Alien Contributions

OK... I have a lot to say and not much time to say it in.

First - this is not a joke. What I am about to reveal is true. I am doing this because they are finally coming for me and someone has to know the truth.

My real name is Daaronwith Zabeltoben and I am from what Earth astronomers call Tau Ceti. My ship crashed here about thirty years ago and I've been trying to blend in ever since. I have actually gotten to like the place (It's a little dirtier than other planets I've been on, but...Hey, beggars and choosers! Am I right?).

But I haven't been stranded. I've been hiding out. Well, my ship did crash but I fixed that pretty fast. The thing is, while I was working on it, I traded a few trinkets for some parts I needed and by the time I realized I had contaminated your technological evolution with my alien toys, it was too late.

I knew that once the Confederation got wind of it, I would be toast. Actually, toast would look pretty good by the time they got done with me. So I tried to lay low. But my only talent was to sell more trinkets when the money ran out.

Cell phones - that was me. When I got here portable phones had battery packs the size of three bricks.

And a computer operating system. I actually sold that one twice. The second time they couldn't follow directions at all. You know the second system as Windows. And I swear, for THAT, I will be eternally sorry. But, to be fair, they screwed it up.

I dabbled in car design for a while. I was behind the Viper and the Prowler. But, I admit I was messing with you with the Scion. Hey, even aliens have a sense of humor!

I'm the one who came up with all the flavored vodkas, as well. But it really wasn't necessary because Earth girls are easy.

Anyway, I have to go now. I can't tell you where, for obvious reasons. But the next time you TiVo something on your 60 inch plasma screen - think of me. And the next time Tom Cruise says something stupid - guess who spent a weekend in Cabo with L. Ron so long ago.

Free To Be You and Me

I watched a recording of Stephen King's Desperation yesterday and one of the sub-plots dealt with the existence of God and free will. Now, let me be the first to say, that nobody should get their theology from science fiction and horror writers (with apologies to Tom Cruise and all the Ron-ettes). I mean we don't go to the Presbyterians for di-lithium crystals, do we?

But there does seem to be a common theme in our pop culture to blame God for everything that goes wrong. In this case an evil earth-demon named TAK was killing everyone in an old mining town and a couple of characters were ragging on God for letting bad things happen. They also had a discussion about whether God allows man to have free will, even though the TAK monster was the only one taking over anyone's free will.

So, once again, I thought I'd throw a cold bucket of logic onto the discussion.

As to the existence of God. He either does - or He doesn't.

If He does exist, then there follows a huge discussion about who He is, what He wants, and how all that is accomplished.

If He doesn't exist, then all of the non-believers should quit obsessing over Him. It has always struck me as odd, the fervor with which non-believers fight against God. If they truly believed they were right, it wouldn't matter what the other side said or thought. It's like (from their point of view) they don't know how to win an argument.

As to free will. God either controls our actions - or He does not.

If He does control our free will, He is doing a lousy job of it. Otherwise how do you explain all the atheists?

If He does not control our free will, then mankind is doing stuff on it's own. So how can they complain about God letting bad things happen? Should He only control the free will of the bad guys. And to what degree? If He only kept bad people from doing bad things, that would eventually include all of us at some time or another. And then we would not have free will.

To sum things up:

• If God does not exist - mankind definitely has free will. So quit blaming God.
• If God does exist and we don't have free will - we wouldn't be able to complain about Him.
• If God does exist and we do have free will - it is the BAD people doing the BAD stuff. So quit blaming God.
  

In fact, the only person I can recall, recently, to definitely not have free will is Katie Holmes. A compelling argument for not getting your theology from science fiction writers.

Random Polling Alert

I read that a new survey finds that two-thirds of Americans would support a law banning the use of cell phones while driving. This is at a time when auto makers are installing GPS map systems with full color displays and scrolling and zoom features. Satellite radio is standard in many cars; tuning is accomplished through a scrolling menu system. Pop down DVD players are optional for many SUV's.

But cell phones might be too big of a distraction for us. And haven't many states already dealt with this supposed problem by requiring hands free devices?

And what about other distractions? Hot coffee and soft drinks. Big Macs and fries. Paper maps. Women applying make-up. Wives, children and pets. Mothers-in-law. Newspapers. Business reports and briefcases. Head banger music and talk radio. A dire need to pee. Are we going to ban all of these? Don't I have a First Amendment right to pee on my Mother-in-law?

What I want to know is why people are compelled to meddle in and spoil things for everyone else? If they don't want to use cell phone while they are driving then don't use one and leave me alone. The food Nazis took movie popcorn cooked in coconut oil away from us based upon a report that said if we ate 300 servings a day for 30 years it could contribute to obesity. That's ridiculous. Nobody can watch more than twelve movies a day, tops.

I also don't understand how you can survey less than 900 people and, based upon their response, claim that two-thirds of 280,000,000 Americans share their opinions. All these damn polls tell us is that two-thirds of the people actually questioned hold that opinion. But if the pollsters ever got off their tofu asses and quit using land line phones long enough to conduct a real survey I'm sure the issue would be obsolete by the time the results were tabulated. Again, problem solved.

But getting back to reality, apparently, this survey was a poll of 849 adults and 69% of them were tight asses. I think we ought to conduct a poll that proves that polls conducted by universities are self-serving exercises that promote elitist agendas. This is actually true. Perdue University (the chicken place - not the other one) asked 23 people if pollsters were full of shit and the results showed that 74% of all Americans said, "As far as you know."

By the way, did you know that 84% of all statistics are made up on the spot?

Death Sentence

I came home from the doctor the other day and my wife could tell there was something wrong just by looking at me. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I got some bad news at the doctor." I replied.

"What?" she asked again, with more urgency.

"There is a possibility that I'm going to have a bleeding ulcer."

"Oh," she said. "Well that's not so bad. From the way you looked I thought it was worse." She sounded encouraging, trying to lighten my mood.

"It may be worse. A lot worse." I intoned.

"What do you mean?"

"There is also a possibility that I could have kidney failure, aggravated hypertension, deafness, blurred vision, difficulty breathing and maybe heart failure." I answered.

"Oh my God," she said, putting her hands over her mouth. "What do you have?"

"A prescription." I replied. "Those are the possible side affects. The doctor says I have the early stages of arthritis."

Pet Peeve Survey

Do you know what really frosts my turnip... grinds my gears... pisses me off?

We all have pet peeves. Some of us have several. Some people feel like they married their pet peeve. Or at least married into their family. It may be something in their job, or on their commute, or something one of the neighbors does. It could be something on TV or bloggers who incorporate endless lists of stuff. It could be something that is a constant annoyance or something that catches you off guard at random times.

It is our hot button.

Pet peeves are personal by nature but can be shared by many. They may be a minor inconvenience ignored by the vast majority but for some reason they really sizzle our bacon!

I have seen (usually in a reflective surface) a normally calm, reasonable person go from zero to apeshit in a split second. And why...?

Because something does not meet our expectations. A simple thing... No big deal, really... It's just that... Well... ANYBODY with HALF A BRAIN KNOWS YOU DON'T DO IT THAT WAY... IT JUST DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE! I MEAN, WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY THINKING? A MORON COULD FIGURE IT OUT! YOU MISERABLE, ROTTEN SON OF A...

And that's how it usually goes for most of us at some time or another.

So I'd like to conduct a little survey. It has three parts.

• Let me know about your pet peeve. Where is your hot button?
• What is the funniest or most ridiculous pet peeve you've encountered?
• What other euphemisms for pet peeve do you know, ie.: sizzles my bacon, grinds my gears, etc.

You can respond to any or all of the questions..Depending on participation, I'll publish your best responses.

Oh, yeah. I guess you want to hear MY pet peeve. It's nothing really. It just bugs me when there are unmarked, locked doors on the front of an open building. Like a movie theater or a bank or a restaurant, etc. There may be three doors and one of them is randomly locked. There is no sign saying "Use Other Doors". THEY ARE JUST LOCKED. AND THERE THEY STAND, WAITING FOR US TO PUSH OR PULL THEM AND MAKE A FOOL OF US! THEY'RE JUST A TORN SHOULDER OR A JAMMED WRIST WAITING TO HAPPEN! AND WHY? BECAUSE SOME LAZY A**HOLE CAN'T BE BOTHERED UNLOCKING THEM ALL! AND IF THERE IS A GOOD REASON FOR KEEPING CERTAIN DOORS LOCKED - PUT UP A F**KING SIGN!

So that's what really burns my ass. Let's hear some of yours.

Bad Writing in Hollywood

I think Hollywood (TV and movies) has a distorted view of women and their relationships with men. And I think it is because a lot of the writers are taking a lazy, cookie cutter approach to writing. So many of the plots and story lines are virtually interchangeable between TV shows that the viewer has to wonder if they are watching a first run show or a re-run.

I understand the need for form and structure and having to deliver a 44 minute script on time, but it seems like they all rigidly follow the same Screen Writers Handbook for plot devices. These are some common elements in most TV dramas and Movies:

• A wife MUST oppose her husband's career.
• Even if she approved of it before they were married.
• Any personal crisis is the husband's fault or his career's.
• Every wife must issue an ultimatum, forcing the husband to choose between his career and the wife / family.
• Any time a wife cheats it is the husband's fault.
  
• Other women MUST be ball busters
• Female bosses, girlfriends, co-workers
• They must have a different approach /view of the job
• They must have different agendas
• The women will always make choices because they are caring.
• The men will always make choices because they are insensitive.
• The man MUST always give in or:
• He will lose his wife
• He will get fired /transferred / demoted
• He will lose his partner / face.

I understand why these elements are present. A necessary story element is conflict. And one of the ways to introduce conflict into a character's life and present a 3-dimensional, fully realized character is to show his home life and personal pressures. The idea is to layer on the personal pressure with the major conflict of the story to show everything he has to deal with. Personal conflicts can take many forms - but seldom do.

I think there are several possible reasons why the writers are delivering a uniform product:

• It is highly possible they are using writing software that includes a conflict generator. They probably missed an upgrade.
  
• Maybe they all have a ridged To Do list.
• Maybe they all took the same correspondence course.
  
• Maybe they all hate women.
• Maybe creativity has been bred out of southern California.
• Maybe plagiarism is the sincerest form of literary flatter
• Maybe fear of being replaced by a reality show saps your creativity.

Regardless of why this is happening, I think America is getting tired of recycled stories and ideas. I know I am.

There are a few other things that are really getting old on TV and in the movies so I put together a short wish list to improve screen writing:

• Supportive wives who face external conflict with their husbands.
• An end to cookie cutter story telling. If there is a fill-in-the-variable story line generator, throw it away. Watching House M.D. is like watching an episode of Mad Libs.
  
• Stop doing what ever allows the same stories, themes, dangers, cliffhangers on several shows in the same week. It's like a memo goes out from the Writers Union.
• Quit pushing the writer's gay agenda. There is no way the percentage of gay characters and references is equal to the percentage of gay population in America. It is way out of proportion.
• Quit pushing the writer's liberal, anti-conservative agendas. 50% of this country are red staters. Why alienate half of your audience?

I think it is time for the writers to quit taking the easy way out creatively. And it is time for them to quit using what is supposed to be an entertainment medium as their bully pulpit.

Sarcasm vs. Irony

I have always been fascinated by the difference between sarcasm and irony. According to some of the definitions the meanings are often blurred and many people use one word when they mean the other.

As a public service, I thought I would muddy the waters a little further.

Irony has been defined as "incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs."

Sarcasm is "a mode of satirical wit depending for its effect on bitter, caustic, and often ironic language that is usually directed against an individual."

Irony: You take a train to avoid flying and during the trip your train is hit by an airplane.

Sarcasm: You comment to your seat mate as the plane approaches, "At least I saved money on the ticket."

One of my favorite examples of a sarcastic statement that reflected an ironic fact was when Churchill had a meeting with Hitler near the beginning of WWII. Hitler informed Churchill that Italy would be on Germany's side during the conflict. Churchill replied, "It's only fair. We had them during the last war."

But the way I keep Sarcasm and Irony separated is with this simple rule of thumb. Sarcasm springs from human wit and involves a biting or bitter sense of humor. Irony is a display of God's sense of humor.

What was THAT About?

I like to make observations on life. Sometimes they are straight from the heart and should be taken at face value. At other times they are whimsical or humorous and should be seen as such. Sometimes they have an edge and may bite the overly sensitive reader.

Knowing the difference is to know me.

I have had friends say, "What was that about?" when I wrote a vignette about a cowboy and a gunfight. I could have told them it was about Man's spiritual self-destruction in his pursuit of revenge, or personal hygiene in the 19th century, or male dominance in western cinema. But it was about a cowboy and a gunfight. I just wanted to try my hand at writing a western scene.

I have a generally conservative slant on politics. Economically I am conservative. Socially I'm probably a Libertarian. In my personal life I am an anarchist.

I see humor in everything. Wildly inappropriate things. I was reading a newspaper story about a Little League pitcher who was struck by lightning while on the mound. He was blown out of his shoes and killed. My first comment was, "Wow, he must have been pitching a really bad game."

I am a Christian with a streak of irreverence a mile wide. I guess I don't like being told what to do. I have a deep personal faith that, if they suddenly came for all the Christians, I would be willing to die for; but until then, I'd rather not be overly inconvenienced.

I see the big picture. I think some things are soooo obvious that sometimes I'm puzzled when people say, "I never thought of it that way". Like on TV shows. If it is a police or detective mystery, a show where you don't know who the bad guy is until the end of the show, I always know who it is. Sometimes before they are done rolling the opening credits. I call it the Recognizable Guest Star Syndrome. TV shows can't usually afford BIG names but there is a cadre of recognizable character actors that make good villains. Unfortunately, this is about the only place they show up and their mere presence tips their hand. I ruin a lot of shows for my wife this way.

So sometimes I get passionate about one of my own hot button issues and sometimes I poke fun at yours. Hopefully, if I am occasionally offensive to some people, I am more frequently entertaining to others. I can't help myself. There is a lot of funny stuff going on.

I like to make observations on life and this is a pretty good place to do it.

Soon To Be Famous Quotes

If a man has a dream and does nothing about it,

It’s either not much of a dream or he’s not much of a man.

John Bonus

I try to give people the benefit of the doubt…

…Until there is no doubt left.

John Bonus

Politics is one of the few endeavors to allow us

Absolute Certainty with Virtually No Information…

…Religion and Meteorology are the other two.

John Bonus

We Interrupt This Blog...

I have been experimenting with different software while writing this blog. This is because the blog editors that are part of Blogger and Performancing suck. Their formatting features are limited and their save and save as features are a crapshoot. And I have lost several blogs altogether. It happened again today.

This was the day when I was going to impart the secret of life, happiness and world peace. You were going to read prose that would have made you weep with the joy of being alive at this moment in time. Then laugh with the sorrow of never being here again.

Leprechauns were going to dance in the streets while lambs lay down with lions. Apple trees were going to regain the "“knowledge of good and evil"” and no one would have a taste for them. Peace, harmony and love were going to rule the land.

But instead, I lost my fucking blog into the maelstrom of the Ethernet.

So the lame will have to remain so, the uninformed will have to wallow in their ignorance and none of us will ever laugh as those who have shared a moment never to be forgotten. Life will go on. But the heartbeat of the universe just stuttered. And a reality that once could have been has spun out of existence.

Thinking Outside the Tunnel

I have always been an outsider. For some reason, slightly out of step with everyone around me. In my earliest memories I am playing by myself. Solitary. My fondest memories are of places I've been and things I've read or seen. Yet I've been surrounded by people my entire life.

As a child, while my playmates were having some adventure in the next room, I would be near the adults. Listening. Watching. Near, but not part of, either group. I was never a nerd or a jock in high school. I had friends in both groups but could never laugh freely with either. As an apprentice in a newspaper pressroom I needed to know every inch of the big presses; studying equipment manuals during lunch while the rest of the crew talked about Sunday's big game. As a tech rep for an ink company I spent hours with both pressmen and salesmen but was an outsider to both.

I blame this on a lack of tunnel vision. I have always been cursed with seeing the big picture.

While other people focused on their family or education, jobs, God or fraternal organizations and became a part of those groups, I would watch them. Oh, I would be there, taking part in the same activities. But I would be studying the politics of the group. Observing the players and the field of play. Learning the structure. Usually becoming a leader or teacher for the group.

I would also see their careers take off because they could single-mindedly focus on becoming a great writer, or doctor, or scientist, or theologian, or parent, or book keeper, or cop or salesman. Their tunnel vision provided the framework of their careers. While my big picture view provided me with an understanding of how things and people worked and I became a leader of men and an expert in my field.

The difference being that tunnel vision also provided those around me with a sense of belonging. They didn't care how the scouting organization worked; they were Boy Scouts and were having fun. They didn't care about the origins of the Bible and the nuances of the original Greek; they went to church to worship God and enjoy each other's fellowship.

They were able to enjoy the adventure of just being in OZ. I was always looking for the "man behind the curtain." Or wanting to be that man.

Which also kept me from being one of the guys.

So, I've had to learn there are different paths to success and different ways of approaching life. And whether you are driven with the single minded view of tunnel vision, or you can figure out the big picture in order to make things happen, the most important things in life still remain being a part of something and your relationships with the people around you.

I'm hoping to have that part figured out real soon.

Performancing for Firefox Handbook

The Mutant Cure

I was watching a preview for the new X-Men III movie. The major plot-line is about a new antigen that is supposed to reverse the mutant gene, in other words, a cure. Several of the mutants say that they don't need a cure. That there is nothing wrong with them; that this is the way they are supposed to be. Others disagreed.

This got me to thinking.

Since we don't live in a world where mutants are plentiful (except on Saturday nights at my favorite bar) (They don't call it the cantina scene for nothing. [Star Wars reference]), what if some do gooder decided to mess around with OUR gene pool? You know, they decide that mankind would be better off without certain traits or characteristics. What would that be like?

Now before you say "That could never happen", let me remind you of our dabbling in eugenics in the 40's and 50's. We actually had people proposing that we essentially breed out bad traits through sterilization. Criminal tendencies, retardation, anti-social behaviors, etc. We still have vestiges of this with our laws that allow castration of certain sexual predators.

We also, currently, have people who decide not to have children because if genetic anomalies found in the testing of fetuses of pregnant mothers. Down syndrome, the wrong sex and such.

And finally, I read this week that scientists have finally completed mapping the human genome.

Put it all together and mix in the same mind set that gives us political correctness and my What If does not seem all that implausible. So, what if, they decide to find the gene that permits addictions (drugs, cigarettes, alcohol), or ADD, or cancer, or (again) anti-social behaviors? And decide to fix them. It's not that far fetched.

So that got me to thinking.

What if they decided that superior traits were unacceptable? They already do it with junior soccer leagues. They don't even keep score because they don't want the other team's self-esteem to suffer. This is an idea that pervades a lot of child rearing theories.

So, what if they took this to the next level and decided Geniuses were a threat to the other 98% of the population? And decided to fix them.

I shared my musings with my wife and she told me to calm down. "They aren't coming for you." she said.

"Yeah, but What If?" I answered, my voice trembling.

"Besides," she continued, "they already have a cure for intelligence. It's called alcohol."

The Bank Dick

I'm in my bank a couple of times a month and one of the tellers is at war with me. I'm not sure if she just doesn't like me, if she doesn't like men, or if she doesn't like her job. Or maybe she likes it too much and she is on some kind of power trip. Regardless, I feel like I am being harassed.

A typical transaction goes this way:

I have a check for around $2,000. I usually keep a couple of hundred out and deposit the rest. I smile, hand her the deposit slip, say "I'd like to make a deposit.", I endorse the check in front of her, and hand her the check.

Then she takes forever looking at everything, checks something in her computer, looks at everything again, turns to me and asks me for some ID. EVERY TIME!

This time I said, "I have an account here."

"I know that, sir, but I don't know you."

"I'm the guy you do this to every time I come in here." I replied.

"I don't know who you are, sir."

"What's the difference? You have an account number and my signature on file."

"This might not be your account" she answered.

"So, you think I might be trying to fraudulently deposit $1,800 into someone else's account?" I asked.

She looked momentarily confused then said, "It could be someone else's check."

"With my name on it, that matches the name on my bank account. I signed it in front of you and you have my signature on file in that computer, which you already checked." I clarified.

She stared at me, eyes flashing, then stubbornly said, "I need to see some ID"

I sighed heavily, removed my wallet, took my driver's license from the plastic window and handed it to her.

She smugly took it and began inspecting it like a Gestapo agent at the Swiss border. Finally she hands it back to me and makes a miniscule note on what appeared to be a piece of scrap paper.

I thought, "What the Hell" and asked, "If I was the master criminal that you seem to think I am, wouldn't I have false ID?"

"This is why we have to check so carefully." she said.

"Just in case, THIS TIME, I screw up and give you my REAL ID?"

She ignored my question and asked, "Do you want this in twenties or bigger bills?"

"Twenties are fine." I mumbled.

The hell of it is, I left the bank knowing that she would check my ID the next time I saw her.

You know, I've been thinking. Maybe I shouldn't bank where my wife works.

I Should Have Been a Rocket Surgeon

I took an on line I.Q. test about a month ago and scored 135 and I thought, "Cool, it am neat being smarterer than yesterday!"

This made me remember an I. Q. test I took when I was in grade school and I was curious how I scored back then. So I sat cross-legged in the attic, rooting through boxes of old papers until I came across my elementary school records. It turns out I tested 132 back then.

So, still out of curiosity (and a fear of being goofed on) I took another test on another web site and scored 135 again. I guess it doesn't take a rocket surgeon to figure out that I probably have an I.Q. of around 135.

According to the guidelines, anything over 130 is considered Genius. (Geeze, I hope all my old girlfriends and co-workers are reading this.) It also said I was in the top two percent of the world. (Which pretty much makes me a classic under-achiever.)

The second test site said my intellectual type is Facts Curator and that I did well because I retain an impressive collection of facts and figures. This seems cool, too, but I can't seem to recall any of them at the moment. It would probably be more impressive if I could.

I remember at one time I considered majoring in philosophy. But I wasn't sure what the modern application for that would be. I mean, once I graduated, what would be next? Would I set up a sidewalk booth and sell concepts? Of course, any time my wife said she had an idea I could tell her, "Sorry, Dear, I only SELL ideas. But thanks, anyway."

Albert Einstein once said, " The difference between Genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits." Someone else said that "Geniuses usually don't capitalize the word Genius in the middle of a sentence." I haven't been quoted on this subject, yet.

Anyway, I'm trying to decide what I should do next. I was considering joining MENSA - but I think I have an estrogen deficiency.

The Duh Vinci Code

I read The Da Vinci Code today. I guess Dan Brown did a pretty good job - for a hit piece. Once you realize what a huge ax he has to grind you can sit back and say, "O. K., let's see where he is going with it." But, like all conspiracy theorists, if you know anything at all about the subject, you come to realize he has let his agenda ruin his effort.

The principal mistake he made was in confusing his multiple premises. He asserts that Jesus was not only not divine but that the church never even considered Him divine until the mid 300's AD. The second main premise he has is that the Catholic Church is corrupt and has their own non-spiritual agenda. I believe him to be wrong on the first one and right on the second one.

I have been a student of theology for over thirty years, now. I have studied the theology of Catholicism, the Reformation, Presbyterian and Reformed Presbyterian, Baptist, Pentecostal and most other Christian sects as well as most of the other major religions of the world. I taught myself attic Greek so I could study the New testament writings in their original language and am a student of the early church as well as contemporary history of the period. I understand the genesis of the church and Apostolic times and have studied the higher and lower criticisms of the Biblical books.

Dan Brown could not have gotten it more wrong.

Yes, the Catholic Church resulted from a blending of early Christian teachings and, mostly Roman, pagan religious beliefs. The many gods of the Romans eventually blended into a lot of the Catholic saints. This served the purpose of allowing the people to continue to pray to many religious entities for specific needs. So there continued to be a god/saint for travel, and good crops, and weather, etc.

They also inserted priests between man and God, usurping the role of Jesus as sole mediator and removing man's direct access for prayer and forgiveness. They declared the Pope infallible and the living representative of Christ on earth. And they established a theocracy in Rome. Theocracies always lead to trouble for their people and their neighbors because of the absolute power syndrome.

Many cruel and un-Christian things were done in the name of the Church. Many people died as a result. And the people were kept purposely ignorant so they would need the Church. And the Catholic Church was involved in many conspiracies and cover-ups.

However, There is no doubt that Christ's contemporaries and the very early Christian Church considered Jesus divine. Paul the Apostle is the prime example. Unlike Mr. Brown's assertion that nobody even considered Christ's deity until the Nicean Council. And, yes, other gospels and letters were considered for the Canon of Scriptures but were rejected because of their inconsistencies or the histories of their authors.

His biggest mistake is in thinking that the beliefs of the Early Church (which re-emerged during the Reformation) and the Catholic Church have anything to do with each other. Christianity survived the ordeal of the Catholic Church.

So maybe Dan Brown has been able to uncover some dirt on the Catholic Church but none of it dis-proves the deity of Christ. Conspiracy theories, slander, over-stating some premises while glossing over the inconvenient ones are not proof. Shady histories of Church affiliated groups, such as the Knight Templars and the Masons for example, do not prove his point either.

All he has left are some supposed quirks in Da Vinci's art and writings and a handful of clues of his own devising. And a mediocre adventure story.

Unfortunately, most of the people reading this drivel are pre-disposed to this kind of hit piece and should really consider studying the true facts of history for themselves. But, then again, they are probably used to being told what to think.

WORK - huh - yeah, What Is It GOOD For?

If you listened to Hillary Clinton's spin on it, she was just trying to "set the bar high" when she criticized young people at a U. S. Chamber of Commerce meeting in Washington, D. C. At that meeting she told them that young people today "think work is a four-letter word."

Later, Hillary's 26 year old daughter, Chelsea, phoned her to complain about the comments. Chelsea, the daughter of a former president and a current senator, graduated in 2001. It took her until 2003 to get a job as a "consultant" with an immediate six figure salary. She told Senator Clinton, "Mom, I do work hard and my friends work hard."

I was quoted as saying, "Well, isn't that SPECIAL!"

Several days later, Hillary addressed 2,000 graduates in a commencement address at Long Island University. She told them that she apologized to her daughter for her earlier remarks. And then blah, blah blah...

There are so many things WRONG with this story I don't hardly know where to begin.

First, she initially criticized people at a Chamber of Commerce meeting (you know... a group of people who already have jobs) for not being willing to work.

Then, she listens to this specious complaint from the silver spoon girl about how hard she is working at her patronage job.

Then, Hillary makes a public apology. But not to the original people she unfairly labeled as lazy. Or even to the group of young people she was currently addressing. No, she apologized to Chelsea while in front of this audience of young people.

And, the young people that she apologized in front of, were still students - not even members of the work force.

And finally she exhibits compassion by announcing a bogus bill that would help college graduates manage and repay their student loans. Yeahhhhhh! Our hero(ine).

So what have I learned from all of this? Not much.

Except that maybe the next time I shoot from the lip, it doesn't matter what I say. I'll just ignore the original people I offended, try to personalize the experience with an ineffectual familial anecdote, make a mock apology in front of a different group of people and then mumble a vague promise of fresh cookies in the cookie jar. Yeah, that'll work!

I'm still wondering about one thing, though. Work is a four-letter word. Are Hillary and Chelsea having a problem with spelling it or with the math?

Un-natural Selection

Well, another season of Survivor ended last night and, as usual I was frustrated. Survivor was the first reality show I ever watched. Most of the others I occasionally tune in and out of and have never viewed any of them for more than a season. But I keep coming back to Survivor.

I think I like the show because it is so REAL. If they don't make fire they are cold, can't cook and have no drinking water. If they don't build shelter they, again, are cold or wet. If they don't fish, they don't eat. If they aren't dry, fed and rested they lose the challenges. So it comes down to the simple basics of life to survive. It doesn't get any more real than that.

Then there is the psychological aspect of the game that completely fascinates me. The people are like living chess pieces. Some being clueless pawns and others are master manipulators. They often pose as one thing and are, indeed, only working their co-players. Some of the people are completely honest and genuine and others have split tongues and hooves for feet. All of which is fun to watch.

But the part that frustrates me , despite the weekly glimpse into the lives and strategies of these people, and the vicarious nature of the experiment (game), is the certainty that many of the decisions made by the survivors are the exact opposite from those that would be made in real life. At some point the show's analogy to life breaks down.

This is when I begin calling the game Survival of the Unfittest. This part can become evident very early each season or is sometimes delayed (depending upon how crafty the group is), but always happens. Eventually a group, or alliance, of players perceive the most skilled, the strongest, the hardest worker as a threat to be voted off the island. In the real world this person would be called the leader.

Now I realize that if you can't Outplay someone, your only hope may be to Outwit or just, simply, Outlast them. But the principles of survival of the fittest, natural selection and being rewarded for having a work ethic just fly out the window on the island. And we end up seeing smug, lazy groups of survivors control the game through strategy and numbers (of votes) while the hard workers fail for the reasons that should make them successful anywhere else.

Wait a second. As I was writing this, it had a familiar ring to it. "Lazy groups of (people) who control... through strategy and numbers (of votes) while the hard workers fail for the reasons that should make them successful..."

What are Labor Unions, Alex?

That is correct! - for $200.

The Elflord

The Elflord raised his tired visage to survey, once again, the smoking ruins of the battlefield. The carnage had not changed. Before him lay what would become known as The Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Burning war wagons lay atop the smoldering bodies of brave soldiers for both sides of this senseless conflict. Moaning and pleas for swift mercy drifted across the hillside and mingled with the stench of rapidly decaying flesh. The smoke and heat of the waning day and recent battle oppressed the senses, stinging the eyes and burning the throat.

Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and down his sides under the heavy battle raiment. Occasionally he was nearly blinded until he could wipe at his eyes with the back of his arm. Or were these tears for the brave and dear friends he saw fall in battle this day?

A low rumbling groan of anger and anguish rose from the caverns of his heavily muscled chest and grew to a thunderous roar that echoed across the valley. "Nooooooooo!", repeating again and again and again until it faded into the untroubled and still green distance.

Barth, the stable boy, lay his hand on the Elflord's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. But it was impatiently shrugged off. No slight was intended the ragged lad, who was now one of the few from either side still standing, and none was taken. For how can one so humble as a stable boy ever take offence from one so noble as the Elflord?

"M'lord." he mumbled as he bowed slightly and backed away a pace or two.

But M'lord's mind was elsewhere. At the Castle of Zorn. With the Lady Rehgon, his betrothed. How would he tell her of her brother's death? How could he reign without his best friend at his side? Once again he used his shirt-sleeve to wipe the stinging moisture from his eyes.

"Why?" he questioned no one in particular. "How could this horrible thing come to pass?"

Where was the sense or purpose of all the pain and death before him? What victory had been won today? What lesson had been learned?

The unicorns were all gone - and with them the magic.

He turned angrily from his reverie and shouted to Davees, an able bodied man and former herdsman, "Form a unit, man! Bandage those who will survive and kill the rest."

The Man from Nantucket

Now... let's see. I am trying this with what most people would consider a hangover. Yesterday was opening day here at Sunny Rest Resort. I know, Sunny Rest sounds like a cheesy retirement home in a second rate B movie. But it's NOT. It may just be one of the coolest places in the northeast. They just did a lousy job of naming it 50 years ago. So it sounds like a sanitarium. Anyway, back to the blog...

Have you ever wondered how "The Man from Nantucket" poem ends? I have. It may be the most often begun - but never finished poem in history. Usually, on TV or in a movie, someone will start the first line of the poem, someone or something else will interupt him, there is usually a cheap laugh, and they never finish the poem. And it is always implied that the rest of the poem is dirty.

Well, whether it is my purient interest or otherwise, I did a little research. So here it goes. (O.K., I strike a pose: stand up straight, right foot in front of the left and slightly out-turned, shoulders back, chest out, hands clasped at breast, chin out... clear the throat and... begin.)

There was an Old Man of Nantucket
Who kept all his cash in a bucket.
His daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man --
And, as for the bucket, Nan took it.

Pa followed the pair to Pawtucket
(the man and the girl with the bucket)
And he said to the man,
"You're welcome to Nan."
But as for the bucket, Pa took it.

Then the pair followed Pa to Manhasset
Where he still held the cash as an asset
And Nan and the man
stole the money and ran
And, as for the bucket, the man has it.

There you have it. The first stanza is the very original, the following stanzas being added a little later. And they were all G-rated. So, why is there always an inference that the next words are about to be wildly inappropriate? Because like anything clean and pure and fun(ny), somebody always feels they have to drag it down to their level. Hence, were born a slew of bastardized ditties with which we are often teased by their first lines.

There was a young man from Nantucket
Whose dong was so long he could s**k it.
Said he with a grin,
As he wiped off his chin,
If my ear was a c**t I could f**k it.

Or:

There was an old maid in Nantucket
With an asshole as big as a bucket.
While bent over the oven,
A-dreamin' of lovin',
Her goat seized the moment to f**k it.

Or:

There was a young man of Nantucket,
Took a pig in a thicket to f**k it.
Said the pig with a grunt,
Get away from my c**t,
Come around to my front and I'll s**k it.

There are many other variants not worth mentioning, but you get the idea. Personally, I like the original best. I also like the idea that it was clean and that most of the people who just assume it was dirty are ill informed miscreants. For my final verse I'll leave you with one of my own creation and then I have to get to the pool.

There once was a poet and blogger,
Who wasn't a runner or jogger.
He'd spend all of his days
In an internet haze.
And when he was done he would log 'er.

Sorry, No Offense...

Have you ever been offended for someone else? You know, you hear something that is completely insulting or insensitive, but it doesn't apply to you, and you still get offended because it's just so wrong?

I have to admit this doesn't happen to me often because I guess you could call my sense of humor inappropriate. Growing up Polish I had to learn to laugh at myself or get into a lot of fights (this was when Pollock jokes were a national past time). As America slowly grew out of that phase I now find myself in a world where "middle-aged white guy" is a punch line for a lot of minority humor. So I'm not normally overly sensitive when I hear stuff.

Until now.

I heard an ad for Dairy Queen the other day that made me do a double-take. It was for a new amaretto/coffee/whipped cream drink called Moolatte. It sounds like mulatte, a combination of mulatto and latte. A mulatto is a light skinned black person who usually has one white and one black parent. They are probably the same color as this new drink.

When I heard this, my second thought was, "How insensitive!"

If we live in a time when Tiger Woods can't say the word "spaz" without starting an international incident, what are the Jesse Jacksons and Al Sharptons of the world going to do with this? This is far worse than a black man getting slow service at Denny's. This is name calling. Mulatte. What were they thinking?

I can only imagine what's next on their menu. Will they start serving Octorino? A word combination of octoroon and cappuccino having only one eighth the caffeine of regular cappuccino. Or will they serve a new high caffeine version of Mellow Yellow called High Yellow?

So yes, I have finally been offended for other people. Shame! Dairy Queen, shame!

Oh yeah, my first thought was, "Does Dairy Queen come from gay bulls? C'mon! It's not that much of a stretch. They're already dressed in leather..."

Sp-p-p-p-pazzzz

A few weeks ago I read that Tiger Woods got into trouble for saying the wrong thing. It was right after his play at the US Masters in Augusta. Apparently he was not satisfied with his performance and he commented, "I putted atrociously today. Once I got on the greens, I was a spaz."

In America, a "spaz" is a slang term for someone who is clumsy or inept. It turns out that in Great Britain and other countries "spaz" is an offensive term for people affected with spastic paralysis, a form of cerebral palsy. (Toe-may-toe / toe-maw-toe)

So the British Spastics Society raised a stink and eventually Tiger had to apologize to all the genuine spastics around the world. I guess they thought he was diluting the brand.

What I find interesting is that the British Spastics Society had changed their name to Scope. It must have been hard getting people to attend fund raisers for the Spastics. I can just hear them now, "I say, Reginald. Are we for them or against them?"

It also occurred to me that maybe the British wouldn't find the term "spaz" so offensive if they didn't use it that way themselves. Maybe they ought to do a little house cleaning over there before starting another war with the Colonies.

And finally, I really believe that the only people who say they were offended are some self appointed do-gooders. The real spazzes probably don't pay that much attention to the Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Georgia. What they are probably concerned about is how they got that cricket bat so far up their ass. Again.

The Name Game

You may have noticed a change in the name of this blog page. Most of you knew it as As Far As You Know... although for a few days in the very beginning it was called Blah, Blah, Blog. So why the name change? Mostly because I like the sound of Escape Velocity better. But also because my wife likes it better, too.

Blah, Blah, Blog was supposed to be witty and original. Until I did an internet search and discovered just how many witty and original people are out there in the blogosphere.

As Far As You Know... worked for me because it was something I say often enough that it sounds like something I would say. Even though I first heard Chevy Chase say it in Fletch. But for some reason, when someone would ask me the name of my blog I would either forget it or get tongue tied.

For years before I wrote this blog I've had a running commentary on life and the things around me. I would go off on weird tangents from seemingly normal conversations. I would make fun of TV shows and movie stars and satorize commercials. My wife used to tell our sons to step back because Daddy was reaching Escape Velocity. So, the other night, when she happened to mention I had reached escape velocity in a recent blog, we both looked at each other and said at the same time, "Escape Velocity!" So that's where the new name came from.

This got me to wondering what familiar titles used to be known by something else. And I found a few:

• White Noise was originally called Panasonic
• While You Were Sleeping was called Coma Guy
• Pretty Woman was known as $3,000
• Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind was originally titled Fontenoy Hall
• F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby was first called Trimalchio in West Egg
• Woody Allen's Annie Hall was Anhedonia
• Joseph Heller's Catch-22 was originally Catch-18
• and Tennessee Williams considered naming A Streetcar Named Desire as Blanche's Chair in the Moon

I doubt anyone will ever include my blog on this kind of list but I do find it interesting that writers can create such memorable characters and places and still struggle with a name for it all. So I guess I'm in good company, even if they don't know I'm here yet.

American Inventor

I have been watching the ABC show American Inventor. It should have been call American Sob Story. I haven't seen so many tears since Lassie came home. This is the most touchy-feely piece of drivel since Love Story or Brian's Song.

Yet it could have been a great show. It had all the elements. A nation wide search for amateur inventors to compete against one another. Twelve of them getting $50,000 to develop their inventions and America votes for the final four. And a $1,000,000 prize. Wow!

But somebody decided the inventions were secondary and the show should be about the heartache and hardships of the inventors. Their emotions are integral to their sale pitches. We have to feel their devastation as they are eliminated. And the survivors of each round cry on cue because their dead daughter, gay girlfriend, sainted mother or ghetto raised siblings are still motivating them. Puh-lease.

Do you know what's great about most inventions? Unless you are a trivia nut - nobody knows who invented them. The occasional biographical book or movie are great for showing the obstacles overcome by great minds. But nobody cares until you are famous. Why does any worthwhile invention require the inventor's passion to convince people of its worth?

Good inventions should stand on their own. They should make you say WOW. They should make you wonder how we ever survived without them. We shouldn't have to watch a 40 year old black man break into tears to convince us of its worth.

Human interest, in a show like this, should be like seasoning in a stew. Just a pinch would make the point. By the time they show two episodes in a row each week I'm ready for an insulin shot.

They say that Necessity is the Mother of Invention. That must make TV Ratings the Worthless Brother-in-law.

The Forever Stamp

Corporate arrogance and the public's stupidity seem to be a perfect marriage. The United States Postal Service recently raised the price of a first class stamp to 39 cents. So, as of a certain day in January (I think it was) everyone had to buy a bunch of 2 cent stamps to add to the supply of 37 cent stamps they already had.

Now, the USPS is asking Congress for another increase to 42 cents per stamp. However, these are supposed to be special stamps. The Post Office is calling them the Forever Stamp. What that means, if congress approves, is that if you pay 42 cents for these stamps and don't use them right away (even if the rates increase again) you can still mail a first class letter without additional postage. Forever.

They finally have a stamp to match the speed of the letter getting there (forever).

But really, all seriousness aside, what is wrong with this picture? In a reasonable, sane world, isn't that how you would have thought stamps should have worked all along?

When I buy a stamp it is the same as buying a ticket or voucher good for one whatever. You don't buy a ticket to a movie outside and the ticket takers inside charge another 50 cents because the price just went up. You don't buy tickets for a cruise in February to be used in June and have to pay more at the time of the cruise because the rates went up.

When we buy a stamp, the Post Office is agreeing to move one letter, from here to there, for that price. Our proof of the contract is the stamp. There is no time limit displayed or implied in the purchase of this travel voucher for my message. They have received due recompense for mailing a letter. The money is in their system. They have a river of mail passing through their system all the time and it should not matter when our letter joins the stream.

To ask for more money after we paid them to move the letter is a retroactive price increase. We are expected to pay more for something that they already agreed to do for the previous price. I can't think of another example of this occurring in a free market society.

Well, maybe one example. "Here's the $10,000 for killing that guy for me."

"Yeah, about that. You didn't tell me he was a politician. There's going to be more heat on this. The price just went up!"

"To what?"

"I want $10,000 and a 2 cent stamp. And I ain't kiddin' around here!"

The thing that the Post office has to sell is passage on their mail trucks. When they sell a stamp they have sold that passage. They made an agreement or contract to move a letter at that price. The Forever Stamp is merely someone coming to their senses. Which is probably why it's just sane enough not to work.

Anyway, I have to go now. The place where I bought my Jeep called and said they think it is worth more than what they originally charged. So now, I'm going to have to stop by the Post Office and pick up a couple thousand 2 cent stamps to satisfy those pricks.

Please Stand By...

I use MyYahoo as my homepage. I have several customized news pages set up for my own personal interests; news, entertainment, sports, politics and humor. I also get most of my email through a premium mail account. I say all of this to let you know I like MyYahoo. But it is still easy to get caught in the buzzsaw of beauracratic nonsense if you deal with their techno-geeks for anything.

They are currently testing their new Beta email system. It has a new interface with some cool features. It also has some things that I either don't like or wish they had included from the current (older) version. There is a link that is supposed to let you give them feedback on the Beta version. It is a dead or broken link. So I decided to send my feedback on the Beta version to the mail technical support people.

I got back an email saying they don't understand what problems I was having with the email and could I more fully explain what was happening so they could better serve me.

I wrote back and explained that I wasn't having a problem. I was just giving them some feedback or assessment of their new Beta email system. And I re-iterated the features I thought they could improve.

They wrote back and said they had tested my email system remotely and could not duplicate the conditions that were causing my problem.

I wrote back and asked if they had anyone who actually understood English. Then I re-explained myself. That I wasn't having a problem. I was just trying to give them some constructive feedback. And I explained what I didn't like about the new Beta email again.

They wrote back and asked me if I recently updated anything on my system that may account for the problems I was having on my end because everything was checking out on their end.

I wrote back and sarcastically thanked them for all their hard work and that thanks to them I was able to get my computer up and running again.

In the next two days I recieved three surveys asking me to rate my satisfaction with their technical service.

Icarus

He rode the yellow radiant through out the night; sliding past the moonbeams and under the gravity waves. He explored the darkness behind the stars and drew an arc across the spectrum. Then, as he felt he neared the apex of the radiant, he fell.

Upon awakening he surveyed with horror the surrealistic three dimensional scape surrounding him. The surface on which he lay was unyielding yet teaming with life. For once he saw things only in the visible spectrum. He breathed deeply (yes, he had functioning lungs) and tasted a heady aroma of conflicting pungent odors.

It was night and he gazed upward towards the stars that he had so recently roamed and thought if his Sin.

So this was Hell!

Elvis Impersonators

I've been thinking about a very weird group of people. No. It's not my readers (though they are people and most of them are arguably weird). And, no, it's not my neighbors (though they are weird and most of them are arguable people.) I'm talking about Elvis Impersonators.

It seems that twice a year, on the anniversaries of The King's birthday and his death, they seem to come out of the woodwork. I can never keep the dates straight but I can usually feel a disturbance in The Force.

Anyway, I think they hold a completely unique position in our society. This is why. Think about other celebrity impersonators. There are agencies that rent out celebrity look alikes for special occasions and there are people who make entire careers out of celebrity impressions. Or for at least as long as their celebrity is still popular (celebs like Presidents and Tom Cruise for example). There are even male drag queens who work doing impressions of female stars (Carol Channing, Judy Garland). All of these people differ from Elvis impersonators in two aspects.

First, all of these other people give celebrity impressions. They don't believe anyone will actually mistake them for their celebrity. And they chose their celebrity because they share some characteristics with them. They sound like them (voice or singing) or bear some passing physical resemblance. Such as an Abe Lincoln impersonator would probably be tall and thin. But, at some point, someone will look at their performance and say, "O.K., I can see it."

With Elvis impersonators all you need is the white jump suit and the fake hair and sideburns. You can be young or old, fat or thin, tall or short, white or black or Japanese, you can be talented or have none at all and you can still get into this group. What you look like and your talent for mimicry have nothing to do with it.

The second difference is the other celebrity impressionists are usually trying to give tribute to their celebrity. Sometimes they pull it off and sometimes they don't. But they are trying.

Elvis Impersonators generally look bad and sound bad. They are going for it with the broadest of strokes because they know they can get away with it. But, more often than not, they come off as a mockery rather than a tribute. And that's the really sad part.

There is an entire generation who pretty much is only aware of Elvis through these pathetic parodies and have marginalized him as a wack job. I submit that if these impersonators had any respect for Elvis' talent and uniqueness, they would leave the building in shame. Because isn't that the point? Wasn't that what made Elvis the King of Rock and Roll and a larger than life icon? It is because he proved that just anybody can't be The King.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Marooned

I have heen sitting in my dis-abled starfighter for seventeen hours, now. Lt. McCormic, Bobby, died during the dogfight while we were in orbit of this planet.

We were flying back-up for a routine planet strafing mission. Everything was going by the book. The big Azuma Class warships (three of them) had gone planet-side with a load of "clean" atomics on a search-and-destroy mission. Their payload had a half-life of 24 hours. Nothing would be left alive planet-side; but our colony ships would be able to safely run up our flag when they got here.

Suddenly, from the blind side of the planet, a squadron of Zeek starfighters appeared on our tails. Able Flight took heavy casualties in the sneak attack but Baker, my outfit, was able to roust them and send their survivors running. I had felt a pretty vicious jolt shudder through my fusilage during one of the more intense moments, but I wasn't crippled so I ignored it. As soon as the action was over I pulled around in my harness and asked, "Everything jake back there, Bobby?"

All I got back was static on my headset. "Bobby?" I asked again. This time I was able to get the latch free on my harness (against regs but I intend to clean up this journal before any review board sees it) and got turned around all the way.

Bobby McCormic was dead. Apparently a piece of flying debris from some dead Zeek's starfighter had breached our hull and was finally stopped by poor Bobby's helmet. The goo filling his faceplate didn't even make me want to take his helmet off to inspect the wound (another reg I decided to pass on).

Then, just as I was swearing softly, under my breath, all my red warning lights came on at once and I began losing my hydraulics. I really didn't need this.

I turned back around as quick as I could and struggled to get re-buckled in my now tangled harness (some regs make sense). I flipped on my ship-to-ship com to ask for assistance and was rewarded with sparks and fire showering me from the overhead consol. I really didn't need this.

I knew if I was going to have any chance at all of surviving I'd have to drop out of formation and head dirtside. If the rest of my outfit hadn't been so busy patting themselves on the back, one of the S.O.B.'s might have noticed that Mrs. Hutton's youngest son, Ric, wasn't tagging along.
I really didn't need this.

Now, I am sitting in my dis-abled starfighter, with poor dead Bobby McCormic staring at the back of my head through three inches of goo while I stare at my external radiation counter and wonderer whether it will drop into the green zone before I run out of oxygen.

I'm not taking any bets.

John Walsh - Captured

In a coup for the Fox Broadcasting Network John Walsh, fugitive host of America's Most Wanted, was captured during the filming of an episode of Cops. Police were responding to an AMW viewer's tip. Mr. Walsh is the 900th capture credited to the show. He has been on the run since April 1st.

Walsh was holed up in a motel in Baltimore, MD. when he was spotted by an alert viewer. "At first I wasn't sure it was him." stated Bernard Higthombottom. "I mean, he looked like an old man. His hair was grey, and messed up and he was shuffling around the halls in a dirty bathrobe and slippers. I guess I really knew it was him when he said, I'm John Walsh."

When the police arrived Mr. Walsh climbed onto a window cleaner's platform on the fourth floor. "Looking up at him, with his robe flapping in the wind. It's not I sight I want to see again." said policewoman Elaine Drat. "At first I wanted to look higher to see what he was pointing at."

In a tense stand off that lasted several hours, Mr Walsh hurled cleaning supplies at the emergency personel below. At one point he threatened to kill himself by drinking a mixture of amonia and vinegar. He claimed he was being set up by the police for taking credit for all of their hard work. A police spokesman, under conditions of anonimity, has this to say, "No comment."

In what appeared to be a total break with reality, Walsh demanded three Krusty burgers and wanted to speak with Malcolm (a character on Fox's Malcolm in the Middle). When asked why, Mr. Walsh explained, "He's been in worse scrapes that this and it always seems to work out for him."

He was eventually talked down when authorities threatened to send for Jack Bauer. Once he was in custody he became docile and kept telling the police, "You guys are doing a heck of a job!" After being booked Mr. Walsh was moved to a local hospital for psychiatric observation.

A spokesman for Fox said, despite his recent problems, that John Walsh would probably be back on AMW by mid summer. When asked how a man as out of touch with reality as John Walsh is could handle the demands of his job or even have any credibility with the viewing public, he responded, "Hey, Look at Dan Rather and Maury Povich. They're all wack jobs. Besides, it's no secret, John's been nuts for years. I mean, have you even seen the show?"

Avoiding the Comfort Zone

I almost crippled myself this past winter.

Last spring I had my left bicep operated on. I had to immobilize it for six weeks then go through a gradual therapy process. By the end of summer it was starting to feel pretty good but it was still stiff and certain movements hurt like hell. (Such as reaching around and scratching my lower back.) I worked out with light weights and thought I was doing O.K.

But when I was seated in a chair that had arms I would rest my left arm on a small pillow. It seemed to relax my arm and I was more comfortable. I did this throughout the fall and most of the winter. Yet I kept feeling like my arm was getting worse, rather than better. And I began to favor the arm more and more.

Then I realized what was happening. By favoring the arm, using it less because doing certain things hurt, I was weakening it. I was letting the muscles atrophy. And worse yet, by resting it on a pillow while seated, I think the muscle was actually shortening.

Once I realized what I was doing I began working it; doing stretching exercises, lifting weights, using it. Now, after about two months, it feels much better. I have full movement, very little pain and it is strong again.

So what did I learn?

For one thing, the things in life that provide momentary comfort are not always good for you. Resting my arm on the pillow allowed me to be comfortable while watching TV. But the right thing to do would have been to use the arm normally, not to pamper it. I should have lived through the momentary discomfort and just plain used it.

This is true of many other things in life. We tend to protect and pamper ourselves in areas of weakness or pain. It is momentarily more comforting to have the Big Mac and fries than the salad. It is easier to avoid certain people or situations rather than hone our social skills and self confidence. We tend to do just-what-we-have-to with our jobs instead of trying to be the best at whatever it is we do. We put off or avoid the exercise we know we should do in favor of extra sleep in the morning or TV at night.

But worse of all we avoid emotional heartache. We use the pain of the past, or the fear of future failure, as an excuse to cushion our hearts. Our comfort zones become emotional barriers that allow our emotions to atrophy through lack of use. And before long, a wrong word, a misunderstood motive or a social slight becomes a source of great pain. And a reason for further isolation.

The only solution is to realize what we are doing to ourselves and break the cycle of comfort and atrophy. We need to challenge ourselves with life. Enjoy the effort that living life requires rather than always seeking the paths of least resistance. Our intellect, our curiosity, our work ethic, our integrity, and our capacity to love are all muscles that need to be exercised.

Otherwise we slowly cripple ourselves while seeking momentary comfort.

Two Edged Sword

About a dozen years ago I was talking with an old friend about a new movie that I was planning to see. He told me that he probably wouldn't see it because of it's political agenda. Naively, I asked, "What do you mean?"

"It has a sub-text." he answered. "The producers or writers or director are trying to alter your perceptions by incorporating their political views either into the story line or into one of the major characters."

"Really?" I hadn't completely honed my interviewing skills at this point.

"Politics is a good and a bad word for what they are trying to do. On the one hand everything is politics but agendas can be so specific and be presented in such a subtle way that we often times miss them." he continued to explain.

"So what's the problem if they don't hit us over the head with them?" I wondered.

"It's what is called the Big Lie." he said. "It's been around since men could communicate but was first espoused in Nazi Germany. Joseph Goebbles, Hitler's propaganda man, said that if you tell a lie often enough, no matter how outrageous it is, people will start to believe it. Especially if it comes from a seemingly official source."

"Yeah, I knew about that. But we're talking about going to the movies. It's entertainment. I'm not even thinking about politics when I'm at the movies!"

"That's when you are the most vulnerable. Let's take some hypotheticals. O.K.?" He asked.

"O.K." I said.

"Let's say, hypothetically, you were against abortions. And you go to a movie that had a very moving scenario where a major character gets one. Would it alter your opinion?"

"No. It's just one movie and one scene and I would have had a life time to have formed my opinions. So I'd say no." I answered firmly.

"Good." he said, endorsing my answer. "But what if you hadn't quite made up your mind on the issue before seeing the movie? And what if most of the entertainment industry was in favor of this particular agenda? And what if this viewpoint kept showing up in numerous movies and TV shows and newspaper opinions and talk shows. How would all of this normalization of this political issue affect the person on the bubble of deciding?"

"I guess they'd view it as the normal choice to make." I realized.

"And it can also be done using the opposite technique." he continued. "If TV and the movies decided that something was bad, they could have their stories and characters, etc. demonize the issue until people started examining or questioning it. Then the news media could explore the issue as a legitimate news story." he paused. "Don't you see, they can create a political shit-storm out of nothing. Just by telling the lie often enough, no matter how outrageous it is."

I had never realized most of this, before. My friend opened my eyes that day. I was naively going to see movies for their entertainment value, never once considering possible political agendas behind them.

My friend never went to see that movie. I did. He was right about the movie. And it ruined it for me.

Since that day I've been more politically aware. I ask myself why characters take the stands they do and question motives in story lines as well motives behind the cameras. It has clarified my thinking, refined my viewpoints, and given me a greater appreciation for how life works. All of this has helped me as a writer.

It has also ruined a lot of TV and movies for me, as well.