Electronic Writer

Wow! I was just sent the link to this . . . and, it is an honest and unexpected roast of our President. I don’t think that anyone knew that this was going to happen. There are three parts, so I suggest you please carve out some time and watch them all.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

One evening, while working from a coffee shop, I saw an amazing exchange.

Two people had been sitting on the couch together. They were both in their late 30’s, and had been sharing coffee and conversation on the couch. The whole thing seemed rather platonic to the casual observer. They seemed like old friends, or perhaps they had been in a relationship before and were just visiting. There was a very clear visible separation between the two of them–that distance that sits between two people who are not physically intimate with one another.

As I walked by and ordered my coffee, I glanced over for a moment, soaked in the details almost instantaneously, and moved on. It is a familiar coffee shop scene.

Later, I could not have expected what would happen. I was sitting by the door, and as they were leaving, I looked at them once more. She was tall, had an extremely fair complexion, and long, curly red hair. He was stout, almost stocky, and had shorter blond hair. By the way they walked, they both seemed shy. Not too shy, but enough to notice.

The two of them walked past me, and through the front door. And, at that moment, the most amazing thing happened–as he turned around to speak with her a chat their goodbyes, she stumbled over her foot and suddenly found her face within inches of his–and he reached out, almost instinctually, and kissed her.

Her hands flew from her sides, and wrapped around his shoulders as quickly as he had reacted, and suddenly, the two of them were wrapped in a full-force, entire body kiss. It is one of those rare first kisses where the universe fell away from them and the only things left were his lips and hers.

Right there, in the doorway, his hands traveled the length of her body–stopping at a respectful depth of her back, but far enough down to tell us that he had thought about holding her before. And, right there, only a few feet in front of the doorway, they kissed for three or four minutes.

Perhaps a passing patron triggered their awareness of where they were, but they stopped kissing for a moment. Red faced, they looked around and back into the coffee shop, and then decided to move to the adjacent alley–they weren’t done yet. The 6’1″ red headed woman in her mid-thirties literally skipped into the alley with her boy in tow.

I continued with my work, but everyone within eyesight, including myself, was grinning. There were two giddy adults acting as if they had just kissed behind the backstop for the first time.

After about 20 minutes, they came out of the alley. He walked her to her car, they kissed one more time, and he pushed the door closed and waved as she drove off. He turned and started to walk to his own car and presumably home for the evening. In order to do so, he had to walk past the front windows of the coffee shop . . . and his face told a tale that I love to hear.

His smile was almost larger than his face could contain. He looked blankly–almost bewildered with excitement. He looked as if he could shout or jump or climb anything. He looked like he was pleased with his life in a way that he had never been. He was going to sleep tonight with that smile, and wake with it in the morning, and walk with it all day for a week–at least.

Good luck to you two? I hope you find love in the world–an uncomplicated, sweet love that brings that smile back to your face every time you hear her or his name. I hope that your grandkids chuckle when every time you tell that story.

And, to all you readers: I hope you have an experience like that . . . at least once in your life . . . if you haven’t already.

Although I have seen a little in the feminist foray about breast “enhancements,” “augmentations,” “alterations,” etc., I have been waiting for the all-out attack. For the most part, this is a tricky situation, and represents a two-fronted battle. On the one hand, feminists must preserve the freedom to choose. Their must not be legislation governing what can and cannot be done to a woman’s body.

The difficult part is to create a social commentary that is biting enough to change the mind-set of other women about surgically altering their bodies for appearance, while not providing any material that can be used to create legislation against the female body. I imagine there will be more commentaries like this in the immediate future.

(drum roll) . . . .

Plastic Assets

PS. If you act NOW, you will get a free bonus with this commentary. Get more than a little poke at consumerism included with every view!

For All of Us / One America Committee Blog

The other day, while at the gym I was looking at the television while on the tread mill. I haven’t watched television for more than 5 years, so whenever I see it, I am instantly hypnotized and find myself staring at the technological marvel that consumes the soul (and time) of so many Americans.

This particular evening, the TV aired an interview with former Senator John Edwards from North Carolina during his reconstruction efforts in New Orleans. Once again, I enjoyed his discourse about politics (both good and bad), admired his self-made success, and mostly liked his integrity.

Every time I have seen John Edwards speak, or interact or do or say anything, I have had the impression that he has his own vision of America. It is similar to how I imagined the original founders saw our country: a place where goodness, hard work, and freedom reign supreme. He exudes the pride of someone who has done a good job at something. It is not the egotistical, “Yeah, I know I am good.” But, rather, it is the genuine “thank you” for your praise of something they have done.

When compared with some other politicians (this is not a partisan attack), he seems bright, fresh, and excited to be part of America. He seems thrilled, in fact, with living, his opportunities, his family, and with his country.

I hope what he has is infectious and spreads wildly to the other politicians who represent me their constituent.

Bolton Watch | TPMCafe

This really is a nice resource . . . .

I think I want to start a cult.

A cult doesn’t need any logic. There has to be some intricacies to the concept–some details that are completely illogical. If your cult was based upon logic, no one would believe it. And, someone could apply logic to your cult and either prove or disprove it. Faith-based statement, by contrast, are really untouchable. All you have to say is, “Well, I believe it” and you are done–your point is defended. An argument of Logic versus Faith would be like a duel between a wizard and a soldier. You pick which side is which (and you can also pick who you think would win).

A cult has to have some history behind it. It has to have a good story. If you can retell the history of your cult in under an hour, no one will join. If the story is complex enough, however, it will take a few sittings (or, perhaps a Website) to get everything across. You can also reward cult members for memorizing certain parts of the history. If it requires a book-length work, all kinds of people would surely join. People believe stuff printed in books, and you could probably get them to buy the book. A pamphlet would have to be free. But, you could definitely charge for a book.

A cult is a great way to make friends. It would depend on how you structure your cult, but your troubles with meeting people would literally vanish. Set a weekly activity (Sundays seem to be pretty good for everybody) and require everyone to attend. If they don’t attend, threaten them with eternal damnation or something. You could also hold a mid-week meeting for the overzealous members (and get them to buy the book about the history, and you can talk about different parts of it). If you require your cult members to bring a friend at least once a month, you may find yourself with hundreds or thousands of friends. If all of them bought the book . . . .

A cult is a great way to influence fashion. You can use the dress code of your cult to enforce all of your favorite fashion trends. If you like long denim skirts or khaki pants, you could just put that into the dress code. Say, for example, you have a stocking fetish, you could easily require that every woman’s legs be covered in stockings. I suppose if you like high-heels and tight jeans, you could do something like that, too. It’s kinda 80’s, but you should be able to pull it off. After all, that one guy got everyone to wear white tennis shoes.

A cult is a great way to get a paid vacation. In order to make your cult followers think that you are doing things to promote your cult, you would need to interact with other cults. If you tell them that your trip is vital to the growth of your cult, you should be able to get them to pay for it. You will have to pick a place that is a bit obscure, or else they won’t buy it. If you tell them that you are going to Maui, they might raise an eyebrow. If you go to some obscure country – perhaps an impoverished nation – they might not even want proof that you did anything to promote anything. Just that fact that you didn’t pick Maui for your vacation might be enough.

It seems like there is a lot of money in cults. That bloke who invented Scientology was totally rich (he’s still making money now).

What happened to the three tenets of Conservatives? And, for that matter, what is going on in the world? Do things seem crazy to anyone else besides me? I thought the Conservative mantra was Reduce Spending, Control Immigration, and Shrink Government. And, I thought that we have a Republican-conservatively-controlled government (as in all three branches).

From the looks of things, we have not accomplished a single one of those items. According to today’s NY Times, our Government has raised the level at which the American Government goes into DEFAULT 5 times since a certain someone has come into office.

Are the creditors calling the White House?

As for immigration: the borders are basically open. Big companies no longer have to even recognize that they exist. As individuals, we have to check every single transaction with Big Brother. But, if we were to simply send our money over the borders (and it would prove to be profitable for business), we could get that blessing easily.

While I love the idea of shrinking the government, it is absolutely impossible at this point. Our beauracracy has metastatized into Orwellian proportions. In fact, I am sure that the sheer size of it all would make Franz Kafka cringe in his grave.

And, they keep spending and spending and spending money that we don’t have . . . .

Our only recourse is to vote in every single election between here and change. Call your Senators, and Representatives. Ask tougher questions. Read the fine print. The sound bites from Fox are not giving you the information you need.

Stop doing what you have been doing, and from here on out, only do things that can fix what is wrong. Apathy isn’t going to help anyone.

It felt like an excommunication. Or, perhaps a better analogy may be that of an exorcism. In a grand ceremony, with all the ritual and splendor, I started.

“Advertisements, I command thee to flee–to come out and be gone.”

And, with the flick of a switch, they obeyed. (Okay, I actually changed the code in my code class and uploaded the revised bugger, but that can be our little secret, can’t it?)

Regardless of which analogy you prefer, I could no longer tolerate the countless services advertising essays for sale, and the blatant smack of Capitalism on the cheek of my pet project.

On a more pratical level, it was a terrible visual clutter. A busy element to the eye. Perhaps they were something that could have been better incorporated into the design, but who really wants to try THAT hard to add the ads?

Anyways, I feel better about this project now that it is not subsidized or funded by anyone or anything except my love for literature and language. The only terms and conditions that I have to follow are my own . . . .

In the future, things may change. I may add a donations page. I may advertise again. But, for right now, my passion is burning brightly enough to fuel my own work in this process.

Fortunately, my passion is a renewable resource. No drilling required.

Each year, while most people are dreading the almighty April 15th deadline, I have a different feeling about the whole thing. For me, getting prepped for my annual visit with the CPA is a nice, long trip down memory lane–one receipt at a time.

So, I am going to quickly recount my last year in receipts:

The first of January in 2005 found me stuffing receipts with the Euro symbol on them in my pockets. I was in Paris for 10 days, and spent another 4 in San Francisco afterwards. There were museum stubs from La Louvre, espresso receipts from the Marais, and a whole collection of Metro tickets. Itemized lists of food printed on tiny white slips of paper was not quite as good as eating those meals, but it was fun for awhile.

A single, handwritten receipt brought me back to docks of my sailing lessons in the early summer.

In the summer time, there were weekly receipts from the Friday afternoon concerts in the park. Oddly enough, they were from the Beer Gardens, and certainly would not qualify as deductible. Regardless of the tax implications (or lack, thereof), they certainly brought back the memories of a summer of Red Hook beer and live music in the maddening Sacramento heat.

Towards the end of the year, there were records of the spawning of my last relationship. There were dinners that her and I had together, coffee receipts, and stubs from an occasional midtown drink. Too bad that more things didn’t survive, but finding these relics certainly left a wonderful taste in my mouth . . . .

The end of the year papertrail recorded Christmas presents, art supplies, new Christmas-time music, and for a moment, I thought I heard the prancing of hooves of reindeer on the roof. Maybe not, but it was festive for just a moment.

I don’t think there is a moral to this story, unless, it is the simple encouragement to NOT keep on top of your tax information all year long. Perhaps you could simply save the work for the couple of days prior to your tax appointment, and take the scenic route (Turn right on Memory Lane) to your CPA’s office . . . .

Whoever invented the saying had obviously NEVER had anything truthful to say. Perhaps, we could even call them a liar . . . .

The truth has always been so much more problematic than that. Throughout history, the truth has been responsible for murder, torture, pain, burden, and an entire slew of lies. Truth has made some delusional and others self-righteous. In fact, the truth has been behind so many things – both bad and good – that it is almost an entirely problematic concept.

One thing for sure is that the Truth rarely sets you free.

In Plato’s “Cave Analogy,” the truth was quietly reflected and distorted onto a wall in front of us. We were chained to the opposite wall, and could only see the distortion, and that is what we had grown to know as reality.

One of us freed himself or herself from the chains that enslaved the rest of us to our ideals, and escaped from the cave. That person saw the Truth–and was immediately aware of the distortion that the rest of us believed.

When he or she came back inside to tell us about the Truth, we thought they had become a lunatic. In modern times, I am sure we would have them locked up or thrown in jail. In olden times, perhaps we would have stoned them to death. Regardless of the time, our reaction is the same. The person who holds the truth is a threat . . . that we must eliminate.

Perhaps Plato meant the opposite of his example. The people chained to the wall were happy, and yet the person with the truth was labeled as a threat. Perhaps he meant that the Truth may get you free, but will certainly enslave you for as long as you keep it.

I, of course, have my own opinions about the Truth. It is the very thing that gives the sense of entitlement to those standing on their own soap boxes. It is also the very thing that gives the sense of entitlement to those who pull them down. The truth is sought-after, hidden, denied, ignored, cherished, and seems to be somewhat involved with just about everything that we do.

If you are hiding from the Truth, fabricating, or denying it, you are not alone. Everyone has been in your position at some time or another. Some people make hiding from it a way of life, and others have just been thrust into some bad situation and forced to make a choice.

If, however, you find yourself holding the Truth, or a truth, or some truth, keep it close, hold it aloft, hide it, or share it with the world. In fact, you can do anything you want with it. Just don’t expect it to set you free . . . .