request for proposals for new team

There were no seven stages of grief when the US team got their plane tickets home today. As the day has progressed, I find that once again, I'm basically just disappointed. Our side, when it counted, played miserably. There is some amount of anger at the unfairness of a lot of what happened over the three games we played. There were several wrongly called fouls that resulted in cards, and as far as I know, the US is the only team to suffer two bloody faces due to elbows. There is some anger at the dives and the crying that I saw that seemed sometimes to result in called fouls, and I'm not just talking to Italy here. I'd like to think that our side was a little more honest in this regard, but I'm sure everyone thinks his or her team is the only one who doesn't try the dive.

So, I'll go through a few people that stood out on the US team, and I'll bitch about them as I see their performance deserves.

I'll start with that damn Landon Donovan. I'm over his smug looking ass. I've loved him in spite of the fact that he is the last guy we want as the face of the team. He just looks like everything the world hates about the US, the smugness combined with some sort of uppity airs. But when he decides to play, he really can. I won't deny that he can score goals. Why didn't he in Germany? I don't know. I'm waiting for DC United to pick his ass apart really soon. That's how irritated I am with him.

Brian McBride, please come home and play in the MLS and help this country get soccer wise. This guy personifies so much of what I love in the game. He went out and busted his ass for the most part. I'd like to have seen more of him, but he certainly made a lot of plays.

Clint Dempsey deserved to be on the field more than just about anyone else on the team. I'm not at all surprised that he scored the one goal we earned. If the US is ever going to not suck at the international level, I am quite certain that Clint will be a part of it. He may be the one person with whom I am not disappointed on the entire team.

As far as the referees, it can be said that the US suffered from some really bad calls. I have to wonder if this is that common soccer sickness where we blame the refs in the end. No one can argue that the US was dealt a fair amount of bad calls and improper cards. Many other teams can claim the same thing, but no other team seems to have paid quite so dearly. But, even this doesn't excuse that of our two goals in three games, we only earned one of them. The refs ruined Italy, but Ghana and the Czech Republic just beat us.

So now I need a new team in the World Cup. I'm leaning toward Brazil, and not because they are the favorites. I have loved watching Brazil play, with the exception, till today, of Ronaldo. Watching him today, I finally understood what his fat self was capable of. Brazil play the game exactly how it should be. They play the game like most players strive to. How is it that one country seems to have produced so many selfless players that would rather take the ball than the foul? That's one thing that seem most impressive about them. They don't seem to get fouled that much. Instead of falling down, they just try harder and win the ball. And they don't wing so many wild shots over the goal. They work the ball around and then, more often than not, they peg the ball straight into the goal keeper. They certainly make the keeper earn their keep, but in the end, the constant barrage of passes, all with the eye on the shot that's worth taking, all the while denying you the chance to even introduce yourself to the ball. And they seem to take turns shooting, regardless of who the star is.

My first pick for a new team might actually be Mexico, because they are our neighbors. Yes, I can be a geek like that. That's basically how I picked DC United in the MLS. I think, without actually looking, that DC may just be the closest city with an MLS team. I have a sneaking suspicion that we are about to get even more acquainted with Mexico than we have been in the past. We've certainly got our share of Mexico in the US, and that is only going to increase. I personally have no issues with that. I have this odd desire to one day move to Mexico and open an American restaurant. But in terms of soccer, closer association with Mexico might just help our side get better. Maybe what we need is more play between the Americas.

Other than today's game, I have loved Ghana. I didn't not love them today, but I wanted the US to advance. Ghana played beautiful soccer and earned their way into the next round. I might actually go with them as my favorite to win the cup. I am of course concerned because they immediately face Brazil. So that's a hard game to pick a favorite. Ghana might just be hungry enough for the win that Brazil doesn't stand a chance. Perhaps Brazil, with no yellow card issues, has the best chance of winning, but Ghana is more than welcome to surprise everyone some more. How cool would an African team winning the World Cup be?

I'm ending with Bruce Arena. I don't know what it's like to coach at the international level. But I have coached a number of AYSO teams in the time that Big Brother has been playing. And I am quite aware that U8 experience doesn't qualify me to make too bold a statement here. Having said that, I can think of a number of US players that I would have liked to see more of. But I'm done. It's over. Tomorrow is another day, and I might just take a break from soccer for the day. That's how much the US team upset me today. That's probably not true. I'll watch it because it's on and because this is some of the little soccer I'm guaranteed over the course of the year.

is this appropriate?

I'll start with the comic book because that's where this post and the muse and myself, and here we are. Big Brother asked, in reference to a Paul Pope comic book, "is this appropriate?" He's learned that certain items in the household library are things that Momma and I have deemed inappropriate. His reading level is to a point where I honestly worry about some of the things that he could read. I wonder sometimes whether this should be a concern, but I also know that I want to give him room to grow some. I think there are certain things that children may not be ready for. Should a seven year old be reading Kurt Vonnegut? He is perfectly able to, but should he?

I feel as though I should say that my ideas of appropriateness may differ greatly from those of many parents. Certainly the family that seems to represent homeschooling has vastly different ideas than I have. But, accepting that each family is as individual as the members that make up that family, are we so different?

When Big Brother asked his question, my mind went through a litany of questions concerning this book's content. It's a basic scifi story, teen girl superhero, not presented sexually, artwork is really great, so he should read the thing. It's a great book, and there isn't anything that Momma or I would not want him reading.

But then I am forced to remember, even if only for a moment, that I could learn the lesson. Kids don't often wait till we are ready. They go and hear things, or they read the book of short stories with that one really creepy Ray Bradbury story. Or my favorite, when your sharing with your child a favored movie, and that one scene comes on that you had completely forgotten was in the movie, and you just kind of let it go and wait for whatever happens. But, hey, that's homeschooling/life.

The real concerns concerning appropriateness concern that ability to see things in a broader context. Mark Twain is a perfect example. He uses language that is very racist, yet he himself was not racist but wrote in the dialect of the day. It's a not uncommon practice, but how does a child know this? He has no context in which to place the word "darky," so we have to be sure to explain it. But I also want to let him have a little more innocence. I don't want him to know just yet that some people are racist, that such ugliness exists. I want my boys to be open and accepting, and I want them to learn how to truly judge the character of a person. But that's tempered by wanting them to not be ignorant and naive.

And here's the sad part of this whole thing. The comic in question is sitting out because I was looking for some good images of the feminine form to practice drawing while working on some ideas for Momma's roller derby team logo. From the comic being out we jump to me and Momma BC (before children) mid to late '90's and our then growing comic collection. That was one of the things to feel the bite of changing financial prerogatives. While I do have some great comics, and I have missed a few years worth of Blade of the Immortal, they certainly aren't worth the value of the two boys who pushed the comics to the back of the line. And yes, Paul Pope is good for kids, and tomorrow, I'm going to make sure that Big Brother stretches his small self out in the floor. This is a big comic by the way, 9.5"x13" as opposed to whatever size comics usually are. But Paul Pope's art works so perfectly in a larger size.

I don't know that we learned anything here today, but maybe we started a dialogue that will lead to healing, or just not being hippies!

family path to unschooling

Thinking back for me is always a fun game. I know for a fact that I don't have the best memory. I'm sure there was more to my childhood than I remember, but sometimes, I think maybe it isn't a memory issue after all. Maybe my childhood was either A) so bland or B) so odd, that nothing really stands out.

I really am going to get to our home education decision, though I may choose to circle it a few times and make a long boring story out of a nearly pleasant anecdote. Having said that, we'll reapproach my childhood, that crazy fundamentalist Baptist home that I was raised in. I know that my parents love me, and I love them. I really do come from a great family, even if I do question so, so much of what I was once taught. I know that one of my six brothers must be aware of my own spiritual notness as he has read some things I wrote when I tried to keep up with my Myspace blog. I happened to bitch about the Pope's untimely demise. Go there and read it if you want. I still think it's a funny story.

It wasn't till I'd gotten some distance from my family and made friends with more normal backgrounds that I realized how different my own youth had been. Honestly, having no friends outside of church and school, especially when they are the same place, just isn't the best way to be. There were a couple of church friends that didn't attend out school as well as school friends who attended other churches, but they weren't the norm there.

Beyond a glaring lack of any lasting knowledge, I have few complaints about the school I went to. I certainly learned enough to get along, but I really feel that I've learned much more outside of school, and I've learned more about some of the things that I was supposed to learn there very recently as a home educating parent. That may be my own biggest problem with schools and the concept of teaching children as it seems to exist now. I also learned what part god plays in science and history. I'm sure she showed up in the math at some point. If I try hard enough, I can remember the pledge to the Bible and the christian flag, and yes they do exist. Did I mention the paddling room?

My wife had a very typical life of hell in public schools. Her stories are not nearly as bad as some I've heard, but just naming a few is bad enough. When she hit a boy that grabbed her breast, she was punished. There was middle school where she was constantly targeted for all sorts of taunts and insults because she dared to have been part of a family without the financial wherewithal to bow to all the latest trends.

So, in one corner we have Pop with his scary fundy schooling, and in the other corner we have Momma with a sadly typical story of the horror that is American public schooling. It's not hard to imagine why our boys won't likely soon see the inside of anyone else's idea of a school.

Apart from what I now recognize as the untruth in my own schooling, one thing that really stands out, one of those big time memories that I personally have of school, the thing that always says school to me, the buzzing sound of the lights. Yes, that's the thing I really remember.

When it's all said and done, Momma and I have one big hairy reason for why our kids won't be going to school. I mean no disrespect to public school kids, but they just don't seem to turn out very smart most of the time. It's not that they are ruined or stupid or unable to learn, but schools are very good at one thing. They can suck every bit of fun out of learning. The one thing that children do better than anything else, the one thing that lasts a lifetime, and they stomp it till it's dead, then they chop it up into pieces and burn it. And as soon as you think that learning is hard or unpleasant, then you're screwed.

Here is my baseball example. How many little boys have grown up with a love of baseball? How American is it to love baseball with it's own special code of math (yes math dad gummit) and stats? And how many little boys pore over this and soak in it yet fail the math test on Friday? It's not hard to make math relevant and interesting, but sadly, it's also not hard to make it cold and difficult. Teaching kids isn't nearly as productive as letting them learn, and it saves a lot of time and difficulty and resentment when kids are able to learn the things they need. Kids learn early in life that anything worth doing is worth figuring out. If this were not the case, bicycles would not still exist and soccer balls would never bounce from the foot to the head.

You can't pick when a child is going to care about The Revolutionary War. But you can easily explain the meaning behind the upcoming Independence Day celebrations, and that can turn into a fun way to learn about war and history and the beginnings of our America. And if Big Brother doesn't get it this year, well, there's next year, or maybe he'll come around in the fall. And it's not just for kids. And here comes the clincher, the why providing the education of our kids ourselves rocks. We can get to all those things we didn't get to learn when we were in school along with our kids. My new book, and I'm on a history kick right now, is 1976 by David McCullough.

We've looked at math and history, so I feel I should mention the next big school subject, and this is another one that used to make me cringe. Now it just makes me feel a little duh, but it's kind of not my thing. I'm just not a sciencey kind of guy. I would wager that more interest in science starts with mud and bugs than with a text book and memorizing the periodic table.

I never stopped hating school. I never liked school from any point that I can remember. I will admit that maybe I'm carrying some of that over into my parenting. I don't apologize for how I feel about school, as I'm sure is obvious to any/everyone. My own feelings about schools however only partly influenced my feelings about my own kids going to school. While I did hate school, I only recently realized just how ineffective the school system is. Having kids just does that to you.

And that's the long, painfully long version of the story. And if you're lucky, it's the whole story and not just chapter one. But for us, my family, it's not even chapter one but more of a preface. It's our book that we write over the span of our days, all these great things that we are going to learn together. Oh, the places we'll go!

almost missed the whole game

I am not posting at the moment about soccer, though it has to do with the Spain versus Tunisia game. I missed the game, watching most of the last ten minutes. I watched Tunisia, because of a stupid foul in the box, give up all chance of winning a game that they looked as if they might have a chance at winning.

The story here is about a flag I saw waving wildly among the Spanish fans. In the sea of red and yellow, someone is flying that old Southern American standard, the stars and bars. Living in the American South, I'm used to seeing the rebel flag. But you don't expect to see it in Germany being waved by a fan of Spain's men's national soccer game.

If anyone has any idea what's up with this, I'd love to know.

the daleks

Have you ever realized that quiet noise is actually your child? I know, my child isn't a noise in my ear, but as parents, you learn how to tune in when it's necessary. The Boy is behind me, about ten feet away playing with something, I think part of a Mega Block robot fighter thing. It's basically Mega Blocks' tragically sucky answer to Bionicles.

He is also playing where most of his Thomas stuff lives, so I'd assumed he was playing with the engines. I can hear him as he plays, but we are the only ones home, so his playing has a quiet personal note that's not usually possible with Big Brother here also.

What finally caught my ear as he was playing was him repeating something. I don't know how long he'd been saying it when I finally realized he was saying, "exterminate, exterminate" in his best Dalek voice. Next came the sound of someone being exterminated. And I never really thought he paid that much attention to Dr. Who. Big Brother will watch it with me and actually has reminded me about it. What great kids!

World Cup, grass and slipping

I know I'm not a professional soccer player. I know that I don't play on fancy fields with seating for 70,000 screaming fans. I play in front of the subs and someone's girlfriend. I don't play on fancy grass. I don't know about grass other than green and some of it grows faster.

But why in tarnation am I watching so many people slipping in the World Cup? I've lost my feet before. I'll do it again this fall on a rainy day. And I know charging and hitting the brakes, sometimes you slide. But are these fields right? I've seen more divots in the World Cup than at the anger management class' golf outing.

I'm not sure if it's a single stadium issue or what. I just know that it seems to me like a lot of people are just slipping at odd moments and falling down. I'm not talking fouls and dives. I'm plenty familiar with what soccer players can come up with. Maybe I just haven't watched enough international soccer.

finally started missing games

I knew it was coming. I knew I'd never last trying to watch each World Cup game. But I almost tried, and that's what counts.

I think it started Sunday, whatever game came first. I didn't watch it. Up to that point, I'd certainly watched a fair portion of each game, and I did start the day with whatever game was well into the late minutes. I was also doing my morning thing, the smoke and the coffee mostly, possibly some bathroom issues.

Mexico and Iran, I mostly saw all of. We were meeting friends for brunch, so we waited till half time to haul ass downtown to the brewery. We had a perfect table near a tv, and of course the staff was fine with me changing the channel. We were the only customers watching the tv anyway. However, we couldn't have any sound as there was a jazz band playing louder than was necessary. Also, the bloody marys tasted like sweet ketchup. The beer was awesome, but that's the best thing they have going for them. I used to work there, and I noticed that none of the Mexicans were there. The staff was all two extremes of human coloration with none of the middle tones. They were home watching their side win three points.

I really wanted Iran to do well, mostly because our fearless leader is being kind of a butthole to them right now. I'd love for them to ditch the mullahs and just deal with the fact that we aren't all going to be equally religious, but we certainly have our people here in the US that need to hear that same message. That isn't to say I wanted them to win. I can't help but want the cup to come to the Americas. I'm partial to my own side, and I'll extend that hemispherically.

Speaking of Americas, Argentina beat the ever loving crap out of Serbia and Montenegro. I'd have loved to see that game, but the sleeping and a late errand disallowed all soccer viewing except for today's Mexico match against Angola.

Mexico versus Angola, so of course there's the Americas. But I've loved watching all the new teams. It seems like there have been a lot of first time teams, and they are of course all the underdogs. I often find that I will pull for the underdog when I don't have some other more sensible reason for picking a team. Unless they're playing the US, I always love to watch Mexico. I can't say I've seen that many games, and I'm sure if I have, it's probably been against the US. Both teams played admirably. Poor Angola never quite got the attack they needed. Mexico, for all their effort, just couldn't beat the goal keeper. That man alone kept Angola from giving up the game. The whole team certainly played well, but Mexico was better today, even if the game ended in a draw.

I'm kind of worried about tomorrow. US is playing Italy in a game that we really need to win. I'm going to be extremely disappointed if they piss the game away like they did in the first game. If they do, I'm going to send them an angry email. It will make them feel so bad that they will hang up their cleats and leave soccer. That isn't a concern though, because they are going to win. They are then going to beat Ghana and eventually advance to the final round where they will either beat England or bust their asses to a draw against either Brazil or Mexico. So say I.

where's the cup?

I've been a little lax the past couple of days. I only got up early enough for the 9:00 am game once since the beginning of the World Cup. And I completely missed the first two games today, though I missed very little of Germany versus Poland, and I definitely watched Brazil and Croatia yesterday.

I've probably mentioned not getting to often see international soccer matches, so I really haven't gotten to watch Brazil play very often. Of course we are all aware of Ronaldinho and Ronaldo, but honestly, it doesn't do the Brazilian team justice not to mention them all. I'm not going to, but . . .

I don't know when I've ever seen eleven guys having that much fun on the pitch. They put the ball everywhere it needed to be. They snuck in from nowhere on defense and jogged off with the ball, turning the game constantly back toward the Croatian goal. I absolutely loved Emerson, one of Brazil's midfielders. It's hard to judge his age, but his hair line makes him seem a bit old, especially on the field of such beautiful hair on so many other players. Back to Emerson though, for all his just not quite looking physically like someone you'd expect to see there, he was just as valuable to the team as anyone. I mention him only because he stuck out, and I mention him because he was such a perfect example of the whole team.

Watching Brazil play almost makes me lean toward cheering for them. You can't help but fall in love with these guys after ninety minutes. I'm a good ol' US boy though, and I really expect a hell of a game from them Saturday. We play Italy who are also expected to do well in the World Cup. My second team of choice, behind the US is Mexico. I guess I feel more connected with the Americas than with Europe. Other than England, who I may have mentioned my disdain for, I don't really care either way about the Europeans. Having said that, you can imagine who I'm cheering for tomorrow.

Yes, tomorrow we get to see England again. They are playing Trinidad and Tobago. I enjoyed T&T's first game, so hopefully they'll get their three points tomorrow against the lobster backs. HeeHee, Revolutionary War humor, heehee!

The Boy is on the sofa, having just informed me that he is ready to read. If that's the case, then he's on his way to bed. One nearly down, one in the bath almost ready to go!

couple links

I'm tired of writing about soccer, and I haven't been especially diligent in writing about anything else lately. I'm going to squeeze a post out with some links of things that I've found interesting lately.

I forget how I became aware of this first entrant. I've enjoyed the art at the first link often in my bloglines before exploring further. The first, Process Recess is the artist's blog. From there I had to go to the profile and then to the "My Webpage" link to find out more. While tooling around in there I came across an illustration for a magazine article that really stood out. The picture really stood out. I know nothing of the article. Before you go to the picture, in case I haven't already run off the last of anyone who might have stopped by searching homeschooling, I will tell you that you might think the picture is dirty. It is, but if you don't think you'll be able to get past that, be warned. I'm certain no one reads this that would mind, but little kids lurk over shoulders. Oooooooh, dirty pictures!

This next one is really bad, and I'm really bad for laughing at it. Nothing nice is about to happen to the dog, so again, be warned. But it's funny. It's not Jesus and a bus funny, but what is?

I think I'll end with Famous Fat Dave. If you like to read about taxi driving in the big city and eating lots of food, then you'll love this guy. Seriously, this is one of the highlights of my bloglines. I've seriously got to visit New York one day. The problem there, besides not really having that pile of money sitting around, the whole damn city is full of New Yorkers. But I'm in love with the idea of the 24 hour city, the walking places, the corner bar. We have corner bars here, but you have to drive to them.

Now for the spell check, make the links work, cigarette and a beer. I had to get the wrong cigarettes this time, and didn't think to just get a couple of packs and come back later for the right carton. NOOOO, not me, not the thinking man's redneck. That would have been too easy and would have required some amount of thinking through things. You like it? how I ended with a bit of a rant.? I do too. It's fun. Whee!

thank you local fox news

I pretend that I watch the news, and I do occasionally watch some of the local news. But mostly, I don't trust talking heads any more than I can reach into the screen and choke them. I would pay more attention if they'd stick to local news, but then they'd just put on more non-news crap masquerading as news. A local network affiliate is of course not going to have its own reporters in the field doing international news, so they get that news from other sources.

So, you have your local anchors giving you the weather and whatever the Vols are up to. We know what idiocy TDOT is scheming, kind of. And then we get their version of whatever is happening outside our corner of the world. It's not always a bad thing, and admittedly, all news is second hand at best. But then the local schmuck says something like this:

"not much is known about Zarqawi's replacement, but authorities are saying that he IS a militant."

Well boy howdy if that don't take the shine off your boots. A radical militant freak gets blown to hell, and the parent organization replaces him in kind. Wow, that's . . .um . . .yeah. That's really how they ended the story.

gggggrrrrrrroooooooaaaaaaaannnnnnnn

What were the US players thinking today? Did they want to lose this game? Were they scared of those Czech Republic guys? Did the early goal and those early fouls just take all the wind out of their big blue sail?

The US team dropped lots of passes into groups of Czech players. The US team kept leaving their box empty of blue so that the Czech team could have the shots they wanted. The US team didn't attack the ball worth poo.

Toward the end of the game Eddie Johnson stepped up and finally started to try, but sadly his teammates didn't work too hard to help him out.

I won't pretend that the called fouls greatly effected the outcome of the game. The early yellow card to Onyewu was a bad call and could easily have left him a little leary of playing strong defense, and that didn't help. I don't know that I fully agree with a lot of the calls throughout this game, and it's natural to think that your team is getting shafted. It's hard to argue that the fouls may have slowed the US down some, but that was in no way the main problem they had.

I'm hoping that today was just indicative of first game jitters. I want to believe that the US will use this game as example of what not to do Saturday when we play Italy.

To win against Italy, we are going to have to push them and attack the ball. The waiting to see what happens will only lose you soccer games. Hopefully, the US will step up this next game. They need better passing as well as to take chances and shoot. There were not many shots on goal from the US, and there were not many chances due to a strong Czech defense. But even a weak defense can beat you if you don't get bodies toward the goal.

I'm very disappointed by the US showing today. I know that we have an awesome team, and I know that these guys can play as a team. That may the biggest request that I have is that Saturday, they play as a team, work the ball to each other instead of clearing it back to your opponents. Get bodies back on defense and don't leave Keller by himself to play defense.

All of this is not to take credit from the Czech team. They played a great game, and they earned all three of their goals. Most goals are not pretty; they are earned and often don't seem quite deserved. But you do sometimes get goals that result as a combination of perfect play, well placed passes and great timing. That's how the Czech team won.

the world stops, day two

Grandma came by to get the boys this morning as England was finishing up not losing. The boys got new haircuts and spent the afternoon swimming. I spent the afternoon watching soccer and napping on the sofa.

So, England didn't lose, but I hate to say they won. The single goal in the game came off the head of a defender who happened to stick his head into the air at the wrong moment. Soccer is often a game that is won or lost based on where the ball is at a single crucial moment in relation to a foot or a head. In a good soccer game, those moments happen with such frequency that you never quite notice them till they force themselves into the back of the net.

The last game of the day, Argentina versus Ivory Coast, saw me napping for possibly up to half. I wasn't fully napping baseball style, but I nodded off possibly as much as I nodded on (yeah, that's made up and doesn't really mean what I think it does, but . . .) It wasn't that the game was boring, but I was awake in time to see most of the game that England didn't lose, and I certainly saw all of today's second game. But by game three, and me on little sleep, I was fading in and out.

Today's second game, number four in the World Cup, Sweden versus Trinidad and Tobago was a beautiful game. To Sweden's credit, they did play a lovely game of long, accurate passes. They had so many of those beautiful runs that only happen in soccer, those 4-5 pass runs toward the opponent's goal, each pass landing precisely where your teammate is about to be, each pass a glory unto itself. T&T's goal keeper did an outstanding job, always the perfect leap, the perfect timing, the body contorted into a wild spasm. Overall, T&T played a much better game than Sweden. Early in the second half, one of the T&T players was ejected from the game meaning they played almost half the game one man down.

And here I rant about the second yellow card that caused Avery John to be sent off the field, leaving T&T to play a man down. It was a clean tackle. It was a very rough tackle, but it was fair and clean. There is every chance that this ejection cost T&T the game, though we'll never have the chance to know. As if the South Americans weren't playing well before, the loss of their teammate forced them to play that much harder, and as if it were possible, the second half of the match was even more exciting than the first.

The cherry on the top of the Trinidad and Tobago sundae was the goalkeeper, Shaka Hislop. He was not originally scheduled to play today, but a last minute injury to the starting keeper brought the game to Hislop. I don't know the words to describe the work this man did today, pure art in the goal mouth.

Add to all of that the fact that this was T&T's first World Cup appearance. No one expected them to do well, but they started their drive to the cup by holding a top team to a draw. And they played a game to be proud of, regardless of the tie.

My final bit, a little rant, is about the Swedish rat tail thing. Yes, seriously, though it was a little off to the side, it was an honest-to-god rat tail on a Swede. Geez, those Europeans with their old cities and there whole "been there, conquered that" and a Swede shows up to the World Cup with a rat tail. Wow! I live in the South and am still surprised to see that. Maybe I can take some Jordache jeans to northern Europe and make some cash.

f-f-f-finally!

The games started at noon today, after all the waiting, the romanticizing (huh?) and whatnot, Germany and Costa Rica took the field. Of course being in Germany, their time it was 6:00, last night I think, but I forget how to figure time across all those time zones. I may include game discussion, including winner and loser of matches in blogs concerning the World Cup. If you don't know or don't want to know, don't read.

I hoped for a Tico's win, but it was not to be. I find as I look through the schedule, I'm pulling for the American teams. Of course being a good USAmerican, I'm certainly looking forward finally to a US win. But I think we might update what it actually means to be an American.

A Mexican coworker once asked my why we referred to ourselves as American when in fact, our whole slice of the globe is America, North, Central and South. I'm reminded of that now as I think that I might like to see Paraguay beat England tomorrow. I'm sure that by 9:00 am EST, it will finally be today in Germany, right? Though it will be much too early here, any way you slice the whole concept of time.

Of course, I might also just be a silly ass. Maybe I just want to see England go down, and knowing that Brazil stands a better chance than the US of making it to the final round, I'm subconsciously getting ready to cheer for them.

And we end with our last bit of news and a tangent. In the second of today's games, the South American team from Ecuador beat the Polish team, from of course Poland. During the game I thought of my town's ex-mayor, one Victor Ashe, our nation's newish ambassador to Poland, wondering if his unpleasant self attended the game. For what it's worth, I play soccer at a park named in honor of this silly fellow. Regardless of my worthless barrage of insults, the fact is that he is an ambassador and me? not so much. And I still laugh at the bust in the park, a sad ironic laugh.

my world cup impatience grows

Seriously, this day is basically shot. I'm sure I could give a good goll durn, but really, today is just prep for tomorrow, when the world stops for a month. Maybe most of the US won't bother, but they'll have to see it anyway with both of their precious sports channels devoting so much time to the beautiful game.

As a side note, because the thought just occurred to me, I have another reason for why I think there is an anti-soccer conspiracy. Soccer refuses to stop for commercials. Without those random breaks, how do I get that useful information on what sports drink and financial planning service I will purchase?

Soccer is played by a set of laws, yet each law is open to interpretation, by the ref, on a moment to moment basis. The ref can base decision on his interpretation of the spirit of the law as well as the flow of the game. Soccer refs can overlook small offenses if the offending team gains no advantage. Even fouls that are called are usually quickly dispersed with at the player's discretion. Soccer is not a game that can be divided into segments allowing for advertising optimization. At most, an advertiser buys time in which his logo is placed next to the score and time in a corner of the screen.

Okay, there is the side rant stuffed into what was originally going to be a post about me not wanting to wait for the games to begin. I made it into a nice little box to set it apart from the real meat of this post.

Germany and Costa Rica kick off the world's greatest month, tomorrow at noon if you live in the EST part of the US. If you go to the official FIFA World Cup site schedule, you can click on the time next to each game and get a box that converts game time to your time. I know, that's not as cool as I think, but I do think it's really, really cool. I'm always amazed at the little tricks people can make websites do.

Frank Deford has an interesting piece at SI.com about American soccer. He suggests that American disinterest in soccer will allow the US team to be more relaxed and possibly perform better in the tournament. Because the rest of the world takes soccer so much more seriously than we do, they hold their players and teams to a much higher standard. Outside of the US, soccer players are the idols for the kids, and they are heroes or villains based on their performance on the pitch. Mr. Deford goes on to say that, if the US does happen to win the World Cup, we will be that much more hated by the world. Our asinine foreign affairs will suddenly pale in the light of the US beating the world at a game they don't think we get.

open letter to interneting homeschool parents

Dear Homeschooling Parent,

Hi, my name is Sam, and I too am a homeschooling parent. I know that many of us are on the internet these days. It's a wonderful tool as well as an often pleasant diversion. To those of us still without the internet, how the hell are you reading this?

I am glad that so many of us are blogging. It's a good thing for us to meet so many people, especially when it causes us to stop and remember that the world isn't always like us. The internet is a great place for remembering there is a whole world out there. But that isn't what this letter is about.

I use Blogger. I'm sure you can tell that if you look around at the links. That isn't the point either. I imagine most blogging sites are basically the same. Assuming that, I'm going to talk about this neato button at the top of my Blogger "create" window, and one that most likely exists in a similar form at most blogging sites.

This button, on Blogger, has an ABC above a checkmark. It's kind of humorous, that little pun like thing. But beyond the wit lies a useful tool. This button begins an operation that checks my spelling throughout the blog. Granted, it doesn't recognize homeschool or even blogging as words. But it helps me spell "occasionally," a word I very often misspell.

So, dear homeschool parent, as you blog through your random average day, remember that spell check is your friend. In fact, spell check is the ultimate homeschooling tool, a little quick check that lets us see how "necessarily" is actually supposed to be spelled. And we can learn spelling along with our kids so that they don't stumble over these words one day. But they probably will stumble over them.

Thank You,
Rock On,
Sam

New? meh Improved? perhaps

For all intents and purposes, I'm going to say I'm turning over a leaf and making my whole blogging experience more variously user friendly. That is to say that I'm trying to make this something worthwhile in a sense.

I feel I may have limited myself a bit over the past pile of things I've written. Here and there I find that I could have expressed myself less cussiferously. By nature, or force of habit, or because I'm just an ass, I have become quite a swearer of swears. In real life I've learned this little thing called moderation. It's not that I try only to cuss in moderation, but I moderate when and to whom I cuss. I know for a fact that my family, the siblings and parents and inlaws, is sensitive to the variety of things I could say if I let my tongue run wild.

I'm not sure exactly how to go about this, because I don't want to limit myself to a PG-13 world. Sometimes, a little damn-it-all is quite called for. If I post about restaurants for example, something I'm want to do on occasion, I will most likely add some pepper to the pot. They are each their own little world, the restaurants of the world, and rife with language unbecoming more polite society. But life isn't a restaurant . . .or is it?

In the end, my rambling here is mostly a rambling of some things I've been thinking about. I can't build my army if I can't contain myself when I need to. And in the end, the army is what it's all about. If I want to start getting into those homeschool blogging things, with all the people reading and coming back because I'm so cool, and then comes the army, followed by the super robots built by my army, I need to write in a way that doesn't drive away my more sensitive reader/follower.

Oh yeah, I forgot to explain about the army. Through my wonderfully entertaining blog, I'm slowly gathering the minds of homeschoolers. I will subvert their hyper intelligent and friendless children to build me a second army entirely made up of super robot slave warriors. I will purchase those homeschool children's loyalty with sugar and television and a dream of 40 friends in the afterlife, because, you know, homeschool kids don't get those things. That's so totally nefarious and why I have to have a top notch, A1 blog.

conflict resolution for kids

Our local newsweekly published an editorial last week about conflict resolution among students in the public school system. The editorial covers all the bases in terms of students bullying each other, race, sexuality, et cetera.

I'm not against conflict resolution, nor do I argue with children learning to settle their problems amongst themselves. What I do have an issue with is the suggestion within the article that it is natural for bullies to overassert themselves physically and that discussion among age peers is the best way to solve the problem of bullying.

Obviously, as we see such an increase in the severity of school violence, our schools have many problems. What drives a child to feel that they must have a gun at school for protection? What insults and physical abuse drives children to unleash hell on an entire school?

The writer mentions attending a variety of schools and being part of school bodies ranging from a mere 400 students to schools with upwards of 4000 students in size. Schools of either size are grossly large in terms of what children actually need in an educational environment. I have a whole utopian idea of what truly good schools would look like, but we'll file this under different rant/different day.

We are to assume that bullying is a normal part of life, so we need the school to teach our kids to learn how to deal with the bullies they will certainly face throughout their life after school. But that just isn't true. Certainly there are places and people that never tire of a good fight. There are certainly many situations throughout life that one could find themselves in which violence may be seen as the natural outcome, even if we don't often actually find ourselves in those situations. But where in life do we often have to confront a bully?

Instead of conflict resolution, many of life's schoolyard bullies might better have a little police intervention. I know that that's quite a jump, and I'm not suggesting it's always necessary. But if we stop suggesting that childhood assault is no more than simple bullying, we might start to progress to a point where we can confront the bullies and teach them that what they are doing is wrong, is often assault. And there's the point. If it's assault when grown ups do it, why is it bullying when kids do it?

updated book/reading list

Due to how well he reads, which is truly unbelievable, I often don't like to discuss Big Brother's reading. He is quite a kid for his age, and he's quite a reader as well. I feel as though other people will assume I'm bragging and perhaps being untruthful. At 7.5 years old, he has read more books, on his own, than many people twice his age, which isn't saying a lot considering most 14-15 year olds.

We watched most of an old movie version of Robin Hood on tv recently, though I don't remember which of the old movie channels showed it. We had read Howard Pyle's Robin Hood, possibly our last prebedtime reading before Inkheart. Seeing the movie pushed Big Brother to pull the book back off of the shelf and reread it. That took him too few days.

His next book was The Hobbit. Each chapter in Inkheart opens with a short passage from a different book. Meggie, the hero of Inkheart, while preparing for a drive packs a book about an ill made knight and another book about hairy footed people on a quest. Big Brother knew pretty quickly what that reference too. We've read Tolkien's most famous works as bedtime reading as well as having seen the movies, so he is certainly familiar with the works.

After zooming through The Hobbit, he is now well into The Fellowship of the Ring. I am personally without a book at the moment, and seeing Tolkien lying out on the table, I'm being drawn to them, and I may just have to reread them myself.

After having read Shelby Foote's first book about the Civil War, as well as Rifles for Watie, by Harold Keith, I remember again why I don't send my kids to gschool. I went to a decent school, yet between these two books, I've learned more about the Civil War than I ever did in school. On top of that, if Big Brother couldn't drop everything once in a while just to read, I think he might go a little crazy. He has that freedom though, so we hopefully won't ever learn.

Rifles for Watie is a really interesting read on top of being a fun story. The author researched the material quite a bit, and reading the books makes that obvious. The book provides a view into the life of many different types of people, many different views of the Civil War. Additionaly, the place that some Native Americans had in the war is mentioned to a fair extent. As a homeschooler, it's a really good book to begin study or to help round out discussion of war and/or the Civil War. We don't really see a lot of the horror of the actual fighting, though the author doesn't shy away from it so much as he seems to have a bigger story to tell. It's worth reading if a bit rose tinted.

That's the current list as it now stands. Most likely, tomorrow is library day. That needs to happen both because we have stuff do and because I need some new books unless I fall into the Tolkien trap. I'm not worried either way. I love Tolkien and will reread the books soon enough, whether it's now or later.

Dixie Chicks

Remember when they had that song that pissed everyone off? They were embarrassed to be from the same state as ol' Bush. And then "country" music radio went extra crazy on them, wanted them banned from the radio, excommunicated from the church, drawn and quartered, lynched and kicked the hell out of America.

So much vitriol for such a simplistic approach to anger over the war. I'm personally embarrassed by our nation letting him become president the first time, and I'm past dismayed at the second term. I just may decide politics can go straight to the bad place. But am I embarrassed to be American? Not just yet, but I'm getting there.

My problem with the Dixie Chicks has never been their stand or how they choose to display their convictions. I don't generally care what a second rate "country" band has to say about anything. I care as little what anyone cares who is paid to entertain has to say about politics.

My problem with the Dixie Chicks is the one of them that's always in the middle. She hasn't got a damn neck! Why with all their money, now that they're rich "country" stars, can't they buy that poor girl a neck? Come on Dixie Chicks, and buy that middle girl a neck already! Please?!

Note: "Country" music, as mentioned above, is meant to suggest the top 40 style music with a twang that currently passes for country music. There are real and good country bands making good, country music. Sadly, they don't fit on the playlists of the "country" stations.

stupid word of the day

honorificabilitudinity

Yes, it's a real word if wordsmith.org is to be believed. This is the load of poo that they lit on fire at the door of my bloglines this morning. I had to actually click on the little speaker link just so I could hear the nice lady pronounce it. The pronunciation guide provided is certainly no help. In fact, the pronunciation only serves to make the word sound even more made up.

Assuming that such a ridiculous word is real, it means honorableness.

I'm going out on a limb here and saying that both "honorificabilitudinity" and "honorableness" are in fact both made up words, that both could easily be erased and forgotten and finally that we just use the old version "honor" in place of the former two.

no kinda mood

I have so many things I could do. The kitchen floor really needs a broom dragged across it, not to mention the mopping, the need for which is approaching critical.

I am sleepy beyond belief, especially for 4:00 in the afternoon. I've got a headache that may or may not become real and annoying, though just now it's teasing about the edges of my skull.

We've all had lunch, and supper is waiting to be prepared. I'm doing an absolutely easy pile of quesadillas and some black bean soup. But even that is escaping my desire to motivate.

I really just feel like ass. I've got Fugazi blasting into my face, and I'd turn it louder were it not for the kids needing me to hear them. I'm in that 16 years old world weary mood where I'm sure I can solve all my issues with overly loud rock music, the great cleanser.

I've felt like this for weeks, just not wanting to bother, slipping to a point where I'm not sure if I care. I get the kids fed, keep the library books out of danger. I've read more books in the past month than in the previous few. There's plenty of stuff to do. The yard, the craptastically full garage, the bits of vacuuming that I didn't get to, the aforementioned kitchen and meals.

I really think that all my problem is a coupling of too late nights and not leaving the house nearly often enough. It's not like the late nights are boisterous with going out and partying. A lot of the issue revolves around Momma's schedule. Too many late nights seems to back up to early mornings, and it also leaves many days where we don't get up to have the car, or I don't want to get the boys back up late to get Momma from work. So another day passes where we don't really do anything except spend one more day needing to get out and wishing we had another car.

Okay, I have to finish by qualifying the previous remark about caring. I can't help but read it indicating that I'm not living up to certain parental obligations. The kids get their share of caring and aren't a part of the problem. My own issues often affect how I relate to them, and this in turn adds to the feelings of . . .ennui?

And we do have another car. Sadly, Tennessee style, it's sitting, nose up in the air, most of the engine in the garage, the rest of it sitting waiting at a machine shop. Maybe it will one day find the road passing 'neath it again, sad sack of crap though it is.

all different books at once

My own current reading material is The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame. I always saw myself reading this book to one of the boys. We do have a book that is basically one of the chapters of the original book, slightly abbreviated. This is also one of those books I feel that I really should have read by now, but apparently I haven't.

This book, though I haven't quite finished it yet, has been so much fun to read. I've laughed out so much throughout this book, more than my cynical old ass probably ought to if I want to maintain my edgy rep. I may actually slip this into The Boy's bedtime reading. Which brings me to the next book.

I discovered a few weeks ago that I could read a story or two from either of A.A. Milne's two books, Winnie the Pooh or The House at Pooh Corner. I first learned that he would listen to them by tricking him into going to sleep while I read. It worked wonderfully for a short time. I'm guessing that we can move onto other similarly structured books now. The Wind in the Willows should be perfect for this. While the book is a whole story, the chapters are all little stories in themselves and can generally act as a story on there own. I love when a book makes me excited to share it with the boys.

Of course The Wind in the Willows is the story of Mole who, while in the middle of his spring cleaning decides to leave home. He's taken by some desire to travel and ends up at the river where he make a friend in a Water Rat. They of course have a series of adventures as does Toad, who gets in quite a bit of trouble on his own. In addition to really delightful and funny stories, this is one of those perfect books that tells great stories using real words. It's not dumbed down for kids in any way. It was also published originally in 1908. It does seem to me that there is something to be said for treating children like normal as opposed to "not quite," as in those horrible books where all the sentences are four monosyllabic words, one sentence to a page coupled with ugly simplistic art.

Our next and final book is Cornelia Funke's Inkheart. I read this book a few months ago by myself and tried to convince Big Brother to read it. It was perfect, one of those books that quietly lures you in. It's a book about books, or one book really and a whole new power of words. It's the first in a series. It certainly has some dark moments throughout, and I'm not sure that all parents would be comfortable with younger kids reading this book, but that's hard for me to judge. Between what we've read with him and what he's read on his own, Big Brother has quite a few books under his belt for his age. Which of course means that this is the book I'm reading with Big Brother before his bedtime. I hate to get too much into this book because it's best read. It isn't a book that I'd want to enter with preconceptions, so I won't bother here.

We also currently have The Fairy Stories of Oscar Wilde, and from the special Newbery shelf at the library, Arthur Bowie Chrisman Shen of the Sea: Chinese Stories for Children and Harold Keith's Rifles for Watie. The latter two books I'm not at all familiar with. Rifles is set in the Civil War, so it stood out having just finished the first of the Shelby Foote Civil War books. Shen of the Sea just sounded interesting. Picking Oscar Wilde is self explanatory.

I'm going to read a grownup book again soon. I really am, and I just may write about it.

poor dumb Kuszczak

Not having the great all-soccer cable package, I'm really limited by what I get to see, which I may or may not have already ranted about here. It's a common theme to my personal rants, so expect it soon if I haven't, and maybe if I have.

Youtube fills that void to some tiny extent. I can search random things and come up with a variety of soccer related videos. This next one is delightful, and I hate to tell too much because it's so fun. Keep your eye on the keepers, the only two players involved in this.

Poor dumb Kuszczak

backward

My son asked me earlier today to turn the music down, and instead, I turned it up a little bit. Fuck kid, they're factory fucking computer speakers! It's not that loud! And I was listening to the Circle Jerks at the time! I'm so fucking punk!

Okay, so my son is three, the music wasn't that loud, I did turn it up but not much, and I did turn the volume to a level that we could all agree on almost immediately, though only after making my oh so valid point. I'm gonna do whatever the hell I want kid! Kind of! Totally kind of!

But there for a moment, with the whole reversal of the age old situation, youth versus age, and I got to stand up, however momentarily, for my rights to rock the fuck out! I sassed youth with punk rock music! Kiss my ass world!

can I watch them all?

June 9, Germany and Costa Rica play the opening game of the 2006 World Cup, and the ESPN bunch are showing all 64 games of the tournament. So there will be at least three games a day, one glorious month with more soccer than any sane person should be able to handle. Knowing the likelihood is quite equal to zero, I still wonder if I could watch all 64 games.

I'm sure Momma and the boys are going to love it. Momma couldn't give a shit about soccer played by anyone she didn't either bear or marry, and the boys just don't care enough to watch it usually. They both are cool with playing the game, and if Billy and Mandy played soccer, they might watch the game.

If you need a schedule, you can check the official FIFA World Cup site. Scroll down to Group E to find USA. I'm sure any enterprising soccer fan homeschoolers could make several geography lessons based on the different games. The US plays Czech Republic, Italy and Ghana in the first round, three completely different countries/parts of the world, an easy and interesting trio of geopraphy right there.

I haven't played in weeks it feels like, and I have been really bad about even getting out of the house most days. I need to call "that guy" and get signed up for the summer season. Then I need to remind myself that I'm supposed to start exercising regularly. I'd like to get myself back in good enough shape to move up to the midfield again. I think I fooled myself into thinking that defense meant less running. File this under different post/different day.

Ooooo! Fitness, another topic that I need to cover with the boys.

So, that's it for now. I'm pondering my punkness still, prepping myself for part two of my musical history. Right now, it's all soccer thoughts though.

so I think I'm a punk, part one if I get around to more

I've always felt a little confused, like I'm just late enough with things and everyone else has already gotten it, laughed at the joke, enjoyed the hip new band quite enough thanks. I'm not sure when that feeling really took over. I spent many years in bliss, not knowing how much good music there was in the world, wrapped up in a tiny baptist bubble.

I find myself at a place where Iggy Pop and the Stooges are both new and familiar to me. New in the sense that, for the most part I haven't really ever listened to them. They are familiar though in that I've heard of them, heard random songs by them and by Iggy Pop. There are plenty of other bands as well, bands that I was old enough to have known about, but insulated enough to never hear.

My younger brother and I would listen to the Gaither family on vinyl, which was fine because they were gospel, but we would actually enjoy and sing along when we were younger. I remember actually hiding under the covers to listen to Lionel Ritchie as I grew to become a young teenager. I'm guessing now that it was time to rebel and that I inherently knew it without knowing that I could. At this same time, there came other scare tactics. I know it sounds really lame to show up so late, but I really did have a lot training weights attached at the time that made things hard.

I knew of heavy metal. There were those kids at school, fast becoming the bad kids, that spoke of things I later learned were metal. That both frightened me while impressing me a little. I didn't know then what or who a Dokken was or a Ronny James Dio, but I heard of the names. I know now that Dio was no Ozzy, but that's another post for someone else who cares. Punk actually completely passed me by until much later.

And then came that nephew of a family with whom we were friends at church. The nephew was having problems in the mountain community where he lived in North Georgia. It never occurred to me till now that they sent him to Atlanta basically, barely the outskirts really, to get him from a troubled environment. This was the kid, in his all black and white clothes, his Vision Street Wear clothes, even cooler than Mike Stretch's Jams. And he played the Circle Jerks, and I loved it. It was however just a spark waiting to ignite.

I don't know that I ever learned what happened to him, but he was gone and I was back to the same old. I was still mostly scared of rock music because of that traveling guy with the slideshow about all of rock music being a front for satan, satanists and assorted evil folk, possibly some of them gay, all of them on drugs, and they were using music to get us all, to wrest us from the loving arms of god. He had a slideshow, and he had samples of lyrics, and all that, the fucked up '80's metal cover art and bullshit mystical lyrics were enough to freak anyone out, or so I was taught.

My first job, at a steakhouse in a mall, was very shortlived, a whirlwind of some Big Daddy Kane, some metal that scared me from that manager that scared me, the Mexican dishwasher who dry humped the dishwasher. That job was to save money for the summer in Wyoming, yet another blog. And the following fall, after returning from a hell of a summer out west, I began working a real job.

I was allowed to listen to a radio here, the first time that I could really listen to music without my parents close enough to catch me, to pick and choose with no concerns but my pleasure. I played whatever sounded good, mostly whatever rock was playing in Atlanta in the late '80's. The first album I remember buying is Guns and Roses, Appetite for Destruction, still an amazing album. And I almost went the wrong way. I was cruising down the wrong metal path, that path of hairspray, tight clothing, the really bad part of metal that was the very late '80's.

Another happenstance meeting, right at the moment when I needed it came in the form of a sister in law's nephew. His family, mom and sister, had just moved back to town. He had busted his knee in a workplace accident and was . . . I don't know to this day how it was that he and I were pushed together. But he was the final corrupting influence that drove out the glam metal dork I was becoming, who would have grown into . . .I shudder to think!

With all that I didn't listen to growing up, you may wonder what I did listen to, and I very often wonder that same thing. Very little really stands out. I remember lots of gospel bluegrass, some Willie Nelson and Patsy Cline, some classical, lots of fucking hymns, many of which I can still remember verses 1, 2, and 4. I remember NPR and Ludlow Porch mostly news and conversation. Of course Willie and Patsy stand out. And I know that there was more old country mixed in every now and then. But I made a point of not wanting to hear it I think, but it seemed to get in anyhow. I didn't learn that till later

battle cry needs to shut up

This Battle Cry shit just might be the final straw for me. These fucks just may make me lose it. I'm not at all surprised when the religionists try to rally their moral troops, and I'm not surprised that christian teenagers, like all teenagers, are unable to stand up to idiocy.

Kids, teenagers, are mostly great people, but they are young and gullible all too often. As well we know that parts of their brains are still developing. They don't always have to ability to think ahead or to see the variety of outcomes. How many people start smoking as teens versus the number that start smoking in their twenties?

Who but teenagers would wear clothes so baggy and ill fitting that they are unable to walk reasonably and explain it as individuality while surrounded by like minded and similarly dressed peers? Who but teenagers would follow the example set by every religious leader for whom they have respect, never questioning the biblical text or their leaders' words and describe it all as thinking for themselves?

I try so not to be antichristianist, to see all people in terms of equality. I'd like to believe that we are all mostly the same with similar drives and ambitions. But I just can't accept that most christianists want what is best for us. They have such a disturbing and facist view of what is best for us, a world where our morals are forced on us, not unlike what the mullahs are forcing on too many islamist nations. Wow, there's the comparison.

I'm trying to remember the point in the bible where it states that believers should arm themselves for battle against people. There are references to a battle against evil, but these are not battles against people who are perceived as evil. They are exhortations to believers to practice their religion personally. There are passages that suggest that believers should preach their story, their truth as they see it. But never does the bible say that nonbelievers should be forced to do anything. In fact the bible does indeed preach that people have the choice to follow or not follow the bible.

Christianist people have no rights to try to force their codes of conduct, their beliefs or their morality on anyone. It's really that simple. I do not believe their stories nor will I ever. I have no room in my life for their brand of hell. I refuse to allow them to win. This is not their country nor is it a christian nation. We are a republic that was founded on a certain set of beliefs in the freedom and rights of men and women.

"Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" does not really leave much to debate. Those are very important principles to very many of us, American and otherwise. They are obviously not important to the growing movement of fascist christians. Those words don't open the door to a theocracy no matter how far into the door you try to wedge your bible. Our founders did not say "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness within narrowly defined parameters as set down in the bible." It does say that these rights are given us by our creator and that these rights are inalienable, or nontransferrable, or ours and not to be taken or taken lightly.

The enemy that we are supposed to be fighting tells us their god is most powerful and wants us all to wear beards and burkahs. If our own religious fundys get any more power, how far away are we from the protestant burkah? They are fighting what they might call an immoral and violent society and want to turn us to christ. That won't happen.

Islamic nations are known for having religious based police, morals police, whose job is to basically drive around and harass people who are not following the koran properly. Iraq is currently engulfed in a civil war pitting two opposing sides of the very same religion. If we are forced to become a theocracy, how long until we start seeing truckloads of dead baptists killed by the catholics from the next neighborhood over? And before we know it, the baptists have struck back with a car bomb. Not to be outdone the episcopalians are tossing a molotov cocktail through the door of the synagogue. It sounds crazy doesn't it? But were Iraqis killing each other like this last year? And what of the catholic versus protestant battle in Ireland? Not so far fetched now is it?

Is this what you want battle cry? Do you really want a war? Please, christian Americans, don't force us into a civil war based on your superstitions. What you see as an immoral and depraved American society is starting to wake up to your fascism, wide eyed fully awake. God is not telling you to start this fight, and he/she won't help you survive it. But there are plenty of us more than willing to fight a real fight for a freedoms. I'm not willing to die for oil in a desert, but I will stand up for my rights, my children's rights and the rights of anyone who values liberty.

Thanks to the Daily Pitchfork for bringing this to my attention moments before Kos would have. Okay, it's only because the fine folks in hell come first in my bloglines.

King Dork

Having finally finished this delightful book, I felt I would make this my inaugural review. I don't know that I'll ever do a book justice, but I can talk shit and pretend that my opinion matters to people.

This book has gotten nothing but praise as far as I can tell. If you check the author's blog you can find all sorts of glowing reviews. It's a lovable book, especially if you love books.

Fans of rock and roll should read this book. Parents of school children should read this book. People old enough to read books should probably read it, though I've already informed Big Brother that it isn't appropriate for him yet. He is only 7.5 and ability to read doesn't mean I want him knowing about some of this stuff. Of course I've also pondered whether Douglas Adams would be appropriate for our nightly bedtime reading. I might do that one soon.

Tom has plenty of problems, though most of what he has to deal with are arguably other people's problems being transferred to him through the variety of shitty things that kids in do in a school environment.

As a homeschool parent, I have to admit that this book opened up as a manual on why not to send your children to school. As a homeschool parent, and as a person who is becoming more and more antischool, it was difficult at first to separate my feelings from the book. I find that I grow ever more opinionated when it comes to schooling. But the book is good enough so that I soon forgot all that as I sank deeper into the pages.

Tom has a number of adventures as we read through the book. He is confronted with a number of mysteries that allow us to see the inner working of his mind. It's fun to remember back that far, being 15 and both so sure and so unsure of everything at once. I can't say that the mystery is entirely solved in the end. I wonder still what the truth of it all was, having finished the book only to realize that for the most part, we still don't know what happens. But it's Tom's story, and his mysteries. So if he's happy, we can only be happy for him.

Anyone unfamiliar with Dr. Frank should rush to their nearest record store and pick up a few of his band's albums. The Mr. T Experience is basically Dr. Frank and a rotating pile of other musicians, or so it appears to me. The constant in the band, aside from Dr. Frank would be his amazing lyrics, his ability to pile words into each other to say things in the most fabulous way.

In case you don't believe me, I've lifted an example of his lyrics from the song With My Looks and Your Brains, from the album Revenge Is Sweet And So Are You. I think I've actually thought the same thing about me and Momma but giving her credit for both the looks and brains.

I wonder if under pressure we could make it on our own.
Could we stand it, empty handed and stranded and all alone?

But let's not find out what that would be about.
I'll stick with you.
You let yourself be stuck too.
You and me have a legacy that we can pass on to our kids.
They could get lucky.

With my brains, your looks, your knights, my rooks,
they could really win a lot of games.
But just think, what if they end up with my looks and your brains?

So do yourself a favor. Go to the record store in your town, the small one that only exists in your town. Ignore all the little signs that say Pop/Rock and Country and Heavy Metal. Look really hard for the sign that say Handed Down From On High and look under M for Mr. T Experience. Buy any of the albums or go ahead and get them all. Go next to the bookstore and pick up King Dork by Frank Portman. Then go home and be prepared to fall in love all over again while you immerse yourself in the words of Frank.

Oh, and here is the trailer for the book.

interesting searches

I'm always waiting for my brilliance as a blogger to be revealed to the masses. I'm not going to bother trying to get there myself either through being brilliant or through doing those little things that Statcounter suggests. What I will do is make up some really dumbass posts that seem interesting. As long as you read it first, I don't care how disappointed you are at losing those minutes of life that this blog sucks away.

So today is the day where I give you insight into the two visitors I got last week that weren't people that I regularly bother.

Random Ramblings of the Beautiful Game Soccer

aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh

I might soon have to do a personal review of King Dork, the lovely book I mentioned so recently. I did indeed finish it in a few short days and moved back to the previously begun book. I've picked back up in the build up to the Civil War with Lincoln working toward what we already know to be the presidency.

Shelby Foote vs. Frank Portman?

I forget exactly how I first came to know of Shelby Foote, but I seem to remember it as that once a year moment when there is something interesting on CSpan at the same time you happen to put the tv on channel 98, or whatever it is where you are. But learn of him I did, though it's taken a couple of years for me to kind of follow up on that.

Frank Portman I have a somewhat longer standing familiarity with, though until very recently, and still honestly, I know him better as Dr. Frank, one of my all time favorite songwriters and punk rock heros. He has this sweet-ass band the Mr. T Experience. It's because of Dr. Frank that I know what ennui and weltschmerz mean. And this beginning of a story starts with the good doctor and ends with Mr. Foote.

Whatever day last week was errand day, I dropped by the mall because it's got a Waldenbooks, and I was tired of not buying this cool new book I've been meaning to get. Frank Portman has written THE cool new book, King Dork, and given that whole love of mine for the man's ability to make words work together really well, add my own love of books, you've got a recipe for a purchase. Unless of course they don't have the book you want.

Staring into the bargain bin, wishing I could find a book that I wanted, I noticed it. The title was about a yard long, and I'm not even close to being sure how to properly punctuate it, but we'll throw some commas at it and see what sticks. It's volume 1 of a series titled The Civil War, a Narrative. The volume itself is titled Fort Sumter to Kernstown: First Blood-The Thing Gets Under Way.

I began reading the book a day or two before a new PopSci showed up in the mail, and that preoccupied me a little. But I was soon back into the secession and the build up to war. Jefferson Davis has just left the farm to be the president of the CSA. We jump at that point to Abraham Lincoln. I'm still getting background on Lincoln as he has yet to run for president. It's written in a great narrative style, proving my interest in Shelby Foote, at least so far, was well placed.

At some point in all this Momma finally orders her helmet. As one fine-as-can-be Hard Knox Roller Girl, she has needed a helmet for some time, but she's been able to get through the practices just fine with borrowing. Since she was finally ordering something online, we decided we might as well get Frank's book. It's never been a question of if but when we were going to buy the damn thing. Next of course came the wait until UPS rolled up today, a few days sooner than we really expected.

I wondered as I ripped into the box if I was going to keep reading about the Civil War or if I was going to finally find out about Tom Henderson. Dr. Frank wins this round. Maybe my mood will flip tomorrow, and I'll need to get a little more meat in my mental diet and go with history, or maybe not. As it is now, I already want to sneak to the garage for a smoke and some deep reading.

When I went searching for a link for Shelby Foote, I found some news at NPR. Apparently he died last year. I never watched the Ken Burns documentary about the Civil War, but now I may have to. I'll read the books first though. I found the news at NPR, but I link you to the Wikipedia page.

And finally, I'm curious how many Mr. T Experience fans have the same problem when reading King Dork. I think I hear his voice in my head when I read the book. Not all the time maybe, but I know at least part of the time, I hear Dr. Frank in my head reading his words. I do the same reading the British sea going tales that I love, slowly slipping into an English accent, inside my head.

blogger spell check

Why does blogger dot com's spell checker not recognize the words blog, blogger or blogging?
Seriously, yo!

while it's still fresh

The incident about which I'm blogging happened mere minutes ago. The Boy is happilyish laying on the love seat, possibly to fall asleep soon.

Yesterday Big Brother complained most of the day about a headache. He ate very little throughout the day, and even when the tv wasn't on, he lay around near it, not venturing from the sofa for the majority of the day.

He obviously didn't feel well. Other than the headache and an audible stuffiness, he didn't really have any complaints. He didn't say that he felt stuffy, even when asked, but we could hear his nose being a little noncompliant.

Today, Big Brother is back to normal. He still sounds stuffy in the nose, but he claims to have no headache or any other symptoms/problems. However, The Boy has taken over the lazing about. He actually fell asleep in the floor earlier today. He's been just laying in the floor most of the day. I've questioned him several times, asking him about different parts that might hurt or feel bad.

Minutes ago, I lay down next to him in the floor. Yes, he said that he felt fine. No, nothing hurt. I was making a sort of gasping sound with his mouth that I didn't relate to what came next. While assuring me that he was fine, I could tell that something was coming. It wasn't the breathing problems that were my concern at the moment.

I backed up just in time. There's a certain something as a parent when you see the flume of your child's stomach evacuating itself toward you. And this time it was a nice bright red, just about to turn the corner toward a dark pink. I got him quickly to the bathroom then began the vomit removal. Thankfully, there's still a nice pink spot in the carpet. I might worry otherwise that we'd forget where it was. Pity.

I'm not sure what we've got here at the house with those boys. I'm half expecting to wake up tomorrow only to realize that I'm learning how they felt. That's one way to develop empathy for a sick kid, get it yourself. I suppose we'll see.

another needless accident

This from an article at semissourian.com

The guy driving the tractor trailer had dropped his phone while driving. Of course he had to get the phone back, I'm sure something very important, matters of life and death even, were hanging over his head. Once he came back up from the phone search, he was too close to the truck in front of him to avoid hitting it. The front axel on the semi broke, dropping the cab onto the ground where the fuel tanks ignited. The explosions that ensued included the tires exploding and threw two firefighters ten feet while also throwing rubber and other debris about.

The article doesn't mention anyone being seriously hurt and does explain that the firefighters' injuries were not serious. The truck that got hit was trailing a road work crew, giant arrow flashing, in part as a safety measure to avoid situations like this. It's pretty dangerous to work on a road crew on the side of an interstate. This crew was installing rumble strips in the breakdown lane, those things that wake your ass up when you doze off on that long drive. I don't know if it's quite ironic, the crew installing a safety device being involved in this sort of accident, but it's something.

The Wired article I stole this from mentions safer technology and using your phone more sensibly. I don't think that's the solution for the most part. I think most drivers could easily just not use their phones while they are driving. Calls can be made and returned while stopped, and most of us probably wouldn't miss the little bit of time we stopped to be safe. That amount of time is certainly small compared to the amount of time lost to an accident, not to mention the safety of people in your car as well as those people in other cars, those people you don't know.

I've blogged about this kind of thing before. It's sort of an issue with me. I would really hate for my life to be impacted by an accident because of the selfishness of someone else. If I leave the house, I'm almost guaranteed to see someone driving poorly while talking on the phone. I'm just as likely to see an accident narrowly missed, not avoided as that would take people being mindful of the situation. These people never even notice how close they came to an accident. Whether it's a minor fender bender or an exploding truck shooting tires and wheels into the air, car accidents are shitty to force on other people.

Hang up and drive.

a restaurant customer fable

Those of us who work in restaurants tend to think we've heard it all. We've served so many dipshits that the stories tend to pour out like the taps. Ask any restaurant employee for a story. Ask the servers about customers. Ask the kitchen about dumbass servers. Ask the management about the three, customers, servers and cooks. There is enough there for a lifetime of tales and parables.

So many of the best stories that come out of restaurants don't involve the customers. Those are the good stories, the late night post work barhop where you had that perfect end to an evening. Meeting up with some coworkers for just about any event, from a softball or soccer game to a baby shower, it's all the same, because they all end in the cups.

The customer stories are never good. I often think I've heard it all, or I am certain that a restaurant story can't shock me. But then the customer shows up, and they can't help but make you want to start choking people.

I may have mentioned my lovely wife before. I may have mentioned that she works at a really cool sushi bar here in town. The place has been slammed since it opened, and the people love the sushi. I'm not personally the biggest fan. It's part seaweed and part texture, but that's not even another post. That's just me.

Food allergies are real and can be very serious. I have a nephew who is deathly allergic to peanuts. He is a cool, bright and fun kid. His first words had to do with his allergies, because they are so serious that it was what he heard about first. He picked it up as kids do. I love my nephew and understand taking precautions, and as a cook, I'm willing to make allowances whenever possible and within reason to accomodate a variety of customers.

Having said all that, who the fuck goes to a sushi bar, only to tell the staff that they are seriously allergic to shellfish? And who the fuck does it on a Friday night? Seriously!?

If it were ONLY the crab and shrimp it would still be a pain in the ass. For a single customer, Momma has to wash down the entire area where the sushi will be put together. This involves taking the five foot cutting board off the line entirely to scrub it down. She has to clean her knives and use all new utensils or clean the ones she has. She has to stop everything she is doing on a Friday night to do this for a single person who went to a restaurant that specializes in part in the very thing that can kill him. And then the son of a bitch, after he finished his special food, ordered more, putting the entire kitchen staff through the clean up a second time. All this stopped the entire kitchen basically, slowing down everything but the rest of the customers. I want a time machine and to go and choke that fucking guy.

$11,000

COD posts about an article in which some Virginia parents don't think their children can get edumacated for a measly $11,000 a year. They're angry that other school districts get over $17,ooo per child.

So I thought to myself, I thought, "Self, what could we do with an extra $11,000 per year.

My first thought was that we could take a field trip up north to RFK stadium and watch DC United whip some ass. They've got some museums and stuff up there as well, so we could learn about mass transit systems while going to museums.

I've always wanted to ride a riverboat from St. Louis down to New Orleans. I've long been a fan of Mark Twain and the world of riverboats. We know about steam power, thank you Thomas the Tank Engine, so we could learn about silt deposits. But I don't know that I'd want to make that trip now. I hear New Orleans is kind of a bummer lately. Good thing our government is working so hard to fix that mess.

That much money would buy us a nice long drive to Deadwood South Dakota. I could live my childhood cowboy fantasies, some. Cowboy fantasies being what they are, the solitary life on the range, the wife and kids would kind of crimp that one. I prefer them to the fantasy, so we're off again.

The Pacific northwest has always called to me. I'd love to visit that end of the country and slip into Vancouver as well. They've got this big island over there that sounds beautiful.

Speaking of islands, how far into New York would that kind of money get me I wonder. There again we'd study mass transit. I miss MARTA in Atlanta and have always had an affinity for trains. NY is on my list of places that I'm sure I might visit one day. I'm sure we could manage some sort of trip on $11,000, even if we did have to stay in New Jersey.

To some extent, kids pretty much learn for free. There is gas to drive to the library, and there are random fees/memberships to local places such as the zoo, so I don't suppose we should say completely free. The actual letting kids learn stuff part however doesn't really cost anything. Some homeschoolers prefer to use curriculum which still won't generally add up to $11,000 a year.

a nice short soccer story

First, if you haven't read my soccer rant yet, you should read that before reading this, unless you don't plan to read that one. This is a nice story, while the one previous to this is a downer. Read that one first so that this one can pick you back up.

One of my issues with the big three American sports is that we call them the world championships. We presume that we're so big and great that we don't need to invite the world to our world championships. Soccer on the other hand really does have a world championship, called oddly enough the World Cup. It's coming soon, just under a month.

Soccer is truly international. And even in the most random town, take mine for example, can show that international spirit. And that's my uplifting story.

Wednesday nights are one of the nights I know there will be pickup games at the local park. I showed up this past week ready to see a few of the people in my league, people I'd recognize as having played against. Including me, a teammate and two other league guys, we were the only people from our league. So there were four Americans on the field, four Mexicans and four Africans. They were already playing when I got there, having split into shirts and skins. I, with my mostly pale, farmer tanned ass and the shorts that ride up, giving me that push into dorkiness that a shirt would have hidden, was directed to the skins side, one Mexican, three Africans and me. I actually felt as if I might have been glowing.

A couple of guys left leaving us with four on a side. The Mexicans wanted to just play soccer while the Africans had a game in mind that they played. It was a soccer related game, though I didn't get the concept as they explained it.

So we played soccer, a little three tone action on a Wednesday night in the foothills of the Smokey Mountains. We all had fun. We all played well. We didn't all look or sound alike, and we couldn't always understand the words we used, but we all spoke that one language of soccer/football/futbol. And that language is the same all around the world.

storming off the field

I haven't posted a lot recently here. Last week was kind of busy. One of my two posts from last week was a rant about an abysmal couple of soccer weekends.

I complained last week about teammates quitting, actually taking off their cleats and quitting, before the game is over. I complained about that yesterday before our game. And then I did it. I stormed off the field in a fit of rage, took off my cleats and quit.

We were going down. A fluke goal within about five minutes of the beginning of the game not only put our opponents up but started our slide into hell. We were once again short a number of players. We were playing eight against eleven. We were running our asses off the entire time and watching the score climb ever higher. I even moved up to midfield and was eyeing a chance of a shot on goal. I actually did shoot at one point, though a failed attempt from the beginning.

I think our infighting might have begun when the ref offered a water break which most of our team was ready for. Our two youngest team members didn't want to stop for water and stayed on the field passing the ball. I was irritated by their insistence that we didn't need a water break, maybe a little mad at the thirteen years between our ages that demanded I break for water and a quick stretch.

We started turning on each other, and that's the death of any team. Teams can fight back from extraordinary odds if they remain a team and continue to work together with respect for what each member brings to the team. When members start to break away and blame other members, nothing can save them.

That's where we were yesterday, and I knew what was coming. I was already starting to yell back at the youngsters. They are both decent players. I've enjoyed playing with both of them and would be willing to play with them again. But they were working hard, getting nowhere and getting frustrated and were turning back to us, the defense, to blame us for the fact that we just couldn't even hope to do too much damage to the opponents. I was growing tired of their criticism and was starting to tell them. I can hold things in sometimes, but I was about to blow up.

So I stormed off the field. I cussed a little. I damned the whole team for what for me added up to three weeks of soccer misery.

Since it happened, I'm feeling worse about my actions. I think that walking away was better than blowing up at the youngsters. But I walked away from my team. I took off my cleats, socks and shin guards and left. I did the thing I'd damned in others. I know for a fact that it would have ended much worse if I'd stayed. I would have laid into one of the youngsters because they wouldn't have shut up. I would have tried like hell not to, would have continued playing and busting my ass. I'm carrying as much in the way of injuries from this game than from any other game this season, and this team played clean, so I'm not talking elbows or jabs in the back or trips. I'm talking two teams pushing as hard as possible. What should have been a great game, and this goes for the whole damn season as well, was made shit by so many people being selfish to their teammates, and no matter my justification, I became part of it.

spell check

The spell check can be a funny little guy. It recognizes as words all of the times I curse and swear. But it didn't even recognize it's own name. It wondered if by spell check I might have meant spliced. And that's not even the funny one. Somehow, it was certain that when I said goalkeeper, what I really meant was . . .

Can you guess? Seriously, before looking down at the answer, try to imagine what the spell check might have thought I meant. If the word goalkeeper isn't recognized, then how about . . .

Chalkboard? Yes, chalkboard.

Silly spell check!

almost forgot my newest soccer rant

The fact that I play soccer on an adult recreational team may have escaped. Actually, my Myspace id is King of the Pitch which makes me laugh because at least I know it's a joke. But to get back to my original story, my town has two different adult soccer leagues, and within the league I am part of we have a competitive division as well as a rec. division. For a country that isn't supposed to like or get soccer/football/futbol, I have to wonder why we didn't get the message, especially when we can field almost 20 teams of grownups in my small city/big town.

We also have a sort of playoffs, which is where we enter the story. Two weeks ago, we were unable to play. A pair of goals had disappeared from the park where we play, so only three fields were available. Because our game time was approaching and we obviously wouldn't have the team on the field, we were asked if we'd cancel and reschedule our game so that another team could use our field. The cancellation avoided our having to forfeit.

We did reschedule the game for the following Saturday with our regularly scheduled game on Sunday. I'm not really old at all, though I feel the years I wasn't respectful of my body creeping round sometimes. But I'm also not that young, and two games in two days is a royal pain in the patoot.

Our rescheduled game day came around. Big Brother's team played beautifully if you can ignore Big Brother playing goalkeeper by hanging from the crosspiece, but that's another story. On the Saturday we were supposed to make up our game, the opposing team had trouble getting their team to show. We were also seriously underhanded, but we had more players than they.

League rules require that a team have at least seven players on the field for a game to be counted. The opposing (blue) team had seven until one of their players pulled a muscle in his thigh. We had a player or two more than they did meaning that they weren't likely to beat us. The numbers tilted to their favor slightly when one of my teammates decided that his first yellow card wasn't enough, so he got a second which is basically a red and meant that he would not be playing with us the next day. League rules once again.

The blue team, having begun the game but unable to finish, allowed us to beat them by five goals. That's what we needed to get our best place in the playoffs. That bothered me, and still does. I appreciate that they were willing to do this for us, but I do not want to win a game that way. This is my first season on this team as I was on the blue team the last time that I played, and I still really like most of the guys on the team. But both teams are North Knox county, so we got divided a little differently this time around. Now if the 40 +/- people that originally showed up would actually come to all the games . . .

The next day we played the first place team. At the half they were up by two goals. We were playing ten on the field as we were short one girl. League rules require two girls on the field or your team plays a man down. The opposing team had their girls and several subs both male and female.

My team was playing fairly well. The opponents were getting a little frustrated at the half as we'd allowed only two goals and they're used to smacking the crap out of people. I subbed out just prior to the half as my team's attitude was turning ugly, and worse, we were turning on each other. I left to regain my composure as I was growing angry and frustrated with my team. I needed to cool off. Into the second half I was getting more upset as my team fell apart. I waited to sub in, preferring for my anger to recede so that I didn't take it onto the field and do something stupid.

I finally did go back in and played hard. The game was winding down, and I'd had to do a couple of half field sprints trying to stop an attack on my goal. I was fighting to breathe at this point, and I could feel my lungs screaming at me to stop. I needed to rest. I called for a sub and looked to the empty spot where my team should have been. There were no players there, so I found them, TAKING OFF THEIR SOCKS AND SHOES!!! They had quit, had given up.

I was really angry at this point. I thanked them as loudly as I could and in a most friendly way.

I don't know what to do now. We have another game Sunday, our last of the season. I like some of my new teammates, and we have a ton of talent on our team. We could really work well together, but some people are just less committed than others, and it's hard to develop that onfield relationship when you don't always play with the same people, when you aren't sure who will show up from one week to the next. Add to that the feeling of anger I still have for those teammates who were willing to quit.

I'm glad I held off posting this. I almost did it Sunday night, when the vitriol was still fresh, when my anger was still keeping me warm. I know it's another addition in a long line of boring stories that I've posted. I know that my edit will be the only time someone reads all the way through. Actually, that's why I use spellcheck, because then I know that at least the spell check is reading it. YES IT IS! The spell check can too read, and it cares about my feelings. I love you spell check.