Coming Out of the Closet

So, I just watched Clone Wars.

I declare unto the world on this day that I am through being used and abused by the Star Wars franchise. Never again Lucas, never, never, never again.

I have lost the beautiful wonder and fascination that I felt as a boy when watching Star Wars. I remember my first Stars Wars experience like I remember my first kiss. I actually watched Return of the Jedi first. When Luke jumped off of the plank and started choppin’ up the bad dudes, I was hooked. Who wasn’t?

A long time ago, at an employer far, far away, Darren Zufelt sent me an article about Star Wars; the jest of the article was simple: most Star Wars fans actually hate George Lucas. The article was spot on. Yet, I still remained loyal, even though I secretly agreed.

Now, I am coming out of the closet, so to speak. I am breaking with orthodox geekery. I am turning my back on my beloved nerdy self. And it’s all because of Clone Wars. I’m like a whipped puppy; looking for love and finding only a snaggle toothed letdown.

The thing that bothers me most, is that I think that Lucas has now set the bar for future nerd/cult followings. I am weary of the Superman franchise. I am hopeful for the Batman franchise, but we’ll see; comic book movies generally flop on the third serving. The first movie is like a fine sushi bar, the second is authentic Italian, and the third is a happy meal. Think on these things my brethren and sistren, you’ll come to accept it as unadulterated truth (remember the neon Batman movie).

Maybe there is hope. Wolverine is coming out. Watchmen is on its depressing way. I keep fasting and praying for The Flash movie, but it looks doubtful that it will ever happen. Perhaps The Hobbit will satisfy my cravings.

Tell me my friends, what’s a geek to do?

R-r-r-random Thoughts

1. Sarcasm is hard to convey in written form.
2. A family is a man's treasure.
3. Friends make the ride a little less rough.
4. A wife's smile is better than a thousand guitars.
5. It is easy to be rude.
6. It is easy to be offended.
7. It is easy to avoid conflict.
8. Tuck, from Tuck & Patti, is a genius; along the lines of Robert Fripp.
9. Xbox 360 is a fart you like to smell.
10. Duty can wear on you.
11. To work with your hands is the closest thing to magic we can come to.
12. What comes around goes around.
13. Yin AND Yang are both important.
14. Paradoxes must be. They provide the bridge to our sanity.
15. The love of money IS the root of all evil. It is. It is. It is.
16. I can be a pompous ass.
17. Never eat a whole box of Life cereal in one sitting....trust me.
18. Democrats are not evil.
19. Republicans are not evil.
20. I'm not voting for either one.
21. 90's hip hop is best.
22. What we are thinking, we are becoming.
23. Experience is to be respected.
24. Italian food is almost as good as Cajun food.
25. Mountain Dew is poison, but delicious, especially in Slurpee form.

I wish there was a way to get rid of my student loans.

It is too bad I didn't purchase a house that I couldn't afford, or stocks that were likely to fail. My pal Uncle Sam would then come along and bail me out of my own predicament.

When are conservatives going to realize that Republicans have been wearing a mask for decades.

Quit empowering these fools.

Queen - Innuendo

I haven't posted a video for quite a while. I didn't want my blog to become a video showcase of my interests.

Anyway, this might be one the most perfect pieces of music in existence. The lyrics are pointed and thoughtful, the harmonies perfect, the guitar is sublime and a bit mysterious, all backed by a pulsing rhythm section. I also like the video, with its surreal imagery.

It is too bad that Freddie Mercury is no longer with us. He was special.

Enjoy.

First Things First

I love fishing!

I never do enough of it.

This time was special. It was special because it was the perfect fishing day. Which is rare, so rare in fact, that it is the first time that it has happened to me. I have also had a perfect fishing night, but only once.

The day was perfect. The sky was slightly overcast. The wind was blowing mildly, like the hot breath of Jezebel. My boys were with me. It wasn't just the weather that was perfect, it was everything. We left on time. The truck has no serious malfunctions, the boat had no serious malfunctions, everyone had a life jacket, everyone remembered their license, we had enough gear, the gear that we did have was in good condition, and we caught fish like we were the last source of bait left on the planet.

The fish varied in size from normal planters to big ol' suckers. We caught Rainbow Trout, Cutbow Trout, Cutthroat Trout and even one Tiger Trout. The highlight of the day for me was catching the Cutthroat seen below. It is the biggest Trout I have ever caught.

I eat the fish I catch if they are large enough. I don't have any problem with the catch and release crowd, although they seem to have a problem with me. I think that once in a while, it would do them good to harvest some of the fish that they catch. Killing and eating food is a lesson that can only be learned by doing it. I believe that doing this fosters a complete respect for the creatures that are killed for my benefit. It makes this gluttonous fat guy a little less gluttonous.

Beer Can Man

A few weeks ago, I spent a whole week doing Professional Development (teacher training) at Brian Head, Utah. The course was a fascinating survey of the impact of the spruce beetle on the forest in the Brian Head area. The never ending interplay between all manner of species within a given ecosystem is overwhelming.



It should come as no surprise when, in the middle of nowhere (shouts Pee Wee Herman), I found a pile of soda and beer cans. Who is this foul jackass that spreads his filth in the form of Busch beer and Tiki Punch cans? Every "remote" place I’ve ever visited has been first befouled by the Beer Can Man....why?



On another note, I may be changing my mind about the right to take ATV’s on trails. Without exception, everywhere there was a road or an ATV trail, there was trash to be collected (proving Edward Abbey right). Perhaps this seems like a no-brainer, but the amount of garbage present along rutted roads versus hiking trails was staggering. And by staggering, I mean utterly shocking and aweing.



We are swine! People are absolutely filthy dirty when they go into the wild.



On yet another note. Is there anything more phony than a resort town? I couldn’t wait to come home and wash my hands of cabin/mansions, stylish outdoor clothing, bike pants, timeshare condos, bike pants, and cabin architecture. Park City, Jackson Hole, and Brian Head all stink to me like the rich and disconnected. One can’t purchase the quality that comes from an experience, when that experience was packaged by a salesman at a posh outdoors store.

We trapped about 50 chipmunks. We were doing population studies of small mammals in various ecosystems.

This is what my friend the machinist calls "ass time." He said it...not me.

We had one trapping area that was just about at the top center of the edge of this canyon. The canyon is called Cedar Breaks and it is incredible. Whilst trapping there, I strayed from the group for a few minutes and walked to the edge. I am glad I did.

"What our economists call a depressed area almost always turns out to be a cleaner, freer, more livable place than most." Edward Abbey

O Captain! My Captain!

This post is long overdue. I am sorry. I should have written something between today and last time that I posted. Life has a way of getting busy quickly. Life also has a way of changing dramatically and at the least expected times.

My life has changed.

Many of you know that I pursued my undergraduate degree in History Education. I thought it a noble pursuit to be a teacher, especially in the discipline of History. Like everyone else, I struggled, and bled, and fought my way through college to obtain a degree. Then I graduated and found the job prospects to be sparse. It turns out that most history teachers are also coaches. I really should have known that (insert clown horn noise here). Please understand that I don’t bear any real grudge towards high school sports. However, I think that high school sports are wildly over funded, serve a tiny fraction of the students at a school; all in the name of a vocation that one in a million kids will be able to do professionally. Most importantly, I don’t think that coaches, in general, make good history teachers. History is supremely important! In my view, the main purpose of history is to teach critical thought. Incidentally, that is the main job of all of the soft sciences.

I have digressed.....badly.

So, there I was; fresh from the university and nowhere to go. It was depressing. Really, really, really, depressing. I soon picked up work in the automotive field and eventually working for a city doing an obscure, ill respected form of law enforcement known as code enforcement. And I was happy as bacteria in a petri dish. I really was.

Then my life changed. A job opened up at the local high school, indeed the same high school where I student taught a year ago. I was encouraged to apply, and I did, and I got the job. It was quick and unexpected. In fact, really unexpected. I am so happy and also very sad all at the same time because, for the first time ever, I am leaving a job that I love.

I hinted at this my last post. Now it is official. My time as a code enforcement officer is soon up. Now I shall have my shot at the noble profession of teaching. It will be a "good practical sort of immortality" as John Muir so eloquently stated. I shall be teaching history and science. Wish me well, and I welcome any and all ideas!

10 Things I am Grateful for

1. The gruff guy on his Harley the other morning. As I walked by his steel horse, "The Wind Beneath My Wings" by Bette Midler began playing. The Harley with a stereo seemed as out of place as this dude and Bette Midler.

2. Desert flowers, grasses, and the occasional Emerson Lake & Palmer record.

3. Hidden opportunities and uncertain futures. (hint, hint)

4. Arrowheads.

5. Odd time signatures.

6. Glasses.

7. Lonely prairie graves.

8. Cheap, plentiful, .22 cartridges.

9. Black hair, black eyes, angry lips, and mischievous smiles.

10. Barbie, Iron Man, Halo 3, & baskets on pink bikes.

11. Blowtorches.

What Shall I Do?

It is time for my annual "big concert."

Which one should I attend?

I am thinking of The Police, Journey, or Candlebox. I am steering towards Journey, as The Goddess told me she would go with me.

If there are others in the Salt Lake area, that you think I would like, let me know.

If only King’s X or King Crimson were touring.

Borinquen

This is my favorite photo of the whole trip. The Goddess and her brother at the beach that they frequented as children.

Wow.

Just wow.

I recently had one the great experiences of my life. Sorry that I haven’t posted in a while. I have a legitimate excuse. I just spent nearly two weeks in the land of my wife’s ancestors; Puerto Rico. What a beautiful piece of Earth! I can see why Puerto Ricans love their island so much.
The greatest thing I took with me from Puerto Rico was a sense of the "largeness" of our Earth. ‘Tis a good thing to realize our own little boundaries and preconceptions.

The Goddess & yours truly enjoying the sun and sand

These folks were so hospitable. They put all six of us up in their home. They fed us. They drove us anywhere that our hearts desired. They laughed with and at us. They talked of serious and light hearted matters. I learned about a culture and history that is not my own, but I feel a great obligation to understand. I feel like I know my wife better now. I learned so much about what being a family is all about. The idea of taking care of each other and taking time for one another is not lost on them. If you are reading this mi familia, know that I am grateful from my little toe to the tip of my tallest hair for your unmatched hospitality.


The beach. What can I say? Is there a bad beach? Not on Puerto Rico. The weather was perfect. The wildlife was new and exciting. We rode the coast on a Sunday afternoon. Bikers were out in swarms (there are few, if any, Harley snobs there). Live music was playing. Dominicans were frying the finest foods on the sides of the highways. There were political rallies that make ours look like sacrament meeting. Smiling faces and beggars at stop lights. Little Iguanas and big Iguanas. Lizards, lizards, and more lizards. The food was so good, my tongue wanted to slap my face off. Warm rain. Fresh lemonade every stinkin’ mornin’. Happy children and tired eyes. Rich, Old World Spanish culture. Swimming every single day. Folk music (gosh, I love street musicians). Colorful homes. Laid back people who I believe have the capacity to enjoy life better than we do. Ten percent higher cost of living. Horribly dubbed eighties action movies. Hospitality, hospitality, hospitality!!!!


I could write pages and pages. But, it has taken a week and a half to work up this trite post that does little justice to the experience. It was a once in a lifetime event, which cannot be topped. I am so glad that we were able to take all of the kids and the Goddess’ parents and brother’s family. Having them there enriched the experience all the more.


At any rate, go there! It is beautiful beyond description.

This was kind of a rite passage into my newly acquired status of Honorary Puerto Rican. This is as close to Puerto Rican as I'll come because I don't drink or dance! But I did make babies with one......top that!

Blood on My Hands

I spent the weekend with blood on my hands. I do not say this with some sort of redneck pride, which you must know by now I detest. You see, I raise chickens and rabbits. I do it for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, I like to control (at least to a small degree) the food that my family eats. I think that modern practices of meat processing and commercial farming leaves too much at risk. I did not have to go to PETA’s web site to learn this; I saw it first hand. Secondly, I think it is good for my children to have the responsibility of caring for something. Every day, they have to feed and water the rabbits and chickens. Every so often they get to clean the hutches and coop. And this weekend they participated in the slaughter and butchering of these creatures. Thirdly, raising and eating these animals brings me closer to living.

It is always sobering to kill and should not be taken lightly. I really believe that this is the reason that the Word of Wisdom so strongly emphasized that meat should be eaten sparingly. I found, to my shame, that I am hypocrite in this regard.

The process was not enjoyable. However, it brought a deeper sense of being alive than I experience during the zombie cubicle living routine that I am slowly losing my soul to. As I went through the tedious work of killing, plucking or skinning, gutting and preparing the meat; I couldn’t help but feel that we are all so disconnected from life, we have become californian. Everything we do is canned. From our meat to our entertainment to our architecture. It all comes in neat, sterile packages. There is no emotional exchange that takes place. In other words, when I eat a rabbit that I have raised and butchered, I think about the life that I took so that I could have life; and I eat less and with more reverence. It is the same exchange I feel when eating an animal I have hunted or fish that I have caught.

I mourn that our culture has lost this thing.

I am not ashamed again

This song was my first exposure to Megadeth and Trent Reznor.

Isn’t that cool?

Now that I have started recording and writing music, I appreciate Reznor’s pioneering talents all the more. As far as Megadeth is concerned; I enjoy them so much more than Metallica. Before I start getting hate mail from metalheads make sure you understand what I am writing here. I like Metallica, but I like Megadeth more. It is as simple as that. No hate. It always has been a ridiculous rivalry.

This little song is an amalgation of Megadeth’s Symphony of Destruction and Trent Reznor’s mixing skills. The Countdown to Extinction CD is Megadeth’s opus. It is one of the few tapes that I managed to wear out.

Mysteriously, this tape disappeared, along with Alice in Chains, Sepultura, and various t-shirts. I wonder where they went......MOM!

The Latest Obsession

The Professor and Z-man have really gotten me back into video games. It is that damnable Halo! I have gotten myself addicted, and I have drug my family along for the ride.

I have always had an infatuation with video games. My uncles had an Atari 2600 and I spent countless hours fighting with my Ida-bros just to have a chance to play such classics as Pac-man, Pitfall, and Empire Strikes Back. At about this time I and a few other grandkids unearthed an odd Pong system at another set of Grandparents. Hours were consumed on Pong. Then my Momma married Beach Grandpa. Lo and behold! He also had an Atari 2600 that we abused until the power supply input broke off inside of the case. I always managed to find a console at the D.I. and we played many a game of Combat, Asteroids, Circus, Breakout, & Snoopy and the Red Baron. Good times.

My infatuation led to a fascination with computers and later I was playing such greats as Castle Wolfenstein, Dune II, Doom, & Blood. I miss the days of playing from a 5 1/4" floppy! Along came the arduous task known as college and my gaming days were few and far between. All the while, The Professor was tempting me with his N64, Dreamcast, and Xbox. Then I traded a fishing rod for an Xbox. Now I find that a night without at least one round of Dr. Mario on the old game box is a wasted evening. My wife and I refer to it as my "Halo Therapy."

At any rate, a coworker, who shall remain nameless, addicted me to Guitar Hero. It did not help matters that The Professor brought his version of this game during his last jaunt here. My wife, bless her brown little soul, was hopelessly addicted as well. The Professor returned to his castle in Academia, and we had no more Guitar Hero.

Alas! I heard a rumor that one of my scouts had a broken PS2. This was good...because I can fix broken. After a little horse trading, I held in my manly, fat hand one beat up, slightly grimy PS2 Slim. A little solder, some research, some more research, an internet order, some patience, and a little elbow grease was all it took to have this baby playing again. Now the Goddess and I can play Guitar Hero to our hearts content. The kids eat cereal every night, but they’ll last until this obsession runs its course.

The unit all bare naked and stuff, ready for repair.

My trusty aide. He performed quite a bit of the surgery himself. He also reaped the rewards! I am glad that he got to experience the rush of fixing a problem like this. It was a great experience doing this with him.

One of the offending items. The laser assembly. Notorious for failing in the Slim models. It is highly unlikely that this whole unit is bad, I may install just the laser and keep this assembly as a spare.

And we all lived happily ever after.

Perhaps this is too personal?

I have had the unbelievably good fortune of marrying my first love. She and I met many years before it was proper to date with the object of marriage in mind and somehow we just couldn’t let go of each other. We spent our youth together, and in many ways, we grew to be the same person.

Those of you who know the Goddess, know what an impulsive, passionate, and slightly crazy individual she is. It is one her greatest attractants. If I told her that I wanted to build a cabin in Siberia and live off of the land, she wouldn’t hesitate to see it as an adventure, and we could walk out the door that same minute. I wouldn’t trade her fiery Puerto Rican temper and passion for anything on this Earth.

Her most endearing quality is her unfailing, unflinching, sense of honesty. I have never met a person so honest. Even when it meant certain heartache, she would speak her thoughts. The older I get, I appreciate this sort of thing all the more. The great thing about a person with this attribute is that you always know where you stand.

I just wanted to say something that had a tone of gratitude. My fair wife is something I find myself grateful often these days. She makes life good and bad, but unlivable without her.

We’ve come a long way baby. There no words for where we are.

Achtung! Spoilers Ahead

Warning! This post is jam packed with spoilers for "No Country for Old Men."

I found some peace in a most unlikely place during the Christmas break. I watched a movie with the Original Voodoo and Whodoggy entitled "No Country for Old Men." The movie was shocking, intensely gripping, and a great letdown (which I loved). This might be one of the most perfect movies ever made.



As I have perused the internets for the insight of others. There seems to be one scene that has become controversial. It is the scene where the old sheriff Ed Tom Bell returns to the scene of the crime where Moss was killed. I think that the simplest answer is the answer. I believe the Chigurh is really behind the door, and Ed Tom Bell simply missed finding him. If Ed Tom Bell would have looked behind the door, violence would have ensued, most likely resulting in the death of the sheriff. A .38 is no match for buck shot at close range and Chigurh would have simply shot through the door, having the advantage of surprise and superior firepower.



Back to this idea of me finding peace from this here violent movie. Simply put; it was Chigurh, who I think represents the uncertainty of death that we all face. There was a thread of rhyme and reason to his killing, but one thing it was not, was fair. Just like death, it never seems fair. Every character I was rooting for, was killed in this movie. Except for Ed Tom Bell, and I wasn’t really invested in him until the very last lines of the film. Moss was toasted by the Mexicans. Moss’ wife was killed by Chigurh. By the way, she was a true heroine, most unlike the super-acrobatic-invincible-skanks I so loathe in most newer movies (think Keira Knightley in King Arthur). She faced death without bargaining. I fell in love with her simple, resolute bravery. The only person I really wanted dead in this movie was death himself; Chigurh. And he never does die. Ed Tom Bell never catches him and fades into what seems to be a contented retirement. Life never was meant to be fair, and I found a granule of peace in the portrayal of that fact in this movie.



I never got my way when it came to this story, and I say that it’s about time.