Monday, December 8, 2008

Charity CD



Last year my band Mercurial Rage made a Christmas song. It was fun, and something I had been wanting to do for a long time. This year that song has been placed on a holiday compilation. Go here to check it out and buy a copy. All for a good cause and a great way to celebrate the Solstice. Yeah!

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Date Night

So me and mama B are finally gonna go out on a date. We are calling in a long standing offer from Kirk's godfather. So Kirkie is gonna go to "uncle" Michael's house while mommy and daddy go to a sit down restaurant experience without having to yell at someone for tipping out all the salt and screaming when he gets bored. Don't get me wrong, I love going out with the boy, it's just nice not to have to do continuous daddy patrol. We can sit and eat and talk like grownups for a change. MMM. Sounds delightful.

Kirk loves his goddad. Michael is the singer in my band and a close friend. Michael's wife will be out with her friends tomorrow so it will be just the boys. At first we thought they could watch Depeche Mode videos together, but Michael asked to have Kirk show him the movie Cars, which he has never seen. I told Kirk this and he was a little suspect of someone not having seen Cars. But then he got excited at the prospect of initiating someone into the world that is Cars. So tomorrow Kirk will take his Cars DVD, and a bucket of Cars toys to Michael's house and teach him about it.

Michael is a vegetarian. Kirk eats, well, mostly peanut butter sandwiches, cereal, carrots, and fruit. And candy if you ask him. They'll be fine. I don't care what they eat. It's not my job tomorrow. It's godfather time.

Kirk is fully potty trained when it comes to peeing. I'm not sure how well he'll pee in the potty without us, but we'll bring his potty ring with so he can show uncle Michael how cool he is peeing in the potty by himself. Again I don't care how they work it out. I can't be there forever. But still I hope my Kirkie can be all growed up around his godfather. It's a big step, and a necessary one. Kirk needs to be able to live without us or his daycare lady if he is to go to school and be a regular human and stuff.

I think this will be a win win win situation. We get to have a night out alone. Michael gets to spend some time with his godson and get a glimpse at his future as a parent, and Kirk gets to hang out with his cool godfather and show off what a big boy he is. For michael the worst case scenario I can see is that Kirk will pee a little off the potty. Easily cleaned, but he will then freak out on his failure and cry a lot and be a dick. No worse than dealing with me when I'm drunk. And Michael has done that plenty.

Monday, November 10, 2008

It's a Girl!....Probably

We had our ultrasound and we saw a very healthy baby, and the "gender appears female". Of course this is not always 100%. If you don't see a penis, it doesn't always mean it's not there. People have thought they were having a girl, painted a pink room, spent tons on cute dresses, only to be surprised at the actual birth. But our whole family has had strong "girl vibes" all along the way. Kirk always uses the pronouns her and she when referring to the baby inside mommy's tummy. Though he still says he wants a brother.

This ultrasound was amazing, we saw her move her mouth and her fingers and her arms and legs. Squirmy little thing. Like her old man. With Kirk we didn't really see movement, although we did see a clear shot of his penis and balls. I'm still very confident it's a girl and I couldn't be more thrilled. One of each is even steven. I like that. My brother also has one of each, so we are keeping it consistent and giving my parents two of each flavor of grandchildren. (A girl tips the balance towards girls on her mothers side). I can't wait to be the daddy of a daughter. I never had a sister, so I love the idea of having another female in my family. I can't wait to put her in cute little dresses and put ribbons in her hair and all those girly things. Her brother is all boy, so I imagine she will be a tough little tomboy of a kid too. And I can polish my shotguns just waiting for some guy to try to pick her up for a date in a van.

I'm gonna be a daddy again! Yay!

I have to admit this second child thing has made me feel odd. I have not had as much of the excitement and magic that I felt with the first one, until now. Now that I have seen her move, it feels more real. I'm ready to give full unconditional love to another and it feels divine.

We are thinking of naming her Veronica. We will call her Ronnie. My dad's name is Ronald and it is my middle name as well. Little Ronnie Hill will be the coolest person on the face of the earth just like Kirk Hill is. Also she and her mother will each enjoy having Elvis Costello songs named for them. (My wife's name is Belsum BTW, I'm sure you all know the Elvis Costello song titled Belsum) And I will continually say to her, "just like Ronnie said, be my little baby."

And she will love me forever because I'm her daddy and I'm practically awesome. And she will snuggle me long after Kirk thinks it's lame to hug his dad. Okay kids you may notice I'm a little giddy with this post. Hee.

So my brother and I were talking about how we both have contributed females to this new generation of Hills. Females have been in short supply for quite some time. My dad had a sister, but both he and his brother produced sets of boys. My aunt never had childrens so our entire generation is all boys. We are the Hillboys and we have grown to love it. We get together during non-holiday times to celebrate our Hillboyness together. But now there are going to be two fresh Hill girls in the mix. We just love it.

Oh yes, children! I will soon have child-ren. Not just child. I love that too. I can now talk about my kids in the plural.

I could go on forever, but let me just say that I am extremely happy that our kick ass Nordic genes have produced a healthy baby, and that this new baby will soon join a family full of love. And she will be loved, very much, even if it turns out that she's a boy.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Making Gargamel proud

Smurf stew with potatoes, carrots, and onions, along with smurf broth and seasonings.
INGREDIENTS:
. 2 to 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
. 2 pounds lean de-boned stewing smurfs*, cut in 1-inch cubes
. 2 teaspoons salt
. 1 bay leaf
. 1/4 teaspoon dried leaf thyme, crushed
. 1 can (10 1/2 ounces) condensed smurf broth
. 3 1/4 cups water, divided
. 4 medium carrots, sliced
. 2 medium potatoes, cubed
. 12 small white onions
. 1/4 cup cornstarch
PREPARATION:
In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium heat. Add smurfs; brown well on all sides. Add salt, bay leaf, and thyme, along with the condensed smurf broth and 3 cups of the water.
Cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 1 1/2 hours. Add carrots, potatoes, and onions; simmer for about 30 minutes longer, or until vegetables are tender. Combine cornstarch and remaining 1/4 cup of water; stir until smooth. Stir cornstarch mixture into the stew. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Boil for 1 minutes. Serves 6.

*It takes about 12 de-boned smurfs to yield a pound of smurf meat. For best results I recommend free range smurfs. You can find these at your local co-op. They cost a little more but it’s worth it.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Concession Speech

My fellow Americans I would like to first thank you for not electing John McCain because that guy seriously creeps me out. Then I would like to congratulate president-elect Barak Obama. I wish him all the best in the trying times we now face, and I don't envy his position at all. It is a difficult road ahead and president-elect Obama will have to meet these challenges without the aid of alien technology. That being said I would like to say this to you America. You dumb mother-fuckers! You blew it. You had the chance to vote for me and exploit alien technology, bring about the end of all war on earth, and ensure the promise of future colonies in space. But that's okay. Just remember to vote for me in 2012.

Things will be fine. I know this because I have been temporally scanned by a future alien invasion force while being imprisoned on their mothership. I have seen the future. I can't tell you much about future events but I can tell you a little. I will become president in 2012 and I will have the endorsement of Cyborg Obama. Cyborg Obama will not run for re-election because he will take on a leadership role in the founding of the first Terran Empire. I can't say why or how he becomes part machine, but suffice it to say Obama is never the same after his accident during the Battle of Beverly Hills. We will eventually reign victorious over this alien invasion but not without great sacrifice.

I promise to you that Cyborg Obama and I will work together to bring about human prosperity. Our time together in that alien prison in which I too become part cybernetic will bring us together as allies.

Thank you.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Misfit

I am a misfit. In my home town and in my family I am certainly out of tune, but also in my circle of friends in my chosen city. I am a little off kilter everywhere. Misfits have a place in society and apparently many of them seek the wonderful world of advertising. So here I reside, trying my best to make a career in a world dominated by other misfits. My good friend Jen who is an advertising copywriter told me that it is the only straight job freaks like us can do. I hope she is right, and that I can do it. Because if I strike out at Misfit Academy I might have to become a dentist.

Friday, October 31, 2008

A letter to my father.

I just wrote this in a frenzy to my dad in an email. I thought there was some good stuff in there. I hope he doesn't mind me sharing.

You know they say technology makes life easier, or better, and don't get me wrong I love all my high tech gizmos and I want more, but in reality technology only makes life different. We are still people. We have the same fears and doubts and joys and temptations and frailties and love and passion and longing that all people ever have had. We are human no matter what trappings of civilization surround us.

I have discovered in 36 years that mankind is quite adept at learning how to adapt to new situations. We are also quite extraordinary in our ability to build on the lessons learned by our previous generations when it comes to things like education and technology and farming and building etc. But when you get down to the nitty gritty of the human experience we are all doomed to make our own mistakes. We never really learn from the past when it comes to the true nature of ourselves. Every generation experiments, and every generation has it's pain. We repeat the mistakes of our forebears continually because that is what it means to be alive I guess. We look at our children and know that no amount of caution in the world will necessarily prevent them from doing stupid things for love or greed or revenge or whatever. That's who we are. It's sometimes harsh, but it is also beautiful.

Sorry to get heavy. I'm just writing creatively with you as an audience. I think about these things. I love humanity and I always look at the future with an optimistic view, because to me we are no worse or no better than we have ever been, but now we have a lot of fun toys to play with. Technology I think creates some of our current problems as well as provides the solution for them.

War, sadly, I believe will always be with us. Because there will always be those that disagree so much with another that it becomes apparent (and even justified) to obliterate them. "You're wrong and I'm right so now die." And of course it gets even more complex. I just fear for America. Our America is dying a silent death, and the new America will be something I'm not sure I know how to deal with.

Oh well. I'll still try to sell my bullshit to whoever will listen. And kids today and the kids of tomorrow will continue to make the same mistakes that we have all made forever. Life is good.

I love you Dad. Thanks for being my dad. If my son regards me half as well as I regard you, I will have been a successful parent.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Kirk

Okay I named my son Kirk. So I'm a nerd. Whatever. The thing is my little boy who is three and put his pees in the potty at the Home Depot this weekend and is such a big boy is becoming a nerd too. We do have the right to brainwash our kids as we see fit. That is what religion is after all. Anyway, back to the potty. Kirkie has been wearing underpants and not having accidents, and the Home Depot thing was huge. He is a little shy of public bathrooms, as we all are, but he not only peed in a public restroom for the first time, but it was also standing up, and in the low urinal. I was praising him so much that when a stranger walked in he too understood and praised Kirk. Yay!

Kirk, who must be called Buzz these days, because he is Buzz Lightyear, is a big Space Ranger. He calls me Woody. I haven't heard the word daddy in months. I am Woody, all the time. His mom is sometimes Jessie, sometimes Mira Nova, but also sometimes still mommy, but I am always Woody. I'm so proud of my little space ranger for finally figuring out the potty thing. It's been work, and there are many bribes involved, but mostly there are rewards, and the things he gets for successful pottying are lessons in EARNING.

Back to the nerd thing. I lost my train of thought because potty time is such a big part of my life now. By the way, I recommend it. Simple lessons to children go a long way in understanding your own humanity. Anyway my Kirk is finally starting to watch Star Trek. He knows he is Kirk and he digs it. He has loved Star Wars for years, literally, and the Beatles, and Depeche Mode and other things I've exposed him to, but just recently he has discovered a fondness for the Trek. Original series of course.

He really likes the Corbomite Maneuver. Thats the one where the alien is all scary at first but turns out to really be a young Clint Howard. The alien is called Balok, and Kirk talks about his friend Balok all the time, but he hides under his blanket and cuddles me when we watch it, because he thinks the "puppet Balok" is scary. It's cute. I tell him it's okay, and that Balok just wants to be friends. He gets it but just can't deal with the Balok dummy. I like the cuddles though. He also likes to watch Spock's Brain. One of the silliest episodes, but Kirk digs it for some reason. He also like to watch the "silly black and white guys fight", and the "one where Kirk takes the Tribble from Chekov." Then he always says, "I love it when they beam."

My kid rules. The thing is I really didn't force it on him. I just asked him if he wanted to see an episode, and he watched it with me, and then asked for more. I tried to show it to him a year ago and he wasn't into it, but he liked Star Wars. Trek takes a level of sophistication. I can remember seeing it in re-runs when I was about his age and I was intrigued by it. The uniforms have bold colors, and the characters are classic. The kid who calls himself Buzz Lightyear truly loves space fantasy. He calls Captain Kirk him. He says,"look at what I'm doing." He loves that there is an awesome space hero called Kirk. By the way when we listen to Metallica I do point out that the nice guitar player is named Kirk too. He likes Metallica. We listened to Master of Puppets once and he was all headbanging in his carseat.

I let him drive the car this weekend. We went to a parking lot near our house and I sat him in my lap and let him steer. He needs to work on that, but he thought it was the greatest thing ever. Then I let him drive us home. When we got home he told his mommy that he drove. She asked, "Where did you drive?" and he shouted, "Home!" Whoops, I forgot to tell him not to tell his mother. Heh.

I love my three year old son. I only wonder what will happen when his new sibling is born. I can't imagine loving anyone as much as I love him. I guess I'm going to learn a new lesson about humanity soon. I do love babies. Being a dad rules. Please gods don't make them hate me.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Generations

Okay I'm in Ad school. I'm in a portfolio school to learn how to sell stuff creatively. I do a lot of concepting but I am also learning how companies think when they are marketing to segments of our population. There is a generational component to this. This component has given me grief and has made me cause many disruptions in class. Let me explain.

The three main "generations" being marketed to are the Baby Boomers, the Generation Xers, and the Millennials.

I know the boomers well. They are our parents. The hippie 60's generation. The first rock generation, the Viet-Nam survivors, we don't need to be reminded about them, they are in charge and they are arrogant and harder to define than you might think. They were hippies, they were yuppies, and they are afraid to grow old. It's easy to sell to them. I have issues with the boomers that I openly state. My generation has lived in their shadow for so long, but I love the music and culture of the 50's and 60's. I love the boomer cultural contribution and fully recognize how it has shaped my own life.

Then there is Generation X. It's seems we are forgotten before we even came of age. The new Lost Generation. What the fuck? In 1990 I remember this new cultural phenomenon where a new generation was finally recognized. But before we ever had a chance to become anything they go and create a new generation under us, the Millennials. Apparently the Boomers were sad about how horribly they treated the X generation that they got to have a whole new generation to become their children. A redo? Well fuck you. I wish more of you fuck asses died in Viet Nam!

Okay. I'll calm down. The Boomers didn't create this. It's a product of capitalism and marketing. The boomers were mistakingly given two generations of children, when culturally it's not quite real. I'm not saying Mellenials don't exist as their own separate generation, but they CAN NOT BE THE CHILDREN OF BOOMERS. One generation begets another, which means these children are the children of Xers. So the timespans of these generations need to be refigured.

Here is how they have it written now:

Boomers-44 to 62 years old
Xers- 31 to 43 years old
Millennials-13 to 30 years old

Both Millennials and Xers are said to be children of Boomers. Okay, I understand we are different culturally because of certain things. Thing like the fact that the kids today were born into technologies that the rest of us grew into. Still on a realistic cultural level this is not a way to define generations.

I am 36, but I do not think of a 26 year old as a different generation. The kids who are 21 years old and younger sure, they were made by the Xer's or late Boomers. The problem is that your 44 year olds were not really boomers either. They graduated in 1982 and loved punk rock. Viet Nam was not their war, those kids loved Duran Duran and Metallica. They were proto-Xers. It's their kids who are now in their late 20's and those kids are Millennials. The kids who fucked up in my high school and had babies the year of graduation, those kids are Millennials. I waited until I was 33 to have children. My son is a late Millennial and not whatever brand they want to place on him.

This is a subject of much debate because people have kids at different times in their lives and things, but I would say your individual generation is more or less the people 10 years older and 10 years younger than you.

But in marketing segmentation is important. I can go there too. I quit my job at the cafe because the kids who I would be hiring would have been born the year I graduated high school. If you were born in the 90's you truly never can remember the time before every human had their own phone, or DVD's or ipods, or the internet. When I was a kid I had to get up to change the channel.

I am raising the real next generation. I know lots of 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 year olds. Good kids. Good kids. Gen Xer's will raise good kids. Nerdy kids, who understand Star Wars as mythological allegory and strive to create a better world despite the utter failure of the baby boomers. Stupid Baby Boomers.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Easy Money

My current job is working in a cubicle at a major corporation. It is so easy. I always knew that all of my friends in office jobs had it easy while I was busting my ass for the man in a string of blue collar jobs. I should have pursued a career much earlier (yes, I should have, I'm old and starting fresh, SCARY!) but I was just going from job to job without the ability to choose a vocation. I stay at jobs for long periods. I always quickly rise to the top in these fields, but they were never more than just, well jobs. I'm trying to change that now.

What I really want to talk about is how every job I've had in my entire life has gotten easier. Every subsequent job is easier than the last and they pay better too. This is only one man's experience, so bear with me.

My first job was when I was 11 years old. I had to pick up garbage and mow my dad's company's sales lot. Yes I was 11. When I get my yearly social security report it goes back to 1987 when I was 16. I was paid under the table for the first 5 years, but I did receive an actual payroll check. From ages 11 to 16 I made $2.50 an hour. I did the hardest, most demeaning, backbreaking work of my life for $2.50 an hour. I hated it. I even tried to quit,but my dad wouldn't let me. When I would get my paycheck, I would spend it on Star Wars toys, and waterslides. My mom would then yell at me for spending my money wrong.

Eventually I stopped buying toys, and bought things like a tv for my own room and my very own VCR. I had a VCR years before my parents did. Of course they tried to talk me out of that purchase too, but when they finally conceded they made sure I did it right. I had toshop around, and make sure I got the salesmen's cards. When it was time to buy I was told to pull out the card to make sure my salesman got the commission. I bought the VCR at JCPenney of all places.

When I turned 16 I thought I should ask my dad's boss for a raise. He told me how to approach him. I spent an entire day terrified of the confrontation, but I eventually walked into his office, and said that I was 16 and I was thinking I should get a raise. I had been there for 5 years doing the gruntiest of grunt labor and all he said was, "well you know this will mean you have to work harder?" Then he offered me $3.35 an hour, which was minimum wage at that time. I went on the official payroll and have paid taxes ever since. The thing is after that I didn't work harder. I got to do more interesting things like move furniture, fix things, and I often got my own truck to drive around in.

Soon after I left my dad's company to work at a grocery store. $3.85 an hour, and all I had to do was bag groceries and put them in peoples cars. I don't know if any store even does that anymore. I quit that job to work with my brother at the Hy-Vee deli. They offered me $4.05 an hour and it was even easier. I did a lot of things, but it was fun. I fried chicken and sold it to people. I worked there throughout high school and probably left making $4.75 an hour, which I thought was good at the time. (back then boys couldn't wear earrings at work)

In college I got a job doing phone bank junk for liberal causes. I got people to pledge money for Paul Wellstone, the Sierra Club, Minnesota NOW, and anti-Gulf War I stuff. $6.00 an hour. It was easy in that I just sat there and made phone calls, but it was hard because people hate being called at home. I got fired from that job. That's when I discovered I'm really not that liberal. Don't hate me, this was 1991 when political correctness gave no room for a South Dakota kid who was high all the time and liked to make jokes. Believe me, nothing I said then would even phase today's kids. Of course I skipped work a lot too, because it's hard to call people to give money for anything with a head full of acid.

After that I got a University job. I became a janitor. $7.25 an hour. I figured I would be rolling in the dough. I really liked the job. I had time to study, and I became a smoker there. I did a lot of writing there. I got drunk a lot during work and eventually had to quit school because I was a train wreck as a human.

Some time went on, I had various jobs, and then in 1993 I started to work for Courier Dispatch. I drove a van and delivered junk. I think I started at $8.50 an hour. There was a lot of lifting, but a lot of driving too. I smoked grass and made up songs. I worked there for two years and then left to join Airborne Express. I got more money and the work was less harsh. I worked my way up to dispatcher and finally quit in 2000 to go back to school.

School was great, then the dot com bust happened and Belsum lost her job. I quit school and worked at the coffee shop. At first I made less money, but eventually I was the manager. That was a great job, a dream job. I did it for years, but in time I felt I was stagnating, so here I am now, working in a cubicle.

This job is fine. I don't hate it because it is a new experience for me, but it is temporary. Hopefully soon I will be able to make even more money doing a job where I get to be creative. Of course if a million of you readers buy a Mercurial Rage record I can just become a humble popstar. Go. Buy it now.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Good Food

I've been trying to eat well these days. You know salads and things. Especially when I'm at work I have been seeking out vegetables to eat rather than your standard burgers and junk. I'm always looking for foods with vibrant natural colors. Orange, green, red, yellow. Not the dull brown of fried foods. Today I had a hankering for Sushi. I found a place in the Minneapolis skyway that serves pretty decent sushi for not a lot of cash. Of course I seem a bit wankerish in my cubicle eating my sushi, but who cares. I love good food.

I'm kind of a redneck. I guess. It's because I'm from South Dakota and I actually enjoy fast food on occasion. I love a McRib when it comes around. I love KFC now and then, and I love fried food, and the comfort food of my youth. My vegetarian friends pigeon hole me into a group of "bad eaters" when actually my tastes are quite diverse. Sure I eat shit a lot, and I love a buffet, but my gastronomic urges are much more complex than that.

First off I think vegetarians are evil. You heard me. Evil. They are taking the pleasure out of food. Food is to not only sustain, but to be enjoyed. If you are a vegetarian by religion, okay, I'll give you a pass, (and Indian vegetarian food with its long history of practice is simply perfect, I don't even know I'm not eating meat when it's prepared correctly),but if you are vegetarian because you think meat is murder, well you don't belong on the evolutionary food chain, and you should and will die out as a species.

I love meat. Most of my friends, who are primarily vegetarians for some reason, think of me as some big red meat eating carnivore. I do love a steak occasionally, and I do love eating pig wholeheartedly, but my favorite dish is fish.

When my wife and I go out to a fancy restaurant, there have been many times where they put her steak in front of me and my fish in front of her. So here I am the big meat eater, but still not manly.

Sushi seems sophisticated, but here I am the big redneck loving it the most. It confuses my friends. Especially the vegetarian ones. All I have to say is try it. Raw fish is the most delish. Yum!

So my wife thought my list of favorite foods would give a glimpse of my character. So here it is. My top 10 list of favorite foods.

1. Sushi
2. Thai Noodles
3. Spaghetti
4. Campbell's Soup
5. Fried Rice
6. Totino's Frozen Pizzas
7. Fried chicken
8. Hot roast beef sandwich
9. Pot Pies
10. Chimichangas

There it is. I am a redneck, but I know quality and taste too. Macaroni with hotdogs cut into it didn't make the list nor did fishsticks, but as a dad I deal with that cuisine often enough.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Metallica Rules

First off I have to admit that I had a hard time logging on to my own blog. I have too many passwords and things and it's starting to get confusing. Imagine if I get Ronald Reagan brain. I'll never be able to sort anything out.

The new Metallica record rules by the way. It thrashes and well...it rocks. My good friend Jon could give you a better review, but all I got to say is it is a welcome return to the Metallica of old. I bought it off Itunes for $9.99. That is cheap really, considering that back in the day the first Metallica record I "bought" was the "9.98 CD". The 9.98 CD was an EP of cover songs that came out in between "Master of Puppets" and "...And Justice for All." It's weird to think that Metallica was the band that was fighting the industry with a CD that had it's price on the title, a price that was by the way very much lower than records were being sold at that time, and also being the band that fought Napster. It's not really weird. It's business. Music is a lot cheaper today than it used to be. Thank you Lars.

I don't work at a coffee shop anymore. I work in a cube. I process TPS reports for a major company. I like it. I dress well, put in 8 hours and go home. It's very different from anything I've ever done. At night I go to school to learn how to use my creative talents to sell you all shit. Please buy my bullshit. It's all I have.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

The Great War

World War I.

The Great War as it was called before the Second World War was also given the title of the "war to end all wars." What happened? So many wars have followed this "great war" that it has fallen into a forgotten page of world and American History. The politics of the first world war are still with us today. The fighting continues in the wars we fight in Iraq and Afganistan due to the fallout of the termination of the Ottoman Empire.

World War 1 is a forgotten war, that was fought only 90 years ago. There are veterans still alive. Actually there is only one American veteran still alive. His name is Frank Buckles.

When I was a kid my brother told me about how we would live to see the last World War I veteran. He got the idea from a school project about the Civil War. But I never forgot it. For several years I have been monitoring the lives of WW1 veterans, and we are down to 12 worldwide. As a consolation to the allies, I have to report that we have won the war completely. The last Central Power veteran died last year. The 12 remaining veterans are on our side.

I want you all to go here so you can pay tribute to all those great men and women still alive who fought for a cause that is now forgotten.

I do not want this generation to pass without notice. It is time to take a minute and remember the first World War, and to try to understand the great sacrifice these brave veterans made for us.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

White House Tour Cancelled

(I was in Washington DC this past weekend. I had a tour of the White House scheduled, but it was cancelled. I was upset over this, so I wrote a letter to the President. Here is the letter I wrote that day.)

September 2nd, 2008

Dear President Bush,

I didn’t get to go on my White House tour because I was told that you needed the house that day. Dude, that is not your house. I am pissed. I planned my entire trip around going to the White House, and now I’m left hanging. I checked out of my hotel early just so I could be at the tour on time. And because of lame security restrictions I left my camera with my luggage, so now I can’t take fun pictures at the capitol.

You need the house? For what? All I could get from the park rangers was that you were doing some uplink for the Republican Convention. My tour wouldn’t have bothered you at all. This is another example of the over zealous security following the tragedy of the 9-11attacks.

We always claim to refuse to negotiate with terrorists but by putting our own nation within a tyranny of fear you have succeeded in doing just that. It’s the erosion of simple liberties that are tantamount to letting the terrorists win. Why do I have to take my shoes off at the airport? All the new travel regulations make us less free. I hate less free. What do they accomplish anyway? Are we truly safer? I doubt it!

Nobody could hijack a plane like they did on 9-11. It was a one time deal. People would rush those bastards before they could say “box knife” today. So why all the extra precautions? It’s over. Let us get back to being free.

Sincerely,

Chris Hill

(After a couple hours I calmed down. Here is the letter I'm really sending the President.)

September 4, 2008


Dear President Bush,

I recently visited our nation’s capitol. I was excited and grateful to have secured a tour of the White House through contacting my local representative to congress. White House tours are hard to come by these days because of all the security involved. I planned much of my trip around the visit, and when I arrived I was told all tours were cancelled for the day. When I enquired for the reason, I was merely told that the President needed the house.

After my initial sadness over not being able to visit one of our country’s greatest historic treasures, I started thinking that there was no reason a White House visit has to be such an elaborate procedure. I feel I need to remind you sir, that the White House does not belong to you. It belongs to all of us. We the people of the United States own that house, and we should have the opportunity to visit it. We should have the freedom to touch that edifice and to immerse ourselves within the collective history of what it stands for. I realize on a grand scale a cancelled tour is not such a big issue, but it is a microcosm of a greater issue. America today is living under a tyranny of fear. It’s the loss of the simple liberties that gives me my greatest concern for our future.

I was able to visit the other two branches of our government without a problem. Only the executive branch provided an obstacle. I understand the need for security, but I think it’s gotten out of hand. Possibly it’s gotten out of your hands as well. I’m sure you don’t make the specific security policies of the White House, but you could if you wanted to.

A portion of the Presidential mansion could be made available to the public at all times. If you ordered it, the security agencies working for you would make it happen in a way that is safe for you and all subsequent administrators, and also provide the American people with a chance to feel closer to their government and their history. I am a student of American history. Just to walk under the iconic columns of that great structure would have provided me with the utmost wonder. You sir could make this happen.

I’m asking for you to use your influence to do the right thing. Give the executive mansion back to the people. Let the citizens of the United States bask in the brilliance of this symbol of self government in order to help inspire and remind us why we are the greatest nation the world has ever seen.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,


Christopher Ronald Hill

(If I had written either draft while I was sitting at the park bench just after being denied my tour, I would not have addressed it to Mr. President. "Dear Heartless Cocksucker" is what I was thinking at the time.

Monday, September 1, 2008

Gangs of the early 21st century...

This will be a title of a book in the future. But what of the genesis of these gangs? I may have some insight.

Kirk is 3 years old and he has 3 major imaginary cohorts he hangs out with. They are: Hot Sun, Mustard Bottle, and Spider. Those sound like hoodlum names to me. He often goes into lengthy diatribes about his associations with these three malfeasant youths.

Hot Sun is actually, well, the sun. You know it. It shines overhead bringing life to the world. Sometimes it's hot, like when you're in a carseat. This character seems to follow Kirk everywhere he goes.

Mustard Bottle is a duplicitous fiend. At one time he was used to squirt mustard onto our hot dogs and sandwiches, and now he lords over all of Kirk's toys with impunity. He may not have the profile of Buzz Lightyear, or Lightening McQueen, but he simply rules the room from behind the scenes. Mustard Bottle is the Karl Rove of Kirk's room.

And then there's Spider. I don't know anything about Spider, and Kirk won't tell me. This mystery man is probably the most dangerous of the wacky triumvirate of colleagues giving my son advice on how to manufacture his wave of naughtiness. I'm pretty sure that when we are at the restaurant it is Spider whispering into Kirk's ear telling him to scream uncontrollably for no damn reason.

My plan is to use these three members of his organization, to bring them into my camp, and to exploit them into getting their master to put his pees and poops in the potty EVERY TIME. I know it smacks of Cold War intolerance and subterfuge, but this is after all the security of the free world at stake. Or at least the security of me not having to change a poopy diaper 40 minutes after I put Kirk to bed. They will submit. After all, I'm the only one in the house capable of pulling off Mustard Bottle's head without the aid of a tool.

Daddy democracy. If it looks clean on the books, there was no wrong doing. At least when he calls me a fascist at age 14 I will have earned it.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Chris Hill for President!


First off let me say that my utter disdain for John McCain is palpable. I will have plenty of things to say about my Republican opponent next week when I attend the convention in my home state of Minnesota. I will be relentless.

Right now I have to address the folly of the Democrats and their elected puppet. Barak Obama seems like a nice guy. I don't know him, I only know what he says he stands for. This is true of all politicians. I'm not going to tell you that I think he is too inexperienced to govern. I am less experienced than he, and I wish to govern.

As the space party candidate it is my duty to bring up the following:

Barak Obama is not a space friendly candidate. Candidate Obama would "pay for his education plan by ending corporate tax deductions for CEO pay and delaying NASA's moon and Mars missions."

Delaying the missions to the moon and Mars? That stands against everything I believe in. End of story.

I don't care if the Senator is a socialist. Be a socialist Senator. Take money from Bill Gates. Take money at gunpoint from every corporation in America, but lets get some people into space. NOW!

This is why I miss the Cold War. If the Soviets were even talking about putting a man on Mars, we would have an American on Mars by 2010.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

I am your father...

Today I was watching The Empire Strikes Back with my 3 year old son. It was his request. He wanted to see "Luke Skywalker in the snow". What can I say, the boy has impeccable taste in cinema. When we got to the big fight between Luke and Vader, Kirk shouted, "Luke has a blue lightsaber". I replied, "Yes, I know, and do you know whose lightsaber it is?" He looked at me like I was an idiot and instantly stated, "Master Obi Wan's".

This is where I found myself in the most agreeable of disagreements of my life. I told him that while Obi Wan gave the lightsaber to Luke, it originally belonged to Anakin. Therefore both lightsabers in the battle belonged to Darth Vader. He gave me one of those stop-fucking-with-me-because-I'm-only-three looks and told me I was crazy, and then we actually debated it for several minutes. While eating fish sticks. The moment was absurd to me, but I was in nerd daddy heaven.

He wasn't convinced. He even got a little pissy about it. Eventually I had to tell him that I was, like, lots older than him, and that I knew Star Wars way better, and that it was naptime. End of story. Ha! I rule!

Monday, August 25, 2008

Okay it's my birthday.

I like birthdays, and I like getting older, I really do, but this birthday is not my favorite. I'm 36. It's the late mid 30's, but more significantly it's the age where I am officially "pushing" 40. (It is official too. There's a government office that records these things. Probably under the umbrella of homeland security.) Today I am spending my time cleaning the house and taking care of Kirk. I get to be Mr. Mom for my birthday. We are watching Spongebob. A commercial recently came on for a Star Wars Lego ship. Kirk shouted at me, "Dad! Dad! That's what you're getting for your birthday!" I looked over at my stack of unwrapped presents, and he continued with, "It's the red present. That's what's in the red present." I thanked him and continued to do the dishes. I don't really like suprises anyway.

If anybody wants to send me a bottle of absynthe, I wouldn't hate it. Actually my two favorite birthday presents are cash money in cards, and booze. If you send me a card, there'd better be cash money in it. Even a dollar. I would prefer one dollar in cash to a gift card for $20. I don't really like checks either, because then I have to do work to get anything out of it. Since I'm 36 today the best present would be a card with 20, 10, 5, and 1 dollar bills in it adding up to 36. 18 two-dollar bills would really show a lot of thought.

My gods, 18 twos. I can't believe I'm two 18 year olds old today. That is the reason I quit my job. I worked near the university, and I didn't want to have to hire some kids and be twice their age. This is also the year when the kids who were born in 1990 are coming to college. 1990 was the year I graduated high school. I just couldn't be there for that, to check an ID and see the 1990 date on it. So here I am watching cartoons and playing Mr. Mom. I'm hanging out with the one person I actually want to think of me as an "old man". Later I get to put together my lego ship. It's a good day.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Don't Tell Your Mother


Dont tell your mother-four words I heard often while growing up. My dad was always involving us in one caper or another. Nothing too felonious, but usually the kinds of things a mother wouldn't appprove of. This could range from letting my eleven year old brother drive us home from the bar to destroying a broken photocopier with a cannon. (Yes, one of my dad's friends did have a cannon. It was very cool.) There were lots of little things inbetween too. I thought it would be much longer in my parenting career before I uttered those four words to my own son, but I have actually uttered the phrase "don't tell your mother" twice, this week.

The thing is folks, there are different levels of tolerance between all human beings. Anyone who has had a roommate knows that there are different thresholds of clean for people. Some peolple can let dishes pile in the sink, but clutter bothers them, and some people are compelled to keep the kitchen clean but can let the rest of the house get piled with detritus without a second thought. This difference often causes problems. It's the same with parenting. Some things she lets him do drive me nuts and vice versa, but I am a boy so the things I have a high tolerance for are usually the kinds of things that are perceived as "naughty" or "dangerous". One thing she never lets him get away with is climbing on top of the grocery cart car, but when it's just me and the boy I encourage this behavior by calling him TJ Hooker and popping wheelies. Another time while we were waiting for his mother to come out of a store he proceeded to climb onto the roof of the car. Our actual car. I let him. She would never have tolerated that. Actually that time I wanted her to hurry so I texted her a picture of it.

The other day Kirk said to me, "Mommy hates when I climb on the cart at the green grocery store." I told him that he was right and that he shouldn't do it while she was around. I knew he was getting conflicting messages, so I just said, "When your with me you can climb on the cart all you want, just don't tell your mother." And there it was. I had become a bonafide dad.

Just this afternoon Kirk was eating cereal out of a bowl when he dropped a piece on the floor, before I could say anything he jumped down and picked it up with his mouth. I exclaimed, "did you just eat that off the floor?" He giggled in affirmation, so I just shrugged and said, "don't tell your mother." On a side note I have seen him put his mouth down on the sidewalk and eat an anthill. I told him not to. I told him it was icky, but he doesn't seem to care. Sometimes he comes in from the back yard with sand on his mouth and I'll ask him if he's been eating anthills again and he'll just say "yeah" casually.

When Kirk's sibling is born it might be good if she's a girl. I think we both need another voice of feminine reason in our lives. Then again if he has a brother, and I am the father of a pair of boys, well I can't imagine the potential danger. I wonder if you can buy a cannon on ebay?

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Murder!

We have a cat who goes outside. It's easier to just let her out than to fight with her or chase her down when she escapes. Besides since we began letting her out our other cat has fully recovered from a serious bout of mental illness where she spent an entire year living in the laundry sink. It's complicated. Anyway the cat goes outside, she prowls around the yard and neighborhood, and then comes back inside for food and to poop, and to lay on me while I'm watching tv. It's become routine, until this morning.

This morning Kirk and I found something horrific lying on our stoop. It was the remains of a young bunny rabbit. Actually it was only the top half of the remains, and a small peice of bunny leg. Murder! Yes friends, our cute kitty has become a killer. There are no other carniverous predators in our area, and certainly none that would leave an offering to our clan in such a fashion. It had to be her, our dear sweet Chloe. I am acutely aware that domestic cats are monsters. They are, they are just subdued by the lazy life offered by snuggles and crunchy food in a bowl, but left to their own devices their true nature sometimes rears it's frightening head. The savage beast is unleashed.

When Kirk and I investigated the remains there were flies all over the carcass. It was gruesome. Half a bunny. I had to tell Kirk everything. I told him his own kitty was the prime suspect. He seemed fairly okay with it, but he did look at the corpse for quite awhile before I scooped it up. Chloe seemed quite proud. In her reckoning I'm sure she felt she had given us a years worth of back rent. Cats are like that. I too am proud of my little monster. I gave her extra pets tonight. I stroked her tail and called her good kitty, but I didn't let her lick me. I was still a bit squeamish over the sight of the bunny entrails.

I imagine she caught the poor creature in another yard, and proceded to mangle it to death. Then she may have eaten some of it, because I haven't been feeding the cats very well lately. (it's not supposed to be my job, but a pregnancy in the family has made cat care my job, sue me) I'm sure she didn't eat half a bunny. I bet she toyed with it for awhile until it simply fell apart. Then she brought the head home as a trophy. What a good girl. Anyway, there it is. As far as I'm concerned the case is closed. No formal charges will be brought forth, but I have my eye on her. Oh, I'll be watching. I mean I don't want to step on any entrails on my way out, do I?

Star Wars

We took kirk to see the new Star Wars movie. We don't get to go out to the movies much, so we figured this was a good chance to see something new, and not have to pay a babysitter. Kirk actually really likes Star Wars too. He loves to play with lightsabers and all of my old action figures. Still 3 years old is a little early for the movies. For him at least. He gets into the film for a while and then he gets squirmy. His mother tries to contain him, while I just let him squirm. We took him to the late morning showing specifically for the purpose of there not being many people around for him to annoy once he gets annoying. He was mostly good.

The movie itself was mostly good too. I know there are going to be many people out there who will completely hate it. These will be the same people who hate the prequels too. I will say to those people what I always say. "Shut up and make your own Star Wars." And I mean it too. I love all the movies. I love the universe of Star Wars. I even love things that are not canon. That being said it is no small wonder that I enjoyed this new animated film. It was an exciting tale set during the time between the second and third movies. It was during the precious Clone Wars that all the prequel naysayers are always bitching about. Myself, I just love sitting back and enjoying my time in a movie that has the action, sounds, and characters of my beloved Star Wars. I love watching Jedi be real Jedi, not the pussy fake half Jedi that Luke was. I love exciting lightsaber battles. I love watching the clone troopers fight their asses off. The effects were every bit as good as a live action Star Wars film. The acting was easily as good. My only concern going in was the animation style of the main characters was weird looking to me, but I got used to it.

So friends, I reccommend this movie. It will probably fail at the box office. It will be critically panned. Legions of fans will speak out against it, and yet it will probably make a ton of money anyway. I hope I'm wrong, and this movie will be embraced by Star Wars fans young and old. Still, if you don't like it, "Go make your own damn Star Wars you whiney fanboy!"

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Think?


I am from South Dakota. I haven't lived there for about 18 years. Gah, is it that long already? Yes, I guess it is. I don't even visit very often because my parents have long since moved to another state. So when I go back to South Dakota I am usually overcome by a deep sense of nostalgia. I'm not one of those people who leaves their hometown and then talks smack about it to all their high falootin' city folk friends. I truly have a fondly passionate kinship with the place of my birth and childhood. I am proud to refer to myself as a native South Dakotan.
There are some weird things about South Dakota, however. I was visiting the other day when I noticed the Think signs. Think signs, or fatality markers as they are known to the highway patrol, are exactly what they appear to be. They are signs that are put out on the side of the road to mark where someone died as the result of an accident. These signs were common when I was growing up, and I didn't realize they were unique to South Dakota until I went away. The creepiest scene is when you see 6 or 7 of these things lined up in a row, depicting a muti-fatality accident.

I'm not sure if any accidents are prevented by having the scene of an automobile death marked on the side of the road, but then again maybe it will keep a few drunks from driving. Maybe someone will think before making a phone call at 70 miles an hour. Maybe.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Chris Hill for President!


I usually don't use this forum to further my own political aspirations, but with the conventions drawing near and my current status as an unemployed individual, I find it is time for me to rally a little bit for the cause of freedom. Many of you might not know that I am running as the Space Party candidate for President of the United States of America. This is purely a write in campaign, so if I win, it will really show what a bunch of narrow minded douchebags my opponents are. Yes I will go on the record and state that I think Senators Obama and McCain are both complete douchebags. It's time someone brought honesty back to politics. How many candidates have wanted to call their oppponent a douchebag but their "advisors" told them not too? I bet it's a lot.

What I want to accomplish right now is to differentiante myself from the other two candidates. First of all I want to come out and openly condemn the practice of drowning kittens and puppies. I AM THE ONLY CANDIDATE AGAINST THE DROWNING OF KITTENS AND PUPPIES. Why do you hate animals so much Senators McCain and Obama? What did animals ever do to you?

I am also strongly opposed to cancer. I am the only candidate who has spoken out against cancer. I think cancer is bad. Why don't you think cancer is bad Senators? Hmmm? If you don't think cancer is bad, you must think cancer is good. Well I just have to say that the fact that SENATORS JOHN MCCAIN AND BARAK OBAMA ARE TRYING TO GIVE ALL AMERICANS DEADLY CANCER, is appaling, evil, and should preclude them from holding public office. Why isn't the media covering this? It seems like pretty big news to me.

Why has no other candidte come forward in support of happiness? I am an ardent supporter of happiness! I guess those other two elistist fat cat career politicians want to keep the rest of us unhappy so they can claim to try to help us through our tough lives. They just want their cushy government jobs, and thier power. Okay I have to say, I too want a cushy government job and power, but hey I'm openly admitting it.

I think it's time the American people stood up to the machine mentality of major party politics, and voted with the conviction of their very hearts and souls. I say it's time to step up and put a true maveric, a true spokesperson of change into a cushy government job. It's time to vote for Chris Hill America, and I'm not just saying that because I am Chris Hill, I'm also saying it because it's the right thing to do.

I'm Chris Hill and I approve this message.

Friday, August 1, 2008

I'm a big fancy rock star

Actually I'm a big geek. When I go to shows, (gigs as they are called in the business) I usually bring a bottle of Rolaids. I pack it with my gear. I do this because I know I'll drink a lot and that I get nervous before going on stage. Now a few people have made fun of me citing that a bottle of Rolaids in your gig bag isn't nearly as rock n roll as a bottle of Jack Daniels, but more often than not, upon pulling out my antacids I am innundated with requests to share in my joyous calcium rich booty. All the rock kids get nervous stomach. Sometimes instead of bringing the whole bottle, I'll just put a few in a ziplock and jam it in my pocket. Usually they get a bit crushed, so when I pull out my baggie all the casual observer sees is a bag full of some sort of chalky white substance. I have seen some serious glimmers of excitment in the eyes of my fellow rockers. For a brief moment I am a decadent rock god, but then I pop 2 in my mouth and offer them antacids. They are often crestfallen. Sometimes I put a few Advil in the baggie as well, and when I pull that out I look like I'm some sort of pill poppin' brain mangled drop out, hanging out on the fringes of the Hacienda night club in late 80's Manchester.

When I wanted to buy my first guitar my mom didn't want to let me. She said the rock lifestyle breeds drug usage, and she was right. I do drugs at every show. I'm playing tonight, and my baggie of ibruprofin and antacids is safely tucked into my front pocket. ROCK AND ROLL BITCHES!!!

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

I love the apocalypse


I'm not sure why, but something about natural disasters, even man made disasters, excites me. It's not that I'm the anomaly either. I'm not some sort of freak. I think most of us find these things thrilling even if we don't want to admit it. No one enjoys human tragedy, espesially on a personal level, but when an event is so big that you can't wrap your brain around it, it takes on a different flavor. I think it has something to do with the fact that we feel some comfort in an event that makes the issues that plague us in our daily lives seem petty, or insignificant. But there is also just the excitement of a situation beyond our control that we share with everyone in common. Big events bring folks together.

When I was a little kid in the 1970's and 80's we were deeply immersed in the cold war. People were always trying to scare us kids about the possibility of nuclear war. The idea of course being if our generation grew up in fear of the bomb, we would grow up to end the cold war or something. (It's the same principle used with todays kids concerning the environment. The belief that if we use fossil fuels for "one more year" it will be too late and Minnesota will become coastline. Hmm? Actually that sounds okay to me.) Anyway, the cold war ended when my generation was still scoring weed and trying to perfect the gravity bong. Even though they tried to scare us I found the possibility of nuclear war seductive. I am a sci fi nerd, so the idea of a post apocalyptic future was on my mind more than the average child. I didn't fear armageddon, I welcomed it. But you see friends, nothing in my life really goes my way. It's a curse. So since nothing goes my way, and I wanted nuclear war with the Russians, well...You're welcome. It's my fault there was no nuclear war. If you have enjoyed the past 20 years, remember I'm responsible for everyone being alive. I don't think it would be too much to ask for every American to send me $1.00 as a gratuity.

I am always looking for that next earth-shattering event. Something that changes everything, and effects all people rich or poor. This doesn't have to be destruction either, it could just be the sudden appearance of aliens. This happenend in the TV mini-series V, and a also in Independence Day. Both examples went poorly for mankind, but who cares, I just want the aliens to show up. I remember getting tears in my eyes while watching Independence Day in the theatre. I didn't care that they were destroying our cities, I was just so happy that they had come. So if you are an alien reading this, please come. The people of earth welcome you. Come kill us if you want, but just come. It won't happen you know, because I want it. So I think you all should pay me another buck.

On a smaller scale, how many people out there think roller coasters are too safe? I do. There is no real thrill when there are never any fatalities. That's why I prefer those county fair rides, especially the Zipper. Sometimes when you board the Zipper, you can see bolts falling out of it, and you know it was erected by some carnie with no teeth probably addicted to meth. Now that's a thrill ride!

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Speaking of Politics

Hey everybody, check out who Steve Zahn wants to win the presidential election this "December".

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Republican National Convention

Okay dear readers there are a couple of things you must know. First off, the RNC is happening here, in my home town. Secondly, I have been known to have fascist tendencies, and have voted for a few more Republicans than I really care to fully explain. I hate them as much as you all do, but dammit, I hate the Dems more, most of the time. Don't try to figure me out, don't hate, be creative. People, I am the perfect ambassador to go into the lions den. I can go there in a suit, with press credentials, and come out with a tale of woe so juicy it will stain your underwear.

Why am I the perfect ambassador? Well, for one thing I can speak Reaganese. I know how to talk limited government, no new taxes, and well, I really find war to be exciting TV. These skills get me in under the radar you see. I get in and then I report back to all of you, the folly of it all. I can meet folks there and find after parties. I am a working musician, I know how to find after parties. I can expose the debauchery of the "family values" party because I am a family man and I am also an ex-hippie who isn't afraid to take a hit on a bong for the cause of pure, objective, albeit zany journalism. This mission is mine to fulfill, now help me fulfill it.

This is what I need from you. Credentials. I need to find an organization that can get me in. Too many lefty media sources are focusing all their energy on protesting the thing that they aren't considering the fun of a gate crashing panty raid. Come on folks, help me out here. If anyone has ANY clout with a news organization that can get me a day pass into this sea of bufoonery, please let me know. I will write an honest appraisal of the situation I find within, as well as a commentary on the behind the scenes depravity I may find in the bathroom stalls. Cocaine people. I bet there is lots of cocaine there. If there is, I'll sniff it down, and report it.

I won't meet any of the big wigs of the party I'm certain, but I will immerse myself within a go getting bunch of young Republicans, and I will follow them from gentleman's clubs to the hotel rooms, and I will give the exact coordinates in which to find the remains of any mangled hookers. I was born for this folks. Just give me a chance.

My first thought for a sponsor is Lavender Magazine. It's our local gay publication of note. They reviewed my last CD positively, and I am very gay friendly. I'm not gay, but I can probably find plenty of gay young Republicans if I'm looking.

I summation, I know no matter what, the article I write will be entertaining, fun, and scandalous. Stupid John McCain will never hear about it, but maybe it will derail a few voters toward not voting for him. Actually I don't really care. I'm voting for Chris Hill. Still, think of the funny.

Monday, July 21, 2008

A man of my word.

A couple of months ago my friend, and yours, posted a picture of her deck showing a scary electrical wire in close proximity.
Go here to refresh your memory, and check out my comment. I'll wait for you to come back.......Okay you're back. Well here is a picture from last weekend.
We were able to drive through town on our way back from the ocean, and I kept my word. Smoking and touching the wire. HA! I fucking rule! Go Zahn!

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Cape Fear

So I have been on vacation with my family on the beach in North Carolina this past week. It was heavenly. This was the view outside my massive master suite window everyday.

We spent a lot of time in the sun and the surf, and Belsum's Scandinavian family got super pink and burned. Good times. Thank god my mom's great grandma banged a native, because I gots me melanin. Yes dear readers, I tan to a golden delicious semi-brown.

We had internet at our swanky beachfront environs, but every time I tried to get on the computer I got hassled by the wife's family to stop nerding out and to join in the activities. But I'm back now. There are lots of stories to tell, but I will limit myself to one.

One sunset we were sitting in the hot tub listening to the crashing ocean waves when I decided that me and my fellow tubbers needed beers. So I sent my niece Abbe on a beer run to the cooler in the kitchen. She came back empty handed. She said her mom wouldn't let her bring us beers. I looked inside and I saw her mother shaking her fist at me. Later Abbe's mom brought us our beers, (so I still win) but bitched me out for asking a 6 year old to fetch them. Now people. I am from the 70's, and I am from South Dakota in the 70's, so I just didn't understand the problem at all. I can't remember a time when I wasn't fetching beers. I mean the beers are there. The adults are drinking them. What's the problem? Later I pulled Abbe aside and instructed her to "go under the radar" the next time I send her on a mission.

The next day we are eating at the kitchen table and I needed a fresh beer, so I tell Kirk, who is only 3 and busy not eating as usual, to go to the cooler and bring me one. The boy walked across the busy room. I saw a bunch of activity in the area around the cooler, several minutes passed, but eventually Kirk rounded the corner in triumph holding the beer over his head and smiling, shouting, "Daddy, I did it." What a good boy. I hugged him and opened my beer. Then I looked across the table at Abbe and said, "Kirk is practically a baby, and he successfully completed HIS mission." She protested, "But my mom wouldn't let me!" I looked at her as soberly as I could and said, "I'm not interested in your excuses, I'm only interested in your results. Let this be a life lesson for you." And then she stuck her tongue out at me. Ha!

All I have to say is, I know I'm a good father, but I'm also one hell of an uncle.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

New Game

Kirk said, "Play with me." So we started play with all his new birthday toys. Mostly this consists of the entire cast of Disney Pixar's Cars. Great film by the way. I've seen it 763 times, this week. Fucking Disney, they get so much of my money. Anyway! We were playing our usual car games which consists of me getting to play with only the select cars Kirk grants me to play with. I have to BEG to get even one of the 3 Lightening McQueens. But he usually lets me have one of the 2 Maters. He's a good boy. I decided to jazz up the game a bit and I pulled down some of MY toys from the top of the fridge. Here is a picture.
As you can see it is the Doctor, Woody from Toy Story, Captain Jack Harkness with a sith lightsabre, and a Kirk monster doing something unspeakable to Tintin and his rocket. Good times. Just imagine the adventure.

Anglo-American entente

I first became aware of the concept of Anglo-American entente when I was reading the biography of President William McKinley. (President nerd alert!) McKinley was president during the end of the 19th century and into the beginning of the 20th century. Today we know that the UK or Great Britain are our bestest buddies, we fought with them in WWI, WWII, and hell we invaded Iraq together (it is rarely mentioned why they were so complicit in the invasion, but friends the troubles of Mesopotamia date back to the fall of the Ottoman Empire in the wake of The Great War, England knew this mess was theirs), but before Mckinley we were still sore over the American Revolution and the War of 1812. It wasn't until McKinley's time that all the border disputes between the US and Canada were firmly resolved and we could look upon the world together as english speaking nations with a common culture and become the friends we are.

I look upon the english speaking countries of the world as a family. I like to think that the British Empire is still alive and well, just under new management. Mother england has somewhat retired so now the elder child, the United States has taken on the job as CEO. Here's how it breaks down. Mother or Father England ran the company for years. Then the elder son, the American colonies rebelled. We said, "Fuck you Dad, I'll wear my hair how I want. You're not the boss of me!" So Father England put the smack down and we left home never to return. But in time we did return, after we grew up and cut our hair and became responsible squares in our own right. In time over a World War Christmas we hugged Father England and were prepared to run the family business.

Australia, the middle child, was busy yelling "oi" and beer bonging in college.

Canada, the youngest child, the weird kid. I mean whenever you see something American but "not quite right" it can be easily explained by being simply "Canadian." It's because of the Frenchness. The paternity of Canada may be in question you know. Anyway Canada spent a lot of years in the parents basement playing video games and drawing and shit. The kid is probably mildly autistic, which accounts for the lack of social skills, but brilliant. Suddenly, in recent times Canada is starting to come out of his shell, and is producing great things. If Australia sobers up and takes over the family business from a pill popping weary middle aged United States, Canada will be fine living on it's own.

Then there is the adopted child. India. It's not really talked about much. Embarrassing history and all. But India too is rising to power.

Okay. Let the hate comments pour in. I'm ready.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Happy 4th of July!


Independence Day! America's birthday! Yay! I love this holiday so much. I am an American history nerd as well as a president nerd. The two go hand in hand. We celebrate today the bold steps taken in declaring ourselves a sovereign nation free from the shackles of British Imperial tyranny. Actually there is a lot more to it than that, but it was bold. We were sticking it to the man. And the man just happened to be the world's strongest power, while we were nothing but a rag tag bunch of colonial farmers and craftsmen, with a bunch of rich guys leading us into the jaws of certain doom. The declaration at the time was not a patriotic act. We were all British citizens. It was an act of rebellion, it was treason. But it worked damnit, and I love the United States of America.

We brought forth a new nation. A nation that held true the principles of the Enlightenment. It was a first, it was unique, and it helped set the tone for the nature of politics henceforth. No matter what you think of America today, our founding was and is a momentous occasion in the history of government.

To all my friends from the UK, hey, don't fret babies, Americas rebellion was just growing pains for our english speaking family, and today we are good friends once again. We love the english for their awesome New Wave music and Doctor Who, but for much much more. My next post will address that in detail (besides you got us back when you burned down the White House during the War of 1812), but for now I want to celebrate the old pagan summer holiday the way Americans have for 232 years--by drinking excessively and blowing shit up!

When I was a kid in South Dakota I was given my first bag of fireworks by my dad. I was 7 years old. We blew shit up for America and it was so much fun. It was still the 70's and we would use one of our mom's cigarettes to light the fuses. They worked better than punks. I can remember my 9 year old brother asking my half drunk mom for another cigarette. She was tired of lighting them for us, so she just told him to light them himself. I have a clear image in my mind of my brother with a smoke in his mouth trying to awkwardly light it. Some people who didn't grow up around fireworks fear them. I am sorry for that, and I'm sorry for all the dumbass kids who got hurt playing with fireworks, but not that sorry because it was you idiots that made it so I have to drive across state lines and break the law to celebrate my nations independence in the manner seen fit by the great John Adams.

Among the prices of freedom is responsibility. My drunk 70's parents knew we wouldn't get hurt, because they told us not to. Simple as that. I've blown up a lot of shit for America over the years, but I always explode my incendiary treats with respect. Sure there have been some misguided bottle rocket wars, a few minor burns, but that is all paying honor to the great men and women who have fought to keep us free all these years. To the veterans of the United States of America, I salute you. To the men and women now fighting, I will openly break state laws to show my love and respect for this great country of ours.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

I'm leaving my job.

I've been at the cafe for most of the 21st century and now I'm wrapping things up. I'm making my final schedules. I'm cleaning out my desk, and I'm trying to train people to take care of the old girl when I'm gone. I feel like a captain leaving his starship. I'm excited about the future, but I'm also sad. I really care about this place, and I want to see it in safe hands, yet I need to not be here anymore. I need to find the next new adventure. I'm frightened, but it is fear that usually keeps me from trying new things in the first place. I need to live in fear for awhile.

Monday, June 30, 2008

To all Doctor Who geeks.

If you haven't seen this...well watch it. I think it counts as canon.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

More backlog. Please tell me to stop. (If you want)

Okay guys, and dolls, here is a thing I wrote as an assignment for a class I took. The exercise was a simple but unobtainable goal. I like it. It's a fun adventure, and it was fun to write. Please comment. Tell me I suck if you must but don't be like that Goddamned radio station that still won't play my music for some reason.

A Simple Yet Impossible Goal

(A man leaves his apartment to get drunk. As he heads to his neighborhood bar he encounters a drunken man in the street)

Drunk--Hey man, do you got four dollars and sixty-three cents? I need four dollars and sixty-three cents for a bus ticket.

Man--Four dollars and sixty-three cents huh? I didn't realize they were charging such unusual amounts of money to ride the bus these days.

Drunk--(Blank stare)
No man. I need four dollars and sixty-three cents for the bus because my car broke down and my wife and baby are waiting for me.

Man--I see. But you had time to get drunk along the way huh? Tell you what. I'm heading up to the bar right now to get drunk myself. I've been on the wagon for six months but I've had a pisser of a day. I'm being honest with myself, I'm going to tie one on. Now you be honest with me. Just admit that you want the money to get drunk and I'll be happy to give it to you, or you can join me at the bar and I'll buy you whatever you want.

Drunk--(Momentary blank stare)
Yo, I need four dollars and sixty-three cents for the bus, but I'll walk with you to the bar if you're buying.

Man--That's what I figured. You can't keep the wife and the baby waiting eh?

Drunk--What?

Man--Nevermind.

(They enter the bar)

Man--So what are you having? I don't know about you but I'm thirsty as hell for a beer. Should I just get a pitcher and a couple of glasses?

Drunk--Word.

(The man approaches the bar)

Man--I'll take a pitcher of your pale ale and a two glasses please.

Bartender--Did you just bring him in here with you?
(He points at the drunk)

Man--(Pauses as he turns around to look)
Uh---Yeah. I'm just buying him a drink. It's my charity for the decade, you know.

Bartender--I'm sorry but he's got to go. He's been in here pestering my patrons all day. I just eighty-sixed him a few minutes ago.

Man--Aw, c'mon, he's okay. Can't he have just one?

Bartender--No he can't! Do yourself a favor buddy, and walk away from this situation. You don't want to get involved with the likes of him anyway.
(He pauses as he looks over at the drunk)
Oh holy Christ in hell!

(The drunk has pulled out his penis and begins to piss all over the cigarette machine)

Drunk--I used to smoke Marlboros, but now I smoke Camels.

(The bartender leaps over the bar and and pins the drunk)

Bartender--Valerie! Call the cops!

(The waitress calls the police and they arrive almost immediately)

Cop 1--(To the drunk, as he cuffs him)
Alright Bob, looks like you're gonna have to spend the night in the tank again.

Drunk--Gimmee a ham sammich,

Cop 2--Sorry about all the mess.

(The cops exit with the drunk)

Bartender--Goddamnit! I got piss on me! Valerie, watch the bar while I get cleaned up, and whatever you do, don't serve the Samaritan there.
(He pionts at the man)

Waitress--Okay boss.

Man--Oh come on. This wasn't my fault. He followed me in here. Can't I just have one beer?

Waitress--If I were you I'd leave before Tony gets back from the bathroom.

Man--But--

Waitress--Don't protest honey, just move along please. There are plenty of other bars in town.

Man--Grumble.
(He leaves the bar and walks down the street. He goes into a liquor store and grabs a 40 ounce beer)

Cashier--Will this be everything?

Man--I guess. For now. Suddenly I've got the inspiration to act in a depraved manner. I'm going down to the riverside to enjoy this beer right out of the sack like a bum.

Cashier--Hmmph! We all need goals. Here's your change, but if I were you I'd watch out for all the other bums.

Man--Thanks for the tip.

Cashier--Don't mention it.

(He exits the store and heads through the alley down to the train tracks. He tries to open his bottle and drops it. It shatters)

Man--NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! Oh God, why have you forsaken me?
(He attempts to salvage a few dribbles of liquid from on of the broken pieces, but abandons the idea and heads back toward the liquor store)

Cashier--Back so soon?

Man--Grumble.
(Speaks under his breath)
Your mama.
(He grabs a six pack of cans)

Cashier--That'll be four sixty-three.

Man--What?!

Cashier--Four dollars and sixty-three cents. Is that a problem? If it's too rich for you, you should consider quitting.

Man--Thanks, but I've already tried that. It's just strange that I've already encountered that number today.
(He takes his change and walks back toward the river. He is approached by two clean cut teenagers in dress slacks, white shirts, and black ties, walking their bikes along side the railroad tracks. He tries to avoid eye contact, but they walk right up to him)

Kid 1--Hello sir, we're from the chuch of immaculate confession and we're wondering if you've taken the time to find Jesus?

Man--No thank you. I'm busy.

Kid 2--You can never be too busy to find salvation. It's not too late for you yet. Here have this pamphlet.

Man--(Takes the pamphlet and jams it into his pocket)
Thanks, bye.

Kid 1--Wait a minute sir. If I may be so bold, you look as if you're lost spiritually. Our group is having a bible study tonight, and we think you should come with us.

Man--No you may not be so bold, and I'm sorry, but I don't have the time. So good day to you both--Now fuck off.

(The two kids look at eachother and nod. Then suddenly one of them restrains him as the other grabs his sack of beer)

Kid 1--Now don't fight us sir. We're doing this for your own good.

Man--Goddamnit, what are you two cultists doing to me? Let me go!

Kid 2--We'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from taking the lord's name in vain. Now what do you have in the sack?
(He looks inside)
Just what I thought. Devil juice.

Kid 1--We're here to free you from your sin,
(They take the beer and throw the man to the ground and race off on their bikes. The man gets up and starts chasing after them shouting)

Man--Why you no good hoodlums! Scoundrels! Iconoclasts! Jesus freaks! Hey you stole from me! What would the lord say about that?
(He watches them ride off amidst the dust of their wheels and stops short of breath. He shakes his fist at the sky)
This is all your fault, you bastard!
(Pauses)
Wait a minute.
(He pulls the pamphlet from his pocket and notes the address of the bible study)
I'm going to get you now!
(He goes back to the street and hails a cab)

Cabbie--Where to?

Man--327 Lexington.

Cabbie--10-4. So what's up with you on this fine evening?

Man--Well, I'm trying my damndest to fall off the wagon, but without any success. So now I'm going to church.

Cabbie--Church huh? Well that's probably the best thing for you. A man without a proper spiritual anchor is a lost soul, adrift in the sea of eternity.

Man--Everybody's a philosopher.

Cabbie--I'm just trying to make conversation.

Man--Well if you really want to know, I'm on my way to church to beat the crap out of a couple of teenagers, and then if I have the time I'm going to take a piss on their alter.

(The cab pulls over and stops suddenly)

Cabbie--Get out of my cab sir.

Man--What?

Cabbie--I'm a very religious man, and I won't be a party to such blasphemy. Please get out of my cab, I don’t need your fare that much.

Man--Hey. I was kidding. No harm done. Just drop me off at the nearest bar.

Cabbie--No sir. Just get out now please.

Man--Okay, okay.
(He gets out and the cab screeches off)
Now where the hell am I?
(He hears the pulsating drone of distant rythmns and wanders towards it. At a warehouse some people are standing around a door)
What's going on here?

Leather Clad Youth--It's a rave grandpa. You know, a dance.

Man--I know what a rave is. I'm not that old. Do you have any beer in there?

Leather Clad Youth--Whatever your poison is, you'll find it. Twenty bucks.

Man--Twenty bucks?! That's outrageous!

Leather Clad Youth--Then don't go in. Now please step aside.
(Two hip dressed kids approach the doorman and hand him forty dollars and he lets them inside. A young woman in a yellow dress doing cartwheels in the parking lot approaches the man)

Girl--It's a beautiful night, isn't it?

Man--I guess.

Girl--Are you going inside?

Man--Well, I was considering it.

Girl--Come on then.
(She grabs his arm and pulls him toward the door)

Leather Clad Youth--Forty bucks.

Man--But I--

Girl--Come on.
(She flips her hair cutely)

Man--Oh what the hell.
(He hands him the money and they go inside. She leads him into a loud sweaty room with bright flashing lights)

Girl--Stay right here. I'll be right back.

Man--But--
(She disappears, and he stands there watching the mass of flesh dancing as he curses himself for being such a sucker. After a minute he goes looking for the bar)

Man--Can I have a beer?

Pierced Man--What? Beer? We don't have any beer.

Man--Well, what do you have?

Pierced Man--Smart drinks.

Man--I see.

Girl--There you are. I thought I lost you.

Man--I was--

Girl--Come on.
(She leads him onto the dance floor and begins to slither about him seductively. After a minute she starts to kiss him)

Girl--Oh hey! There's my friend Toby.

Toby--Hey Sunshine, how have you been?

Girl--Great! This is----

Man--Stan.

Girl--Stan.

Toby--(Nods)
We're all heading over to Jimmy's. You coming?

Girl--Okay.

Toby--See you out front.

Man--Now wait a minute. I just paid forty dollars to get in here. We're not leaving yet are we?

Girl--Don't be such a stick in the mud. Let loose. Live a little. I've got to go to the bathroom, wait right here.

Man--Sure.
(He waits a minute and then starts looking for her)

Man--You haven't seen a girl in a yellow dress, have you?

Dancing Kid--What? No.

Man--Figures. My head is starting to spin. I think I'm on drugs.

Dancing Kid--Cool.

Man--When that girl kissed me, I think I caught some drugs from her.

Dancing Kid--Cool.

Man--I can't breathe. I've got to get out of here.
(He runs outside)

Man--That girl I came in here with, have you seen her?

Leather Clad Youth--(Laughs)
Yeah, she just left in a van with some guys. Tough luck buster.

Man--I guess your right, but I should be more upset about it than I am. I think I caught some drugs from her.

Leather Clad Youth--You don't catch drugs. You catch herpes. You've ingested drugs.

Man--Yeah, well suddenly I feel very happy.

Leather Clad Youth--That'll happen.

Man--(Looks at the Leather Clad Youth for a moment)
Can I kiss you?

Leather Clad Youth--Okay, It's time for you to go.
(He pushes the man up the street. The man wanders and ends up in front of a liquor store)

Man--Oh yeah! I forgot! Beer!
(He digs in his pockets)
Oh no, I'm broke!

(A man walks out of the store)

Man--Hello, can I borrow four dollars and sixty-three cents?

Other Man--No you cannot, you freak. It looks as if you've had enough already.

Man--I'm not drunk. I'm on drugs.

Other Man--Figures.
(He walks off)

(Feeling over-confident the man goes into the store to steal a beer)

Cashier--Excuse me?

Man--What?

Cashier--Are you going to pay for that bottle you put in your pants?

Man--I was just looking.

Cashier--I can see it sticking out of your pocket. Just put it on the counter and walk away, or pay for it. Don't make me call the cops.

Man--I was just looking.

Cashier--Yeah, whatever, now put it back.

(The man runs and trips. He falls on the bottle and it breaks, cutting his leg open)

Cashier--Dude, you're bleeding real bad. I'm calling the cops.

Man--No I'm fine.
(He tries to get up but stumbles and falls)

Cashier--You're not going anywhere.
(He goes in to call the police)

(The man sits in the parking lot tripping out over all the blood on his hands from touching his wound)

Man--Lady MacBeth, what have I done?
(He starts laughing)
"Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand?"

Cashier--(Bringing the police)
Here he is. He looks pretty bad.

Cop 1--Okay sir, just relax. Put this towel on your leg and put pressure to the wound. The ambulance will be here soon.

Man--All I wanted was a beer. Can I please have one?

Cop 2--Alcohol thins the blood, and that's the last thing you need right now. Just sit tight and we'll get you the attention you need. You'll be charged with disorderly conduct, don't make things worse for yourself.

Man--Two Jesus freaks stole my six pack and I caught drugs from a hippy harpy, it can't get any worse.

Cop 1--That's your theory. Don't test it.

(The ambulance arrives)

Paramedic--Okay now, lets get you on the stretcher. I'm gonna have to cut your pants open to see the wound. We have to make sure we get all the glass out.

Man--This is why I quit drinking in the first place. It always gets me into trouble.

Paramedic--How much have you had to drink tonight?

Man--Nothing.

Paramedic--Are you sure? We need to know in order to help you.

Man--I think I'm on ecstacy.

Paramedic--You think?

Cop 1--We'll meet you at the hospital to take care of the paperwork.

Paramedic--Okay, see you there.

Man--Can I borrow four dollars and sixty-three cents?

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Tuna Pie

Recently it has come to my attention that there is a fast food item out there called Tuna Pie. It is supposedly an ethnic food. What ethnicity you might ask? Why, midwestern American my friends! I started thinking about it and the more I pondered the concept of Tuna Pie the more delicious it sounded. I imagined a tuna pot pie, or a tuna Hotpocket type of thing. I decided to create my own Tuna Pie recipe, and folks, it was absolutely scrumptious.



I decided to make a basic tuna noodle casserole type of thing and just simply put it in a pie crust. It is ethnic food, pure and simple. It comes from the culture I grew up in and I'm proud of it. For that authentic 70's taste, I made sure to use mostly canned ingredients; one can of Campbell's Cream of Potato soup, one can of carrots and peas, egg noodles, all mixed together in a frozen pie crust. It's the kind of thing you could throw together in the post apocalypse.



For you health conscious organic minded folks out there, you could use a dolphin friendly tuna, buy fresh vegetables from your local farmers market, and bake your own pie crust using all the expensive fancy ingredients that are important to you. I loved my tuna pie, though I think a little sauteed onion and garlic thrown in would have piqued the flavor a bit. Maybe a few aromatics. Fresh sage perhaps?

The best part is yet to come. I can't wait for tomorrow, and the promise of leftover tuna pie. MMMMMMM! Heaven!

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Embarrassing mom stuff

A friend of mine and I were talking about our troubling teenage years, and about how our mothers could sometimes make us feel like degenerates. My friend is gay, and when he came out his mom first wanted him to go to counseling. I guess to "fix" him. Later she discovered in the VCR, a gay porn, which he had accidentally left there. He was young, it was like his first gay porn. (I'm thinking Fisher Price here, My First Gay Porn) He had barely watched it himself. Someone came home and he shut it off and ran away in fear and forgot about it. Later, to his horror, his mother decided that to try to be compassionate and understanding, she would watch the entire movie herself just so she could understand how gay people behave with one another. That's like someone trying to understand a straight relationship by watching Big Booty Titty Fuckers Volume 69. I mean, really? Anyway it was a deeply troubling experience for the poor young lad, even though she meant well.

I am a self centered prick. If you know me personally you know what I'm talking about. I thought I had to try to top that experience. Of course I couldn't, but I do have some embarrassing mom moments of my own which I will share with you now.

Remember the beginning of Boogie Nights, where Eddie Adams of Torrence who later becomes Dirk Diggler came home and his mom was all drinking and being psycho? She said to him, "You don't think I know what's going on. I know what's going on. I wash your sheets." Well my mom wasn't mean or psycho like that, but when I first saw that movie I had a little bit of deja vu. My mom once actually said to me, "I wash your sheets, I've seen your pecker tracks." Now other than my mother I have never heard the term pecker tracks before or since. Oh I love it now. I've put my name in my winning video games as peckertrax many times. I even wanted to call one of my bands Pecker Tracks, or write a song called Pecker Tracks. I find it hilarious, but at age 16 I was horrified.

Once I had a girl in my room. It was in the summer and my mom came home from lunch unexpectedly. My mom was pissed that my friend had parked her car in the middle of our driveway so my mom had to park in the street. She came crashing into the house all mad, and me and my friend quietly walked upstairs to greet her. My friend said goodbye and left. When she was gone my mother glared at me and asked, "What did you do to that little girl?" That my friends, made me feel like shit. What did you do to that little girl? It made me sound like a pervert. "Nothing", I said guiltily. "We were just listening to the Doors." Which was true. Okay, she was 16 and I was 17, and well, we had been doing "stuff". But it was just kissing and mild groping. Teenager stuff. No big deal really.

Anyway I am curious if any of you out there have had any similar experiences. And as older folks now, and parents, how will we deal with these situations with our own kids?

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

God at an AA meeting.

(I know it might be uninteresting or boring as shit to have me post my various scribblings. Then again this is my forum so I can do whatever I want. There are probably only two or three people who read this blog anyway. That being said, for you two or three, here is a little thing I wrote during a time where I was trying my hand at writing sketch comedy. This particular piece was the result of my own dealings with a certain sobriety group. I hope you enjoy it. Please comment even if you hate it. I am extremely needy.)

I'd like to thank you all for coming. It's really good for me to have these group sessions. Sometimes being all powerful can make you take for granted what it is like to NOT be God. All of you certainly know what it's like to not be me, and as you are my closest associates, I can't think of anybody else with whom I'd like to share my feelings with.

So that being said. My name is God and I'm an alcoholic.
(Hi God.)
Thanks in no small part to these meetings I have been sober for 91 years. Of course as you all know, my tendency to celebrate with wine usually falls in line with a period where I am smiting. I'm not sure which one is the actual problem. Drinking or smiting? The two are inextricably linked. Sometimes I smite and then get drunk, and other times I get drunk and then I smite. So what I'm really trying to say is it's been 91 years since I've smited.

I guess it boils down to my essential addiction to power. I am God after all. I'm the greatest. The most cool. I look at all of you dear friends here with me now and all I can think of is how much better I look in my outfit than the rest of you do in yours. I'm stronger, and faster, and smarter . I can do magic tricks, and I'm the center of attention wherever I go. Being mad for power just goes with the gig.

Sometimes I just feel this uncontrollable urge to smite. It happened to me last night but I called Methusalah and he helped me fight it off. Thanks again Methy. What worries me most I guess is that I don’t want to smite for any specific wrong that may have been committed. I'm just talking about general smiting here. Smiting for smitings sake.

I guess I'm just pensive about the old days. Some of you remember. Back when I was always laying down the law in the harshest manner possible. And in darn creative ways too if I do say so myself. Death of the first born. Raining animals, earthquakes. There were some wonderful plagues. Metatron remember that time we put all the boils on that King's nutsack? That was a laugh riot. Oh right, David! That was you! Sorry man, I'm just playing.

But sometimes I think fondly upon the days where I rained down fire and demanded sacrifices. Abraham I told you to kill your own son and you were going to do it. I thought that it was the funniest thing ever, and didn't really think about how something like that would effect you. I was just trying to test your loyalty. Again I'm so sorry.

Oh I know that it is for the best that I take a back seat role in the affairs of mankind. But old habits die hard, and I'm sure that it will be just a matter of time before my next relapse. It's like the Titanic incident. My last relapse. I had been going along for a good long while without any drinking or smiting. It had been since the Renaissance. Nearly 300 years, which is a good streak for me, and then these medamned arrogant little cocksuckers got to go and build an "unsinkable" ship. It just pissed me off. It was like I was being dared. I don't like being dared. So I sank the ship, and it was exhilerating. Of course the next couple of days I felt like shit. I wasn't so upset by the smiting, but was more sad for the loss of my good streak. And since the Titanic there have been thousands of reasons to smite for real and I didn't. I wanted to do much nastier things to Hitler's nutsack but I held back. Why have I held back all this time? Because I can see through the fact that I have a problem.

I've been focusing a lot of energy these days on my more creative pursuits. I didn't really remember how much I missed the creative process. I've picked up the electric guitar, I'm working on a documentary film about the daily life of being a deity, and I'm finishing up the final stages of a new universe, and I should have life on it by this upcoming Saturday. By the way I'm sleeping in on Sunday, but if you want to stop by I'll show it to anybody who is interested on Monday morning. You'll love it. It's a complete departure from the work I did on earth, and the people won't be in my own image this time. Trust me. You'll get used to it. And I'm proud to say that Jesus here helped me quite a bit on it. It was a regular ol' father and son activity. He's very good with plantlife in particular. That is another reason that I choose to stay away from smiting. I get more time to spend with my kids.

But I would also love to evolve my new people super fast and have them conquer the earth. But by the grace of me I'll think things through. I'm just being honest with myself, admitting that the urge is there. I only wish I had a higher power that I could give myself to in those sensitive moments. Sometimes I just feel that it isn't fair. Everybody else has a higher power, but what do I got? I invented everything. Sometimes I get the urge to create a better God than me, so I'd have someone to worship too. But that would be cheating, and besides I have a power issue, I'd end up having to kick His ass. And that would only bring me right back to where I am now. I guess it's all perspective isn't it? In a way I think of this group as my higher power. This is the only place where I almost feel like I am one of the group and not just merely above the group, which I most certainly am. But it feels good to talk to you all as sort of equals, I almost get the illusion that it matters what you think about me. Anyway thanks for listening. With that I'll pass.