Sunday, April 30, 2006

"What Ever Happened To Saturday Night?"

Random bits of music trivia again. Name the song the title of this post comes from, the artist who perfomed it, and the album(s) it appears on.

An interesting question, though. I used to have fun on Saturday nights. Socially. Now social activity consists of running into someone I know at the checkout counter of the local Blockbuster. Not that I was ever a party animal or anything. But it used to be fun to go to dinner and a movie with friends. Now the friends are busy doing their own thing. We're new in this town, so I haven't met a whole lot of people yet. I hope to change all of that, but I have a feeling that my social days are pretty much over.

It's sad in a way, but life moves on. That leaves me venting in the blogosphere late at night. Oh well.

I did see THE SENTINEL at a matinee. It's a pretty good movie, especially if you're a 24 fan. Keifer Sutherland's character is Jack Bauer redux. The only problem I had with the movie was a glaringly inaccurate statement regarding Sig-Sauer pistols, plus a blatant liberal propaganda message regarding the Kyoto Protocol.

The movie talks about a "safety" on a Sig. Anyone who has a passing familiarity with guns knows that Sigs don't have safeties, other than the trigger. Some models to have de-cocker levers, but no safeties. Most law enforcment agencies are going to pistols that are double-action only. This is for training purposes, as well as safety issues. Even an idiot can be made to understand that one keeps their finger out of the trigger guard or the pistol will go boom. Such inaccuracy in the movies bothers me, for some reason.

The liberal propaganda regarding the Kyoto Protocol is to be expected, but it burns me up nonetheless. This is a prime example of Hollyweird forcing their agenda down our throats via the movies. I wish they'd just keep it to themselves. Just entertain me, Hollywood. You're not bright enough to do anything else. Especially when all the evidence really shows that global warming is a farce. Read STATE OF FEAR by Michael Crichton, and actually follow up and read the research he cites.

Hollywood is somewhat concerned about plummeting box office revenues. Could it possibly be because people are getting fed up with Hollywood forcing its amoral and dangerous viewpoints on them? You can't watch anything on television without there being some sort of gay character. Every show that has a politician in it has to make that politico a Democrat. Maybe the heartland is voting with its pocketbook. That ought to send some sort of message, I would think. I doubt Clooney, Ledger, Gyllenhaal, or their ilk will be smart enough to understand the message, however. Oh well, again.

Saturday, April 29, 2006

No Greater Love...


Whoa! Here’s a tidbit of information from Little Green Footballs regarding radical Muslim groups joining with the Hispanics on their protest day scheduled for May 1st.

Terrorists want open borders. This really underlines the point, does it not?

This immigration thing just burns me. Our country will not be secure if the borders are not closed. There are dark, swarthy people out there who want to kill us. They have a proven track record of infiltrating this country, and doing just that. They can pass for Hispanics if they have to. Hispanics sneak over here daily by the thousands. What part of this equation do our elected officials not understand? How does this not add up?

Democrats want more illegals over here. If they can make them citizens or get them to vote otherwise, they will win more elections. Period. Also, national security is a curse word to liberals.

Republicans don’t want to chase off the hispanic vote by doing something that is good for the country. They probably want cheap labor, as well. Bush also seems to be in Vicente Fox’s hip pocket.

So in other words, it’s all politics. I’m sure that’s not news to anybody. It just sickens me that an elected official would put politics over doing the right thing. Am I completely naive for expecting that? Apparently so.....


I was standing in line at Barnes and Noble this evening when a rather large young man got in line behind me. When I say large, I mean like NFL linebacker large, with not an ounce of fat on him. I noticed a military-style haircut, but didn’t think much of it. This is a college town, and the school has a fine military tradition, so it could have been a Corps cadet. I noticed a James Avery cross hung by a black cord around his neck.

We struck up a casual conversation. We both noticed there seems to be a number of new books out on the shelves with a common element: debunk Jesus. It’s puzzling, and somewhat scary to me. However, this guy put it all into perspective.

“Satan must really be getting desperate,” he said.

I thought about it a minute. I said, “I think you’re probably right. But if we accept the Bible as true, we know how the battle is going to come out. Why in the world would anybody want to be on the losing side?”

He kind of laughed. “You’re asking the wrong person,” he said.

This guy had what can only be described as a plethora of books in his arm. “It’s a long plane ride back,” he said. I continued my check-out process.

“Oh. Where you flying to?” He had an accent that suggested that he was from up North somewhere. By that I mean one of the states on the wrong side of the War of Northern Aggression back in the 1860's. This is Texas, and Yankees are somewhat easy to spot when they talk. So I assumed that he was a college student flying home.

“Iraq,” he said.

It finally clicked. The hair. The build. This guy was a soldier. And he was loading up to head back into harm’s way. For me. For you. At the behest of his country. This guy was heading BACK to fight the terrorists on their own turf.

I was pretty overwhelmed at that point. What can you say to somebody in that position? Nothing that came to mind seemed adequate or appropriate. In a casual encounter like that, how would I express all that I felt? There was admiration. There was pride. There was fear for this guy’s life. There was rage at the terrorists whose actions put this noble man into harm’s way. All hit in the space of about a second.

My transaction was at an end. I gathered my new purchases, and started out the door. “Stay safe over there, and God bless you.” It was all I could come up with.

I thought a quick prayer for him as I walked out the door. I don’t know his name. I don’t know his unit. I don’t know what he is going to be doing over there. But I do know that he’s putting it all on the line, for all of us.

So in that light, this border nonsense really upsets me. This kid's sacrifice might be in vain, if we don't close our borders. And he IS a sacrifice, even if he comes home. He's away from his family, his friends, surrounded by people who want nothing more than to kill him, and to whom his life is less than that of livestock. He's doing it for the security of our way of life. The thought is almost unbearable that it could all be for nothing if we don't close our borders.

So tonight, think about this kid. I don’t care what side you’re on in the national debate over the War on Terror. Remember him in your prayers. Thank God that he’s willing to put it all on the line for you. Pray that he comes back home safely.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

The Gospel of the Flying Rat

I am always amazed when the good Lord smacks me upside the head with a little lesson. Not to mention dazed, and partially brain-damaged. Regardless, now and again I get a neat little lesson taught to me.

Last night, I was dutifully hacking away at the keyboard; trying to get back the writing chops that have atrophied horribly in the last year. In keeping with custom, I allowed the pet monsters to roam wild while I attempted to fan a spark of genius. I have written before about the sugar gliders, and the unrestrained havoc they can wreak. I have taken some pains to describe the tiny terror known as Phoebe. For anyone new, imagine the Tasmanian Devil, reduced to roughly the size of a hamster.

Phoebe likes to explore her little world. Unfortunately, the world is sort of dangerous for a little marsupial. This is especially so when she THINKS she's bigger than an elephant. She has no fear whatsoever. She dive-bombed our new dog, and he weighs a bit over 100 pounds at this point. Completely fearless, but I digress.

I have an old filing cabinet that really needs throwing away. I just haven't gotten around to emptying it out yet. The bottom drawer is broken. The top drawer had been left open a crack, and Phoebe got in. Somehow or another, she managed to get between the drawers, and fall down into the pit of the bottom, broken drawer. Gliders are incredible climbers, but they can't climb a frictionless surface. So she was stuck in the bottom of the filing cabinet. At first, I had no idea she was stuck. I figured she'd work her way out whenever she got bored. When she started barking for help, I finally figured out that she was in trouble.

Thus began a multi-hour ordeal. I had to figure out exactly where she was. If I pulled out the top drawer and she was between the rails, I could have easily smashed and killed her. The bottom drawer will not move unless subjected to extreme force. Again, not a good option. If she was in the wrong place when the drawer gave way, she would be killed. I was pretty freaked out. The hour was late, to say the least, and that did not help things a bit. I had no idea how to get her out of there, and I couldn't see into the cabinet to tell where I could tear into it without hurting her. I could hear her scratching wherever she heard me working. She would bark or squeak when I talked to her. If you knew her, you would know she was freaked out and wanted OUT, in a big way.

This went on for quite some time, with me running all kinds of scenarios in my head, trying to get an idea of exactly where she was so that I could get to her safely. Finally, I had a moment of clarity, and started taking the wooden filing cabinet apart piece by piece, from the top down. Little by little I took the thing apart, until I could reach her. This took quite awhile. I went slow, just to make sure she didn't get hurt.

Finally, I got to her. When I had excavated enough of the cabinet to reach her, she was curled up in a corner, just waiting. I stuck my head far enough in to see her, and found her looking right at me.

Maybe I read more into it than there was. Maybe I have a tendency to humanize these animals a bit too much. One way or the other, she seemed really happy to see me; but she didn't look a bit surprised that I dug her out. Her look seemed to say, "I knew you would get me out of there. I had faith in you." She was waiting quietly and calmly when I got to her. She hopped up when she saw me, jumped into my hands and raced to her normal perch on my shoulder. She made her little contented squeakings, which just about melted my heart on the spot.

Ultimately, these little animals rely on us for everything. Food, water, shelter, protection from the scary things out there in the world, they have to have us to give it to them when they are in captivity. I think she knows this. I think she had faith that I was going to get her out of there. She had more faith than I did, to say the least.

We brought these little animals into our home. When we did, we took on a obligation to take care of them. Obligations are hard to live up to, on occasion. Sometimes it's tough to stay up late and let them play. It's a pain in the rear to feed them and clean the cages. They can frustrate the living heck out of you at times. But we still have the duty to take care of them. We can't just abandon them, or let them starve to death. They deserve as good a life as I can give them, when they came under my roof. They became my responsibility. Ultimately, Phoebe had faith enough to know that I would try and help her.

The point I guess that I'm trying to make with all of this is: what kind of faith do we have? God created this world, and put us in it. There's scary and dangerous things in it. There's hard times to be had. There are times where we lose faith. With all the bad stuff that happens down here, it's hard to comprehend sometimes that God really is with us. He promised not to abandon us, and he would be there every step of the way.

Phoebe put her faith in me, her protector and provider. I brought her into this world, and took on responsibility for her welfare. I'm certain God has done the same thing with us. Except God actually HAS a plan to get us out of the proverbial filing cabinet. I was just winging it.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

"It's a Gas, Gas, Gas!"

Name that tune, anyone?? Not like I have readers after being off the ether for a year.

A very insightful columnist today gave the perfect solution to this gas price problem we seem to be having. It was elegantly simple. Just cut the taxes on gas. It's Neil Cavuto, from Fox News, by the way.

Brilliant. Of course, that would mean a whole host of social programs that have been funded off our tax dollars would go down the tubes. What a crying shame that would prove to be. Note the heavy sarcasm. The gas companies are actually only making about .09 cents profit on each gallon of gas, so this guy says. The entity that really screws us like the proverbial tied-up goat is the government.

What a shocker. Again, note the heavy sarcasm.

At any rate, this country tends to demonize big business when we have some sort of crisis. I think most of our crises (sp?) arise from something the government screwed up somewhere. This stupid entitlement mentality the country seems to have adopted just cannot stand to see somebody profit off of hard work. So we demonize those who actually run a business for a profit, provide jobs for the rest of us, and actually succeed, despite the government's best efforts.

It kind of reminds one of how the French started guillotining everyone who had money back in their famous revolution. Or how the Bolsheviks blew away the Czar and his family. The have-nots decide to kill the haves and take their hard-earned stuff.

It's called communism. It's evil. Pure and simple. Keep that in mind.

Monday, April 24, 2006

Back in the Saddle Again....

And so I am.

Wow. Over a year has gone by, and here I am back on the Internet. It's like coming home again. This thing actually still works.

It's sorta embarassing, but I actually forgot my passwords to the site. Memory is like any other kind of mental or physical function: use it or lose it. Well, I lost it. The worst thing is that my old internet provider shut down my email account, so it's dead. That means I couldn't retreive my passwords and such from the web host. Oops. I had to do mental calesthenics until I remembered the right password and combinations to get back on here. And here I am.

I could go on about various things that I've been up to over the course of the last year, and I will in good time. I could ramble on about the state of the world as I see it, and I'll do that as well. First things first, however. I just gotta POST something. Here you go.

Not much for the first time back in the saddle, but all that will change shortly. The great thing about blogging so much back in the day was that it kept my writing chops fairly polished. I'm looking forward to continuing to do so, as well as airing out all my dirty laundry in a public forum. Just kidding. Well, sort of.

I wonder if I actually remember how to link to things, and all that fun stuff. Only time will tell. Let's try a test link, just to see how it does. This is to one of my all-time favorite blog sites, if you haven't figured it out already. Go read it. Good stuff there.

OK, where have I been? I relocated, worked a job at a place that didn't have internet, and I was too poor to continue to have the service. So I quit blogging. Simple as that. I relocated the blind dog, prognosticating gliders, the insane dog, the new addition dog, and the spouse once more. I'm now still too poor to have the internet, but have hit the ether again anyway. And we're not moving again. Ever. They'll have to dynamite this house around our ears. Burn us out like monsters out of the proverbial windmill. But we ain't moving, period.

Moving is sheer torture. If I am unfortunate enough to be sent to Hell, I'll be made to get up each day and move all my worldly possessions from place to place. Probably to a third story apartment with narrow stairs, too. That's it. The worst torture I can imagine.

Everybody go bug my friend Paul at his website. He just had a new baby girl. Well, he didn't. His wife did, and apparently he had some part in the whole process.

I'll be back with more witty insight into life, the universe, and everything. Glad to be here.

Cerebral Misfire

He's Baaaaacccckkkk!