Friday, March 21, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Now let me get this straight, Becky. If Al Sharpton assumes I am a racist due to the color of my skin, and I feel this assumption is unfair, and feel the slightest bit peeved by it, my annoyance at this proves that I am a racist? What else could we prove through this method?
Blacks, like Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson ... assume there is racism, until proven otherwise. And there is certainly a very valid reason for their assumption, and the fact that a lot of whites are irritated by the attitude proves it. (Emphasis mine)
Am I proven to be a misogynist because I dislike when women think I am a misogynist because I am the proud owner of a penis? Or could we prove Rev. Sharpton a racist by my assuming he hates white people because he's black, then having him express dismay at me for making a racist assumption?
No, the only things the above would prove is I am annoyed when people assume I am racist, dislike when women assume I am misogynistic, and Al Sharpton would become dismayed for assuming he's racist.
I have proven though, Becky needs a beginning course in logic.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
For those of you without kids: imagine you just got as a gift: a top of the line BluRay player, complete with Bose surround sound system and 40" plasma screen. Now after, using the best of your new system's capabilities for a few months, suddenly the only thing will play is BioDome. In mono. And the disc has scratches on it. And you think the person who gave you all this cool stuff is going to take it away because you took lousy care of it, but you know you took great care of it, including using fiber optics instead of regular cable, cleaning the dust off everyday, and turning it off at night at a decent hour. Okay, so you didn't clean the dust of every day, but that wouldn't make it break, would it? It's not like you took a hammer to it or dropped it in a swimming pool. But this is a precision instrument. Maybe a little dust could hamper performance. So you call up that techie friend of yours, Doc. Doc looks at your setup and says, "looks like you've got a little Pauly Shore infection." He pulls out a screwdriver. Well, you're pretty sure it's a screwdriver, but you've never seen one like this before. He turns one of the screws on the sound system a half a turn clockwise, and the stereo sound returns. He hands you the screwdriver and tells you to turn one screw a quarter turn clockwise twice a day for the next ten days, and everything will be fine. After that, what's left of the screwdriver will be useless, so don't try to use it anymore, but don't use it any less than that either.
Doc never asked if your stuff got dusted every day, if you used cable, or what time you shut it off each day. This all seemed very normal to him, like Pauly Shore is on every new TV in world once in a while.
Friday, November 16, 2007
don't know it yet, the American people thank you.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
Eventually, I will break down, and faithful readers of this blog may one day know my address. I know one of the keys to good writing is being specific, and my being paranoid to the point of not be able to talk about anything I care about is definitely at odds with that. I may even post a picture or two of someone I've actually met one day. So, to help the confused reader, I start with this post a series of cast biographies.
Godzilla's pretty amazing, and I want to be him when I grow up. I want to live with the knowledge that if I jump from the seventh step of the stairs, someone will catch me, and if no one catches me, someone will come make me feel better. (Both regular occurrences, except we're lucky if it's only the seventh step.) I want to have heroes again. He thinks I can scare away monsters, and because he thinks it, it's true. He thinks his grandmother knows the lyrics to every song ever written, and his grandfather is the funniest person on the planet.
I fear his sometimes excessive television watching has stunted his imagination, and its use as a babysitting tool started at way too early an age for him. As I have stated previously, I am not home as often as I would like to be, and I have very little control over this. Also, Sunday is for football. This is a tradition he will understand soon enough. Most of his television watching comes under Lost Sheep's (his mother) watch, but those are issues that I'd rather not discuss right now (For Lost Sheep's sake, not for mine).
He lives in a house with Mothra (his sister), Pollyanna (his grandmother), Cuddly Porcupine (his grandfather), and myself. His grandparents are currently his legal guardians. I gave him the moniker Godzilla because he's two, and he's good at it.