Sowing the seeds of love…

I was going to be really smart today. I was going to write a really smart and provocative My Side.

Then, I realized I couldn't.

You see, I was going to take the lyrics to Phil Ochs' "Here's to the state of Mississippi" and turn them into "Here's to the state of George Bush Jr.". The song basically tore Mississippi a new one back in the 60's and, I thought, could again for (burning) Bush.

Then, I saw the lyrics.


Here's to the state of Mississippi,
For Underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines,
If you drag her muddy river, nameless bodies you will find.
whoa the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes,
the calendar is lyin' when it reads the present time.
Whoa here's to the land you've torn out the heart of,
Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of!

Not bad, huh? After all, (burning) Bush certain doesn't stop at our borders and god knows where the bodies are hid. As for the calendar, I just heard "Rock Around the Clock" on the radio the other day, so…

But then...

And here's to the people of Mississippi
Who say the folks up north, they just don't understand
And they tremble in their shadows at the thunder of the Klan
…

Klan? The Klan?

Surely, you remember the Klan. It was/is a group of guys who got together for BBQs, cook-offs, and nigger lynchings. Now, before you recoil at the so-called "N" word, consider for a moment that our modern society does not only condone the prosecution of a racial class it institutionalizes it! Who do you think we're at war with??? Think it only applies to blacks? More blacks men are in prison then ever and fewer black men are in college then ever. (And don't bother saying they're shifty and dumb unless you want a list of accomplished black americans a month and a half before Black History Month!) Or maybe you just think people back then were more repressive over all. Well, in that case, look at the prosecution of homosexuals. Look at the gutting of hate-crime legislation.

Face it. American society in the early 21st century makes the Klan of the 60's look like pussies.

So, I dumped that idea. No more pithy wisdom from Ken… back to his old shtick…

For the past few days, I've had the Tears for Fears song, Sowing the Seeds of Love, going through my head. Now, seriously, this is not just nostalgia for the 80's going on here. It was, actually, a very well constructed song, harkening back on the Beatles as only they could. It's a song I wish I'd put on this year's CDs… but… no. Maybe next year. (I'm thinking about making one CD next year called "love", with every song having the word "love" in the title.)

It's also a good song for de-stressing.

This home purchase has really been a tempest. Everything would be cool and then HELL! The deal would be in place and then CATACLYSM! I'd have the house and then I'd be DESTITUTE!

Finally, everything came together last night. But do you want to know how close we came?We're losing our apartment on Monday - the same day the house is legally mine. Fortunately, we finagled a deal wherein Vicky and I get to take possession early (which is actually three weeks late, but whatever) so we can move our stuff this Saturday. This involves packing. Hordes of packing!

So, no great political statement this time, just moving news...

...

I spy tears in their eyes
They look to the skies for some kind of divine intervention
Food goes to waste!
So nice to eat, so nice to taste
Politician Grannie with your high ideals
Have you no idea how the Majority feels?
So without love and a promise land
We're fools to the rules of a Government plan
Kick out the style ! Bring back the jam!

Anything...
Sowing the Seeds
The birds and the bees
My girlfriend and me in love

Feel the pain
Talk about it
If you're a worried man - then shout about it
Open hearts - feel about it
Open minds - think about it
Everyone - read about it
Everyone - scream about it!
Everyone
Everyone - read about it, read about it
Read in the books in the crannies and the nooks there are books to read

And anything is possible when you're Sowing the Seeds of Love
Anything is possible - Sowing the Seeds of Love

Time to eat all your words
Swallow your pride
Open your eyes
High time we made a stand and shook up the views of the common man
And the lovetrain rides from coast to coast
Every minute of every hour - " I Love a Sunflower "
And I believe in lovepower, LovePower, LOVEPOWER !!!
Sowing the Seeds
An end to need
And the Politics of Greed
With love

Los Angeles cops plan to beat fewer people with flashlights...

Aw... aren't they nice? That's really thoughtful!

The city's police commission unveiled a plan Tuesday aimed at discouraging officers from using flashlights as weapons, except in emergencies.

Mind you, this doesn't include beating people with their fists or the blunt end of a car... or just plain shooting them. But, hey, it's a start!

(And for those of you wondering, an "emergency" is considered any time they really want to.)

More Santa La Salle for the masses...

No, he's not coming back... yet... (gotta leave your options open, you know?)

Actually, Rob has emailed me with his recollection of events and I thought I'd share them with you:

Ah, Santa La Salle. Who could forget? Or, who could COMPLETELY forget. I didn't remember that Deanna provided the Santa suit on the second year. (Actually, it was Deanna's parents. Thus the "talking-to" provided by her mom. One I justly deserved, may it be said.) Yes, there were two years of it.

The first year you wore a plaid shirt (whose shirt was that?) (It was probably mine. My mom liked to keep me stocked with plaid shirts for all those cold, California winters...) , suitably stuffed, and we didn't have much to whiten the fake hair, so it was more grey than white. It looked good, though. If there was one thing we could do, it was apply fake hair. If the writing ever runs out, we have that to fall back on. (Better make sure there's a lot of it though . . . nice and cushy.) I'm not certain that I wore that elf outfit (a leftover from my role in the FVCT musical, "The Hobbit") that first year, though I may have. There weren't many stops the first year, but there were enough. And, as you point out, it was fun.

The second year was more of a production, with the suit, with more white spray (we even got your brows, I believe), and with makeup to give you something of a ruddy complexion. Also, I definitely wore the elf outfit. There were more stops the second year. As you mentioned, we even had a few stops based on referral alone. There were also some Santa La Salle carols during that second year . . . but I don't remember the words. I'm sure, though, that one was "Santa La Salle Is Coming to Town." Once again, we had a lot of fun.

The third (or, really, fourth) year? The world's a poorer place because it didn't happen.

Auld lang syne.

Indeed. Some of the best times of my younger life, folks. And I was very fortunate to share them with folks like Rob and Tim. (I hope Tim checks in with his insights but, as I said, he doesn't consider himself a writer so you may have to go on my recall for that.)

Ho Ho - freakin' - Ho!

The nearly lost history of Santa La Salle…

I was reading Tim Murphy's blog last night. (Hey, who doesn't have a blog these days?) I don't think he knows I read it. When I was visiting him in October, I saw it. He said, "This is just stuff for work. You won't find it very interesting." No? Well, I check it all the time. Tim doesn't figure himself as a writer but I am a reader, so…

Anyway, I was reading it last night and I saw a passing mention of Santa La Salle. Ah, Santa La Salle.

Who was he? Well, history (if made up) tells us that there are a lot of Santas. Only that Kringle guy gets the good press. The rest are out there doing their giving in less… flashy ways. Then, there's Santa La Salle.

The first appearance of Santa La Salle happened one Christmas when I wanted to drop off some gifts. (I forget which year.) Now, I have no idea how I'd been able to purchase gifts because, back then, I was always broke. (Hey, I was a teenager, you know?) Tim and I hung out a great deal back then. He figured he'd come along… and we came up with this idea. I didn't have a Santa suit but I did have some fake, white hair and some spirit gum (actor that I was) and some pillows. And when we were done making me up as Santa, I looked nothing like that Claus fellow. I didn't look like THE Santa but we figured I looked like A Santa. Santa La Salle.

We walked all around Santa Ana (yet another Santa), delivering gifts. Tim wasn't dressed like an elf but figured he must be one since he was with me and didn't have antlers (thus ruling him out as a reindeer). I'd say "Ho Ho Ho" in a low voice and he yell "Ho Ho - Ho Ho Ho Ho" in a high-pitched whine. It was really cool. Partially, I think it was cool because almost nobody got it. "And you're Santa WHO?" they'd ask. "Santa La Salle, of course," we'd reply. "Who?"

It was a one-time thing. I was never supposed to happen again.

But then, Rob came along. Rob, who had an elf costume (actually, I think it was a modified Robin Hood) and, more importantly, a CAR! Tim and I had walked because we hadn't had a car. Now, it's really sad to say this but my memory has faded so much over the years that I can't remember if we did it one year or two. I know it couldn't have been more than two. So, it was either the one year we did it or the last year we did it when we actually got me a Santa suit.

The suit belonged to the parents of DeAnna - whose last name I remember but couldn't spell to save my life, something life "Leifgshkey" - the girl who had been Rob's girlfriend and who I had dated that recent October. Yep, I screwed up my friendship with Essex by dating his ex (DeAnna Caudillo), Tim Murphy by dating his ex (Mary Cassidy), and Rob by dating his ex (DeAnna Lievchgzki - or something). (For the record, I also dating another of Rob's exes, Christy Morrison. For the record, she was HOT HOT HOT.) I was a dick. Her mother talked to me outside of their home as Rob got the suit. "You know, Ken, we all like you even though things between you and Dee didn't work out. You just need to learn when enough is enough. Don't let your emotions have such control over you. You need to just reign it in a little." I kept wishing she would shut up or Rob would come out with the suit or BOTH. You see, I'd fallen hard for DeAnna (as, oddly enough, Rob had predicted I would) and couldn't really accept when she'd broken up with me. I didn't stalk her… really. But I bugged any good feelings she might have still had for me right out of her.

Anyway, we got the suit. I looked like that Claus guy. The problem with looking so Kringl-esque, however, was that nobody understood the Santa La Sall-iness of it all. It was no longer an absurd take on a Christmas tradition. ("Bifmas" anyone?) Now, people kept assuming I was Claus! NO, I told them over and over. But it didn't help. Sure, I got served booze in people's homes (where they didn't know me personally - we were also dropping off Rob's gifts) because they didn't realize how young I was but others would bring their kids up to me ("Kids, Santa's here!" "Yeah!" No kids, I told Rob afterwards. No kids! It was supposed to be a surreal, teenage rebellion against Christmas, not a complete embrace of the traditional image!) and still others would give me their gifts and ask us to make stops at other homes!

We could have made a fucking business out of it!

But it ended in 1985, with Rosa. Or, perhaps I should say, because of Rosa. You see, that year, we couldn't get the suit. I was so glad! I was so looking forward to a return to form! I even had images of giving Santa La Salle this great backstory about how he got syphilis from Turkish nuns!

"Would that make me, Mrs. Claus?" Rosa asked.

"No, not Claus," I corrected. "La Salle. Mrs. Santa La Salle."

You see, she wanted to go with us, make her appearance as the third of our troop.

Then, she found out there'd be no Santa suit.

"Well, what are you going to wear?"

"Oh," I spitballed, "maybe jeans and a red windbreaker."

"That's not Santa!"

"No. That's Santa La Salle."

But she didn't get it. I even showed her all the fake, white hair and spirit gum!

I think it all came crashing down when she forbad me from visiting her friends or family. She didn't want them seeing that. With a kidney blow to the concept, she turned Santa La Salle from absurd and surreal into cheap and stupid. (I must admit, it's painfully easy to do. I can't count the amount of ideas I've had that have been shot down by a simple, "I don't get it.")

And so, Santa La Salle came to an end. I never told her it was because of her. I said something like, "Well, I'm kind of tired of doing it anyway." "Wait until you have a Santa suit," she said… and that killed Santa La Salle.

That is, until last night. Last night, I read Tim Murphy's account and remembered something that she never got. I'd lost it because I'd been with her and had been infected with her sensibility. (We're all infected by others to one degree or another, like it or not.) Very simply, cheap or stupid, absurd or dumb, surreal or sucky, it was FUN! It was fun to appear on someone's doorstep in this crazy getup, yelling "Ho Ho Ho" and giving gifts. That's the Christmas fucking spirit, dammit! Was Kringle's getup that normal looking when he first did it? Hell no! And for those of you looking to tie in that Christ fellow, who is he but someone hard to look at, saying "Ho Ho Ho"?

Maybe Santa La Salle will return one day. Maybe I'll find another cohort who says, "I've got this great idea…" But until that day, he's been reborn in my heart and I have Tim Murphy to thank for it. Thanks, Tim. Thanks for starting a short-lived tradition with me and for reminding me once again what it all meant. And, lest I forget, thanks to Rob for carrying on that tradition with me. (As traditional as that Santa suit might have been, we both got huge laughs out of explaining the Santa-mobile to the kids who thought I was the real Claus.)

Merry Christmas.

It just needs to be said...

For those who might not have noticed:

The "Save The Planet" people have done an absolutely horrid job in the last 30 years. You people suck!

When it comes to achieving goals, the "Fuck The Planet" people should be really fucking proud of themselves. Way to go, guys!

Know it some...

So, I'm listening to this book right now called "The Know it All". (Remember that Audio.com membership I keep raving about?) It's a book about a guy who decides to read the Encyclopaedia Brittannica straight through. (At 15 hours, you'd think that would be the EB alone!) It's a funny mix of insights and neurosis. Neurosis? Well, that's right up my aisle!

I actually did this once many years ago. When Tim moved to Sonoma in 1985, he had to pack light. He left me with a television and a set of encyclopedias. (His was only 26 volumes. The EB weighs in a 32.) One night, I told Rosa I'd do it and, sure enough, I eventually did it. It was great. So, I can relate to this guy.

Feeling "encyclopedia fever" once again - watch out, Vicky! - I looked up the EB's web site today and found it to be very useful. More than just a site that sells books. You should check it out.

(There. That's my good deed for the day!)

A housing update…

Oy, what a weekend. Once this house is mine, I think I'll burn it down for all the headaches it's caused!

Well, okay, it hasn't been the house that's given me the headaches. Actually, it's been my mortgage broker. (As I understand it, the "mortgage wrangler".)

Originally, it was supposed to be Julee. Julee is one of Vicky's best friends. (Actually, "was" is probably more appropriate now…) I decided to let her do my loan because Vicky has some good history with her and Vicky seemed to think she'd do a better job that the first bank that was trying to do my loan. (Just a taste of why: They LOST my loan!) Seriously, how could anyone do worse?

Well…

Julee screwed this up so badly that the president of the mortgage company had to step in - and he's been quick to point out to me that, normally, he's not supposed to be doing this. But it's clear to him that she really muffed it, so…

I found out this weekend that everything fell apart. And I did so in a rather dramatic way.
You see, I wanted to talk to this guy to tell him what a shitty job I thought his people were doing. When he called Friday afternoon, I thought it was because I had told Julee I wanted to talk to him. I thought she had asked him to call me. So, I was ready to chew him out.

And I did. I did BIG TIME!

Then, he said, "Wait." I should have waited before the tirade. Turned out he was calling because he KNEW how screwed up it was and had decided to take over to save the loan and if I wasn't happy with his company, I could take my business elsewhere. (Which I couldn't do because it was too far along in the loan and there's this stipulation in my paperwork that says the seller could come after ME for the cost of the home even if I didn't get a loan. We're talking possible bankruptcy! So, I'd forgotten the first rule of negotiation, namely to have the upper hand.)

Well, after threatening me - and shutting me the hell up - this guy then worked the whole weekend to get my loan back on track. You see, Julee was the screw up; he wasn't. He knew what he was doing. (Oh, but I made sure he knew that she didn't… and, boy, did he know!)

That said, by yesterday I was this close (he said, holding thumb and forefinger an inch apart) to saying, "Fine. You know what. Take my money! Take me to court! I'll declare bankruptcy! I just can't deal with this any more!" I mean, my god! I've lost a lot of sleep, had so many headaches, and possibly developed an ulcer over this! I was SO done!

But before I did, I went back to Vicky and ran the numbers with her again. Now, I just have to take a moment and repeat how wonderful this girl is. She's the best. Not only did she help me figure out how we're going to do it but she remained positive and hopeful that things would be okay. Instead of feeding my neurosis (bordering on full-blown panic), she totally put me at ease. She's incredible and I am incredibly lucky to have her.

And, with that, I went back to the pres… and the hard truth.

Now, look, we're going to be homeless as of this weekend. Our apartment has been rented out. We need a place to live - soon! Though the interest rate on my loan keeps going up with each new revision - and, let me tell you, it ain't afraid of heights! - he assured me that he'll do everything to get me in the house this week, so we could move this weekend. Coming from a guy who just worked his whole weekend to resuscitate my loan - I believe him.

But Friday's a long time away… and, until then, I wait...

Why burn 'em when you can ban 'em?...

Well, here we go again. Another move so fucking stupid you'd never imagine even the (burning) Bushies could do it:

In an apparent reversal of decades of U.S. practice, recent federal Office of Foreign Assets Control regulations bar American companies from publishing works by dissident writers in countries under sanction unless they first obtain U.S. government approval.

The restriction, condemned by critics as a violation of the First Amendment, means that books and other works banned by some totalitarian regimes cannot be published freely in the United States.

What does this mean? This means that if the government doesn't like what you have to say, you don't get published. Big Brother has final say.

As a writer, I find this appalling and, again, find myself questioning my decision to remain in the States. Sure, I'm a citizen - but of what worth are those ideals when they are increasingly limited by qualifiers such as "citizen", "white", "male"?

B DC, like Warshington...

By the way...

I've received a couple emails about my "B DC, like Warshington" My Side, asking me specifically, "HUH?"

Just goes to show how in touch I am... finger's on da pulse!

Well, here's a hint. It's the alphabet song! (Does that help?)

Getting an ulcer and getting in trouble…

Can I say ouch? You bet the fuck I can!

Turns out that this whole house-buying experience may have given me an ulcer. I spent the past two days doubled over in pain, clutching my gut. No, not a few minutes here and there - two whole days!

Why? I could give you a million reasons why (well, a hundred), but that's not all of it. It's not just the house - and the fact that the lender screwed everything up and raised my interest rate and pushed back the close date - and it's not just that everything in my life seemed balanced on a pin - such as how it looks like the only way I can pay Sean back the money he gave me to help get the house is to sue Rosa for the money she never paid me back and as much as it looks like I'll win it makes me sick to think of it - no, it's all that and more.

And so my gut said, "Fuck you."

I'm sorry, gut. I'm really, really sorry.

So, I took a couple days off work but here I am again and so I write to you.

Not just to you. I put a new entry up over at OC MetroBlogging - one that's bound to have me banned from the site! Well, we'll see. It's called "Things to do with the TBN building…" You "Born Agains" are going to love this one!

Anyway, it looks like we should close by Monday. This will give us one weekend to move before Christmas. Sadly, this means that the holiday CDs may get to you a little late. Sorry! I burned a master copy of Reflections of Summer last night and, when I put it in my cd player this morning, it was totally silent. Back to the drawing board on that one!

Oh well.

Hope you have a great weekend.

Shit like this just pops into my head...

So, a kid was asked to recite the alphabet and he/she said:

"B DC, like Warshington - that covers a lot of letters and leaves us with bfjmpquvxyz."

... took me a few minutes to figure out the last part...

What is it about $310,000 that makes me feel uneasy?...

Contrary to popular belief (and the fact that I was telling everybody), we didn't close on the house yesterday. Our lame-ass lender (who is blaming her lame-ass assistant), didn't get everything together in time and, so, the bank will be ready today.

Today.

Ready.

Ready for me to sign my life away. Ready for me to assume the burden of a debt that nears a third of a million dollars.

And so I guess it should come as no surprise that I just want to crawl into a dark hole and not come out… ever… send down my Ben & Jerry's and a blanket… I'll be fine.

It started as I drove home yesterday. It wasn't a depression or sadness of any kind. It was just a general kind of malaise, a simple funk. I just thought, "I wanna lie down." So, I sat down in front of my PC, started up Diablo II: Lord of Destruction, and zoned out for four hours. Then, Vicky got home and I played for a couple more hours. I woke up this morning with no enthusiasm but, rather, just a desire to lie back down. I needed hugs and lots of them. Now, here I am at work, thinking I just want to put my head down.

A third of a million… that's a lot of money…

So, anyway, we're supposed to close today. I hope so. But, if we don't, let Vicky know that she should pick up some Ben & Jerry's and meet me under the bed.

On Houses and Blogging and Christmas, too…

Today's the day - oh, what a day!

I may be closing on my house today. My house! All mine! Well, mine and Vicky's. Well, mine and Vicky's and Bandoo's. Well, mine and Vicky's and Bandoo's and Alacrity's and Suki's and Harley's and Othello's… we'll call it "The Commune"!

I'll be signing a shitload of papers. Have you seen my right arm? I wish anyone trying to read my signature by the 47th form very good luck.

But enough about houses and communes, it's time for the Big Announcement!

Wait. That's not good enough.

THE BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!

… better. Looks like I'm going to be writing for another website, so, on top of your daily (or semi-daily) My Side's you'll get to see me at MetroBlogging Orange County! (That's http://oc.metblogs.com/ on your radio dial.) Take a look. They already have my name up! (Ain't that sweet?) I'll be writing articles about life here in Orange County - not an easy task for me. (Usually, I just bitch.) So, keep your eyes peeled - no, don't. That sounds disgusting!

But enough about houses and communes and blogging and bitching, let's talk about Christmas.
I'm not a big fan of Christmas. It's turned into a rather ugly holiday. In fact, for the past few years, I've referred to it as Bifmas and, even, Bobmas - thinking, "Why should Chris get a holiday while Bif and Bob are left out in the cold?" Since I don't think Vicky's going to go in much for "Timmas" or "Seanmass" or "Richmas" or even "Robmas", I guess I'm back to calling it Christmas again.

But some traditions continue - like it or not - so I'm producing yet another in a seemingly endless catalog of CD collections for the holidays. Having shucked off the traditional, holiday bonds last year, this year's CD collection contains:

Ken 3.8
Songs I Heard as a Child Vol. 1
Reflections of Summer (a continuation of "Love Out of Time" from last year)

I'll be taking a couple listens for "quality control" this week (to make sure I didn't completely screw up) and, with any luck, getting them out to people in the weeks leading up to the Arbor Day Holiday.

What do you mean, "Christmas"?

I now have a reason to respect Will Smith...

And it certainly isn't for his films! (I'm still shuddering over "I Robot" - the horror!)

Looks like Will Smith got the whacko right hating him. They even have a website PABAAH.com (Patriotic Americans Boycotting Anti-American Hollywood), talking shit.

Why?

Asked whether the 9/11 attacks had changed him, Smith said, "No. Absolutely not. When you grow up black in America, you have a completely different view of the world than white Americans. We blacks live with a constant feeling of unease. And whether you are wounded in an attack by a racist cop or in a terrorist attack, I'm sorry, it makes no difference." Smith continued, "In the '60s, blacks were continuously the victims of terrorist attacks. It was civil terrorism, but terrorism nonetheless. We are used to being attacked. That constant state of vigilance -- a sort of defensive state -- that hasn't changed at all. For me, nothing has changed at all."

Torture gets the go-ahead!...

I was going to write about the house this morning but, in the face of this news, that is simply meaningless.

Startling news. According to a U.S. District Court, we can now torture AND IT'S LEGAL! It is fully admissible as evidence!

What does this mean? Well, for one, if you are suspected of anything, you can be tortured until you confess (and who wouldn't under torture?) and that can be held against you.

Am I the only one who remembers when we would hate those who did this? The Soviets. The Kmer Rouge. The FUCKING NAZIS! Well, we're in great company now!

But that's not the end of it. According to the District Court, if you are kidnapped from your home and held is a secret prison, you've lost all your constitutional rights. In other words, it's your own fault you're in there. And why's it your own fault? Well, because you're bound to confess to what they think you did eventually. And that confession is admissible as evidence. Just as though you'd walked into the courthouse, having a smoke, and said, "Sure. I flew a plane into a big building. What'cha gonna do about it?"

If anyone reading this has heard themselves say, "It won't go that far." Folks, it HAS gone that far. We're there. You can get off the bus now.

This is truly a sad day for what was once America and doubly sad for us all because we have to live in it.

Perhaps this will get overturned in the Supreme Court (doubtful - remember who they put in office) but, until then, THANK GOD I'M WHITE!

Intolerant of intolerance...

For those of you who saw yesterday's My Side about the refusal by CBS and NBC to run a United Church of Christ ad promoting tolerance (claiming that it was too "controversial"!), my good friend Lori has turned me on to petition to go out to those intolerant morons. (In this case, I'm talking specifically about CBS and NBC.)

Take a stand for tolerance! Don't allow your voice to be drowned out by (burning) Bush's brigade! Sign the petition!

... and do it even if you didn't see yesterday's entry!

Fighting, Torturing, and moving on...

Not a whole lot to write about today...

... actually, I have a ton to write about. Vicky and I are fighting again and I'm royally pissed off. But I'm not going to go into details about it here. This just isn't the place for it. We've all had these days. Think of your own and replace the names.

So, let's get back to politics! (Burning) Bush is nominating (Black Hood) Gonzalez as Attorney General. This guy's more pro-torture than my ex-wife! Now, if you have no problem with hypocrisy, don't worry about it. If, on the other hand, you don't think the U.S. should encourage, facilitate, practice, and get downright hard over torture as public policy, go to this site and send word to your senator! Remember, the enemy is your neighbor; the definition of "bad guy" has become so diluted that anyone can fall victim.

Last bit of news is just going to be a teaser at this point. Let's just say things are changing around here and you might start seeing my ranting some place else pretty soon... I'll keep you posted.

Disgust and uplift...

It's not every day I blatantly paste in someone else's stories and try to pass it on to you folks... every other day, sure! But, then, it's not every day that I read two stories back to back that both fill me with disgust and uplift me at the same time. And certainly not on such sites as IMDB.com! But...

Here you go.


... Disgust:

Church Ad Rejected by Networks
Viacom's CBS and UPN networks have rejected a paid public service announcement by the United Church of Christ in which an announcer says, "Jesus didn't turn people away. Neither do we. ... No matter who you are, or where you are on life's journey, you are welcome here." In a statement, Viacom said: "Because this commercial touches on the exclusion of gay couples and other minority groups by other individuals and organizations. .. and the fact the Executive Branch has recently proposed a Constitutional Amendment to define marriage as a union between a man and a woman, this spot is unacceptable for broadcast on the networks." NBC has also rejected the ad as "too controversial," the church said. In a statement, the Rev. John H. Thomas, the church's president said that it was ironic that "an ad with a message of welcome and inclusion would be deemed too controversial. What's going on here?" The ad was accepted by Viacom's black-oriented BET cable network and its Nick at Nite channel as well as by ABC Family, Fox, Hallmark, and many Turner Broadcasting channels.

And just so you know, it's not the commercial that offends me or the church... but you probably guessed that.

... Uplift:

'Super-Size Me' Director In Deal with FX
Morgan Spurlock, whose Super Size Me became a rare documentary hit at the box office this year, has signed a deal with News Corp's FX cable network to produce a reality series, 30 Days, which will place an individual for 30 days into an environment that is completely at odds with his or her beliefs, upbringing, religion or profession. In the pilot episode, a Christian insurance salesman from West Virginia will move into the home of a Muslim family in Michigan, where he will learn to understand what it's like to be considered a security threat in one's own community. "I thought it would be great to create a television show that examined social issues without being preachy and didn't tell you what to do but deals with problems in a way that is palatable and entertaining," Spurlock told today's (Wednesday) Los Angeles Times. "We literally take somebody and have them walk in someone else's shoes and question their own belief structure."

Intelligent TV? It'll never last!

Maybe I'm not too old to be called up!...

Think you're too old to be sent to Iraq? Think again!

(All I can say is I'm SO GLAD I was never in the "service", cause the service never ends!)

Many thanks to Tom Tomorrow's site for turning me on to these articles:

This woman is 43 years old and is being sent over for 18 months!

This one's being sent to Iraq or Afghanistan and she's over 50!

This guy was discharged honorably and is now being called up again because the Army has decided he was a "deserter".

These people aren't being drafted. It's perfectly legal for the service to call you up after your out and it's perfectly political for the (burning) Bush administration not to institute a draft.

Is your oil cheap enough, yet?

The house is closing in…

… which is how I feel sometimes. Not that I'm buying a house but that the house is buying me! Think about it! How many papers does the house have to sign? Where's it's credit report? It ain't doing shit!!!

Okay… sorry. I'm a little stressed. Vicky and I got into it this morning… I just want this whole thing to end and stay in our apartment!

Oh well.

As the final days approach, we have all kinds of things coming up. Last minute things: Final walk-throughs, certified checks, and fees on fees on fees! When they say that buying a house takes a year out of your life, they don't tell you that it's the last few days that does it! And this isn't my first time, I should know better.

But it looks like, as of next week, I will, once again, be a home owner. (A misnomer if ever I heard done. I'll be a "home paying-offer"! Considering the plans Vicky and I have, I will never really "own" this home.) So… why don't I tell you something about it?

The townhouse is set in the midst of a fairly large complex, all looking alike in a kind of Republican/Soviet conformity. No gates surround us - and I like that. I like that we're not segregated from the world, that there's no "us" and "them". The whole place is very peaceful and serene… well, as peaceful as you can get up against a freeway and serene as Anaheim (pronounced "A - na - hy - em", with phlegm) can get. We're shoved back against freeway at the back of a long residential area, effectively buffered against the city because, basically, there's nothing back there for anyone to see. Ah, but there's plenty back there for me to see! One block away is the pool (kiddie pool, jacuzzi, and two pools, actually!) and a small park. Then, around the corner, there's another, larger park and an elementary school! (I told Vicky, "That's where our child will go to school," and made myself so nervous I nearly vomited.) Outside of this residential area, you find Anaheim, with a Ralph's and a Carl's Jr. and a Del Taco and all the trappings… but only a few blocks in, Vicky and I will find home.

Now, just to get through the next week...

Theory of De-evolution…

(Why do I get the idea I'm gonna piss someone off???)

I've been talking evolution lately, now that it looks like a foregone conclusion that Vicky and I will be having kids one day ("Another La Salle?! Run for your lives!!!") and I'll have to deal with the uneducated educators our system propagates like pod people. I've spoken to Vicky about this… and Rich… and Sean. "Look," I've said, "if they start teaching my kid creationism or intelligent design or God's Holy Writ or whatever they want to call it, instead of SCIENCE - you know, EVOLUTION - I'm going to be raising some serious shit."

As I said to Tim, "It might not help but, at least, I'll be able to make someone else's life miserable."

After all, why should Vicky get all the fun?

It's a travesty and an absolute embarrassment that, in the country where the Scope's trial was won by thinking people long before mountains of evidence supporting evolutionary theory had been acquired, we must tolerate ignorance and superstition. Wasn't one of the primary principals that this country was founded upon "Protection of the minority again the tyranny of the many"? (Yes. It was.)

Well, now (he said, getting to the link) a school district in Georgia feels it has to cover its butt before teaching science to its kids, lest logic-hating morons raise a stink…. You know, cause who would want SCIENCE taught to their kid. IT ain't one of the three R's - Religiosity, Racial Intolerance, and 'Rithmatic - is it? So, the school district of Cobb County (you know, like corn on the cobb - CREATED BY GOD!) now feels they need to put stickers on their science textbooks, reading "This textbook contains material on evolution. Evolution is a theory, not a fact, regarding the origin of living things. This material should be approached carefully, and critically considered."

Some have actually asked what harm is there is giving our children a choice. (Tell that to a woman who wants an abortion!) I'll tell you where the harm lies. The harm lies in glorifying superstition over science. The harm lies in letting your ignorance cloud your judgment. The harm lies in allowing some stupid mother fucker who couldn't get better than a D in high school but finds acceptance in his god-fearing, non-white-hating, homosexual-beating, poor-starving Republican fucking party to dictate how educated my child is allowed to be, nay required to be. Just because you're comfy with the national I.Q. slipping like the value of the dollar, Georgie-boy, doesn't mean everyone else is!

Well, not to be outdone some rather witty (that extra intelligence is good for something) and topical folk have created a variety of other stickers for you to post, wear, or hurt ignorant people with, which is a fairly simple task - Just make them read. Enjoy. My favorite? "This book discusses evolution. President George W. Bush said, On the issue of evolution, the verdict is still out on how God created the Earth." And, remember, science is to superstition as fact is to fiction. If you don't get that, wake the fuck up.

With imprisonment and torture for all...

This will probably come as no surprise to any of my readers:

The International Committee of the Red Cross has charged in confidential reports to the United States government that the American military has intentionally used psychological and sometimes physical coercion "tantamount to torture" on prisoners at Guantánamo Bay, Cuba.

The finding that the handling of prisoners detained and interrogated at Guantánamo amounted to torture came after a visit by a Red Cross inspection team that spent most of last June in Guantánamo.

Be sure to take time out today to spit on anyone you know who voted for (burning) Bush.

Fatty McFatFat...

"I'm married now. I can gain as much weight as I want."

I remember thinking this, back in 1988, when Rosa and I were first married.

Times change. People change. Hairstyles change… and interest rates fluctuate.

This morning, I practically needed a winch to get into my pants, my obese form fighting against any attempt to be clothed. I've put on 15 pounds since June, when Vicky and I first got together.

Well, fuck that. Get thee to a gym, young man!

I've been dealing with a great deal of stress and uncertainty of late but one thing is certain. I'm disgusting. It's time for me to get back to work or I'm never doing another show and I'll forever fill the frames of my wedding pictures with Vicky.

No thanks.

I'll keep you posted.

Who are my readers, anyway?...

Sounds like it's time for a quiz or two!!!

Which famous philosopher do you most agree with? (Looks like it pegged my Kant-ian philosophy.)

Try the Belief-O-Matic! (Wow! It pegged me as a Unitarian Universalist at 100%. Theravada Buddhism comes in at only 88%!)

Be sure to put your results in the Comments section!

You really can buy anything at Target...

Target keeps diversifying to keep up with the market and what a market they're into! Gotta remember to go to Target after work!

Thanksgiving without the adventure…

After two years with Thanksgiving "Adventures" - and a lifetime of strangeness to precede - it is with mixed feelings that I tell about a Thanksgiving that was nearly downright NORMAL!

Mixed feelings? Why? Well, let me tell you. There's something extremely satisfying about having a "perfect moment", a moment that (for a moment) seems to clarify everything, bring everything into relief. (Right about now, I'm in need of relief!) Last year, I had it crashing a funeral. The year before that it happened when I tried to commit suicide. (These recent ones seem to be surrounded by death. Go figure.) Normality, with its slow, easy lack of neurosis-inspiring events, is far less dramatic than that moment of clarity, when the answers explode before you.

I guess you could say I got used to it. This is not to say I cannot get used to this new way of life. In fact, this new way of life is really fun.

Thanksgiving started for me very early… too early, in fact. I awoke much earlier than I needed to and sat around playing video games for a while. But the morning came quickly and Vicky and I were both getting ready shortly. We got up early because we were heading out to Lancaster, which is a bit of a drive from Garden Grove. (About 99 miles, if you'd like to know.)

Before heading out that way, though, we stopped by the Claim Jumper catering offices. We were picking up a complete Thanksgiving dinner to bring along with us. The reasoning was that, with Vicky's mom owning her own restaurant and cooking 364 days a year, we didn't want her mom to have to cook on her day off. The dinner came in two enormous boxes, one hot and one cold, and a platter of biscuits that I had a hard time not reaching into - it all looked very good! I wish I could remember the entire menu (or find the website) but will you believe me when I tell you it was thorough (very large!) without bringing up memories of Thanksgiving leftovers just yet? Thank you.

Once on the road, I popped in Ken 3.7. Vicky had yet to hear it and we had agreed to listen to it that day, with 3.8 to follow on the way home. For those of you who don't remember, Ken 3.7 was one of last year's Holiday CDs and it covered: the Happy Landings monologue, a fast food bit, totaling my car, the emotional trauma of losing my car, the first Thanksgiving Adventure, and endless moaning about Rosa. It went on and on and on. Crap. I sat there, mentally begging my recorded voice to shut the hell up about how I'd never love another and how I would always love Rosa, knowing how false that turned out, and tried not to show too much self-loathing, just hoping Vicky would get some of the jokes. Of course, she didn't. She didn't so much as crack a smile. She might love me but she definitely wouldn't pay to see me at the Improv.

Once in Lancaster, we dropped off the food at the restaurant. Vicky's mom was already in there… cooking! Cooking! What about the whole "save her from cooking" idea? That was shot to hell.

We had plenty of time before we ate - which sucked because we hadn't had breakfast and my stomach was singing "Feed Me Seymour" - so we took off (to get away from the food) and went somewhere less likely to make us hungry. We went to visit her grandmother in the convalescent hospital. I'd only met this woman once before. It was the day when I was going to ask Vicky to marry me and she had taken my hand and said, "I want you to know we approve of you." So, I already had a soft spot for her. This time, I don't know what happened to me, perhaps it was because my emotional walls had already been broken down by weeks of escrow and thoughts of taking Rosa to court, but I was totally connected with this old woman. We found her in the hall outside her room in a wheelchair and I wheeled her over to where we could all sit and talk and we did and I noticed her name was Audrey and remembered how Vicky and once said she wanted to name her daughter "Audrey" and thought about how it was also my mom's name, and my sister's, and thought "That might not be too bad" and thought "Oh, my god. We might just have a name for our daughter" and thought "Our daughter? Our daughter?" and thought "WE'RE GONNA HAVE A BABY!" and then spent the rest of the time there convincing myself not to cry.

I've been going through a lot, emotionally. I'm a bit raw.

Now, Vicky isn't pregnant, for those of you wondering, and won't be for a while. But the idea that I've been able to find someone to love and who I want to marry and with whom I want to have kids, when only a year ago I was sure it would never happen, is devastating to any emotional decorum I might have. It makes me enormously happy and is probably why I spend so much time looking at Vicky. In fact, I'd poke her to see if she's real but she's not the kind of person who likes to be stared at, let alone poked!

We were back at the restaurant a while later, picking at food as we waited for the real meal to be served, greeting people as they arrived. Her mom and dad were already there. Her mom gave me smiles but, then, I'm very flattering. Her dad, Steve, and I got along very well as always. Her brother came in and - I don't know what Vicky's previous boyfriends were like but Mike (her brother) likes me so I'm guessing (and who cares if I'm proved wrong) he likes me best. Her aunt and uncle, Reyna and John - no, Vicky, you don't have to correct my spelling - and her grandfather (who everyone seems to call "Grandpa" so why should I be any different) were also there. Reyna was very nice. We spoke quite a bit. John did what he always did. "You're still with this one," he asked Vicky over and over about me. Nice guy but I wanna smack him. (She doesn't need any encouragement from you, John!) Then, new faces. (This list is not in order of arrival, by the way. It's a few days late for that.) Her cousin Walter and his wife, Cindy, and their son, Andrew, were there along with family friends, Tom and wife Trudy and kids. So, there were a few people. And all of them were saying, "So, you're the guy. I've heard so much about you. Vicky seems so happy. When's the date?"

I felt important. I felt like I would be missed if I wasn't there. Maybe you'll be surprised by this, and maybe not, but I never felt like that around Rosa's family. I could do this every year. To hell with that, let's make Indian Killing Day a monthly event!

Anyway, back to the food. Things were brought, Vicky's mom (Noriko, if I'm getting the spelling right) cooked, and there was the feast Vicky and I brought. Here's a short list - and, remember, I'm leaving things out:

A 16-18 pound turkey
A big roast
A medium-sized ham (so, I didn't weigh them!)
Corn on the cob
Steamed veggies
Green beans w/almonds
Chunky mashed potatoes
Creamy mashed potatoes
A sliced potato with green beans and cheese and other stuff kinda dish
Two kinds of stuffing
Cranberry/Orange Relish
Rolls
Salad (Oh My God. This spinach salad, from Claim Jumper, was to die for!)
And a couple gravies…

(Vicky's going to tell me everything I forgot… )

And we had about four pies and a cheesecake. And wines and beers.

It was huge. Everybody talked. People laughed. Nobody fought. (And if you knew my family, you'd understand how amazing that is!)

Can I go back in time and be adopted? (According to the Marsha/Greg rule, we could still have sex since we wouldn't be blood relatives. See? You DO learn things from TV!)

After dinner, Noriko (if I'm misspelling her name, I'm really going to get it) went around handing out Cuban cigars. "Do you smoke?" she asked me.

Only when I'm on fire? Nope. Not the time for a line like that.

I took one and "the guys" all went out to smoke them. We tried to light them in the wind, Tom, Walter, Mike, and myself, and passed the time smoking and talking and relighting when the wind blow out our stogies. It was pretty neat.

Except that I found out that I hate Cuban cigars. They're not for men like me. They're made for the same men who drink rotgut for the taste and eat buffalo to prove they're at the top of the food chain, for men who fight cause they like the feel of it, and drive gas-guzzling cars because they can. They're not for men with brains. They taste like crap… but I smoked it anyway. Then, Walter and I smoked a cigarette later. He told me how happy he was for Vicky and I, which was really nice because it came without be asked for, as I asked him about living in Ventura (in a city whose name I couldn't spell if I tried).

Eventually, though, it was over and people trickled out. Soon, the only ones left were Vicky, Mike, Steve, Noriko, and myself. I helped them clean up and then we sat around, wrapping up. Mike talked to his mom about how she shouldn't speed. Vicky talked about how her office was moving. Noriko talked about how she couldn't take the day after Thanksgiving off because, when she did last year, one of her competitors had a really huge day. Steve did dishes - boy, he loves his wife. I just kind of sat back and enjoyed it.

Then, we drove home, listening to Ken 3.8… well, a rough cut of it. I had to fix a couple things once we got home.

And, that was it. No adventure. No perfect moments. Just a nice day - one I will always remember fondly.

Sell phones...?

Or cell phones?

Either way, I got my first (working) cell phone today. Vicky gave it to me to keep track of me while I sleep around behind her back with her never being the wizer...

Actually, I think it's kind of neat.

That said, what's with all the cell phone explosions?! And why is it I only find out now?!

Eating and Writing...

Oy, what a world! What a world!

Well, we're entering the Thanksgiving holiday, known by the Indians (eg. Native Americans) as "Fuckin' Europeans" Day, known on the continent of Africa as "Can We Have Some" Day, know by the Iraqis as "Flaunt It You Greedy MotherFuckers" Day, and known by the turkeys as "We're Fucked" Day.

But enough with the cussing.

I finished a first master of Ken 3.8 last night. This gives me a chance to listen for and fix any major errors before it goes out the door. Vicky and I will listen to it on the way back from her parent's place on Thursday. Should be interesting.

Parent's place? Yep, we is going to Lancaster for Tumsgiving. You want to hear what Ken's life is like? We're having Claim Jumper catering in an empty Japanese restaurant in the desert. That one sentence tells me that Vicky has been fully indoctrinated into the Ken way of life.

Well, you may be hearing about a new novel from me sometime soon. Then again, you might not. But I'm climbing the walls, having not written anything since the summer, and I'm beginning to think that a chance of venue might be what I need. I've been focusing on a half-finished novel called "Vampire Society". It's a novel I started just before Rosa and I split up and I haven't been able to touch since. It's about a world where consumerism is the prime virtue. In fact, it could be non-fiction. The problem I've had is that there was a split between the characters early in their lives (they meet in high school). But what could be this split? Originally, the device used was the theft of something, but it never rang true. It would need to be something deep and primary to the characters that would cause this split.

Last night, it occurred to me that the perfect device - wait. Let me tell you something. This was supposed to be my third philosophical novel. Okay? It was supposed to be about BIG IDEAS. Got it? If you really follow me, it will probably come as some surprise that only after five years did it occur to me that the perfect device must be: POLITICS.

Once that wall fell, everything started falling into place.

But am I ready for the pain of writing a book? The pain of rejection? The pain of possibly putting another book on the shelf after not getting it published?

Let me put it to you this way. I'm buying a house. That gives me the rest of the year to think about it.

You'll hear more about this in '05.

OHIO = OMFG!...

Which is to say, Oh My Fucking God!

The Associated Press is reporting this morning:

A federal judge on Tuesday denied a request by third-party presidential candidates who wanted to force a recount of Ohio ballots even before the official count was finished.
Judge James G. Carr in Toledo ruled that the candidates have a right under Ohio law to a recount, but said it can wait. The judge wrote that he saw no reason to interfere with the final stages of Ohio's electoral process. Officials have said the results will be certified by Dec. 6.

With the Electoral vote directly affected (swayed if not chosen) by the popular, the judges move gives the state to (burning) Bush. I'd be pissed if I were you, folks. This is your government, your country, being stolen from you!

I don't know's on third...

I've told you I work with some real morons, right? Well, this was actually said at work today.

Me. This says Boot Version. What's a Boot Version.
Moron. It's a version of the boot.
Me. What's that?
Moron. It tracks the boot to give it a version.
Me. So, it tells you how many times the product was booted up?
Moron. No.
Me. What then?
Moron. It's an OS.
Me. No, it's not! An OS is an operating system.
Moron. Right. It operates the boot.
Me. The version of the boot operated the boot?
Moron. And gives it the version.
Me. What version?!
Moron. The boot version.
Me. Look. Why would anyone at home want to know what the boot version is?
Moron. In case they want to update the version of their boot, they'll need the boot code for that version to update a different version of the code.
Me. For that version?
Moron. Right!
Me. I don't even know what you're talking about!

After Hours…

Move recommendation time!

So, I watched Martin Scorsese's After Hours last night on DVD, a movie I moderately liked when it was in the theaters and purchased only because of some deep-seeded, homosexual attraction for Griffin Dunne (face it, he's cute) [I'll give those of you barfing a second before I continue.], and found it to be a very entertaining movie and more! First off, the acting is really first rate, which says a lot because the story they were working off of looks like it was written off a series of bar napkins. On top of that, this has got to be Scorsese directing at his best. The camera moves with ballet-ic grace, and it's a hyperactive ballerina! For a movie shot over the span of 40 nights (it was all shot "After Hours"), it's surprising how much movement they get in there and how intricate and well-placed that shots are.

But there's more to it than that - and here's why you need to see it. This movie was shot in 1985 and, yet, embodies a "post-9/11" paranoia better than any move I've seen after 9/11! It's a world that has been shit on so much that people are looking over their shoulders! They're wonder when the (burning) Bush will stick them next - and where!

So, go get it. It's cheap! Or rent it. (Don't watch it on TV. You'll miss the tits - so I'm not that gay, after all - and the well-used cussing and it'll be cropped down to pan-and-forget it size.)

Or borrow my copy… you know, if you live close enough.

Things are Great!... Oh, who am I kidding???....

Reporting live from the dumps, here's Ken:

Okay, so things are pretty stressful right now. I getting it from all sides with this house. I'll be glad when we're done or someone kills me. On top of that, things could be a lot better with Vicky.

But wait! There's more!

Looks like I may be suing Rosa. I got an email from her this morning (yes, another email -she's suddenly become Mary Fucking Talkative!), saying (yes, again) that things are really hard for her and she can't pay me back. I'd tell her to blow me but I'm engaged. So, it looks like the only way I'm ever going to get a cent back is to take her to small claims court. And I'm really torn about it. I can't even put it into words - well, I could but then you'd have my eighth book. In short: I loved her. She fucked me. (Repeat that sentence a few dozen more times.) Now, I've got to defend myself and that'll probably fuck her. I feel absolutely rotten about it.

That said, it looks very likely that I'm going to do it.

Now, how much would you pay?

I'm getting ready to finish Ken 3.8. For those of you new to this, it's the follow-up, autobiographical-monologue, CD of my 38th year. It includes: the Speed Racer theme song, crashing a funeral, the Mary Tyler Moore theme song, meeting Vicky, and me as a total ass. It'll go out as a Christmas gift along with two other CDs: Songs I Heard As A Child and Reflections on a Summer's Night. Send me an email if you'd like a copy - odds are, if you're reading this, you're already on the short list.

I told Vicky that these CDs have become just too much work. I've been working on Ken 3.8 for nearly a month! I was kind of hoping it would be the last one. Then, she said, "You have to do one next year! You have to cover the wedding!"

The wedding. Can you imagine me writing an autobiographical-monologue about our wedding?

… and not getting hit for it?

Speaking of Florida...

I know, I know. Nobody was speaking of Florida!

But maybe they should be!

Check this out - and thank Vicky for turning me on to it:

'Stinking Evidence' of Possible Election Fraud Found in Florida

Rosa… Rosa… Rosa…

You know, you think this would be all over. Wouldn't you? I know I would.

… I would. But then, I know something you don't.

Time to talk about it.

First, let me say that Rich was out from Florida this past week. It was great visiting with him. I wish I had a picture of us together; I'd post it for you to see. We spent a lot of time talking about writing. Scratch that. We spent an inordinate amount of time talking about writing, our common bond since the beginning. Most of the time was spent talking about "the book". "The book" is what Rich wants to write with me but he can't seem to get started. (And that was part of our agreement, that he get it started.) "The book" is going to be about two guys who have gone through life like it was a shredder and still keep going. A kind of "self-help book for guys" that says, "You bet it sucks but keep smiling". That's what it's supposed to be about.

He suggested it nearly a year ago and I told him recently that I did not want to write about Rosa after I'm married to Vicky. For that matter, I don't much want to write about Rosa now.

As you know, I loaned her $10,000 nearly two years ago. She agreed to pay me back, with interest, within six months.

She still hasn't paid me back.

So, a few weeks ago, I sent her an email. I told her that I didn't care about the interest. I didn't care about how much time had passed. I told her I didn't want a relationship, I didn't want to talk, all I want is my money. Give me my money, bitch!

She replied almost immediately, giving me her life's sad story, and said she'd pay me some of the money back next month.

This morning, I got another email from her. In it, she said that she assumed I never received her first reply. Why did she make that assumption? I can only assume it was because I didn't write her back. Of course, I didn't write her back! What was there to say? She went on to say that times are tough for her (I'll spare you the lies) and that she wouldn't be able to pay me back. That she refuses to pay me back is inescapable. It just took her a few weeks to admit that.

Receiving emails from Rosa naturally makes me question how I feel about her. I did that this morning.

And I came to some rather startling and, it would seem at least, contrary conclusions. I mention they're contrary for those of you who tempted to write me back and say, "Hey, this don't make any sense!" I know. That's just simply how it is.

First and foremost, I can't think about Rosa without feeling sick. That's where I'm at. I deeply regret ever losing her but I would never want her back. I feel terrible about how our marriage ended but I'm really glad it did. I miss her and hope I never see her again. In a way, I pity her… but mostly, I loathe her. I don't hate her. I don't wish her ill. But I hope, for her sake, that I never see her. I don't anticipate that it would be a pleasant encounter. Now, this doesn't mean I'd launch a flurry of blows, attacking her once I saw her. I see it going something like this:

Rosa: Ken! Hi! It's good to see you!
Ken: Get the fuck away from me. (And I'd probably say "bitch" just afterwards.)

She took much more than she gave and I see any suffering she endures simply as payback.

… and now Rich wants to write this book. Oh, that'll be fun.

Everyone Immolate!...

Call it the cynic in me but today I read that they press is calling that poor man who felt he had no choice but to SET HIMSELF ON FIRE IN FRONT OF THE WHITE HOUSE the "White House Immolater".

Okay, let's be clear. He did NOT immolate the White House... they just call him that.

Besides the bastardization of the language - if you want to call it that - it amazes me that nobody sees the bigger picture here. It's amazing to me that nobody has yet said, "Holy shit! We have people setting themselves on fire! Just like in Vietnam! This must mean something!"

No. Better to approach it with zippy catch-phrases like the "White House Immolater".

What's next? The Mass Suicide of Bagdhad?

... not to say that Bagdhad will commit mass suicide...

It's a "Good News/Bad News" kind of thing...

The army is estimating over 1,100 Iraqi dead in Fallujah.

But, back home in DC, (burning) Bush pardoned - not one but - TWO turkeys!

...

UPDATE: OH MY GOD! I WAS WRONG!

Turns out the estimated number of dead could go MUCH higher!

And, to top that off, the mother-fucker killed one of the birds!

Questions…. Answers… and Stupid Purchases…

Here's a question for you:

How do you teach your children about the power of words?

I've known people who won't allow their children to say the words "hate" or "stupid". They treat them like swear words, which they also won't allow their children to say. Now, I can see the reason behind this. They are both very powerful and often poorly used words - and I'm sure there are more. But I'm not quite comfortable with the idea of restricting my kid's speech. I mean, after all, they are going to use any words you tell them not to use. In fact, they're probably more fucking likely to use them, dammit. That said, though, they still need to be taught what is appropriate and what using those words - any words - means.

So, what do you do? How do you teach your children about the power of words?

(I'm looking forward to hearing Vicky's take on this one…)

…

Just so you know:

If you decide one day that the cause of all the problems on the earth is humanity (and, if you've blamed another species, I'd really like to know which one… and why!), and decide, therefore, that the only solution is to kill all humans… it's probably best not to start with yourself… you know, from a purely practical standpoint.

…

Gather round friends! Gather round! I'm here to talk to you, my dear friends - and that person I don't know out there - about Stupid Purchases!

Okay, now, you've all been giving Vicky and I a pretty hard time about our cookware and cutlery purchase.

… wait a minute. Actually, it's only been the Tims. You guys cut that out! I'll smack you!

Where was I?

Oh, right. Cookware and Cutlery. Well, in hindsight, it was probably an extravagance but, give me a break, who among us hasn't spent a little extra money on ourselves and our significant snug-bunny on occasion. (As a matter of fact, yes, I did use "snugg-bunny" just to make you sick.) We got so many extras with it, I'm not worried about having been ripped off. Did we need it? Could we have lived without it? No and Yes - but so the fuck what, right? You'll thank me when I make you dinner.

(Mind you, Tim Murphy's up in Oregon thinking, "He can't cook for me at this distance!"… and he's probably right.)

Now, you want to hear about a really stupid purchase?

As some of you may know, I've gone Ebay crazy lately, and I've been buying games for my X-Box on the CHEAP.

Well, about five minutes ago (from the time I'm writing this) (smartass), I won an auction for the dumbest thing I've probably ever bought. Yep, it's "Intellivision Lives" for the X-Box! I'm going to play Intellivision games on my X-Box - talk about cognitive dissonance!

Well, what can I tell you? I was feeling nostalgic and I got is for $8 (plus $4 for shipping and handling) (though I wish they'd stop handling my goods…). Back in high school, my friends and I would get together and play Intellivision… when we were supposed to be in school. (And YES, that is a damned long time ago!) What can I tell you - I couldn't help myself…

Now, it's YOUR turn! Share your STUPIDEST PURCHASE! Enter a comment. Send an email. We're all friends here… and we want to laugh at you!

Homework...

Here's an interesting sociological experiment: Start carrying a Bible around wherever you go. Make sure everyone can see it. Don't bother reading it or following what it says - just carry it.

How differently will people begin to treat you? How many new friends do you suddenly have?

What the hell does this say about our fucked up society?

Red menace redo…

Considering all the recent saber rattling on our part, it should come as no surprise that Russia is deploying a new nuclear weapons system. Hey, they don't want Kiev being the next Fallujah!

It seems about the right time to write something that's been on my mind of late, and that is "War Against Nouns". It's not a new concept, for those of you thinking of the "War on Terror". It goes back more than 50 years. Anyone remember the "War Against Communism"? Some people called it "The Cold War", and that brought us to invade Korea, Vietnam - and, hey, let's not forget Grenada! It lasted more than half a century, absorbed most of our nation's resources as well as thousands of it's lives and was "won" when the USSR was sick of it. It wasn't won because of a decisive blow or because of a great invasion or even because of anyone's statesmanship. It was won because the USSR wanted cars and tvs and bread. We outspent them. It was the war of the credit card.

Now, look at where we are: at war with another noun. Does anyone think for an instant that it won't take as long? That it won't cost as much? That it won't kill as constantly? And does anyone think it will be any more worth it than the previous one? After all, what did the last war on a noun win us? What did we gain? Are we any safer as a result?

Before you answer, reread the first paragraph.

Yep, Iraq is in fine hands...

Police trained by us (yes, U.S.) were kidnapped.

Who the fuck are we kidding?

And they're the party of VALUES?...

WASHINGTON (AP) — Moving to protect Majority Leader Tom DeLay, House Republicans want to change party rules to ensure that DeLay retains his post if a Texas grand jury indicts him as it did with three of his political associates.

The House Republican Conference, composed of all GOP members in the chamber, was to vote Wednesday to modify a requirement that would force DeLay to step aside if charged with a felony requiring at least a two-year prison term.

Party rules require leaders to relinquish their posts after a felony indictment, but the change would eliminate the requirement for non-federal indictments.

Did someone say "Recount"?...

Well, you can thank the Green Party for this one. (And and the Libertarians too... a little.) Turns out there will be a recount in the state of Ohio. With so many discrepancies and so much of the math just WRONG, it seems only right that there should be one.

Don't get me wrong. I don't think this will do a bit of good. I think the Republican Election Machine is in place and working well. Not only do I not see a fair recount occur, I'll even bet anyone who's willing that (burning) Bush gets even MORE votes as a result! Does that mean more people voted for him? Of course, not!

This only serves to solidify my rage towards all Republicans out there. The only ones I've met are either Goose-Steppers (jingoists), Cross-Burners (intolerant), and Child-Starvers (greedy). Once upon a time, there were Republicans who believed in fiscal responsibility but who in the face of the largest deficit in this country's history can possibly claim they voted Pub with such beliefs? Now, more than ever, the Republican party is nothing more than a gang of thugs, sick an evil, and should never be tolerated.

Playwright…

Something really interesting just happened.

Sarah, a woman here at work who can best be described as "fucking nut job" because, after all, she did vote for (burning) Bush, came up to me in the breakroom and said, "Ken, when are you going to write another play? I want to see another one of your plays!"

You see, she saw my last two plays.

I was impressed by the reminder that I am not just the guy who's been screwed (over and over and - for the love of lube - OVER) by his employer. I am not just Vicky's hubby-to-be (shooby-dooby). I am not just the ordinary things I think of myself: fat, for instance… though I am… dammit.

I am also a writer who, though I've met with limited success, has actual fans, people who are waiting to see what I have to say next.

Wow!

… but then, she is Republican.

Shrub becomes burning Bush...

Speaking of burning, you hear about the guy who tried to set himself on fire in front of the White House? Officials say that can't imagine why he'd do that...

Oh, let's see... a global war on Islam... could that have anything to do with it?

And then, (burning) Bush - I'm hoping that'll catch on - replaced Powell for Rice. That's like exchanging your dog who barks too much for a rabid wolverine!

What else?

Turns out the odds that (burning) Bush was elected was somewhere in the order of 1 in 250,000,000!!! (Thanks to Bob Harris.)

And then this from the Sunday Times of London:

US accused of "torture flights"

An executive jet is being used by the American intelligence agencies to fly terrorist suspects to countries that routinely use torture in their prisons.
The movements of the Gulfstream 5 leased by agents from the United States defence department and the CIA are detailed in confidential logs obtained by The Sunday Times which cover more than 300 flights.

Countries with poor human rights records to which the Americans have delivered prisoners include Egypt, Syria and Uzbekistan, according to the files. The logs have prompted allegations from critics that the agency is using such regimes to carry out "torture by proxy" — a charge denied by the American government.

And then this from Military.com:

The Pentagon has begun work on its own military Internet, designed for the wars of the future, the New York Times reported Saturday.

The system's goal is to give American commanders and troops a moving picture of all foreign enemies and threats.

Air Force Under Secretary Peter Teets told Congress the "Internet in the sky," would allow "marines in a Humvee, in a faraway land, in the middle of a rainstorm, to open up their laptops, request imagery" from a spy satellite, and "get it downloaded within seconds."

The network has been christened the Global Information Grid by the Pentagon. The first connections for the system were installed six weeks ago, but it could take two decades and hundreds of billions of dollars to build the network and its components, the Times said.

You can fuck "planning for peace", folks.

Meet the new Ken…….. Same as the old Ken……..

Had the most wonderful weekend, you'll be happy to know.

… which was capped off with nightmares… of course…

Rich Lind came into town last week and, though arranging out schedules was tough (he was in town, after all, because his dad was in the hospital), we were able to meet up Friday night at Claim Jumper. What a way to start the weekend! I was giddy, as well as a bit nervous (we hadn't seen each other in well over a decade), as the evening approached. Shouldn't have been at all nervous, though. Seeing him was like walking through a time machine. We started joking and drinking (the final bill coming well over $100… and we didn't eat that much) and took it back to my place for more drinks after. Rich liked Vicky and she liked him, too.

Rich is a high school teacher out in Florida and he seems to be more comfortable in his life than just about any of my friends (short of Tim Murphy), sure of the rightness in what he does, comfortable in his own skin. He is, was, and ever shall be NOT ME… not by a long shot. But that's usually how good friends are made.

He still wants to write that book but I told him the longer he waits, the less I remember. And, honestly, I don't want to write about Rosa after Vicky and I are married, which means he's on the clock.

The next night, we got together and went to see what (I'm hoping) will be my new home. As we walked around the neighborhood and went to the park around the block, I felt, for perhaps the first time, completely okay with this purchase. I liked the idea of buying this house, honestly thought it was a good idea. It was more than that, though. I felt okay about, well, everything…. All weekend! I felt a great love for Vicky and a sureness that our marriage was absolutely the right thing to do (coming Sept. 24 to a theater near you!). I was even okay with my writer's block! I guess I have Rich to thank for that… for some reason.

I didn't see Rich on Sunday but Vicky's parents came around bearing gifts - not bad at all! They brought us an exercise bike (no hints there) and an indoor grill for making sukiyaki. (You want us thin or fat or what???) Vicky's mom made sukiyaki for us and we all had lunch together. This is all so much cooler than the last time around!

I went to bed Sunday night feeling great, loved, and…. Yes….. Happy.

…

Woke up Monday morning feeling like shit. Sometime during the night a freight train had snuck in and beaten the snot out of me. Mind you, Vicky had been sick all weekend so I was almost expecting to start exhibiting some signs of her headcold but this was different. Only after a few hours at work did I realize what this was. It was a migraine. Oy!

I went home and, after hanging with Vic for a bit, took a nap.

There, in my sleep, Vicky and I had yet another fight. It was so intense that we broke up and I left the place angry and… hungry. All the scenery had changed… it all looked very, well, midwestern. Over on the other side of the tracks there was a restaurant that sold "Down Home Cookin", so I went there. I didn't get there until after dark (no, I don't know why). I found it was closed and, to top that off, Vicky had followed me. We didn't have any time to talk before we were set up by rabid dogs. A dozen of them! I had no weapons and could only hold them off by shouting and barking in return, telling Vicky, "Step back slowly. Slowly."

And then I woke up.

What the hell was that about?

But my headache was more or less gone and it didn't really come back for the rest of the day.

However, when it came time to go to sleep, I wasn’t tired. I tried sleeping on the sofa - only to watch the numerals on the clock move on and on - and finally fell asleep at 4am (or so).

Before my sleeping eyes, a documentary film began. It was a film about Rosa and here's (more or less, considering how quickly dreams fade) how it went. Rosa and I met up (no, there was no Vicky in the picture) and went on a trip. She explained to Mike's sister (as Mike was gone) that we were just friends. We got this old bus and worked on it and traveled the country together. I noticed I had a beard (which looked damn good, by the way) and we'd take turns driving the bus and sleeping in the bus as we drove through the countryside. Tim Clostio was there, too, and I noticed that he also had a beard (which looked damn good, by the way). We stopped at a motel, Rosa and I taking a room for ourselves and both started getting naked together. Then, Mike's sister started pounding on the door. "I know you're in there!" she shouted. "You're in there with - with him!" Rosa pushed me into the bedroom, telling me to hide. (Keep in mind, I'm watching this as a documentary.) I shut the bedroom door, holding my garments in my hand, and listened to the front door being forced open. "He's in here," Mike's sister screamed. "He's in here and you're a married woman! Have you no shame!" Rosa kept saying I'd stepped out for a minute, I'd been taken by aliens, I'd dissolved - but the other woman wasn't buying that. She burst through the bedroom door, Rosa trying to hold her back, and did the obligatory, "Ah Ha!"

This is when the dream began to get strange.

The documentary froze on the face of Mike's sister looking dour, unpleasant… mannish… pretty much a stereotypical dyke, and a voice-over started to explain things. It explained that Rosa and (essentially) made the same mistake I had. (The "essentially" was classic Rosa as she had only kissed me only because we were caught before we could do more.) She wouldn't get back together with me now, even though the tallies were what you might call balanced - she'd still never do that. The film went on and on and I could slowly feel the waking world insinuate itself in, trying to wake me up. But I didn't want to wake up! I wanted to see if Rosa would go through the pain I went through. If she would experience the horrible guilt. If she would end up on the edge of the Grand Canyon, or at the very least the entrance! Would she have a nervous breakdown, sleepwalk, awake screaming at the top of her lungs…..?

But I was awake. It was 5:20am. I was panting, clutching the sofa… terrified.

Even now, a few hours later, I feel terrible about it. I feel terrible about dreaming about Rosa. I shouldn't be doing that. I questioned writing this because Vicky will read it and what will she think?

Probably what many of you will think… what Rich said so many times this weekend in reference to my ways… "that's just part of your Ken-ness".

For those of you who still consider the facts...

Okay, so by now only the extremely blind... you know, Repugnicans... are going to deny that we have real problems with how our elections are run in this country.

So, why not sign a petition to help clean things up?

Well?

Sign it! Or see the Pugs win by 52% next time!

Remember, God hates Fags... and would kill them if he could...

Here am I sputtering about negativity while others discuss real issues.

Let me turn you on again to Bob Harris' terrific Blog. Recently he spoke with Kevin Drum, writer for the Washington Monthly, about the recently outbreak of hatred against homosexuals on the part of the so-called "Christian" right:

... Homosexuality is another good one. They cite Leviticus 18:22 ("you shall not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is an abomination") and 20:13 ("If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death. Their blood shall be upon them.")

Sounds clear enough at first. Although note that man-on-man action is what's being explicitly discussed in both passages, so lesbians can remain among God's Chosen. And I say good on that.

But "abomination" explicitly meant breaking the purity rules, which served politically to keep the Israelites separate from the fertility-rite-oriented Canaanites. It's an identity-politics thing from thousands of years ago. (Interestingly, the exact Hebrew in the text is "forbidden," not the word meaning "intrinsically wrong," a distinction which survived into the Greek translation). Which means that lots of other things are in the same batch. Like mixing seeds in your field or wearing clothes made from two types of material (Lev 19:19), cutting your hair or trimming your beard (Lev 19:27), eating shellfish (Lev 11:10) or consulting spiritualists (Lev 20:27). These are all "abominations," forbidden. Not one of them is actually described using the Hebrew word for "intrinsically wrong."

That's why shaving is so rarely a death-penalty offense these days.

So, um... contemporary God-Hates-Fags stuff is unjustified from any serious reading of the text, and has more to do with hate and sexual insecurity.

Otherwise... why aren't these people also protesting synthetic fabrics, GM foods, barber shops, Jon Edward, and Red Lobster?

And that's why there's nothing more amusing than seeing a clean-shaven minister in a polyester suit spouting off about gays and the Bible.

On writing... and why it's such a bitch...

Still can't seem to get to any writing... this really sucks.

Progress on Ken 3.8 is slow going. I spent last night making notes on sound effects - basically window dressing.

For the first time in years, I find myself in a place where my life is pretty nice - and my art sucks. This'll take some adjustment.

Tobias Wolff once said, "All I need is a window not to write.” How true.

A word or two about Negativity...

But first, a few words on ice cream:

Ooooooooh… ice cream…

Had a couple interesting dreams last night and here are a couple of quotes from them:

"Don't make me angry. I wouldn't like you when I'm angry."

"Know myself? Do I know myself? Why, I know myself so well, I finish my own sentences!"

These dreams were interrupted by two things. The first time I was interrupted, I was awoken violently. Why was I awoken violently? Because Vicky, turning over, whipped around and hit me in the mouth with her elbow!... It hurt. The second time, the alarm went off. It went off very loudly and I opened my eyes, wondering when Vicky would turn it off - the alarm being on her side of the bed. Vicky woke up, too. Looking at me… wondering when I'd turn off the alarm. That lasted for several minutes. "Are you going to get up," she asked. "I was just wondering when you'd turn off the alarm," I answered.

Now, I've been rather surprised at the number of comments on the My Side about negativity. It would seem that most readers of this Blog tend to think I'm negative. It would also seem that some of them would prefer to remain anonymous… fearing my vengeful wrath, I guess. Look. If you're going to make a comment, the least you could do is sign your name to a comment. If you can't do that, the least you could do is use a name that hints at your real identity.

Tim Murphy signs his as "Fred Mertz"… cause he looks like Fred Mertz.

Tim Clostio signs his as "reporter66"… cause he'll work as a reporter again when he's 66.

Vicky signs hers as "PrincessVicky"… which means I'm in an awful lot of trouble.

Now, I'm not talking about the anonymous guy who said he wasn't me… cause he was obviously Tommy Flunagan. I wanna know who the person was who reads My Side BECAUSE it's so negative. Who's that smartass?

Look, I've gotten through a whole lot in the last four years: the end of my marriage, losing Rosa, a nervous breakdown, a near suicide, overcoming the loss of Rosa, finding someone who I love (yes, that would be Vicky), the mixed emotions I have towards marriage even as I asked Vicky to marry me, and the possibility of losing another home even as I ready myself to buy another one. Through it all, I've dealt with things in a manner both hopeful for future survival and aware of tragic missteps in the past. Some would choose to call that manner negative but I look at things very differently. I call it perseverance. I call it endurance. I call it… an attempt at hope without ignorance.

Vicky says that my "negativity" comes in the form of statements I make, such as "After the things I've done, I don't know if I deserve happiness." She calls this negativity. I call it accountability. In a society where personal accountability is insignificant, where we can kill innocents and torture the survivors, I don't think of this as a bad thing. At my most arrogant, I even consider this setting a good example.

And you call this negativity.

For shame!

…. Now, most My Sides are usually written with tongue - to varying degrees - in cheek… I guess it's up to you to determine to what degree this is the case today...

Land of the free...

Well, sure... Land of the Free MINUS TWO MILLION PEOPLE!

... not to sound negative...

... I'm sure they all voted for Shrub.

Welcome, Alberto Gonzalez...

You thought Ashcroft was bad... you ain't seen nothing! Welcome ex-Enron attorney (evil enough for ya?), Mr. Gonzalez!

Taken from The Nation:

The President has known for more than two years that his Administration has been pursuing policies that could qualify as war crimes under federal and international law.

In a January 25, 2002, memo, White House Counsel Alberto Gonzales advised the President of "the threat of domestic criminal prosecution under the War Crimes Act," a federal statute. He advised Bush to invent a legal technicality--declaring detainees in the "war on terror" to be outside the Geneva Conventions--which, he said, "substantially reduces" the chance of prosecution. Gonzales went further, telling the President that the war on terrorism "renders obsolete Geneva's strict limitations on questioning of enemy prisoners"; he pooh-poohed concerns that abandoning the Geneva standards might endanger US troops.

Let's be clear about what this means: Gonzales was urging--and the President adopted as policy--an end run around federal laws. The War Crimes Act, passed by Congress in 1996, allows criminal prosecution of Americans for actions that violate the rights granted prisoners and civilians by the Geneva Conventions and for "outrages upon personal dignity." It is backed by the full range of federal penalties, up to and including the death penalty. And all treaties, including the Geneva Conventions and the Torture Convention, are likewise the binding law of the land.

From the Gonzales memo, it is clear that the Administration always envisioned taking coercive interrogation beyond Afghanistan. Gonzales repeatedly refers to the broader "war on terrorism"--the phrase Bush uses to cover the war on Iraq. Gonzales specifically advises the President to hold open "options for future conflicts." Thus the scandal is not what George W. Bush referred to as the "failures of character" of a few soldiers at Abu Ghraib. The scandal is that the White House wanted to torture prisoners and get away with it.

But, wait. There's more. From MSN.com:

Gonzales then laid out startlingly broad arguments that anticipated any objections to the conduct of U.S. soldiers or CIA interrogators in the future. "As you have said, the war against terrorism is a new kind of war," Gonzales wrote to Bush. "The nature of the new war places a high premium on other factors, such as the ability to quickly obtain information from captured terrorists and their sponsors in order to avoid further atrocities against American civilians." Gonzales concluded in stark terms: "In my judgment, this new paradigm renders obsolete Geneva's strict limitations on questioning of enemy prisoners and renders quaint some of its provisions."

Accentuate the positive…

This is the "Positive or Negative?" My Side.

But first, an observation. Vicky and I seem to be slipping into a more comfortable zone, getting used to living with each other. We really seem to be getting a feel for what the other person does and how they do it. It only took a couple of months and we're more used to each other in this new place… and now we'll be moving again! Let's hope the adjustment to the new place isn't as difficult!

Last night, we were driving out to see the new place. (I've been bugging her to see it again so we drove around and saw the park that is within walking distance of our place. It's so cool!) We're on the freeway and Vicky made some negative comment. I said, "I don't know what to say, Vic. You sure are negative at times." She said, "Ha. Look who's talking!"

Moi? Negative?

"Yes," she said. "You."

So, I figured this would be a good time to use the power of the Blog and see what you, the reader - yes, you - think. Add a comment to this entry (no, not that running commentary on the side you guys have become so fond of!) and cast your vote. On a scale of 1-5, tell me how positive or negative you think I am. A vote of 1 would be "Bergman"*, while a 5 would mean something like "a right, jolly elf".

* Mind you, Bergman wasn't really that negative at all. Many of his films are very life-affirming… so there!