Like I agree with Bill Maher on anything else.

The reason I have trouble with politics and voting is best summed up by Bill Maher when he said, "we don't have two political parties, we have two cousins played by Patty Duke".

Where have you been again?

It's important that my more faithful readers know why they never hear from me on my journal or anywhere else for that matter.
6:00am - wake up long enough to kiss wife goodbye.
10:00am - wake up
10:20am - eat
11:00am - bike
12:00pm - eat
12:30pm - shower
1:00pm - get dressed
1:30pm - ride to work
10:30pm - ride home and wake up wife long enough to kiss her goodnight.
11:00pm - shower
12:00am - 3:00pm - go to sleep.
repeat.
I could not have found a more prosaic way to say that.

"You're getting fed this lie that you're gonna live forever. You won't. Somebody will kill ya. Somebody will kill ya with a knife. You better make sure your abs are ripped, you got some good guns. You wanna look good for when you get stabbed with a knife." - Carl on Aqua Teen Hunger Force

Pedal pedal pedal...

28 miles on 2 Pop-Tarts and 2 cups of coffee and I still average 17.3 miles per hour.
Yeah.

It doesn't matter if you agree on everything

Remember the episodes of Transformers where Optimus Prime and Megatron would team up to fight a greater evil because they knew if they didn't it would be them both? I love those episodes.

Pong.

Quote:
"It's our responsibility to care for others and they should do the same if the need arises(Acts 2:42-47)."
Again, true. Something I can totally agree with. But this is scripture (as is all scripture) directed at Christians only. This should not be confused with our responsibilities as a society. There are very unspecific demands that God puts on government. See, there was a healthy intent in those scripture to properly serve God; these were decisions based on His divine Will. I just can't be convinced that is why the state does it.
Believe it or not, though, I see welfare and our loss of freedom as something that is being permitted by a Higher Power. I think that its very possible that at some point God saw that men were shirking their responsibilities and said, "Fine, your choice." Then, in response to their request, He gave the nation exactly what it wanted (comfort and stability).
But there will be a lesson learned. Give your free will to God, and He will give it right back to you. He is the only true freedom. Give your free will to the government, and no matter how good their intentions are at first, absolute power will eventually corrupt absolutely.
God gives people what they want if they push Him long enough. He will let us give the government all the control we want. In the Old Testament there was the "blessing" of King Saul. Against Saul's and God's wishes, Saul was thrust into the throne. The Isrealites wanted him on the throne, and even though God warned them of disastrous consequences, they put him there anyway. The result? A man who forgot about being king and spent the last part of his reign on a witch hunt for his General, David, trying to snub out the bloodline that would eventually bring our Messiah.
I think Christians are greedy. I think they completely forget about God's Will and focus on violating the first commandment. We can't demand the government give us our right to help back, we have to show we're worthy of it. Until that happens, there will be taxes, there will be welfare, and there will be Christians who think that there is some way out of it besides taking their responsibilities back by proving themselves once again worthy of them. What I hope to convince people is not really form a coup de tat, but instead to be revolutionaries in the Spirit. Use capitalism to our advantage. We have a nation built on the idea that if we offer a better mousetrap then the world will beat a path to your door.
We pray that God give us the blueprints to that moustrap.

Oh, one more thing. Reguarding the poor girl who only had jeans for church, isn't that just ha-ha-hilarious that the people of the church thought first to judge, instead of maybe chipping in to buy her a dress, like they did for that poor kid who stared going to EMBC. Churches have totally lost their sense of community.

Food + nothing = Lost souls.

What follows is a quote from yesterday's comments:
"Do you think it is easier to ask the church for help, or the government? Unfortunately I think it is easier to ask the government because the church is full of judgmental people. And I'll be the first to admit I am as guilty as anyone else. We draw lines down the church based on money, marital status, et al. With the government you're just another number to them, no one to judge really. That's not why I think welfare is good (I don't for the most part), but it's why I think Christian as a whole have no room to complain."
Very true. As a matter of fact, I would use those very same words. But let's take this from a different perspective.
I agree that people who turn to the church often feel alienated by a judging eye. But here's my issue; I don't think that eye is always that of the church itself.
You're right, if I can go to the government and get a paycheck, why should I go to someone who makes me feel guilty? I wouldn't, and I don't think anyone really would. But the next question is, just why do I feel guilty? The government asks you to prove that you're looking for work. What church entity does that? The church rarely ever makes you feel guilty for being poor by being judgmental. Maybe the guilt is coming from God. If someone feels guilty for asking a church for money when that is the only time they set foot in it, maybe they should use that as an inspiration to walk through the doors on a Sunday morning. However, I would agree that the instructions laid out in the Bible to feed the masses before you ever try to preach to them is not being practiced.
My next question would be this: Is it fair to make someone who will never live off of welfare pay for those who will? I do agree that it is my responsibility to help my fellow man, Christian or not. But there are plenty of people shirking their responsibilities out there, and are only held accountable by God Himself. When did it become the government's position to force me to adhere to my humanitarian responsibilities? I should want to help, and I do, and I think its wrong if you don't want to help your community. But no matter how wrong it is, who's right is it to force my hand?
Say everybody in my building wants the parking lot paved outside, but I never use it. They say to me, "will you chip in?" Should I? Maybe I should, at least for the sake of community. But if I don't, the punishment should be that I'm considered a pariah by everyone. It should not ultimately end up with me being hancuffed and fingerprinted, right? Same scenario, but with a more powerful entity. If I don't drive on the roads I still have to pay for the roads. If I don't send my children to a public school I still have to pay for the school. And if I don't, I'll be sleeping in a cage soon.
We as a society give up more and more rights for more and more stability and comfort and safety. The problem is we're giving up our freedom. The further we move away from the revolutionary spirit that started this nation, the more we are willing to give up to make sure we have a safety net. That's fine for some, I just with there was a clause to get out of it all. Live in this country without having to support things to which I normally would not lend myself.
I really think its too late, though. After two strong blows to the 10th amendment (The Civil War and The New Deal) I think that there is no turning back. We're not revolutionaries, we're lazy. George Orwell had it all wrong. Big Brother doesn't watch you, and he never will. There is no reason to worry about people's thoughts if you keep them happy enough. The only reason we revolted in the first place was because we were fed up with being told what to do. If we had stayed happy, we'd still have a queen. The fight is gone from us, and there really is no real freedom unless you're constantly fighting someone for it... even your own government.

"The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure." -- Thomas Jefferson

Tomorrow.

I'll blog tomorrow. Promise. I don't have all of my thoughts oraganized yet.

Kingdom-ideals in the real world.

I read it in another journal first. Kingdom-ideals in the real world.
Here's my problem.
Politically its always cast as taking care of the homeless. Helping the needy. Helping the children have a better life. It's all rhetoric. Its all based on the idea that the more you can force people to throw their money at a problem, the closer you come to a solution.
Wrong.
I've been told that before Roosevelt's New Deal, the church wasn't doing a good job. It had done its job pretty well in the past, but during the Great Depression, the church just couldn't cut it anymore. The government stepped in. Problem solved?
No.
The government fails even more than the church did. Sure, they help people, that's very true, but at the cost of no moral consequence. The government's success is based on the very idea that you can be helped with a problem without the benefits of being reminded just why you made it there in the first place.
And no, I'm not saying every hardship is caused by individual sin.
I'm not as idealistic as this all sounds. I don't believe that if you just left it up to the "people", they would solve all of the problems themselves. That is called communism. It's not like I'm saying there shouldn't be a government at all. That's called anarchy. But the problem I have here is the idea that if the state steps in, everything will be solved. The state has stepped in, and the problem is worse. And why is it worse? Because we have created a nation with no real conscience, and the only way to really fix the problems of the nation is to restore that conscience.
That is something the government can never do.

On a side note, I'm going to do something I never do, and that is publicly respond to a comment. The comment follows:
"However, if we are to tell her that she cannot have an abortion, we should then follow up with her after that baby is born and be sure that the baby is not abused or neglected. That is where I think we fall short both as a nation and as Christians. Is it worse for the baby to be aborted or to end up in a dumpster after being born in a bathroom?"

I totally agree. Totally agree. And its true that if the church were doing its job, that wouldn't happen as often. I guess that's really my point. The biggest problem in America today is that now even the Church sees the government as its savior. "Matthew 6:24 - No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon. " Just who does the Church think is really going to save our nation?
Also, for those of you have never had a chance to discuss issues with the woman who left that quote, you're really missing out. She is one of the most savvy debaters I have ever had the pleasure of talking to.

Sedated...

One day, two entries.

There are so many better writers than me. I just finished reading a new entry in the journal that made me start my own chronicles. He writes. In a talented, stylistic, make-me-want-to-stop-writing way, he writes. I can't explain it.
That's why I do not write. You know, because I can't.
I can remember a time when I'd write to formulate a thought I couldn't properly vocalise. Now I don't think I express myself well in either way.
I think my writing is missing the realism it once had. I become so involved in the style that I lose the genuineness. No real strong subject.
I think that's what's lost in most art. This isn't just my problem. Everyone is so hung up with being creative they forget that the only way to be creative is to realize there is no creation involved, only manipulation of your own experiences. Sure, you need to be interesting, but the only real way to do that is to be interested. True art is a good mixture of passion and formula.
Comedians call it "dissecting the joke".
You see, there is a importance in the idea that says that in order to be funny, you have to know why you're funny.
Music theory. Sentence structure. Philosophy in math. Architectural drawings. There is structure in chaos; there has to be a balance. Contrary to popular belief, inventiveness is not the antonym of structure, it is the complement.
But I've become too stuctured. Too formulaic.
From here on, I need to stop concentrating as much on the organization of thought, and more on the thought itself.
End transmission.

Philsophy block

I don't feel philosophical during the day anymore. As a matter of fact, I don't think I'm philosophical anymore unless I'm amped up on Alieve Sinus.
I have a job now. Amanda has a job now. Now we have 1 whole month to spend without her having to work. She'll be teaching 5th grade in Hallsville.
But, if you know me, I don't like to get too literal here. This isn't about my life; this is about my brain. You can take certain liberties with your writings when no one else but you pays attention to them.
Our pastor is leaving our church. The prospect of working with another (different) pastor is strange for me, but surprisingly, there isn't much apprehension involved. As selfish as it may sound, its a pleasant change from always being the freshman. It is a little humorous that this announcement came not one month after I told my wife, "if Brother Marv ever leaves, I'd probably leave, too." Not a chance.
This entry sucks, but I'm posting it anyway.

I use business as an excuse.

It is pretty ambitious of me to blog, really. I have so much going on. I am the Assistant Manager of Little Caesers in Pine Tree, now. I know what you're thinking, but you can just talk to me as if I'm a normal person. Don't be intimidated by the "Assistant Manager" title. I'm a person, just like you.
I have two jobs, and my wife is unemployed. She still makes more money than me. I don't get it.
Amanda is looking for a job in Longview, so that we don't starve. We have two more paychecks left until it becomes a problem. The church is praying that it will happen before the end of July. Amanda and I are pretty discouraged about the whole thing, but our confidence builds when we are around other people. I can't figure out if they have faith or if it's just easier to be optimistic when its not your food bill.
Oh, and to all of you who know the debate, I looked it up. It is "give 'em the gun" not "Helluva run". Phillip P. just wanted to swear in church.
I'll write more later. Promise. I think this is a good enough undertaking for now.

I'd rather be an ugly duckling.

P.T. Barnam once tried to stage a beauty contest in 1854. It was completely unsuccessful because no self respecting woman in the entire United States would compete.
In a completely related story, "The Swan" pageant took place Monday night.

There will even be another season.

I'm not ambitious.

I suppose I should want to do this everyday, though I don't seem to want to do much of anything lately. Writing is hard when you think people are reading.
I'm supposed to be packing, but the further I get away from working, the more I'm finding myself with a lack of respect for the dignity of labor. I'm not really a "self starter". At least I've shaken this nasty Sims habit. I'm glad God doesn't get tired of me when He has no more objects to download to make my life interesting.
In a week and a half, we'll be in Longview. Or at least I will be. I assume the family is coming with me -- they've seemed pretty supportive so far. I'm tired of not being stable, though. I'll be glad when I have a place to call home again.

Seriously, everything is round now.

The newest and latest news is how irritated I am with Blogspot for making everything on their homepage an oval.
That aside, Mr. Online Journal Entity, a lot has happened since we last spoke. It became official that Amanda and I are moving to Longview. I was called into the music ministry at Providence. And we found an apartment. The fun really never stops.
I don't like to pack.
The airport is a prison since they've taken away the abilities to go to the gate without a ticket. There were good old days --before we dropped our liberties for security-- where you could mingle and people watch those getting on and off the plane, hugging loved ones. And at DFW, there are restaurants and such on the other side, too. Now, separating you from life as you know it, is a big glass wall. That's right, glass. And that's just mean. I can see in. I see all the people having a good time. You know how it says in the Bible that in Hell you can see Heaven but the people in Heaven can't see into Hell? That's what this was like. Look at them. Eating at their Chili's Too and talking amongst each other. HEY! I'M OVER HERE! I'm waiting for a flight that's 2 hours late, and these people are having margaritas. All I have is a Sierra Mist and a snack machine that charges 90 cents for some chips. I live 5 minutes away, and I can't even go home because of how much it's costing me to park.
Damned terrorists.
It was good to see Matt, though, and he was the whole reason I was at the airport. When you live with someone and then move to a different town as them, you kinda miss the conversation.

Welcome Back.

...Who'da thought they'd lead ya, back here where we needya?...

4 months. I finally get to move to Dallas, and I might get to stay here 4 months.
(Welcome back.) You want to pretend the reason you don't move back to Longview is because of money. Then you realize you could make more money in Longview, and the cost of living is lower. (Your dreams where your ticket out.)
Why haven't you found a job in Dallas? Maybe it's for the very reason you couldn't originally find one in Longview. Maybe its because it would make you stay in Dallas. (Welcome Back)
No, maybe your music ministry is pulling you back. (To that same old place that you laughed about.)
(Well the names have all changed since you hung around.) So the church I'm interning at wants to call me as their music minister. (But those dreams have remained, and they're turned around.) Its not as bad as it sounds having to move back to Longview.(Who'da thought they'd lead ya...) Kinda like a "sheep in wolves clothing."(Back here where we need ya?)
(Yeah we tease him a lot 'cause we got him on the spot...)So laugh my fellow Sweat Hogs. I may be coming home. (Welcome back, Welcome back, Oh kill me I never even got to go to Six Flags.)

This isn't as easy as I make it look.

February 14th was 47 days ago, and February the 11th was 50 days ago. That spread is static -- it will always be 3 days difference. The spread of time as I stretch away from those days will always be dynamic.
February 11th is my problem right now. 50 days without a job. Amanda told me this morning that she would just stay in bed all day at this point. I might, too, but then I'd have no place to go at night when I got tired of doing nothing.
I applied at Sonic to be a car hop. They haven't called back. I don't even know everywhere I've applied at anymore. If someone calls and ambiguously refers to an application or resume, I'll have to ask them what job I applied for. Actually if anyone calls at this point, I think I'll ask them if they have the right number.
Looking for a job is not a full time job. Being jobless is.
I don't qualify for foodstamps or welfare or unemployment. Plus, I go to church, and everyone knows that people who go to church aren't poor. We're down to double digits in the checking account. This is where trust and faith in God either kicks in or reveals itself to be very pale. I'd better start praying.
Its not all bleak, though. I had the foresight to buy 25 lbs of rice at the beginning of all of this. Her parents donated a couple of good meals to us. We have food in the house for three more weeks. I still have a small paycheck coming in.
Lose your pride. Remove your dignity. Go be a janitor again.

No one is hiring janitors.

The commercials make me dumber.

The syndicated shows just aren't cutting it anymore. When this week is over, and my wife is gone, I'll see if McDonald's is hiring.

Writing is hard.

I don't like anything I write anymore. That's why you haven't seen anything here for four days. I suppose I should just stop trying to write what I enjoy reading, and just write, but I can never seem to do that. I think that it's because everything I say here seems so negative.
Here's a positive. Amanda and I spent Saturday night eating tacos with Gara and Amie. What? Not positive enough? That's because you've never hung out with them, then. They're the kind of people that you stay at their house doing absolutely nothing you wouldn't be doing anyway, but enjoy it merely because you're doing it with them. You overstay your welcome until your eyes are swollen and your wife is lifeless on the floor.
I'm tired of complaining when there is so much good in my life. That doesn't mean that I'll stop. It just means I'll complain about that, too. I think that might be what I'm doing here. I'm not doing very well at circumventing my negative feelings.
This morning the traffic gave me back some of the life it takes from me everyday when I saw a landscaping truck rear-end a Toyota. I couldn't help but laugh. The guy in the Avalon was taking it so seriously. Oh, and it happened right in front of a cop, too.
Yesterday, at Amanda's school, I heard someone ask a child, "What is 1+1". The answer? "0". Ouch. That kid is going to go far.

Bend over RIAA

The Recording Industry Association of America needs to assume the position that it has been putting file sharers and music artists in for the last couple of years.

The RIAA, in a broad sweeping protective motion (translate as lawsuits) has sought to help the artists in popular music today by putting an end to piracy. They say that sales of CD's have dropped 2 billion dollars in the past 3 years due to the explosion of music downloads. The artists, or at least the big label artists, stand behind them. The RIAA has hired lawyers and done studies, and has proven their point. But uh-oh, what's this? Someone cared enough to prove them wrong.
It seems that a Mr. Felix Oberhozer-Gee of Harvard Business School and Koleman Strumpf of the U. Of North Carolina have been doing their own research. They picked their time frame from the heyday of Napster and showed that in a study of 650 albums in a 17 week time period in 2002, the sales of the CD's increased by 1 copy for every 150 downloads. This is bad news for the RIAA, because they've been running a campaign to woo the American public by suing them and charging 16 bucks for about 3 dollars of music.
Speaking of legal copyrights, Donald Trump is seeking a trademark on the tagline, "You're Fired", which he uses weekly on his show, "The Apprentice". Seriously, how does someone like this make it so far in life? What is the limit to what you can trademark?
™
All comments on this site copyright 2004 by Blake E™

I never blog on Saturdays.

But I'm getting more hits from different people; I have to keep this momentum going. People I don't even know are reading this. That's scary, because they might not know how unapologetic I will be if anything I ever say offends them.

Skate shoes aren't everything

Last night I loaned my Amanda my "Brandston" concert T-shirt, and we snaked our way down Main Street in Dallas to The Gypsy Tea Room to see the Yellowcard/Something Corporate concert. We got lost, found the place, got lost again, and finally found that parking, as I should have recalled, costs anywhere from $2 to $5. We found, and I'm not joking, exactly $5 change between Amanda's purse and the floorboard of the car.
Now, those of you who know me know that I try to side step the mainstream most of the time, but I've loved Yellowcard and Something Corporate since their indie label days, and I wasn't going to miss them just because they were on Columbia. When I arrived at the concert, I could see that most of these people hadn't picked up these bands until they started playing them on MTV. Why did I know this, you ask? Let's just say when I went to the "Deep Elm" label show at the Door, no one was wearing cargo shorts and a "Timberland Boot Company" shirt. Suddenly Amanda's Adidas didn't look so bad. Hey, she's punk at heart. No, she's really not.
I ran into an old chum from LeTourneau days their, too, a one Mr. William Yeomans. He was with another dude I used to work with, Peter. I had to leave him behind to get in the "will call" line, but not before securing him a good spot in the "have ticket" line. You're welcome, Will.
So, of course, the Tea Room is a standing room only type place, and we're pretty close to the front. The people behind us coveting our position decide that the best way to get closer to the stage is to see how much compressed material can be found in the human body, and just started pushing forward. The only thing between me and the girl in front of me was my Levi's. Being married, this is no longer a desirable situation. The best part was the guy "looking" for his friend in the crowd who stepped in front of Amanda to get a better view, obscuring her 5'2 view, and Amanda yelling the lyrics off-key in his ear until he decided it just wasn't worth it anymore.
All in all, great concert. Any concert is good when you walk away with new stickers.

I just blogged all over myself.

The funny thing about being unemployed is that it is so contradicting.
You have plenty of time to think of your career, and all of the things that you can do to improve your productivity. The problem is, you don't want to be more productive. That just makes your day longer. Sucker.
And I'm starting to realize that I've already seen this episode of "Unsolved Mysteries".
You know, I don't think I'm a "job snob". I applied at Wal-Mart. I used their "Employment Computer" thing. It was great. When working as a Network Administrator, I made a salary. When using this machine, it asked me how much I made per hour. I didn't make anything per hour. I made a salary. There was no way to enter that.
Also, from what I can tell from the "short" questionnaires, Wal-Mart has had a lot of trouble with people smoking pot, coming to work, breaking their leg while swinging from a fork lift, and stealing small objects on their way to living on worker's comp.
I also found out I could never be a baggage screener for the government. I took a test. It was pretty conclusive that I was a very smart guy with very poor eyesight.

Its St. Patrick's day!

As many of you know, St. Patrick is the saint of alcohol and green and any mixture of the two, including vomit. St. Patrick was a good man, who thought God would talk to him when he was too drunk to hear anyone else speak. OK, none of that's true. March 17th is the day St. Patty died. Actually, the interesting part is that up until 1995, before the Irish government caved to commercialism and tourism, in Ireland it was a religious holiday, and the pubs were closed all day. Not anymore, though. I'm not that much Irish, but maybe I'll get drunk anyway. I've got nothing better to do.
Actually, I prefer a celebration dance:

Do the safety dance.

I'll bet you had to use the cheat codes.

I have an anouncement.
Today, after playing it for years, I beat the internet.
The end guy was really tough.

I have it on good authority

According to at least one 5 year old girl, I am, to quote her, "the bomb". She believes this so much, she solidified it by writing it down. She's smart. I think it's because she's Asian.
I went to kindergarten today, just for kicks. Name-of-the-day, an exercise meant to bolster a child's writing ability by bolstering their ego was performed as usual, with the exception that I was name of the day. They wanted to know everything about me. The asked me my favorite color. They asked me who my best friend was (my wife, their teacher). Then they asked me two questions which I could not in all good conscience answer truthfully to a kindergarten. What is your favorite thing to play with? I said, "my guitar" I thought, "my wife". What is your favorite game? I said, "Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2" I thought, "Any game that only a husband and wife can play". You know what I mean. Twister.
So anyway, the whole point is that there isn't one. I just like being the most advanced student in the room. They're gonna kick me out of school again.

Soup of the day: Kroger Brand vegetable in beef stock. Oh yeah. The pasta they use is the same one they use for their alphabet soup.

It's that important to me.

If I was rich, the money I didn't give away, I'd spend it all to prove my point.

A seriously truthful analogy.

I think my resumé is kinda like a pie-chart showing the the productivity of a sewer system. Its a good presentation, but the material that its based on is still shit.

Meet Poeple Online!

Two important views on dating by someone who is married.

1. Dating is hard
2. Marriage is not an escape from dating. It'd be more accurate to say that dating is an escape from being married.

I was at a trash dump once.

Going to church doesn't make you a christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.

You're very special to me.

Oh no, I get it, you're more important than the other 120 cars in line.

Let me discuss the Highway 183 exit off of North 360. Here's the basic scenario. There are three lanes. Two go west, one goes east. This is great planning on the D/FW traffic division's part, I must say, considering no one is EVER going to Fort Worth but people are always heading east into Dallas. But that's not what I'm mad about.
Now, anyone who takes this road on a daily basis knows to wait for the traffic. It's backed up for a mile going into Dallas everyday. But there is always one self-aggrandizing retard who thinks, "I'll cut in line a little further ahead". Why do I care? Now he's blocking off my lane of traffic because of his own arrogance. He is in a hurry, not like everyone else who are all on their way to take a nap at home. What's worse is that due to the way the exit is constructed, I don't see him until the only way I can avoid hitting him is to use my "go-go-gadget-wheels". Well, I'm tired of it. The next time, I'm not putting on my brakes. I'm going to hit the next guy so hard as to propel him at a speed that will cause him to age slower than everyone else. I don't think that any of the witnesses will say that he was anything short of obstructing traffic, and given that I think other people are pissed about this, too, I could probably get them to corroborate a story about him having a gun or something. Oh sure, they'll never find the gun, but the cop is pissed about it, too. The world is totally on my side in my mind.
Also, the self-checkout at the grocery store is proof that anyone will do their own work if you make them think its a priviledge.

Just read the comics.

When I was in 2nd and 3rd grade, I would buy a Houston Chronicle every morning on the way to school. I picked the Chronicle because it had more comics than any other paper. Two pages, I believe. I would read the comics, then throw away the paper.
As I got older, I'd read more and more of the paper. I'd read the editorials and all the news and try to read it cover to cover. I really enjoyed this for a while, but then I realized that everything else besides the comics was negative, and sometimes the strip writers were the only people who seemed to have a correct view of life. Now, I buy the paper, and just read the comics, and throw the rest away. Dallas Morning News has three pages of comics.

I could use a corndog.

A small addition.

One more thing about marriage that everyone should know:
First of all, our fights are terrible. I'm everything short of what you thought you'd never be with her, and she with me. We care, but only a little. It is terrible. The arguments are terrible. I see my fifth date with Amanda when we said, "I know we'll argue, I just don't know what it will be about". I think we were both thinking that if this were true, when we fought it would be few and far between. Like maybe we'd fight 10% of the time, or less. I think we fight less, but I think it doesn't matter. They are terrible, nonetheless, and neither of us would lose sleep if we never had one again.
I think the real reason that we need to see how terrible they are is to see why. Why they are so terrible is because every other time is so great. The argument, in contrast to the rest of our life, is so revolting. We love each other so wholly any other time that when we argue it is so disgusting and uncharacteristic, we are abhorrent at the idea that the other person would drag us in to this terrible situation, and what's worse, not support us while we are in it.
And I think that's what's good. If the arguments didn't mean anything, we'd have a problem. But they do mean something, and sometimes everything.
I love her, and she loves me, and we do that more than anything else.
That's what everyone should know about marriage.

I'm now an official expert on marriage.

I've been married for the better part of three weeks at 3pm today, and I think I've pretty much got this down pat.
You think before you get married that everything that everyone tells you about marriage is cynical and mean. It's not.
Let me tell you what I already know. Everything that people tell you is true. She is always right. You better know this right from the start. As a man, you think you're more logical, and that's going to solve everything. Unfortunately, you're not nearly as logical as you think you are, especially during an argument. You're irrational, and very logical about it. Always remember this: If you're in an argument, you're probably no longer logical, so don't assume that you are. Give up. Stop arguing. If you're a woman, you need to know this: you're man thinks he's being logical. He's an idiot.
You know what else? That's all you have to know, I think. Everything else is easy. When you agree, its easy. But I guarantee you that no marriage ended without an argument. Learn how to argue while you learn how to fix what started the argument, because trust me, the argument is just as dangerous as the issue.
You might think I'm saying this because Amanda and I just had an argument.
You'd be right.

Ah yes, another successfully day of job hunting.

I found out today that there are, and I'm not kidding, 7 Starbucks within a 5 mile radius of my house. Two are right next to each other. And when I say right next to each other, I mean only an alleyway separates them. I might be wrong about Wal-Mart. Starbucks might have a good race with them for new communist leader for our nation. At least we'll all have jobs. I hope Starbucks wins; I don't want to work at Wal-Mart.

In other fronts, I've been wearing the same pants for three days.

No no, I'm smart. I'll fix it myself

I'm not altogether sure why my comments thingie keeps retreating. If you have any idea how to fix this, check out my source code and email me.
Also... Ow, my head.

Where have you been?

Wow, what an absence. I guess married life will do that to you. Let's see, what's new? Well, I got a ragin' case of strep throat and had to go the emergency room when we were fresh back from our honeymoon. That was neat-o. Um, I still have no job. That's about fun. Seriously, have you ever not had a job? You just always wonder when the appropriate time to lower your standards and go apply at the Wal-Mart "employment computer" would be. What's etiquette here to have your wife stop supporting you? I'm pretty pleased with my part-time job as assisting music minister at Providence Baptist in Longview. I'll keep praying for a full-time job. You just keep praying with me.
Married life, if you don't already know this, is great. You get to do everything you'd normally do, only you always have company. Company with which you can have sex. Its the keenest thing ever. And a God ordained marriage is like a party everyday. Being next to the airport, you get to do stuff like watch planes, and take pictures and go to the super-malls in D/FW and drive around and get bored and watch TV and not water your plants enough and stand on the balcony and hate your cat and past diseases back and forth and argue and make up and everything you ever thought you'd want to do with a person that will be with you for life. Take that, single people. Now I know why married people are always trying to get their single friends married. Well, that, and it's just hard to stay friends with a single person when you're married. But Gara and Amie did a good job of it, though. (Thanks guys, you're great.)
That's it. Stop reading.

The end of chapter 3.

Well, I'm about done here at good ol' LeTourneau University. As much as I complain about this place, I love it, and I'll be sorry to go.
You know how sometimes you meet people too late? That's how I feel about the guy I was working with today, Patrick. He seems very cool, and we have a lot in common, especially our views. Its too bad I'm leaving town Saturday. Definitely when I'm in Longview, I'll have to look him up. We'll go see some concerts. Like Modest Mouse. What? You don't know who they are? Shame on you.
This morning I woke up to feel a little midget with a pair of vice grips standing behind my eye squeezing the life out of it. I killed him, though, or at least I took his vice grips away. I was just thinking that it would be suck to miss my last day on the job, so I came in anyway. With good reason, too, because God has really blessed this day.
Speaking of midgets, my favorite girl comes on down here in two days, and then we're together for good. Come to the wedding and buy us presents.
Also, Jeremiah will be here tonight. For those of you who don't know Jeremiah, he's the guy that bailed me out of jail the first time. We've been friends for years. Yaw! I haven't seen him in, like, 2 or 3 forevers so it'll be good for him to be here.

Anything else you read today is gibberish.

You are using 30% of your 2MB limit.

As a retraction for yesterday, I misread the "Curtis". It did not say that Romus Blues invented the harmonica, it just said that he played it. Also I'm not sure that it's not all a joke anyway, considering the guy's name was Blues. As a matter of fact, I think I probably got my panties in a wad over nothing. But if you knew me, you'd know that's not new. Nobody reads this anyway, and even my Amanda told me she had no idea what I was talking about, and didn't care to read the PBS article.
Good gravy my stomach hurts today. I think that I have the Stomach Monkeys. You know that terrible feeling when you first wake up and you're very tired and you stretch but no matter how much you stretch its not enough to make you feel better? That's how I have felt all day. I REALLY need to get back on my bicycle. Or just get some sex. Or both.
I'm not even trying to look like I'm working anymore. I have 1 3/4 days left on my sentencing here at the EeTernal University Facilities Services Department of Which Has Too Dadgum Long of a Name, and I don't think that I'm in danger of being fired or looking bad. My track record is pretty much set up to this point, and if people can't understand that I might be a little distracted, then they can kiss my oddly straight and large banana. That isn't innuendo. I have some really oddly shaped large bananas at home.
There are too many people in this world who think that communism is a good replacement for being polite.

Owie

I woke up this morning on my dad's couch with a headache. The headache is still here, but so is the knowledge that this will be the last time I have to sleep on a couch for a while.
I also think that I eat too much sugar.
At 3:30 today I get to leave work, which is great, because I think that my brain is either eating itself or starting to cook some vital remembrances to keep itself from completely exploding in my last days on this job. I've been keeping myself partially entertained by taking pictures with my new digital camera I got for the wedding, and then partially entertained by trying to appear as if I were actually working.
Oh and for those of you who read the comic strip "Curtis" yesterday, here's the real history of the harmonica.

http://www.pbs.org/americanrootsmusic/pbs_arm_ii_harmonica.html

Thomas Edison's first recording was him saying "Mary had a little lamb..."

Well, that's about it for another week I suppose. Here it is Saturday at the end, still no sex. 1 more week.
I'm sitting in my future in-laws house right now. Tonight they got me a new old-time oil lamp. Great little thing, mostly because its old. I think I long for a simpler time. It would seem that if that was true I would probably type on a typewriter, though. I guess I'm simple only in principle sometimes.
tomorrow I have one more wedding shower before the wedding. More stuff to clog up our 2 bedroom condo. I don't care, I can always have a garage sale.
On a side note, singing stuffed animals irritate the shit out of me.

We all know I'm saving for the honeymoon

Money is tight here in janitor land. With the upcoming nuptials to Miss Amanda Hougham of Grand Prairie ISD, I am having to pinch pennies. This means no Freeze Your Fanny ride, a local bike ride every year in East Texas. This will be my first time to miss it since I've started riding my road bike. But then again, this is only my second year being a Roadie. But, I think it should all be worth it, because by my countdown, as of 5pm today, I will be only 9 days away from the end of sexual frustration. Yippee!

The 20 mile commute from Diana, Texas to Longview, Texas has gotten a lot easier. Especially since I live with my dad in East Mountain now. The ride is 4 miles closer, so no more 20 mile bike rides in the morning. Oh, and did I mention my dad works across the street? That means he gives me a ride to work in his car. No more bike rides at all, so far. I'm so lazy; soon I will also be fat.
Still sad about Jesse. Call it whining if you want to. But if you do, it's because you suck. Jesse rocked and you know it.

Counting the days

Well, here we are one more day closer to my wedding. Be it known here that I never planned to get married on Valentine's Day, and I'm vehemently against the whole idea of valentine's day, but that's where my Amanda's vacation fell, and I wasn't going to wait any longer to marry her than I had to. Especially since I'm so repressed.
Anyway, this is also day 2 without Jesse. Easier, but not done with the pain yet. I still miss my buddy. I realize though that he was my servant, and I was his master, and we both followed those responsibilities to the end, and that's all I can ask for. I love him still, but he's gone, and I move on. He doesn't mind. He's dead. I hope there are dogs in heaven. He'd be the dog I'd want for all eternity. But the Bible is very unclear on this subject. Of course, its also unclear as to where the dinosaurs went. I think its just covering the important things.
My work here at LeTournea University is done, and I know it, but my letter of resignation says otherwise. So does my need for a paycheck. But for some reason my work ethic falters more than those two things. Time will tell if I get fired before next Wednesday.

Goodbye, Jesse.

Its been a while since I wrote, I know, but you have no right to complain. I don't even know who you are and why you're reading my personal thoughts. Nevermind. I just wanted to write about my dog, Jesse.
See, Jesse was the best dog ever. He was smart, fast, loving, playful, and he was 3. He was everything you could want a dog to be. He was 65 pounds of energy and fun and brain and most of all love. He loved me, I loved him.
I say all of this because yesterday he was hit by a car. And then another. And then after that he still wasn't dead. I promised him I'd always be humane, so I got my dad's .22 and I put him down like I always promised. I told him I loved him first, I reminded him of my promise, I apologized, and then I shot him. That was the hardest thing in the world at the time. While this may sound noble and loving to you, I still feel so much guilt. I was supposed to take care of him, and I did, but I can't get over how. Slowly I feel better, slowly people's prayers are reaching me, slowly I feel God's loving arms wrapped around me telling me its all okay and I did the right thing.
I don't have a point. I don't have to. That's why this is here, for me, not for you. If I made you sad, I'm sorry. But if you have a dog, love him, and know that he loves you. But if he's miserable in a jail, let him out. He'll be happier being hit by a car than locked in a cage. And always remember, love him enough to let him die. With is dying breath, he will know that you are the best master he could have had. You are the best thing that ever could have happened to him. You were his friend, and you loved him. And that's the best gift you can give.