Monthly Archives: January 2012

Friday Night At The Experiment

Feel­ing melan­choly with the north wind blow­ing… Wag­ner The Lou­vin Broth­ers Etta RIP, Etta. I wouldn’t have known you but for another and both are gone now.

Punishing the Many To Capture The Few

Imag­ine if you will a soci­ety where the fol­low­ing is pos­si­ble. You take your hard earned dol­lars to a bank. You deposit your checks, write checks to your cred­i­tors, pay your elec­tric bill, maybe even have a sav­ings account or two. Hun­dreds of other peo­ple in your com­mu­nity do the same. The bank is prof­itable

Some People Are Just Baby Tossers

In Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand por­trayed a soci­ety where the best and the bright­est peo­ple essen­tially picked up their prover­bial bas­ket­ball and went home, leav­ing the rest of us strug­gling, mediocre morons to fend for our­selves as said soci­ety broke down (she also seemed to favor sit­u­a­tions where women got raped, pos­si­bly a win­dow into

Meditations On Being A Bad Meditator

The line between being a med­i­ta­tor and a medi­a­tor is a fine one. I am not a medi­a­tor other than in dis­putes of which cat threw up on the couch and and inter­nal dis­cus­sions con­cern­ing my jus­ti­fi­ca­tions for switch­ing from cof­fee to tea. See, this is why I’m a bad med­i­ta­tor, already this post is

Why I’m Not A Football Christian

Does God know par­tic­u­lars? Before you answer that, take a moment to con­sider the ram­i­fi­ca­tions of the answer, both pro and con. Like answer­ing the ques­tion “Did you ever get caught mas­tur­bat­ing in the closet?”, any answer you come up with is a net loss if you’re a Believer (or a closet mas­tur­ba­tor). If you

Girl On A Postcard

A girl, pos­si­bly 15 or 18 or 21, it is hard to tell because her face is cov­ered in thick, dark grease­paint, stands in the right track of a two track dirt road that runs off into the dis­tance. She wears olive green pants and a dark brown flan­nel shirt, untucked. Her hair is brown,

Dreaming

Have you ever won­dered what dogs dream about as they lay in their fluffy 40x50 beds bought at Trac­tor Sup­ply on sale for $20? I’ve always assumed my dog is dream­ing of chas­ing down some hap­less lit­tle mam­malian crea­ture in the back­yard. He prob­a­bly envi­sions him­self with teeth made of tita­nium and these Wolver­ine like

2011 In Review

This is one of those fas­ci­nat­ing posts (to me) where I navel gaze for approx­i­mately ninety min­utes on what the past year has done to me or for me or what my actions in said year have resulted or not resulted in. In short, I’m about to ram­ble on in a semi-coherent man­ner about what