The Strength of the Human Spirit
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Posted:Dec 4, 2006 8:16 am
Last Updated:Dec 26, 2006 9:56 am
3166 Views
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I was watching College Game Day on ESPN Saturday morning. I never expected to be humbled, reduced to tears and inspired by something I saw. I was wrong. I saw a story about a student at the University of Louisville. The segment spotlighted an unlikely member of the University of Louisville Marching Band.
The young man in the story was born without eyes. He is confined to a wheelchair because of a problem with his legs. From the age of 2 he was able to play requests on the piano. He began playing publicly about the age of 7. He also plays the trumpet. The talented youngster has play at The White House, The Grand Old Opry, and many other famous venues. He also has released a CD that includes a number of his original songs. The young man was approached by director of the marching band and asked to join because of his outstanding musical ability. He agreed to join but wanted to march. He did not want to be a sideshow for the band. They devised a play so he could “march”. The student’s Father would push him through the performance in an all terrain wheel chair.
That is the second part of the story, the Father. The gentleman works the night shift for UPS. He goes home and sleeps a few hours. Then he accompanies his to his classes all day. Then to Marching Band practice only to return home to start all over again. The Father simply said “I knew I would never be able to throw a ball with my , but we have music that is our joy”. The youngman is also a member of the pep band that plays for the basketball team, of course his father is by his side, beaming with pride.
Until Next Time
I am as always in awe of the human spirit
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Sexually Frustrated Penguins
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Posted:Nov 30, 2006 9:57 am
Last Updated:Dec 6, 2006 6:26 am
3209 Views
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My education through high school was Catholic. That explains a lot about me. I like to say I served 12 years and was paroled actually graduated. I have a friend who was educated from Kindergarten through the Doctorate level by the Jesuits. He is one bitter dude. Three of my first four teachers and the school principal were nuns. That is were the sexually frustrated penguins come in. All incidents and traits are depicted to the best of my ability. I have shortened the names for my safety and protection. 
Sister J my first grade teacher was quick tempered. Her superpower was her sharp tongue and sarcastic comments. She could reduce a to tears in seconds. Not the cuddly sweet first grade teacher one would want for their . When she got mad this was often. She would slam things, doors, drawers and books on desk tops. The thing that really sticks in my mind was she divided the classroom into groups. Seems normal right? She labeled the groups good, average and poor based on reading ability. She would often remind the poor and average readers of their status.
Sister D, my third grade teacher, her superpower was the ability to turn scarlet red in a split second when she was angry. That was often. She had a shrill voice and screeched rather than screamed. Garbage cans were her victim of choice. They got tipped over and kicked, better them then us.
Sister CA, my fourth grade teacher, she had super human strength. I give this as evidence of her power. One morning John C, (I actually remember his entire name) said he could not find his reading book. Sister CA said, “...let me help you!” The next thing you saw was John and his desk in the air. Sister CA picked up the desk with him in it. She shook the desk until all the books fell on the floor. John was hanging on; she shook the desk until he fell on the floor. She causally set the desk back down and went back to the board and started teaching again. She left the school a few months later to “rest”
Sister EM, the principal had multiple superpowers. She combined the chameleon like ability of Sister D with the super human strength of Sister CA. Sister EM wielded a paddle the size of a boat oar. She kept it hidden under her dress. It would suddenly appear in her hand as if my magic. She could turn more than one shade of red. This was mood dependent. Like all those with super powers she had a side kick. Sister ML who taught 8th grade was always by the principal’s side. Sister ML had super vocal cords and emitted ear piercing, skull fracturing rants and raves. I suspect her boobs had powers too, because she was always adjusting bra straps.
I saved the most dangerous teacher of the all for last, the wannabe nun. Mrs. S, my second grade teacher who also taught writing to me in the third grade. I previously discussed her ruler antics during writing class. The lady moved like a cat. She would be on one side of the room smacking a . Suddenly my hand would sting as she appeared at my desk. She had a voice that would shatter windshields at 100 yards. She hypnotized classes of with her flapping bus driver arms which continued to move long after she stopped writing on the board. She drove a surplus police car, like The Blues Brothers. (That is where the penguin reference came from.) This only added to the mystery of this woman. Her true gift was lunch patrol. She carried a paddle all the time and used it with out hesitation or remorse. She moved silently and struck swiftly like a post menopausal ninja.
I found out one day she carried more than one paddle. I did something she did not like and whack she got me. Then she took another swing and crack the paddle broke in her hand.
Victory was mine.
I could not have been more wrong. All I could say was “wow” She grabbed me and shook me a few times. She pushed me away mumbling something as she tossed the broken paddle in the trash can. A new paddle appeared in her hand. She went back to lunch duty. My statue in the school rose that day.
I did get a good education. The school had few problems. The teachers actually ran the school. Things have changed a bit since then.
Until Next Time
I am as always watching for penguins
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WHO SAID THAT?
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Posted:Nov 29, 2006 10:35 am
Last Updated:Dec 14, 2006 9:07 am
3032 Views
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"Crazy people are not the only ones with voices in their heads.” Those words screamed at me last night. No…. not from my head, but from the TV. I had the TV on for noise while working in the kitchen. It was on the SCI-FI channel. The show Dead Like Me was on.
WARNING: I am going to digress into a brief explanation of the show. It ran on Showtime from Jun 2003 to Oct 2004. The show follows a group of undead grim reapers around as the collect souls just prior to the body’s death. They do this to save the souls the pain of death. No judgment of the souls final destination is made they are simply collected and sent on. I now return you to my post
It went on we all have voices in our heads. Our Mother’s voice, our inner voice, and countless others can be in there. The trick is to decide who to let in our heads. Once in our heads what voice should we listen to?
I took some comfort in hearing this. I hear the voices of others in my head all the time. Perhaps I should explain the how and when this happens. A few examples follow:
On the rare occasions I handwrite something I hear the voice of Mrs. S. my writing teacher in the third grade. “You are just like your brother. Neither of you can write neatly.” Then I feel the whack of the ruler on the back of my hand. She made us put a nickel on our hands when we wrote. The idea was to write by moving your entire arm not just your hand. If you wrote with your hand the nickel fell on the desk. She would hear the nickel fall and smack your hand with a ruler. My next post will be a tribute to my elementary education at the hands of a pack of rabid nuns and angry wanna-bes
When I am struggling with a task and not having a great deal of success. I hear the voice of Lou my first boss saying “You look like a monkey trying to fuck a football”
I hear my Mother saying: “Remember this it is history happening in front of your eyes” I remember watching Neil Armstrong walk on the moon in the summer of 1969. I remember watching the Mets with the World Series in 1969. I remember watching Richard Nixon resigning in 1974. I say the same thing to my now. For the life of me I can’t remember which things I made him watch.
I hear movies in my head too. Animal House in particular.
When I watch my eat and make a mess I hear Babs say “That Boy is a PEE EYE GEE PIG”
When I do something dumb I hear Dean Wormer utter “Fat, Drunk and Stupid is no way to go through life, ” I have that quote on my MP 3 player too. That keeps things in perspective.
Some of you are in here too. When I read I hear the author’s voice in my head reading to me. If I have talked to you it is your actual voice. If not it is how I think you would sound. This is something I do subconsciously.
Those are the voices I hear. Who else is in here that I don’t? Your guess is as good as mine. There are others in here I am sure. I pay no attention to them. I simply tune them out like I do with lots of people outside my head. Sometimes being easily distracted is a blessing. I never realized how crowded it was in my head until now.
Until Next Time
I am as always
dropping my nickel
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Coffee, Tea, or Soap
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Posted:Nov 21, 2006 9:07 am
Last Updated:Nov 29, 2006 12:48 pm
3047 Views
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I had the best flight across country last week. I had the aisle seat next to the aft restroom. Next to me sat this young guy in his early twenties. After 20 minutes or so I began to notice a smell. No it was a stink, smell does not begin to cover it. I thought it was the restroom at first. No such luck it was not that sickenly sweet airplane lavatory smell. This was good old fashion BEEEE OOOOHHHHHH.
My first thought was is that me? I did the sniff test of my own pits. Not a bed of roses, but not offensive either. Then it hit me…the guy to my right reeked.
I have worked construction and I sweat lots. I changed shirts 3 or 4 times a day. Put on more deodorant. In an effort not to offend my customers .
I know so people do not bath on a regular basis for personal reasons. That is all well and good, but please bath before getting on a cross country plane flight. His clothes were not visibly dirty. He took the time to style his hair, not a strand out of place. So there was time for a freshwater washdown . I related this story to a good friend. They reminded me of Phoebe’s song Smelly Cat. I altered the words a bit….
Smelly Guy Smelly Guy
Stinking up the Airplane
Smelly Guy Smelly Guy
It’s all your funk
They’ll let you on the airplane
Your obviously don’t use soap
You are not a bed of roses
And your no friend to our noses
Until Next Time
I am as always stopping to smell the roses
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Neutered Dogma for Sale
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Posted:Nov 20, 2006 7:11 pm
Last Updated:Nov 28, 2006 7:34 am
2866 Views
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I lost my pet dogma years ago. May be you have seen it. My dogma did not run away from me. I ran over it. It was black and white flecked with of guilt spots. It knew tricks. It could sit, stand, speak and kneel on command. Other than that it is most inflexible. It would not even lick itself, something about going blind.
As I aged I came to find out what goes around really does come around. At some point I was introduced to the concept of Karma. It reinforced the golden rule. I also came to learn that there were historical explanations for the top ten do not do list. I decided it was time to fix my dogma. The black and white of my pet dogma began to fade. The guilt spots became fewer in number and lost a great deal of their intensity.
My dogma did not go quietly. It fought back. It barked, snarled and raised its hackles at its impending neutering. As the grayness of reality began to envelope it I saw a transformation in myself. I became more tranquil and peaceful. I began to see the power in my new found Karma with the golden rule wheels. Good deeds bring good back. Bad deeds bring bad in return.
Instant Karma is rare, the payout or payback can be delayed for many years
The final straw was when my pet Dogma pissed on the wheels of my new Karma. I needed to change my dogma once and for all
I climbed in to my Karma and backed over the sucker.
Until next time
I am as always curbing my dogma
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Giant Killer Cows and ME
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Posted:Nov 15, 2006 9:00 am
Last Updated:Nov 20, 2006 8:38 pm
3294 Views
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I had a flashback this evening. I was talking to a friend on the phone barns came up in the course of the conversation. I was immediately transported back to when I was 6. No, dinosaurs did not roam the earth then. Killer cows however did.
The story starts with my older brother trying to round up his horses. He is almost 20 years older than I am. That is important to the story The horses were mixed in with a herd of cows. My brother needed to separate the horses and cows. The horses need to be herded into a corral for the vet. My brother and his friends were going to separate the animals as they drove them through the pasture. My job was to hold a bucket of sweetfeed {Sweetfeed is like granola for horses, mixture of oats, cracked corn, vitamins, and wet molasses,} waiting for the horses to come over the hill. I was to lead the horses into the corral using the sweetfeed. That should have been easy because horses love sweetfeed. It is like candy for horses.
I waited for the horses like I was told. I waited some more. Then they appeared, not the horses, but the cows instead. If sweetfeed is candy for horses it is crack for cows. The cows smelled the crack. The herd headed right for it. I was told by my big brother to stay and wait for the horses. That is what I intended to do. The killer bovines had other ideas. Initially only one bold cow that came up to me. It head butted me. I started backing away. Then more and more cows joined in the game of lets push the . I eventually ended up on a pile of rocks surrounded by 20 or 30 man-eating killer cows. They were the biggest living things I had been that close to. They kept getting closer and starting mooing louder and louder. I still hung onto the bucket of cow crack. I did not want to disobey my brother anymore than I already did. I was scared. I picked up a rock and threw it at the closest cow. It did not phase it at all. I began yelling for help. I yelled the cows mooed. I threw a few more rocks. I yelled the crazed cows mooed and moooved closer and closer. I was standing on the top of the rock pile with no where to go. I was surrounded by cows. Their noses were poking me everywhere. I was covered in cow snot. Through all this I still holding the bucket. At this point I had to hold it above my head to keep the cows out of it. I was more afraid of disappointing my big brother than all the giant man eating crack addicted cows in the world. I finally realized I had to get rid of the bucket before I got stepped on. I threw the bucket as far as I could as if by magic the killer cows followed the bucket. I escaped unhurt although a bit slimy and scared.
I ran to find my brother to tell him why I disobeyed him. I found him. He was proud of me for listening. Then he said I could have been hurt so I should tossed the bucket aside first thing. Live and learn
Until Next Time
I am as always watching for killer cows
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Contemplating Questions
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Posted:Nov 8, 2006 9:02 am
Last Updated:Nov 20, 2006 4:31 pm
3007 Views
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I heard recently that in philosophy the only questions worth asking were the ones that had no answers.  Talk about job security, having a job who's goal is by definition impossible. The boss can't get on your ass about your productivity. Sleeping at your desk could be considered research. Your occupation has hundreds of years of unproductive "work" as precedent for your own. No worries about the workaholic in the next cubical marking you look bad.
Then I remembered The Questioning Theory. These are guiding principles that should be used before asking a question.
WARNING TANGENTIAL INFORMATION BELOW ABSOLUTELY UNNECESSARY TO THE CONTEXT OF THE BLOG. It maybe skipped with out affecting the continuity of thee blog. Remember by taking a shortcut the full experience of the blog is lost
I am not sure the original origin of this. I was introduced to it by a mentor who believed in the BE POSITIVE METHOD. Essentially when he asked you a question he expected a response that sounded positive. If you responded to a question correctly but sounded unsure of yourself. He would continue asking you questions to lead you away from your correct response to one that was incorrect. Then he would send you off to research his question in detail. Conversely if you responded incorrectly but sounded positive about what you were saying. He would ask additional questions until he got you to realize your initially response was incorrect. He again he would send you off to research your response in detail.
CONTEXTUALLY IMPORTANT BELOW
The first part of the theory states. Never ask a question that you don't already know the answer to. (See Be Positive Method)
The second part is; Never ask a question that you really don't want the answer to.
These two theories fly against the the previously mentioned standard for real questions in philiosphy. That the meaning of life for example.
A great question from a philosophy standpoint. Who really knows the meaning of live in general? Who is to say what the meaning is? No answers only questions job security for philosophers.
The questioning theory is vague on this one. Do we know the answer to the meaning of life in general? No, but as individuals there could be an answer. The answer may be in part be subjective and objective at the same time. Some of us have found the meaning for and in our lives. Others are still searching. Is it that the search for the meaning in our lives that is what gives meaning to our lives?
The other half do we really want to know the answer to the meaning of life. I do not. I am happy with the meaning I have found in my life.
I have a list of questions I will never ask. Below are a few:
I wonder what hot dogs are made of?
How many men have you slept with?
Do I look fat in this?
Do you have thongs in my size?
This tastes like just like chicken what is it?
Where am I going in this handbasket?
Until Next Time
I am as always sounding like I know what I am talking about.
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Holy Supersizing Batman.
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Posted:Nov 7, 2006 1:12 pm
Last Updated:Nov 13, 2006 8:27 am
3093 Views
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I have noticed that my tasks expand to overfill the alloted time and set budget. Part of the problem is how easily I am distracted.(already discussed in a previous blog) I am fixing something around the house I notice other things that need to be done (A self imposed honeydo list. part of my female side I guess, but I could be wrong . The another part is as I am repairing or installing something around the house, I fix anything directly related to the project. For example I installed a new garbage disposal, in doing that I re-plumbed the drains, ran a new line to the dishwasher, and installed new shut off valves for the hot and cold water. All because it was easier to do while I was under the sink. It all needed to be done eventually, but not right then. The project expanded in time and money.
I am also a perfectionist. I just installed a new vent hood over the stove. The vent pipe was visible when the cabinet door was open. I built a box around the pipe. The wood was not quite the same shade as the cabinet. I stained and varnished 4 times before I was satisfied.
Yeah I know I need help.
That covers the expansion of time and expense.
Leaving the ever growing pile of stuff in my house. I believe in the saying there is a tool for every job. I intend to own them all. I have a male side too. That covers part of the reason my pile of stuff is growing. I also have a shoe issue. I have many pairs of shoes. Only 2 pairs of dress shoes, but many boots, boat shoes, and skate board shoes. I know for a fact I have 3 pairs of rock climbing shoes. 3 pairs of running shoes. I have between 10 and 15 pairs I have collected over the years. Once again my darkside rears its head.
Until Next Time
I am as always making myself a honey do list
(of course I lose the list, what do you expect I am just a man)
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I am woman hear me roar
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Posted:Nov 2, 2006 12:00 pm
Last Updated:Apr 25, 2007 6:58 am
3370 Views
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I knew I was some what in touch with my softer female side. Nothing wrong with that at all, but I jokingly called this my dark side. That is until today when I saw a side of the world of women I never thought I would see. I got this email today.
Subject: i like big woman.
hey there sexy chick, i just had the best wank of my life over your photo can i have another mmmmm cant wait
The profile was that of a man not in the US, but in an English speaking country. So miss communication was not the problem, his eyesight was…
My heart goes out to all my sisters. Damn men can be so crass. How do you put up with such idiots?
Are there many like him?
I have read blogs written by women about the funny emails they get from men. I never thought I would get the chance to write one of those myself. Well here I am. Of course, this is my fault the other day I thought I never get emails. Got my wish never expected it to come true in such a manner. I will have to file this in the be careful what you ask for file. On the bright side it does lower my purity score a bit.  .
It has been an interesting week. I was told I multitask like a woman. I got a wanking email like a woman. I responded to a blog in language my mother would have used. Am I become an honorary woman? Will I be eligible for a membership in the blogger sisterhood? I would consider it an honor to be member of such a talented group. Am I tough enough to be an honorary woman? Am smart enough to be an honorary woman? Most importantly I Will I become multiorgasmic?
Until Next Time
I am as always in touch with my feminine side.
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Unintentional Multitasking
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Posted:Nov 1, 2006 9:50 am
Last Updated:Apr 25, 2007 7:00 am
3354 Views
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This is Part 2 in an unplanned series, poking fun at myself. I was talking to a friend the other day. She was doing laundry, paying bills, fixing lunch, talking to me and making a grocery list all at the same time. I am sure the ladies of blogland are all saying that is nothing I do that all the time. My ex always said “women are natural multitaskers men are not”. Her theory was women are genetically hardwired to be able to multitask. Something to do with being able to have , actually having was not a requirement. Perhaps the uterus is the where multitasking originates.
I admit doing more than one or two things at once is not really my forte. More often than not I find myself multitasking unintentionally. How is this possible? I am blessed or cursed with a poor short term memory. This is how unintentional multitasking happens in my world. I am folding clothes when I realize I need to switch the laundry. On the way to the garage to switch the clothes the cat is meowing for food. I stop to talk to the cat and feed her. Of course she needs water, so off to the sink I go. When I get to the sink I see the dishes my left. I put the dishes in the dishwasher, refill the cat water dish. By then I forget what I was actually on my way to do. So I sit down at the computer to blog, I see the charger for my cell phone. That reminds me to charge my phone. I left my phone in the truck. I need my keys so I look for my keys. They are on kitchen counter on top of bills to be mailed. I grab the bill and keys. I head to the garage to get my phone. Then I remember the laundry. I throw the bills in the truck to mail and grab my phone, switch the laundry. The circle is complete. I multitasked and was blissfully unaware of it.
Until Next Time
I am as always
Forgetting what the hell I was doing
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I am a man does that make me wrong?
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Posted:Oct 26, 2006 7:42 am
Last Updated:Apr 25, 2007 7:19 am
3219 Views
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If a tree falls in the forrest and nobody is there is a man to blame? I hear the echoing of "Hell Yeah" through out Blogland. Being wrong must be genetically linked to the Y chromosome. That is the only explanation that makes sense. Because I have never been right in any relationship with a woman in my life. The nature of the relationship is irrelevant. Friend, lover, boss, coworker makes no difference, being a man automatically made me wrong. The best boss I ever had was a woman. She told me one day I was to nice to people. I needed more estrogen so I could be meaner. Only a man could be wrong for being nice. 
Until Next Time
I am as always
wrong
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Words that are fun to say
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Posted:Oct 25, 2006 8:30 am
Last Updated:Oct 30, 2006 10:38 pm
2822 Views
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I am not sure about the rest of Blogland, but I find some words are just fun to say. I find it hard not to smile while saying some of these words. These words do not have to have a fun meaning associated with them. Although it is often the case. The rarest case of all the words that have negative connotations, but are still fun to say. Yeah, I know it takes a twisted mind to think a "negative" word is fun to say. There is no rhyme or reason to why I think a word is fun to say. They just are, like the definition of art or porn. You know it when you see it.
The opposite is true for me as well there are "positive" words that are not fun to say at all.
A sample list of words I think are fun to say:
armadillo
balloon
armature
beer
kindergarten
Home Depot
rutabaga
pirate
A sample list of words I think are not fun to say:
audit
podiatrist
sneaker
date
Like I said nothing really links the words in the groups.
"Negative" words I think are fun to say
enema (for the record I have never had a enema so it is not a fixation for me. If any of you saw my desk it is proof I am not anal retentive)
abcess
morgue
foul ball
"Positive" words I think are not fun to say
Birthday (OK, I confess. There is a reason I don't like to say birthday. I don't mind getting older just not a fan of my birthday. That is for another blog.)
My favorite all time fun word to say is:
NIPPLE*Y*
What words do you find fun to say?
Do nipples make you smile?
Until Next Time
I am as always smiling while saying nipple
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Bloggers Block (My brain needs an enema)
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Posted:Oct 17, 2006 1:04 pm
Last Updated:Oct 26, 2006 6:34 am
2844 Views
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Well seems as if I hit the wall. I am truly uninspired. Nothing to write about. Always thought of myself as a man of few words, but I did not count on running out of things to say after only 11 blog entries.
My brain needs a jump start or perhaps a
Rota-Rootering. Hell wish I knew. Perhaps I am afflicted with Seasonal Defective Disorder. (I know the real condition is called Seasonal Affective Disorder) Mine is a condition unique to me, (of course). My brain becomes more defective in the fall as the days shorten. It just refuses to cooperate. I may just need a nap and a beer, or a beer and nap, or a beer and a beer. Time out for a random joke:
How do you catch a unique rabbit?
How do you catch a tame rabbit?
Answers at the end.
That is how silly my brain is acting today. I typed the word unique in my blog and those old jokes popped into my head. Made me giggle. Ran to tell them to others in the office made them laugh. Maybe that is all needed was a laugh. The good news for me is my Bloggers Block is cured. I did not need a brain enema,a Rota Rootering or a jump start. The bad news; The quality is no better.
Until Next Time
I am as always Uniquely Defective
U nique up on it of course.
Tame way U nique up on it of course.
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To link to this blog (piercednshavedmn) use [blog piercednshavedmn] in your messages.
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