To Blog, or Not To Blog...

Alas, gentle reader, I have awaken to find the world still turns, unyielding to my attempts to slow its spin and stop that Mother of all Mistresses, Time. I have returned from the underground again, much like Lestat after growing weary of the times. Perhaps I shall take to the adornment of this webspace to reflect the new time here at Graceland, and perhaps I won’t.
I can’t say that much has changed from my last posts, thus the lack of activity here. The Spawn have grown larger and louder and picked up how so many more idiosyncrasies that betray the genes of origin. The hairs that remain on the scalp have been assimilated further by the gray collective it is becoming. The bones and joints creak a little louder. But – I survive! I eat, I cook, I drink, and that, in itself, is Good.

Let me not keep you, webcrawler, from your duly appointed Tube rounds by your pause here at the ‘Land. I feel a growing need inside to display that passing evil thought and feeling more commonly feared and expressed as Opinion, and let the wrath fall where it might from its release. As I’ve heard it said, “If they can’t take a joke, f*&k ‘em.”

Response

Gotta love the kid.
This time, I refer not to my spawn as usual, but my original "kid" – the sis.
She has always been and will always be my kid sister, and today she worked her normal blog magic to wake this sleeping giant to post again.

Here was the deal: quoted from her site:
1. I'll respond with something random I like about you.

2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.

3. I'll leave you a quote that is somehow appropriate to you.

4. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.

5. If I do this for you, you must (please) post this on your journal so you can do the same for other people.

So here was the kid’s response:
1. Despite being a callous asshole at times, your love and support for chosen people is limitless.

2. "Come Sail Away" as sung by Cartman. That, and "Crying" by Roy Orbison.

3. People grow through experience if they meet life honestly and courageously. This is how character is built.
Eleanor Roosevelt (1884 - 1962), My Day

4. Dude... what was UP with that whole Harry-Krishna episode?

Allow me to answer her question.
I never had a “Hare-Krishna” episode, however I must admit to seriously turning my back to the Catholic Church. It’s amazing what happens when you open yourself to other thoughts and ideals, in that you may just begin to understand what or why other people do what they do. You may appreciate the finer things, or be disgusted at the vast majority of ignorance and apathy that surrounds us all.
In my case, I went on an exploration. I learned about who other folk pray to and why, or why they don’t at all. Never along this journey did I ever lose my personal conviction, faith, or dialogue with God.
Before this gets hairy, I must point out that you, gentle reader, must not confuse the terms faith and religion. Religion is a man-made set of rules. Faith is a personal understanding.
I don’t want or have to write a thesis here, but let it be said that my episode is not yet finished. I don’t fully agree with the doctrines of the Catholic Church. Our catechism is a fun bunch of rules du jour that can easily be changed with a cash-based indulgence system, without any real biblical basis. How many rules do we have to adopt from pagan religions to convert more to “our” side?
The basics are essentially real, though. One God and Father Almighty? Check. Lord King, Messiah and Savior JC? Check. We’re all waiting for JC’s big return for final judgment and Earthly cleanup? You betcha dupa.
So, kid – Hare Krishna? That dude’s a mess. Me? Yeah – I’m a mess, too, but dammit – I’m proud to be straight up callous about the stupid shit that gets us bent outta shape and diverts us from the real stuff that life should be made of.

Last note: Roy Orbison was teh kewl.

She's really Rosie...

I believe it was Mr. Yasko that turned me on to the Illuminatus action. Within that work I discovered the crazy number theories of Discordia and all that, but mainly that the number five is something mystical and very very special.
Well – that all might be 23-skiddoo nutso, but I can concur that the number five has got some extra value in it today. Today marks the fifth birth anniversary of my second born, Delaney Rose.
The middle child is an interesting breed, as I’ve come to know, and Delaney is truly in a class all to herself. She finds her way to stand out, go beyond unique yet fit in with her brother and sister, and shine brighter than any star in the sky.
She captures anyone who glances into her blue gray eyes, and I truly fear for the hearts of men future, for they know not what lies behind those gates. Even I cannot stand against her gaze, as I find myself lost in those eyes and broken to her guile. It is too easy for me to take pause and simply watch her do the smallest of tasks, and the thought of her growing any older sends me to panic, my treasure is slipping away.
How she has grown! It is without doubt the most amazing thing of parenting, to suddenly notice the changes that day by day go without care, and by total have transformed a toddling thing into a little girl that has stolen her daddy’s heart.
From penguins to dancing to Care Bears to spaghetti and meatballs to Tinkerbell to drawing to suddenly tennis, today my ‘Laney gets whatever she likes, because it’s a special day. She’s Five.
Notice all the fives today, because they’ll stand out just like ‘Laney.
Happy Birthday, Delaney!

EDIT: There will be a pic appropriate later today to accompany the post. Check back later.

It's Roundup Time

Will somebody PLEASE tell why we don’t have the fleets of Greyhounds ready to pack up and ship off most of the illegal immigrants, now that they’ve decided to pack themselves together at convenient locations? They’re bitching about the costs of doing the “radical” thing, where most of the cost is tracking down and finding them, but hey Mr. Law Enforcement – THERE THEY ARE.
These leeches are rallying and protesting all over this great nation for their rights. Whose rights? OUR rights – the Americans’ rights.
Here’s the guy who may just have the last bit of common sense to be able to get something printed in Big Media:

Peter Lanteri, director of New York's chapter of the Minutemen, a volunteer border watch group, said he thought it was "ridiculous" that illegal immigrants were protesting for their rights.
"Illegal is illegal, and they break our laws to come here," Lanteri said by telephone. "We want the illegal immigration stopped and the borders secured."

Damn, but that brings it home nice and simple – simple enough for maybe even hippie liberal tree hugging dem to understand. Call me a fascist if you want to – but only if you have the First Amendment rights to. If not – the year is 1984 – and you should officially be an unperson. But even then, this is only if you can read and understand English.

Happy St. Pat-Trek's Day

I’ve been catching a few episodes of Star Trek:The Next Generation on one of the higher digital cable channels as of late, and the Trek stuff has been on the mind.
So, in honor of it being March 17th –
I wish everyone a Happy St. Pat-Trek’s Day!
Most of all – watch out for Leper-Khans!

NASCAR 2026

Last year, while driving to the golf course, I had the opportunity to use one of my favorite comments concerning a growing threat in this country as Billiam and I were witnesses and almost victims of the mad driving skillz of a blue-haired bingo crazed card carrying member of the AARP. After hearing a stream of language usually reserved for sailors and inmates come from the seat next to me, I let loose with the phrase that we will be hearing more and more about those Gray Panthers :
“One foot in the grave, the other on the gas.”
Granted, along the way, they’ll have the left or right blinker going, a line of hats and tissue boxes across the rear window, and maybe even in a few years the windshields will be specially designed to be bifocaled – the bottom half for the street and the top half for the signs.
I was all about this article on MSN that gives some numbers behind the nation’s great threat. Absolute truth. The ancients are everywhere, especially in front of me, wherever I go, or more specifically where I WANT to go. Like – the freaking bread aisle in Shop-Rite, any McFastFoodPlace, any kid function be it CCD, Scouts, dance, bowling, weapons camp, or, heaven forbid, the pharmacy (this could spawn a whole new blog entry on the possibility of America’s pharmacies being in reality alien spawn points, where all these aliens take the form of senior citizens – it is more plausible after you think about it for a while).
If our government is truly the overlords we take them to be, these liver-spotted highway clotters may be doing us all a favor and be on a federal mission to enforce the speed limits. By sacrificing themselves as speed drones, they force the rest of the traffic to work with them, of course at this juncture since they are not recognized as helpful they are performing the ultimate sacrifice of causing accidents to prove the point. One can even take the point of calling them Freeway Terrorists.
Sorry dad, but you ARE one of them, and if it’s not because you’re driving too slowly, it’s the complete opposite, and it may be a good thing you’re already home before some schools let out. I give you less than a decade before 65 mph is considered light speed, and you join the rest of the Empire of the Old. Hell – all truth be told, the day that the Porq slows down is the day that my buds and I all settle out and join in on yelling at the kids to get off the lawn.

Tunes During Class

2 trailer park girls go round the outside round the outside round the outside
guess who’s back? Back again
shady’s back
tell a friend

The brotherman and Billiam banged out some recent posts on what was up on their mp3 jukes. I’m currently sitting through one of my online courses, and I have my happy Real player cooking through my library of goodness.
Sure enough, the eminem came to represent. It was backed up by Guster’s What You Wish For.
Right after that came Pocket Full of Kryptonite from the Spin Doctors. I grabbed that piece for my Superman-themed playlist.
The shuffle kicked into high gear and brought me Cake with Love You Madly. Sweet.
Just when I thought I was getting into the class discussion, Taste The Pain was cooking from the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Yikes.
To give the speakers a break, my happy go lucky randomizer cued up Wheels by the String-A-Longs. It then snapped up a few decades with Bowie’s Blue Jean. Of course, the mood was getting too happy so it hit me with Lou Reed’s Dirty Boulevard after that.
It’s like the pc knew I was downing, so it blared the horns at me, straight from Perez Prado. Yeah – we’re talking about Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom. Cha cha cha…
My class session was drawing to a close, and with it came one of my favs – Nothing But Flowers by the Talking Heads.

So – that was my quick aside from normal ranting about nothing. I was reminded about the tunes blog right before class when I zipped onto the new myspace site put up by TMBG and they were playing a little from their Spine album (which I do have – sweet) as well as Ana Ng. That got me into the music mode and I fired up the realplayer. The first song I heard from it was really Cliff Richard’s We Don’t Talk Anymore. When eminem came on I had to keep track and let y’all know what may be a typical random in my world.