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.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
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?
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.
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
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
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?
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?
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Monday, June 05, 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
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
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!
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!
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
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
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
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, May 19, 2006
blogger spell check
Why does blogger dot com's spell checker not recognize the words blog, blogger or blogging?
Seriously, yo!
Seriously, yo!
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