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Showing posts from 2010

Hair Cut

I always look forward to haircuts with something akin to dread. This feeling dates back to some overpriced and frightening experiences in my earlier days. The one that sticks out is when I went to that salon that is over by the Aboite branch of the library. Aside from the fact that it cost 24 dollars--before tip--the trip also bears the dubious honor of leaving me with the worst haircut I have ever received; a most scarring event. I also happened to be cutting my hair at its longest point, so I was going from awesome but impractical soccer player hair, to "my hair, what have you done to my hair!" I payed quietly and went home to let my dear mother fix it, as I was not about to trust them with what was left of my hair. So, if you ever wondered why it is that I always seem to go so long between haircuts, you now know that it is because I have some sort of irrational dread surrounding them.

Place Tongue Firmly in Cheek.

I always wonder if the fact that I am poking fun at myself comes through, or whether I seem like a little Napoleon. My favourite brand of sarcasm is that of which my target is blissfully unaware, and I hope that my self deprecations are not as stealthy as some of the sarcasm; that is to say, please tell me that people don't actually take my self-aggrandizing hyperbole seriously. It was something that I began doing with my brothers and Winston some years ago. We would go about listing all of our virtues, getting more ridiculous with each utterance, and then we would finish by congratulating each other on how humble we are. So, for future notice, when you ask whether I'm doing well in school, or am going to get an A, yada, yada, yada...I hope it is not taken seriously when I answer "Of course," or, "What would you expect?" I spend whole weekends with exam results nibbling at the back of my brain. These answers are actually me just poking fun at myself. The sam

Bow Tie Guy.

Did I ever mention that I gave up my campaign to have our store carry Bow-Ties? While I have succeeded in talking a decent number of young men to wear bow-ties--my proof being their bow-tie clad figures coming to greet me while I worked--I find that I no longer wish to encourage too much in this direction. I do not want the bow-tie to make a strong comeback; it is my own, personal, beloved, and distinctive swag. Not only is it my swag, but I am yet to come across anyone in my age range who really pulls it off as well as I do. Indeed, the only person I've seen who can do it better is the gentleman from whom I stole the look. Now, let me make this very clear. I love my bow-ties, and it is perfectly understandable if you love my bow-ties too. You need, however, to realize that you cannot pull it off. Ok, I'm sure you looked cool enough in your plain clothes, but you do not have the bone structure to carry off that tie; it is eating your head; take it off. Your greasy hipster wanna

More For Less.

I have learned recently--this coincides with the advent of my disposable income--that it is so easy to impulse-buy. It is the art of the deal--"bite now, because you may never get another chance this good when it comes to this item." Never mind that you had absolutely no desire for the product before you saw it, and that it will almost certainly be cheaper in the near future. I never was an impulse buyer; I was the person who waited more than a year before buying a new product, in order to buy it at greatly reduced prices. I would read dozens of reviews and learn as much as I could before I even considered a purchase in the realms of technology, music, or shoes. Working in a Men's clothing department has introduced a new challenge to my buying habits, and I admit that I did not handle it well at the outset. It is not easy to be constantly surrounded by various attractive clothing items, knowing that I have ways to procure them for a "bargain price." There some

Groverous Chilvalry.

In the course of pretending to not read, there were a great many little gems I read, one of which I will share with you today. When I was rather young--think five here--I had a book that revolved around Grover, you know, the blue fellow from Sesame Street. Part of the reason I think I was five, was because Grover was going to school for the first time, and I imagine that is the reason that I, who had just turned five and was entering kindergarten, received this book in the first place. The great conflict of this work revolves around lunch in the cafeteria. The girl sitting with Grover wants to trade her Bologna sandwich for his PB&J. Grover does not really want to trade sandwiches, and he really hates Bologna, but he sees how much she really wants to trade. Ultimately, Grover decides that he will trade his own beloved PB&J for her Bologna, just to make her happy. And even though he went out later and shed some solitary tears of hunger and frustration, he did the right thing and

Learning to Chill

Last night, while in an advanced state of tired, I failed to set my alarm properly. This morning I woke up at 8:15. I decided to forgo any chance of making it to my first class and just prepared for the second, which was, as I later found, impossible. Have you ever seen me draw? It is perhaps the only thing in this world that is more painfully twisted than my handwriting. Today we were tasked with drawing a character we could play for a children's show. We are supposed to teach the chillun' something, through the doings of this character. As expected, the drawing of this character was a horrifying process, and not in the least successful. I have, however, made great strides in another area. When it came time to show around my abysmal little pièce de résistance, I felt no real qualms. This is in contrast to a couple years ago, when it would have resulted in a massive coronary...or at least a bright red blush. I am not so embarrassed by little trifles like that anymore, and I h

The Peoples Opium.

Theater class was interesting today. My professor was laying down the riot act; you either vote, or forfeit rights to whine about the results. You are making a tacit consent. He then posited that America was in a decline of power; not a small recent trend in his mind, but one that is ongoing. He said that this election is important because it is a choice between continuing with the remedy envisioned by the democrat party, or taking a chance on a republican remedy. In his opinion this is a key election in deciding the fate of America, which he postulated without making a single comment that would tell you what party he supported. Deftly done. Marx said that religion was the opium of the people. While I disagree with this in many respects, I believe he is not entirely removed from the truth. Optimism is the opium of the people. Optimism is often needed to dull the pain of difficult situations, but optimism is just a drug to keep you from fainting while dealing with the problem. The probl

Utility Team.

I have every intention of putting in a transfer application to the utility team at Penney's soon. I am already a noted useful, helpful, hardworking, commodity within the store, so it will be no sweat with Winston's recommendation. My reasons for wanting to switch are many, but I'll give you a taste of the main ones. 1) My managers know that I will take on about any task and not complain about it, because of this they come right to me with work, and do not go to whinier co-workers. 2) I get to deal with all of the hassles of the customers, without being in a position to pad any of the numbers that lead to raises. I work like a dog, am sometimes treated like a dog, but it doesn't show in their numbers. 3) I like the members of the utility team more than a lot of the men's people. 4) Next week I am scheduled for 27 hours. When I was hired I was promised that I would not work more than 20 hours during a school week. I have had to have this fixed 5 times now, and despite

New Vegas

Dear Reader, You may have noticed in the course of your acquaintances with me, but I am a total, shameless, geek. It is only with the utmost self control that I do not, this instant, rush out the door, drive to best buy, park on the curb, rush through the store, and procure Fallout: New Vegas. I have this love/hate relationship with post apocalyptic literature. I find it fascinating, but tend to scratch furrows in my face over the dystopian quality. The Fallout series combines excellent post-apocalyptic environs and stories, with a refreshing spritz of hope, and the ability to influence the world. I get the same brand of satisfaction from civilization. You bring order from chaos--or vice versa--with civilization having a global perspective, and Fallout having a very personal, human, perspective. I will wait until the game of the year edition comes out, but it is going to hurt.

Blasphemy

Douglass Preston and Lincoln Child write some fantastic word crack. Every time one of their books comes out I consume it with eager ferocity. Blasphemy was a disappointment. Douglass Preston is a good writer, but in this last solo effort he sacrificed his story telling to his agenda. I felt sorry for him. A solid fifth of the book was a strident defense of the big bang. The big bang, as my distinguished readers already know, depends on the theory that things happen without a cause. The big bang just happened; it is without causality. There can be no proof in the absence of cause, so this must be a frustrating position to hold. He spends long segments expounding on theory, which would be better titled hypothesis, since it comes in the absence of observation and evidence. He also spends time showing what barbarians the christian evangelicals are. In the course of his book various christian groups take steps and perform lunacies that would never happen outside the imagination of a man wh

Like a Man.

I love the order of the divine service. I am yet to find any aspect of it that is arbitrary or accidental; it all has a purpose. In his sermon on Sunday, His Excellency My Pastor made an important distinction. The Kingdom of God is not like a wedding feast; it is not to feasts that Christ compares His kingdom, but to men. The Kingdom of God is not like a feast, but like a man; The Man, Jesus Christ. It is so easy to listen without comprehending, and it is only yesterday another--obvious--aspect of the brilliance of the liturgy became clear to me, with the help of Pastor's correction on perspective. The Divine Service is a feast--The Feast--in which the Kingdom of God comes to us in the form of a man; The Man. The Kingdom of God is perfect and to be perfect is to be like Our Lord. We cannot clothe ourselves for this occasion, so He clothes us in his own innocence . We are not, however, merely being prepped as guests, but as His own bride; that we might be joined to Him in His F

We Are No Different.

An item or service is worth what someone is willing to pay for it. The same is true of wage slaves. The country is outraged by corporate greed and the incredible amounts of money made by CEOs and other high corporate officers. I am astounded too, but I am more astounded by the fact that people cannot understand why it happens. Take Lebron James, if you know nothing about basketball, then the tens of millions that he makes are ridiculous. If, however, you do know basketball, then you already know the reason; he is the best and everyone wants him. The pay is competitive. As for those who would argue that CEOs from companies that fail should have their pay confiscated, would they make the same argument for Kevin Garnett's stint in Minnesota? He was a constant MVP candidate and even won it one round and he made top dollar, but his team was still consistently at the bottom. Does a team failure mean that the star should never have been paid? None of us could do the things that a CEO does

Tired, not Sleepy.

*Danger* *Point of no return* I am at war. There is no enemy except the one within, and my task is not to fight him, but to keep him disciplined. The most annoying thing about this battle is that, in my everyday surroundings, the longer and better that I hold my discipline the more it becomes a burden. It is abnormal in the eyes of society, and abnormality is a grievous sin. I will not comply and my non-compliance is often misconstrued as dysfunction. I do not have a girlfriend. There is a lot of weight in that phrase. Healthy American males of my age are expected to form romantic attachments. If they do not form any attachments of this kind, it is often thought that 1) We are not sufficiently attractive, or, 2) We are merely anti-social. What on earth could possibly be wrong with me? Why is that child unable/unwilling to attract a mate? Has he been gelded? Is he afraid??? My pride would just as soon answer them by doing as they expect. What better way to shut them up than to give up a

Fellow Employees

I should note that not all areas of my work are disappointments. The fellow employees are more than decent and my time is normally spent in constant movement. The suit guys are some of my favorites. Tom is the picture of quiet dignity; Mike is hilarious; Dave is a study in confidence and charisma; and Greg is probably the most positive and friendly person in the store. In the Mature Men's area the regulars are: Cathy, who is on the quiet side, but polite; Kim H, who is the most competent and useful person in the area; and Kim K, who makes for excellent conversation. Young Adult's regulars are: Tony, a geek, with whom I feel kinship; Josh...yeah, Josh; Kurtis, who is a wellspring of sexually explicit comebacks; and Kirk, who manages to maintain dignity and be on fire for the lord at the same time, which is to say, unique. The Floaters including: Me, my favourite person in the store, bar none; Heather, who seems to have Jacqui's disease and begins shivering violently every ti

People: 1 More Reason I Don't Like Them Anymore

I realize that I should write much more often, but this work thing can be a little more intense than I first imagined, especially when coupled with school. Energy wanes and never waxes leaving me with this moderately irritable mood and a desire to see a large part of the American public beaten. There is a pettiness that seems to reside in a great part of the customers I work with; a general attitude that says that you will meet their demands, or that they will make your life more difficult. That I am required to be polite to people who intentionally make my life harder galls me. There are many 40-year-old men who are in need of a good dressing down; they act like spoilt children, throw tantrums when they don't get their way, and treat us poorly when their screw-up goes beyond what we can fix. A woman who came in on Sunday brought back well worn clothing without a receipt and demanded a return. She was, of course, turned down. She then held conference with her teens, which conferenc

And on the Second Day...

...Learned he many useless things, but he was on the clock, and it was good. I learned--from a small cadre of utility team members--that my coming was long foretold. I am apparently expected to cast a couple of obnoxious co-workers into my shadow, even into the outer darkness thereof. Apparently my future division is home to a couple blockheads who don't like actual work, and who feel that utility should do some of their work. Utility, in the common tongue, translates to Winston. Funny. I had more time and better opportunity to get the measure of some of my future co-workers today. I've been back behind the closed doors of the training area this whole time, so when my lunch break came around, I slunk out through a side exit and came back in and played customer. Some of my fellow employees were incredibly friendly, much better than the peops in the training videos (gag me with a serrated pitck-fork). There were others, however, that had guessed my secret; they knew that I would,

National Youth Gathering

So, tell me. If that warm feeling that you have while you sit there flapping your arms around is the Peace of God; then what do you think it means when the world seems so very cold and lonely? Just a Thought....

The Helpless Beauty

My sister is sitting here watching BYU-TV (Mormon) channel. She is watching a program that rivals NCIS in terms of the skill with which the dialogue is delivered. I am sitting here gagging on my own bile and she sits there enjoying it. As often happens in such cases as these, my memory of certain incidents is suddenly coming back very strong. I think I'll share. You know how literature set in the Regency and Victorian eras is replete with women who swoon all over creation, are dead sure that their minor medical issues are terminal, and fret over bad vapours. I always thought these were a myth and very clearly exaggerated. You might have noticed the same. This particular kind of female still exists, though not nearly in the quantities that writers describe in the aforementioned eras. Today I am going to share my observations on a modern specimen of this variety, who, for convenience sake, we will call Bethany. On one particular instance this young woman--having eaten enough Chinese

The Mall: a Scary Place.

It is a sad fact that I have neglected this blog, in spite of having some excellent ammunition thrown my way. I start to blog and just feel no motivation to finish. The simple circumstances of my life have undergone only one major change, and that is the fact that I will be employed at JCPenny's by the end of the week. The interviews went swimmingly and met with nothing but dazzling smiles, at least, until I met with the area manager. She was one of those people who exudes cold confidence--think Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada"--and shows no sign of what she is thinking; she, too, in the end gave me a dazzling smile. So, barring a felony or two on my record, I will be in the men's department in a few short days. On another note, I have forgotten how to hula-hoop; this must be rectified. Because of these interviews I spent an unusually long span of time in the mall, which experience was harrowing, to say the least. I could not help but notice all of the grotesqu

Father's Day

For Father's day I have a very simple blessing. May all those born into this world be granted a father as good as mine.

Cranky Overflow

My recent inability to get a job has been gnawing at me, like some small and exceedingly pugnacious animal. I think a large part of this stems from my knowledge that I wasted two years when I should have been looking for a job. Before the recession my inexperience would have meant little to the job seeking process; everyone was hiring. Now, instead of having the previous work experience that companies desire, I have never held an hourly job and have no way to separate myself from the teeming masses. If I could get to an interview I might stand a chance. There is definite guilt present; this is all a result of my laziness and procrastination in prior years. I was remiss before, and now, when I really need it, I am unable to obtain gainful employment. Couple this with my current dissatisfaction with political realities and my general antipathy toward a sizable portion of people my age, and you get a stereotype a la Despair or the Onion; a disaffected and moody college student. Oh, wait,

Mutiny on the Bounty

We were watching Mutiny on the Bounty tonight, and Fatherman was wondering at the verity of the account and whether we knew what happened on Pitcairn Island. Being me, I had to research the truth. The account is not quite accurate. Christian was a fair and just leader, well regarded by most. But, one day, a member of the British contingent made a still. It all goes downhill from there, with christian getting killed trying to stop the fighting Brits and islanders. The ship did get burned, though. That is not where I found the true discrepancies in the story. Lieutenant William Bligh, as he was during the narrative, would be best described as a hero. Bligh was not a technically a member of the Royal Navy when he made the expedition, but was a merchant captain who agreed to take the mission. The reason for the mutiny was not actually Bligh's cruelty--Bligh was uncommonly lenient when it came to punishment, preferring his sharp tongue to the whip--but the British sailors unwillingness

I Am Most Seriously Displeased

Pagan conspiracy!!! How does it come to be that the first Indy 500 I go to in ten years is on Trinity? No way. Of all the unholy anomalies! A veritable masterstroke of the Devil, the world, and my sinful nature. I am stunned, shocked, and appalled!!!

Buzzkill

I think that many of my gloomy ruminations of late come directly from my reading material, which has been, mostly, history. Right now I am working through The Guns of August, which is an absolute masterpiece, which is heavily involved with the people and personalities that drove the beginning of WWI. The imperfection of men is never more apparent than when it executes poor military plans, which were recognized by those executing them as a poor course of action, resulting in the deaths of tens of millions. The reason the plans were exercised was pride and a fear of losing face. The Kaiser went from nervous, right before he declared war, to being absolutely debilitated by migraines after. He never intended to actually start a war; he only wanted to posture and make France and Britain recognize Germany as superior. He was bluffing and he never believed France and England would call his bluff. German strategists even published their strategies for taking France by going through Belgium in

My Issue with Beck.

Glenn Beck is the most astute and powerful political commentator of our time. His words have illuminated the darkness that surrounds the American political establishment, and he has a tremendous knack for finding and drawing the lines between corrupt figures. Whether you are a fan or not, only a fool--or someone who has not listened to him--would question his obvious intelligence and preternatural ability to sniff out lies. He is instrumental in the current political awakening. That said, the man is driving me totally batty. The current conservative movement has this asinine notion that God has chosen America for excellence. America, historically, is exceptional; it is the one time in human history when the form of government was devised by wise men in a time of peace. The American people are those who were willing to risk everything for the opportunity to live a better life and worship in accordance with their consciences. The fact that much of our population came here because of reli

Life Changing Experience.

An experience for the ages--the one we have all been waiting for--I just watched Twilight: New Moon! I am still reeling from the joy of this experience. My lungs are still empty from the *oomph* that was the powerful delivery of Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart. My mouth is still filled with a biting tang, which resulted from my heaving with ecstasy at the touching and subtle romantic scenes. The acting was unlike anything I have ever seen. Delivered with a wooden aspect and unrelenting melodrama, the dialog could have been written by teenage girls. Edward Cullen's whispered cliches are absolutely masterful, and only matched by the surly self-hate of Kristen Stewart, who is just so good that she manages to make everyone around her look better...much better. Taylor Lautner, sadly, does not match up to their measure. His performance has none of their memorability, but at least he has looks and personality. The score. Ah, the score! It never meets you with anything unexpected an

Mother Abigail

I have been trying for a long time to figure out why they put so much into Ablaze$ . I think the strongest insight I have received--thus far--has come from Stephen King. His book, The Stand, is a masterpiece of post-apocalyptic fiction. There is one character in particular who opened my eyes to a grim possibility. I will not say much here because I believe that this is a book that should be on any 'to read' list. Perhaps I have been naive the whole time, but something I read earlier made sudden sense. They (synodical bureaucrats) believe that they are bringing the people. As the King character said, it is the sin of pride; thinking that you must provide the people for God's purpose. They are rational bureaucrats. They pay lip service to God's ability to provide, but instead of using synodical resources to send out priests to baptize and celebrate in poor regions of the world, they spend the resources trying to draw more people; people with money. They do not trust that

I Never Even Think About It...

The Shewoof--a generally brilliant and dazzling character--pointed out again--to someone who should have known--one of the greatest distinctions that separates a homeschooler from the average; something that I always forget that people need explained. My dear, dear, friend always wonders why I work so doggedly; as he says, I could have the A with a third of the work. His questions have the wrong focus; it is not about the grade. I work well after I have my A because I want to learn; not just to be stamped with a letter that says I learned. I don't know why, but I am always so shocked when people don't understand that concept. What else is education for? PS: I have it on fairly good intelligence that all three individuals under this roof will be out at midnight, barking at the moon; It's the tacos.

Thoughts of the Morning

This morning I realized that I have a desperate need for more bandannas; this being brought on by the fact that most of mine are pretty monotone. Also, I couldn't help but notice that my morning ritual in the bathroom took three songs. Shewoof's took (like) a whole Five for Fighting CD, and yet, she will protest to her dying breath that she doesn't take that long. We know the truth. Certain pictures are better left unshared. I am sad that Lala will be gone. I feel like an Irish hooligan has taken a brickbat to my head. And I need to sign up for a new math placement test sometime this summer. The requirements for the class I want to get into were surpassed by my first test, but I was not a Liberal Arts major yet. *Le sigh* This slate of classes was too easy; I need classes that make me work and think. Plus, I like it when more of my grade comes from my written work than from my exams. Just my thoughts this morning. ...and why is it so hot in here???

Ablaze!

I do not believe I have ever publicly expressed my thoughts on this program. I think I'll say something brief tonight. Ablaze is a parasite, leeching off the potential for missionary work by the LCMS. It is a budget black hole. It reads like an ill conceived corporate scheme, and I daresay that any corporate scheme this ambiguous, poorly structured, poorly managed, and unrealistic would end in bankruptcy...wait. Worse than the fact that this sounds like some loony business craze, it is pillaging the coffers that should be used to spread the Word of God where it cannot be found in its truth and purity. Instead, we are spending it on the aforementioned hair-brained scheme. To find a Lutheran pastor in the United States is no great task. There are lots of us here and we have the ability to receive the sacraments just about anywhere. The church is here; God will provide the faithful. How many places in the world are there no missions? In how many places are the peoples cut off from the

Guerrilla Cat

The Cat--the mean one--and I are sort of like Palestinians and Israelis. Every so often the cat comes to try and slash my shapely leg to ribbons, and I respond by poking the cat with a cane or umbrella every time it tries to get to me. The cat never says exactly why she is going after me, but she makes a bunch of loud noises and tries to blame me for the incident; I have my sneaking suspicions that it is over territory. The cat is by no means my equal in combat, but she is sneaky and uses rocket fast attacks from behind. Moreover, it is very difficult to hunt the cat down in the many hidden places of the house. The rest of the household sits around and waits for me to land the final blow on that cat; they all know the cat will work it out of me eventually, and I expect to be condemned in the strongest language possible, but sanctions are unrealistic. Oh well.

Video Games

Video games are a perennial issue, and a favourite citation for armchair philosophers who pontificate on just what is wrong with the world. Video games and violence is one of the more overstressed pairings of recent parental and academic concern. O'Reilly tells us that we have to protect the children. Never mind that his childhood memoirs contain more instances of combat than many of us will ever know; kids are just more violent these days. Are they really more violent, or is it just the omnipresence of video recording devices? In the last year it is not the children who have been bringing the guns to school. I would contend that we react more violently to their violence. From my reading of older American lit, and in hearing older people talk about their childhood, I would be lead to believe that a brief fistfight between school children was more acceptable then than it is now; still frowned on, but not likely to lead to immediate expulsion. Bullying, which is tied to most school v

Reaching for Summer.

Early this afternoon I finished with my final regular class of this semester, and that fact does not come without a certain relief. There is a mingled sadness that goes with it. Some of my classes seemed like--and were!--pointless drudgery, but I have a couple classes I am really going to miss. Bartky is incredible, and though I do not agree with everything that he says, at least he makes me think about my every political position. I leave his class feeling like a much more educated human being, and a better citizen for it. I have gained invaluable arguments and defenses for my political beliefs and a much greater understanding of the thought which shaped my beliefs. I will definitely be taking future classes with him. The other class that I will miss is German. Again, this class always leaves me with the feeling that I know more than when I came in. I can feel and measure my progress. I can actually understand most of the lyrics when I listen to Revolverheld, and that is in itself gra

Girls and Acolyting.

Acolyting in the Divine Service is incredibly fulfilling. No matter how hard you try to hold it down, you are always in grave danger of a gentle warming of the heart. It is good. It is the closest we get to perfection on earth. Young men who join the Corp are being introduced to the service of Our Lord. They have the opportunity, should they so desire, to continue on to preforming a greater service in the Office of the Holy Ministry. Every single one of my guys will have that choice. Winston--my dear friend and predecessor as Captain of Acolytes--is going to be a pastor, which is no great surprise. I believe my middle brother is also intending to be a pastor. Once you become accustomed to the Service...it is not so easy to leave it. Even when I sit out for a month or so--allowing the younger guys to get more practice--when I next serve there is a sense of return, of things being in their right place. It is right. At this time, I am afraid that I do not intend to become a pastor. I have

...By the Grace of God.

What is it to be an acolyte? Any acolyte worth his salt--any of my guys--could tell you that it is a servant, not an "altar boy" or a "candle lighter." Well what does that mean? We all look the same don't we? The truth is that it means nothing outside of the context of the Divine Service. Have you ever noticed the waiters at a really nice restaurant? They aren't chummy like most waiters, but they are immaculately dressed and have absolutely rhadamanthine discipline. The immaculate dress is always the same; they have a uniform. The waiter is not important; he serves to make sure that the service in the restaurant goes smoothly and lend to the dignity of the environment. The best waiter are almost unnoticeable as they preform their duties. An acolyte has a uniform; it covers over his individuality, physique, and personality. It is the same as every other acolyte around him. We are all the same, and it is not we that matter, but that which we serve. We are ther

Misunderstanding the Significance of Religion in the Cold War

Cold War era American politicians sound like baptists. They had to mention God 8-9 times a paragraph; they sound like holy warriors on a crusade. We ridicule them for this. We say to ourselves, "If only we had been there with our reason and modern sensibilities; the cold war could have lasted just a few months." We see how they blew things out of proportion. What should have been a conversation became a deathmatch. If only they could have benefited from our sophistication. They also sound like a bunch of nationalistic lunatics. "Freedom this," and, "Freedom that." Lines and lines about the superiority of our idea of freedom, our brand of freedom, and our acting out of freedom. They sound like Tea-baggers and maniacs. If only they could have benefited from our sophistication. What has our sophistication brought? To understand later problems we must first examine the way our views of freedom changed. The progressive era saw many changes, but the only one I a

Against The Rising Tide of Darkness.

*Journal of Patrick--Captain of Acolytes by the Grace of God--for April 16th in the Year of Our LORD 2010* Woke up early. Clouds build on the horizon. Have been tasked to reinforce seminarian moving division. Coffee not strong enough. Heading for church to make rendezvous with the Holy Father. Arrive at church; Holiness arrives shortly thereafter. Heading up to temporary encampment. Arrive at temporary base, assist with pack-up. Glenn Beck and Gandalf present for work. Making way with Glen and subordinates to drop off supplies at Fort Redeemer. So far no resistance. Finished massive supply unload, have received messenger from main unit: Horses have been unshod and lamed, send immediate reinforcement with replacements. I am closest to nearest stable, taking small task force to requisition the necessary goods. Arrive at Petersen Stable. All is quiet. Bad feeling about this.... Sitting within the walls of my fortress, I will now take time to put to paper the earlier events that followed m

Peaks and Valleys.

Today started in a valley that I like to call "waking up." It is a very tiresome place to be; for it is very hard to see anything and there always seems to be a cat under your feet. We moved along until reaching a slow ascent to this neat little peak called "time with friends." This peak started with breakfast with Theo and Pippin, and moved on to coffee with Brian, Joe, and John. This time was very good for my delicate psyche and included plenty of laughter and butchered German words. The good times extended right through German and all the way up to walking back to Kettler with Winston. Things get ugly after that. I returned to the library to meet with my Com classmates. I stayed in the place where we were supposed to meet and stayed there for fifteen minutes. I then made arrangements for extraction. After those arrangements were made I spent the next half hour waiting for my Com mates/scouring the library to make sure they hadn't situated themselves elsewhere