!

10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!

12:00 PM - Milk bones! My favorite thing!

1:00 PM - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!

3:00 PM - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!

5:00 PM - Dinner! My favorite thing!

7:00 PM - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!

8:00 PM - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!

11:00 PM - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!



The Cat's Diary



Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine l avishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash
or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations
perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my
strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an Attempt to
disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse
and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike
fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities.
However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little
hunter" I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed
in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear
the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to
the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to
my advanta ge.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my
tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this
again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and Snitches.
The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to
be more than willing to return. He is obviously Retarded.

The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the Guards
regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have
arranged protective custody for him in an Elevated Cell, so he is safe.

For now

I'm officially buying what Ron Paul has to sell.

I've watched the debates. I've looked at the issues. And as a former Republican turned Democrat, I have to say I'm going back again. After all that I've seen, his audacity, his intelligence -- but most of all his honesty -- just blow me away. In his 10 terms in Congress (at least from what I can see from his voting record), Dr. (That's right, folks. He's an OBGYN.) Paul has never wavered on his stances. He's never participated in the double-talk and constant outright lying that other candidates seem so adept at and willing to do.

But what draws me most this elderly man with the grandfatherly manner is the fact that he draws support from people of all ages, classes, races, political affiliations and NATIONALITIES (he is the only candidate with meet-up groups in other countries). Oh, and by the way, he's got the official support of the most military veteran groups in the country. I mean, how can a guy getting support from such a diverse group that is so representative of our diverse country have anything less than great ideas?

But you don't have to believe me. After all, I'm just an everyday citizen like you. But at least take a look at the guy's record. In today's world of pandering, paid-off politicians, these facts alone almost win my vote:

Ron Paul has never voted to raise taxes.
He has never voted for an unbalanced budget.
He has never voted for a federal restriction on gun ownership.
He has never voted to raise congressional pay.
He has never taken a government-paid junket.
He has never voted to increase the power of the executive branch.

He voted against the Patriot Act.
He voted against regulating the Internet.
He voted against the Iraq war.

He does not participate in the lucrative congressional pension program.
He returns a portion of his annual congressional office budget to the U.S. treasury every year.

And now, here's the media. Within these videos you can see his stances, his supporters and the Ron Paul Revolution that may just be a lot bigger and a lot more important than any of us thought it could be. So just watch. I'm not going to preach to you anymore, mostly because I feel that when you hear what Ron Paul has to say, I won't have to.







To find out more about Dr. Paul, or if you think you might want to donate a few dollars to help the cause, go to:

www.RonPaul2008.com

Celebrities: They really aren't any better than you.

In fact, they're probably worse.



A short thought on all the celebrity endorsements of various presidential candidates (Oprah for Obama, Angelou for Clinton, Nugent for Paul, etc.): Who the hell cares? Is Oprah or Maya Angelou or Ted $%#@*^ Nugent any more qualified to make an informed political decision than some bum on the street? Doubtful. I get the feeling that they choose a candidate based on image and mud-slinging just like everybody else does.

See, even Jayhawks don't like Jayhawk country

Nice (if old) quote from Drew Gooden in the Lawrence Journal-World. He uttered this gem when a reporter asked him about a rumor that he might be drafted by the Grizzlies to play in Memphis.

"I lived in Kansas," Gooden said, smiling, "and that's probably the worst it can get. But Memphis probably isn't that bad."

How did we arrive here?

As some of you may know, I just don't buy organized religion. I was raised Catholic, and after 21 years of believing firmly in God and His son, it just got to the point where Catholic "teaching" and doctrine seemed like nothing but mysticism.

That said, I truly respect people who believe in a higher power. They possess a faith and commitment that just isn't in me at this point in my life. What I can't respect, though, is when those who believe in organized religion (and Christianity in particular) start to think that their faith somehow ties in to their nationality.

I mean, just look at this:



When did we stop looking to the founding fathers for advice on how to run things? When did God become a public officer? Shouldn't all these politicians who seem so keen on serving the Lord be realizing that calling in the ministry and not the government?

I don't know, but I certainly think that, at least when it comes to running a country, we might want to start looking more at the words in the Constitution, and less at those in the Bible.

So, uh, what are you up to Friday?

I rarely sweat the small stuff.
I'd rather have fun.
I'd rather fly by the seat of my pants,
because life always seemed to be more fun
when I couldn't see past the weekend.

I like not seeing what's next.
I like not caring what's next.
It gives me a certain power over the world,
or at least I think it does.
It's my way of saying
"You may be able to flip me
and dip me
and turn me around,
but you can't lick me, world,
because I'll just stride a little different,
and glide on by whatever you can give me."

But lately, it seems I don't want to fly as much.
I want to plan.
I want to see around the next corner.
For once, I want to look before I leap.

Maybe I'm growing up.
Or maybe I know that what I do now,
in these next few years, will guide my life
forever.

Forever. Wow.
That's a long way past the weekend.

We know what you want, but we just can't admit it.

I work in advertising, and my particular agency has a couple of pretty good research folks. They're always looking for facts, figures and tidbits about what our consumers really want from their ads. They tell us about demographics, generational gaps and what each target audience likes, dislikes, desires, avoids and aspires to.

But (with all due respect to ad research departments everywhere) this is all people really long for:

Here's the mandatory Heath Ledger post.

My parents always told me that God does everything for a reason. I never believed them. I didn't see how my God (when I believed he existed) could create wars in which thousands died. I didn't see how he could create husbands and fathers that beat the life out of their wives and children. And I didn't see how he could take some of his young, talented creations from their existence before their time.

It's not that I didn't think God was capable, mind you. It's just that I could never find a reason for it. Well, I just talked to the guys down at Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, and they let me in on a little secret.

God killed Heath Ledger because he hates fags and anybody that played one in the movies once.

That's right folks. Heath Ledger died because he helped to further the gay agenda by playing a gay cowboy.
And the Westboro Baptist Church Fightin' Bigots are gonna tell us about it.
On TV.
At Ledger's funeral.

Which leaves me asking one question: If God does everything for a reason, then what on earth was his reason for creating hate-mongers like these?

This could NEVER happen.

Why couldn't Dubya get impeached for receiving a blowjob? Because only Democrats get blowjobs -- Republicans would rather give them.



Seriously though, when we're speaking of impeachment, what's worse: One not-so-innocent extramarital BJ or sending 3,000 Americans to die?

Kurt Vonnegut is smarter than me.

Jerk. Being all "Oooooh I'm not smart I just have a lot of common sense but I'm really a genius but I don't like to say so. Oooooh."

The least funny comic strip you'll read today

This strip, dated September 17, 2001 rings pretty true. It's a little bit scary that a lot of people saw exactly what was going to happen, and we marched into this shit-storm anyway.

More Venn Diagram Madness

Sarcasm + Graphic Representation + Geek = Hilarity. Check it out here.

And just for fun, here are some of my favorites:

These guys put the Fun in Fundamentalist

Happened upon the top 100 quotes from fundamentalist christian message boards today, and let me tell you, they are pretty great. I'm not sure how a being armed with a pretty advanced human brain could say some of these things and really believe them.

Here are some of the best:

"There are a lot of things I have concluded to be wrong, without studying them in-depth. Evolution is one of them. The fact that I don't know that much about it does not bother me in the least."

"I can sum it all up in three words: Evolution is a lie."

And my absolute favorite: I call it "Your God cannot help you now."

"This is what it would be like, if the majority of people were athiests.

ATHIEST KID: Mom, I'm going to go fuck a hooker.
ATHIEST MOM: Okay, son.
ATHIEST KID: Afterwards, I'm going to go smoke pot with my friends, since it's "not addictive."
ATHIEST MOM: Okay, come home soon!

The athiest kid leaves the room. The father comes home from work several minutes later.

ATHIEST DAD: Hey!
ATHIEST MOM: Hi, honey! I'm pregnant again. I guess I'll just get another abortion, since "fetuses don't count as human life."
ATHIEST DAD: Okay, get as many abortions as you want!
ATHIEST MOM: Oh, and don't go in the bedroom.
ATHIEST DAD: Why not?
ATHIEST MOM: There are two gay men fucking eachother in there.
ATHIEST DAD: Why are they here?
ATHIEST MOM: I wanted to watch them do it for awhile. They just aren't finished yet.
ATHIEST DAD: Okay, that's fine with me!

Suddenly, their neighbor runs into the house.

ATHIEST NEIGHBOR: Come quick, there's a Christian outside!
ATHIEST MOM: We'll be right there!

The athiest couple quickly put on a pair of black robes and hoods. They then exit the house, and run into the street, where a Christian is nailed to a large, wooden X. He is being burned alive. A crowd of athiests stand around him, all wearing black robes and hoods.

RANDOM ATHIEST: Damn you, Christian! We hate you! We claim to be tolerant of all religions. But we really hate your's! That's because we athiests are hypocritical like that! Die, Christian!

THE END

Scary, isn't it?"

Scary indeed.

Feel free to check out the rest of these funny yet rather disturbing fundie quips here.

I'd say I've been busy, but I haven't.

Maybe a post late tonight, maybe tomorrow...there's much to talk about.

What do you think?

Well, I've been doing this for a while now, writing my words for you and your computer screen. Now I want to ask you to write a few for mine. What do you think of my blog? My posts, my style, my humor -- all are up for comment and critique.

So whether it's your first time here or you're a regular reader, give me your comments. I'd love to know what all of you out there in the digital dimension think.

That's it for today. Comment away, guys (and gals too, I guess).

Why I love evangelicals.

Here's a page from a kid's coloring book put out by a midwestern mega-church that's all about world religions. For those of you that can't read the copy, it goes something like this:

"This man is of India.
He is praying to his god.
His god cannot help him.
This man must know about Jesus.
Can you think of some ways to help him?"

Pretty bigoted, eh? I'm sure that the chrisitian God would love the exclusion and lack of respect that these white bread born-agains show towards those with other beliefs. Because surely Jesus doesn't like acceptance and respect for others.

It's late, but hey, better than never, right?

Well, it just turned to the 9th of January now,
And I've finally given some thought to my New Year's resolution.
I think, this year, I'm going to make this one a fuller year than the last.
I want to make more of every day.
I want to appreciate the finer things in life,
and the simple ones, too.
I want to watch a sunset or two,
read a bit more,
write a bit more,
think a bit more,
but most of all, just live a bit more.
I want to push the boundaries of my brain a bit further.
Explore the dark nether-regions that are as yet undiscovered up there.

Maybe that means I should use a few more words. Maybe I should start expressing myself in more complicated, more grandois ways that more fully and deeply express what the firing neurons in my head are trying to formulate on my paper, in my thoughts, and in my words.

Or maybe
more
brevity
is
better.

Maybe that means a more lyrical style,
Maybe I should give that a trial,
Sure my rhymes are usually vile,
But I'd probably get better after a while.

More description might be nice as well. Painting a vivid picture for one's small, undedicated readership can lead to great, sweeping satisfaction akin to that of a...man, I'm not very good at this either.

But that's OK.

Exploring, sometimes, means realizing what you aren't good at,
and refusing to let it stop you from trying.
Never never never stop trying.
Never never never stop exploring.

And now for something completely different.

I saw this and couldn't help but laugh. Those are about all I learned in math class, too. Wait. Not true. I also learned how to get really good at Ti-86 games.

This is how I know

I went out and about the neighborhood today.
My girl and I have decided that once we are wed,
we'll need a house to make a home out of.
We looked at lots,
we liked a few,
and we loved one.
A little bungalow by our favorite video store.
It's not much.
Two bedrooms,
an office,
a beautiful screened-in porch,
and a lot of the charm that old houses bring.
It's simple and quirky and it's aging well.
We think it fits us pretty well,
and we hope it might in the future, too.
I think it probably will.

Winter has sprung.

It's 60 degrees today.
Thank you, Mother Nature.
Sometimes, when the gloom and doom stretch on for months,
I wonder if you're there.
Then,
right when I'm at the breaking point,
right when I'm ready to pack it in,
right when the clouds start to look a little too ominous,
you give me one of these beautiful,
sunny,
warm
days to get me through.

Thoughts on college football.

I just finished watching the Orange Bowl, and now that the season's officially over for the only two teams that really matter around these parts, I have some thoughts. They are presented below in a handy-dandy numbered list.

1. Aqib Talib was quoted as saying "One of the reasons we want to win this game (the Orange Bowl) is to prove that we belong here and Missouri doesn't." KU won, and did indeed take steps to prove they are a real live football program. They didn't, however, prove that Missouri isn't.

2. No matter what all the rabid kU fans that I know tell me, MU is still the better team of the two. We beat kU. We won our division. We finished the year 1st in total offense, and total defense in the Big XII North. All while playing a tougher schedule.

3. If kU really is for real, and it appears that they are, I wish that they would've played a real schedule to prove it. I just don't think you can shrug off the doubters when there were only 9 team in division 1A football that had an easier schedule than you. Mark Mangino said in his pre-game press conference for the Orange Bowl that "people don't remember who you played in September in December." If this is true, I find it odd that he was responding to a question about how weak kU's schedule was this year.

4. Mark Mangino needs to drop a few pounds for the sake of his team. They wouldn't be nearly as good without him.

5. Say what you want, Jayhawks. Just remember, remember the 25th of November. 36-28, and it wasn't really even that close.

6. Let me say it again. We beat you. By a sound margin. And we won the division. Sure, you lost one less game than us, but that game you didnt't lose was one you couldn't play in.

A COUPLE DAYS LATER: So, uh, why did I get so worked up about that? I don't even really care much any more. Such is the nature of sports, I guess.

Belated: This is why I always feel bad at Christmas.

For those of you who don't have superhuman vision, the copy says:

Handbag: $32
Food for a week: $4

Kind of makes you wonder how many people you could feed with those 4 Wii games you (and by "you", I mean "I") got a few days ago. But then, wondering won't put food in the mouths of the hungry, will it?