Okay, so maybe all five posts within a week was a bit ambitious

Well, Internet, it appears that I have failed you once again.

Rest assured my pretties, there will be posts. I promise.

We have been so busy lately making lots of exciting progress on our list of home improvements. I'm planning a photo shoot of all these exciting changes this very evening.

Stay tuned!

Q: What's worse than being a procrastinator?

A: Also being a perfectionist!

If procrastination and perfectionism sound mutually exclusive to you, think again. Think a procrastinating perfectionist sounds like an oxymoron? Well, allow me to introduce myself. I am Rene' Repp, Esq. putting off perfection 'til tomorrow.

Let's explore the evidence. I have written a total of eight posts for this blog. I know, you may be asking, "Wait, Rene', I'm counting and I only see three measly posts by you; what gives?"

Well, it's true. I've only posted on Harky Tarky three times, but I have five additional posts saved as drafts.

I know, it's a sad and pathetic existence I lead.

So, here's how is happens. I write for a living. It's my job. Five days a week, I wake up and drive for an hour to a job where I read reports and attend meetings about policy, legislation, programs, reform, processes and government. Then I have to translate that into news releases and talking points, Web site content and PowerPoint presentations. These things will be issued to the media, delivered at press conferences, presented before the legislature. They must be clear, concise, simple, accurate.

We start with the cold hard facts; we lead with the most newsworthy information; we assume you won't read to the end. The kind of writing I do is technical, not so much humorous or interesting, per se.

So when I get an idea for a blog post, I get excited and I think here's my chance. I can write about this funny or interesting thing. Maybe people will love it, maybe they'll read it and then they will chuckle. Oh, how they'll chuckle!

Then I start writing, and my technical work brain and my fun loving blogger brain take a quick trip to Fist City. One side wants to write and post, and the other side wants to analyze, edit and revise. So I write and write and then I think, oh this is too long, too boring, not funny. The punctuation is horrid. It's riddled with misspellings. Let me get my Strunk and White, I never can remember the lay/lie rules.

I don't just want this to be adequate. I don't just want this to be good. I want it to be great! It's not descriptive enough, there's no imagery. IT'S NOT PERFECT!

So then, the third monster in my brain chimes in like the serpent in the Garden of Eden. He says, "You know what you should probably do instead of posting this imperfect thing? You should probably, just save it. Take a minute, come back with a fresh set of eyes. Let it stew. You'll be much better equipped to edit this later. Besides, you could probably check online for that thing you saw the other day, or organize your closet; it's a wreck."

And then I get all overwhelmed by my desire to bring you great, perfect, humorous, interesting, well-written content that I give in. I convince myself that it's better to post something later because then I'll have more time to make it just right. And then I decide the Christmas decorations need reorganizing or that I can't wait a minute long to whip up a batch of cupcakes.

Well Internet, I'm ready to turn this ship around. I declare today that I will no longer allow Harky Tarky to suffer because of my condition. I am telling you to expect me to post all five unposted posts within the week. I won't let you down.

Oh, I also redesigned this blog template, and those changes too have yet to be implemented, but you'll have to take that up with Josh. That's his department.

In short, POSTS by Rene that are great if not perfect coming soon to a Harky Tarky near you!

I wish this class had been offered at my school, or Religious intrusion I can get behind

Every day I tune in to the various religion/talk/ham-handed political livestock programmes (yes, programmes.  I am not so pedestrian as to allow a program into my ears) offered on my vehicle's FM radiometer.  Sometimes, while driving, I can be seen rolling my eyes and gesticulating at the invisible hosts of the shows.  Enraged by their dogma and willful stupidity, I struggle to comprehend how an adult mind can pretend to believe these ridiculous and often, demonstrable false, ideas.  Note:  By idea I mean 'any random assemblage of neuronal activity large enough to escape the mouth of a radio host.'


A topic that gets far too much play on these frequency modulated sideshows is "religion in education."  Cast in various disguises, Intelligent Design, teaching the controversy, unapologetic support for bible verses in public schools, and so on, this fantasy-based approach to education often strikes one of my many nerves.  I live, breathe, teach, and love logical thought, reasoned approaches to belief, and the good old scientific method.  Until today, there was no shred of religion that I found acceptable for use in public schools (private institutions get a pass, since they are pay for play operations, free to spout whatever jibberjabber they please as long parents don't complain).

Call me a convert, folks.  The best religion for schools is old time religion.  Actually, olde tyme religion, as in ancient gods in whose dreams are our very beings manifest.  Horrid, slithering intelligences slumbering beneath that veil that we, as mortals, pray will never be pulled from our eyes.  Infinite seas of darkest midnight obscure the voice of the great old ones... all who...you get the idea.  What better way to give all belief systems their fair shake than to expose our children to the possibility of madness...MADNESS IN THE FACE OF UNSPEAKABLE HORRORS?

Thanks to the folks at the The Onion for opening the worm-eaten tomes and showing us things the mainstream media won't.

Lovecraftian School Board Member Wants Madness Added To Curriculum

"ARKHAM, MA—Arguing that students should return to the fundamentals taught in the Pnakotic Manuscripts and the Necronomicon in order to develop the skills they need to be driven to the very edge of sanity, Arkham school board member Charles West continued to advance his pro-madness agenda at the district's monthly meeting Tuesday..."

Why I hate/love time travelling child photographers

I was reading HuffingtonPost this morning and came across a picture that literally flooded my mind with images from my childhood.

Yes, I understand the meaning of "literally" and am using it correctly.  My mind is divided into sectors by a series of elaborate dikes, walls, and sentry towers.  Seeing this photograph LITERALLY knocked a hole in the retaining walls separating sector 45-A (kids from my neighborhood that I wanted to be) and 12-D (memories from a time when clothing and costumes were the same thing).

This structural failure allowed all the kids in costumes from my brain-crypts to invade the areas inhabited by kids with better bikes, faster shoes, or longer capes than I had.  The shock of that level of awesome in one place at one time caused a long-forgotten character from my youth to resurface.

I know this kid.  He only came to my school for one grade, but the impact he had was amazing.  This is all you need to know about him (i.e. all you can handle):

• 1) This is what he wore every day.  They are his real clothes
• 2) The moustache is real.  How do you compete with a kid sporting that kind of man-face-pelt
• 3) He was expelled for starting a corn fight in the cafeteria.  Someone offered him corn and he went absolutely berserk.  One second he was a little kid like us, just with cooler clothes.  The next he was a red and blue tighted blur, his  tiny fists and red sneakers striking everything that dared move close enough.

The bottom line, I guess, is that my day was going pretty normally before I saw this photograph.  Remember that all this took place like 80 years before Nacho Libre.  Now I am not sure of anything.  Well, I am sure that this kid spent all day every day of my kindergarten year rocking.   In my recently flooded brain, he still does.

The Road: II

Dearest Driver of the White Jeep Laredo,

I thought it was pretty neat that you tailgated me on a trafficky Interstate this morning. Then it was totally awesome when there was a break in the never-ending stream of 18-wheelers, and I moved out of your way, you passed me, moved in front of me and then slowed down. Thanks for that and the way you varied your speed for the duration of the drive to Baton Rouge.

But, do you know what was my favorite part? I have to say, this part just really made my day. I just love it. LOVE IT! As in, cannot get enough! Can you guess what it was (what it schwas? It is soooo good to hear it)?

OKAY! I'll tell you. It was when you sprayed windshield washer fluid on your windshield thereby gently misting my windshield with a fine haze of minuscule droplets. YAY!

So anyway, just wanted to say thanks! That was so fun. Let's do it again sometime!

René