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

Guest Entry: From the Pacific Northwest

Dear Guy who sits in the cube next to me,

Please do your grooming at home - there's no need to clip your fingernails AT WORK!

The Road

Dear Interstate 10 Driver,

How smelly is the interior of your vehicle that it requires not one, not two or even three but four pine tree air fresheners?

What are you doing in there?

Wait a minute. You know? On second thought, don't answer that one.

Sincerely,

René

How is this anything but awesome?

Yes, these are Star Wars chopsticks (by kotobukiya). I saw them on a blog called That's Hideous, which is normally pretty accurate about relative hideousness of objects. This one baffles me, however, and I am going to start calling the site "You keep your mouth shut about my religion." I'm pretty sure people would get upset if I started making fun of people using crucifix ladles and stations of the cross tea sets.

Of course they are part of a larger collection of Star Wars artifacts (or dining gear, if you prefer the more secular description).

Here is a link to the original site. In case you are afraid to visit the chopsaber page for fear of going crazy from extended exposure to awesome, I will sweeten the pot. The collection includes C3-PO and R2-D2 tumblers (R2 looks more like a highball glass, but whatever).

Well, my warranty ran out today, or Muscles spasms are not the laugh bonanza I thought they'd be

I woke up this morning with what I will call "a profound inability to get up, change position, or otherwise budge without gasp-inducing pain in my hips." After various pills and the application of a heating pad, I spent an hour of so thinking two things...

1. 1) Who is doing all that whimpering?
2. 2) Will my whimpering become so commonplace that Rene eventually forgets to feed and water me as I lay in bed, on the floor, or under the house eating wet cigarettes in the dark like a god-damned dog? A dog with terrific back pain, no less.

We hauled the becrippled old coot (me) to the doctor with only slight intervention from the crane operators repairing the immersion school across the street. All things considered, I will probably not take the time to dig out my 1st grade notebooks and check the box next to "ride in a crane bucket" from the collection of humorous essays "Awesome things I will do when I grow up that will have nothing to do with drug interaction worries or chronic pain management." Crane rides are supposed to be fun and informative, rather than hurried and embarrassing. Also, they should not involve children jeering in both English and beautiful, fluid French unless it takes place in a dream or a wes anderson movie.

The doctor very quickly determined that a muscle, or set of muscles, in my lower back were spasming. I was very relieved at the diagnosis, because it was simple, direct, and not permanent. As the king of worst cases scenarios, I was prepared to have to answer questions like, "Josh, how long have you known about this wiccan ceremonial lance in your kidney?" and "Would you describe the pain as bubonic, septicemic, or vampiric. It's the plague, but we need to determine which one?" so the actual visit was pretty tame. I got a prescription and started taking pills.

I have spent the remainder of the afternoon aching, struggling to stand, and looking up potential interactions between the stuff I was prescribed and the stuff I had in the medicine cabinet that I felt certain would help as well. I am not a medical doctor, but am able to mimic one in my bathroom (and by "in my bathroom" I mean "in a hallucinogenic fog").

Wish me luck. I am planning for the muscle relaxer to peak just as I start my Hendricks and St. Germain IV drip.