I moved the Quizzes post to the Clip Blog because of technical difficulties. Basically, the formatting of the tables and such didn't click with the blog template. The Clip Blog's format wasn't effected when I tested the post there, so I moved it.
In short, click the link if you want to take a couple of fun Quizzes. If you don't, wait for something more interesting from Scott or myself.
Laters...
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Pat Tillman and an Early Memorial Day Shout-Out
I started to post this on my clip blog, but it became something else as I got going. I have posted it here instead, as it needs to be out there among my other thoughts. This is proof that what may be random doesn't always stay random. Read the link, but realize that I didn't focus the post on what the Army did with the information surrounding Tillman's death, which infuriates me. I focus on another part of the story.
URL: Paul Rieckhoff: Honoring Pat Tillman
Although I think way too much has been made of Pat Tillman, the football player, I still don't think enough can be made for the other "Pat Tillmans" of the world. Those who give up their comfortable (read as: "not at war") lives for the rigors of the battlefield. I have my own reservations about the military, which have little to do with the soldiers, but you have to admire those who drop it all and serve. It takes a special kind of person to do that.
I am not that kind of person. I am a patriot who chooses to use words instead of guns. However, until we don't need to shoot each other on this planet, we need those who are willing to - nay, that are called to do the shooting. I am willing to defend my homeland. The Pat Tillmans of the world are called to.
They are called to fight wars that they should be fighting as well as those they shouldn't. They are called to protect the way of life that, while damned imperfect, is better than any other on the planet. They are called to do a duty that most of us can't understand. We can't understand because we haven't lived it - on any level.
So on this Memorial Day, let's remember Pat Tillman. But not for the fact he was a football player. That's nice, but it's unimportant. Let's remember the man. Let's remember the other men and women who are out there every day doing what they do - for their country, and for us. Let's work to make sure they fight the wars they need to fight.
Let's really support our troops.
Those who know me know this, but I should put it out here in case others stroll by. I have a few relatives and two close friends in the military right now. Their names are listed below. Matt and Gordon can tell you that I'm not a "pro-military" guy, but I am supportive of what they HAVE to do. I wrote this for them, as they felt called, for various reasons, to their military service. They aren't Pat Tillman, but regular guys - guys who otherwise might go unnoticed. They are involved on different levels and branches - one even for a different country. You do great work guys. Thank you, and stay safe.
Matthew Hetrick, Sr. -- US Navy -- between duty stations, most recently of the USS George Washington
Brandon Dietz -- US Navy -- serving in Iraq with the CB's
Gordon Justice -- Army National Guard, formerly US Marine Corps -- currently a "Weekend Warrior," most recently stationed in Springfield, Ohio at the Air Force Base there
Jephas Richards -- British Army -- currently stationed in Germany, recently in Iraq
Scott Dees -- Army National Guard -- just out of Basic
URL: Paul Rieckhoff: Honoring Pat Tillman
Although I think way too much has been made of Pat Tillman, the football player, I still don't think enough can be made for the other "Pat Tillmans" of the world. Those who give up their comfortable (read as: "not at war") lives for the rigors of the battlefield. I have my own reservations about the military, which have little to do with the soldiers, but you have to admire those who drop it all and serve. It takes a special kind of person to do that.
I am not that kind of person. I am a patriot who chooses to use words instead of guns. However, until we don't need to shoot each other on this planet, we need those who are willing to - nay, that are called to do the shooting. I am willing to defend my homeland. The Pat Tillmans of the world are called to.
They are called to fight wars that they should be fighting as well as those they shouldn't. They are called to protect the way of life that, while damned imperfect, is better than any other on the planet. They are called to do a duty that most of us can't understand. We can't understand because we haven't lived it - on any level.
So on this Memorial Day, let's remember Pat Tillman. But not for the fact he was a football player. That's nice, but it's unimportant. Let's remember the man. Let's remember the other men and women who are out there every day doing what they do - for their country, and for us. Let's work to make sure they fight the wars they need to fight.
Let's really support our troops.
Those who know me know this, but I should put it out here in case others stroll by. I have a few relatives and two close friends in the military right now. Their names are listed below. Matt and Gordon can tell you that I'm not a "pro-military" guy, but I am supportive of what they HAVE to do. I wrote this for them, as they felt called, for various reasons, to their military service. They aren't Pat Tillman, but regular guys - guys who otherwise might go unnoticed. They are involved on different levels and branches - one even for a different country. You do great work guys. Thank you, and stay safe.
Matthew Hetrick, Sr. -- US Navy -- between duty stations, most recently of the USS George Washington
Brandon Dietz -- US Navy -- serving in Iraq with the CB's
Gordon Justice -- Army National Guard, formerly US Marine Corps -- currently a "Weekend Warrior," most recently stationed in Springfield, Ohio at the Air Force Base there
Jephas Richards -- British Army -- currently stationed in Germany, recently in Iraq
Scott Dees -- Army National Guard -- just out of Basic
Monday, May 23, 2005
Moving, and related things...
Hello you random people...
So, this Saturday is the big big U-haul moving day. I'm trying to pack and move as much as possible of my stuff beforehand, though I have yet to really start. I'll have most of the week, though, so that should go well. I hope. I'm only moving 5 blocks and my current roommate has promised the use of her car when I need it for things I don't want to carry 5 blocks (tv and such...)
The big big U-haul is mostly for Amy's stuff, and for the big bulky things like my futon (our new couch) that won't fit in a Civic. This is going to be a long, hard week, followed by a long, hard Saturday.
I'm looking forward to living with Amy, don't get me wrong there. It's just that there's moving involved. Ay, ay, ay, no me gusta...
Moving has always been a hassle for me. I've done a move from a trailer into a house (across the front yard, lol...), a move from Bridgeport to the Bay Area (sort of across the back yard, but after crossing the back yard you go another 2500ish miles...), a move into my old studio apt. in San Mateo (wasn't that hard, didn't have much stuff really), a move to San Francisco about a year and a half ago (worst moving experience ever...), and now this one. Maybe this one will go well, as I feel I'm due for it. None of the rest have gone anything like well, really. And, dammit, I deserve an easy move by now! I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, dog-gonnit, people like me. Okay, a few people. But it still counts!!!
Why is it that the moves I've helped with, that didn't involve me moving, went well? Maybe because I couldn't stress about them, as someone else was the affected party, and did all the stressing involved... Hmmmm... Now, that's an idea! Would someone like to take over with the logistics, and do all the necessary stressing for me? Come on, it would be fun... Okay, no volunteers. Fine... It was a good idea, and it certainly had fewer legal hangups than my first one, which was to perform a ritual, culminating in a human sacrifice, to the dark gods of relocation. Didn't get any volunteers for that one, either, by the way. Nobody willing to help me out here...
Nah, I'll be okay, and this one shouldn't be all that bad, really. Aside from the part that involves me having to drive a U-haul around SF, everything will be great. The driving wouldn't be that bad, except for the fact that, on the streets, I'm accustomed to being roughly 25.5 inches wide and 70ish inches long (on my bike...) Seriously, Maria's Civic feels like a tank when I drive it. Imagine what a 14 foot U-haul is going to be like for me... Oh, well...
Anyway, this one shouldn't be bad. I know I keep saying that, but I'm trying to convince myself. Really, I don't care whether anyone else believes it, I just want me to believe it. Maybe I'll have time next week to post another entry, and I can let all you fun fun people know I survived moving. Yup, that's right, all 5ish of you.
'Till then...
So, this Saturday is the big big U-haul moving day. I'm trying to pack and move as much as possible of my stuff beforehand, though I have yet to really start. I'll have most of the week, though, so that should go well. I hope. I'm only moving 5 blocks and my current roommate has promised the use of her car when I need it for things I don't want to carry 5 blocks (tv and such...)
The big big U-haul is mostly for Amy's stuff, and for the big bulky things like my futon (our new couch) that won't fit in a Civic. This is going to be a long, hard week, followed by a long, hard Saturday.
I'm looking forward to living with Amy, don't get me wrong there. It's just that there's moving involved. Ay, ay, ay, no me gusta...
Moving has always been a hassle for me. I've done a move from a trailer into a house (across the front yard, lol...), a move from Bridgeport to the Bay Area (sort of across the back yard, but after crossing the back yard you go another 2500ish miles...), a move into my old studio apt. in San Mateo (wasn't that hard, didn't have much stuff really), a move to San Francisco about a year and a half ago (worst moving experience ever...), and now this one. Maybe this one will go well, as I feel I'm due for it. None of the rest have gone anything like well, really. And, dammit, I deserve an easy move by now! I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, dog-gonnit, people like me. Okay, a few people. But it still counts!!!
Why is it that the moves I've helped with, that didn't involve me moving, went well? Maybe because I couldn't stress about them, as someone else was the affected party, and did all the stressing involved... Hmmmm... Now, that's an idea! Would someone like to take over with the logistics, and do all the necessary stressing for me? Come on, it would be fun... Okay, no volunteers. Fine... It was a good idea, and it certainly had fewer legal hangups than my first one, which was to perform a ritual, culminating in a human sacrifice, to the dark gods of relocation. Didn't get any volunteers for that one, either, by the way. Nobody willing to help me out here...
Nah, I'll be okay, and this one shouldn't be all that bad, really. Aside from the part that involves me having to drive a U-haul around SF, everything will be great. The driving wouldn't be that bad, except for the fact that, on the streets, I'm accustomed to being roughly 25.5 inches wide and 70ish inches long (on my bike...) Seriously, Maria's Civic feels like a tank when I drive it. Imagine what a 14 foot U-haul is going to be like for me... Oh, well...
Anyway, this one shouldn't be bad. I know I keep saying that, but I'm trying to convince myself. Really, I don't care whether anyone else believes it, I just want me to believe it. Maybe I'll have time next week to post another entry, and I can let all you fun fun people know I survived moving. Yup, that's right, all 5ish of you.
'Till then...
Thursday, May 19, 2005
A short time ago, in a theatre relatively close to my house...
I saw Episode III last night.
On the IMAX/Ultra Screen.
It was big.
It was cool.
It was f**king amazing.
Except for Padme's lines.
But that was OK.
Stuff blew up.
We saw Darth Vader.
We laughed.
We cried.
We won t-shirts.
I won money while standing in line.
Did I mention that the movie rocked?
It did.
Elaboration at a later time. Until then, see the movie. You'll be a better person...or at least a person who won't kill me for placing spoilers in my blog.
May the Force be with you and stuff.
P.S. Go see the movie. Quit reading. Go!
On the IMAX/Ultra Screen.
It was big.
It was cool.
It was f**king amazing.
Except for Padme's lines.
But that was OK.
Stuff blew up.
We saw Darth Vader.
We laughed.
We cried.
We won t-shirts.
I won money while standing in line.
Did I mention that the movie rocked?
It did.
Elaboration at a later time. Until then, see the movie. You'll be a better person...or at least a person who won't kill me for placing spoilers in my blog.
May the Force be with you and stuff.
P.S. Go see the movie. Quit reading. Go!
Monday, May 09, 2005
A Punked-Up Thursday
A couple of months ago, Gretchen and I are on our way home from Poker Night at Justin's and Leslie's. One of us had won (I don't now remember which) and we were understandably happy. We're talking about the various hands that were played when The Blitz had a contest. Caller 9 wins Green Day tickets for their May 5 show. We both whip out the cell phones and begin calling. Gretchen gets through and wins the seats!
Green Day is one of our favorite bands. In fact, when we first met, it was one of the few bands we both liked. I personally love punk rock, but Gretchen doesn't always connect with it. However, Green Day has always been a musical glue for us. Therefore, we were both completely beside ourselves with happiness when she won.
So the day comes. I get off of work at 4:30, jump into the car, grab money from the ATM, and slip American Idiot into the CD player. Gretchen gets home just after 5 pm, so we take care of a couple of things and head out about 5:45. To the Schottenstein Center, with haste!
We trudge through the crowd and make our way to the doors. We couldn't help but notice that the prevailing age of the majority of concert-goers were "younger than us." I'm 27 (turning 28 this month) and Gretchen is 26. Most of the crowd was ages 15-21 (that's an estimate, as I don't have actual stats -- I didn't poll the audience or anything). We were old. Oh, well, won't be the last time.
We find our seats and await the show's start. My Chemical Romance is the opening act. I've heard their most recent release -- "I'm Not OK (I Promise)" -- which is quite good. Needless to say, I have decently high expectations for them.
The arena darkens, and out comes My Chemical Romance. They proceed to play a 30 minute set of loud, melodical punk rock that reminds me of AFI. They save their big hit for last, and the crowd didn't mind. Excellent work, and I would definitely keep one eye toward this band. I expect we'll be hearing from them again.
Another 20 minutes passes while the crew takes down My Chemical Romance's gear and sets up for Green Day. Fanfare introduces the band, who overact in typical fashion. Tre Cool sits behind his drumkit and Billy Joe Armstrong and Mike Dirnt grab their rhythm and bass guitars respectively. They immediately launch into "American Idiot." Billy Joe instructs us to "sing so fucking loud that all the rednecks hear you." Of couse, cheers erupt, and we sing along with the rest of the crowd.
"Jesus of Suburbia," "Holiday," "We Are the Waiting," and "St. Jimmy" come next. I began to think that the American Idiot album would be played in its entirety. Turns out, after introducing St. Jimmy to us, they proceed to launch into quite the large amount of their earlier music. "Longview" gives way to "She" and "Basket Case." "Brain Stew/Jaded," a cover of "You Make Me Wanna Shout," "Hitchin' a Ride," and "King for a Day" come before the next American Idiot song, "Wake Me Up When September Ends." They close the main set with "Minority."
After a couple minutes off of the stage, Green Day returns for their encore. They begin with "Redundant." Finally, they give the kiddies what they want with "Boulevard of Broken Dreams." "We Are the Champions" is covered and Tre and Mike clear the stage. The spotlight shines on Billy Joe who ends the show with "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)."
The entire show was amazing, and definitely exceeded even our highest expectations. I will definitely see them again should the opportunity arrive. Definitely a show to remember...
As an aside, I'd like to officially welcome Scott to the Land of Randomness. He should provide entertaining insights into life on the left coast as well as giving the five of you who read this yet another reason to do so.
Until next time...
(By the way, I know the title is lame -- bite me.)
Green Day is one of our favorite bands. In fact, when we first met, it was one of the few bands we both liked. I personally love punk rock, but Gretchen doesn't always connect with it. However, Green Day has always been a musical glue for us. Therefore, we were both completely beside ourselves with happiness when she won.
So the day comes. I get off of work at 4:30, jump into the car, grab money from the ATM, and slip American Idiot into the CD player. Gretchen gets home just after 5 pm, so we take care of a couple of things and head out about 5:45. To the Schottenstein Center, with haste!
We trudge through the crowd and make our way to the doors. We couldn't help but notice that the prevailing age of the majority of concert-goers were "younger than us." I'm 27 (turning 28 this month) and Gretchen is 26. Most of the crowd was ages 15-21 (that's an estimate, as I don't have actual stats -- I didn't poll the audience or anything). We were old. Oh, well, won't be the last time.
We find our seats and await the show's start. My Chemical Romance is the opening act. I've heard their most recent release -- "I'm Not OK (I Promise)" -- which is quite good. Needless to say, I have decently high expectations for them.
The arena darkens, and out comes My Chemical Romance. They proceed to play a 30 minute set of loud, melodical punk rock that reminds me of AFI. They save their big hit for last, and the crowd didn't mind. Excellent work, and I would definitely keep one eye toward this band. I expect we'll be hearing from them again.
Another 20 minutes passes while the crew takes down My Chemical Romance's gear and sets up for Green Day. Fanfare introduces the band, who overact in typical fashion. Tre Cool sits behind his drumkit and Billy Joe Armstrong and Mike Dirnt grab their rhythm and bass guitars respectively. They immediately launch into "American Idiot." Billy Joe instructs us to "sing so fucking loud that all the rednecks hear you." Of couse, cheers erupt, and we sing along with the rest of the crowd.
"Jesus of Suburbia," "Holiday," "We Are the Waiting," and "St. Jimmy" come next. I began to think that the American Idiot album would be played in its entirety. Turns out, after introducing St. Jimmy to us, they proceed to launch into quite the large amount of their earlier music. "Longview" gives way to "She" and "Basket Case." "Brain Stew/Jaded," a cover of "You Make Me Wanna Shout," "Hitchin' a Ride," and "King for a Day" come before the next American Idiot song, "Wake Me Up When September Ends." They close the main set with "Minority."
After a couple minutes off of the stage, Green Day returns for their encore. They begin with "Redundant." Finally, they give the kiddies what they want with "Boulevard of Broken Dreams." "We Are the Champions" is covered and Tre and Mike clear the stage. The spotlight shines on Billy Joe who ends the show with "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)."
The entire show was amazing, and definitely exceeded even our highest expectations. I will definitely see them again should the opportunity arrive. Definitely a show to remember...
As an aside, I'd like to officially welcome Scott to the Land of Randomness. He should provide entertaining insights into life on the left coast as well as giving the five of you who read this yet another reason to do so.
Until next time...
(By the way, I know the title is lame -- bite me.)
Friday, May 06, 2005
How's this for random?
Hi, I'm Scott, the other contributor listed on this blog. Sam added me in December, I posted a comment promising an opening entry from me in a few days or weeks... Well, it's been a few months, so I suppose that's random, or else just lazy. One of the two, possibly both, but probably weighted to one side or the other. Best not to think too much about which one right now.
So, enough about my possible laziness, on to the general information!
As I said, my name is Scott. I currently live in San Francisco, though I grew up in Alabama, where I met Sam. I say met, but it is more the case that I've known him since early consciousness. Kindergarten, to be more precise. Hard to say that you "met" when the meeting in question was at age 4, and not something you remember really. You don't exactly have cocktail parties and mingle when you're 4. Anyway, I'm digressing, which is something I do extremely well, and if anyone reads this, they will certainly notice, especially if I post very often. And there I go again. Onward, dammit!! We went through school together, then didn't see each other very much for a bit, as I was away at college and blinded by something that seemed similar to love at the time. In fairness, it wasn't altogether unlike love, but I'm still not sure what it actually was (no, I am, but I'm trying to keep things PG-13 here...) I went away to college for 2 years, then left there to go to a different college closer to home, though that wasn't in the reasons for leaving at the time. No need to go into that here. I started playing Magic: The Gathering with a couple of people, and they said I needed to meet the local M:TG guru, who, as it happened, was Sam. From there, we spent quite a bit of time hanging out until he moved to Ohio. I moved to California soon after.
Why San Francisco, you ask? Well, where else can I pursue my dream of being a Leather Daddy? Not Alabama, that's for sure! Okay, okay, that's not the reason, but wouldn't it be fun if it was? I moved to the Bay Area because I met a girl. We were together for about 4 and a half years after I moved, then broke up. I'm okay now, though, and I am very happy with an altogether wonderful girl named Amy. We've been together for slightly over 11 months now, and will be moving in together (let's hear it for living in sin!) on June 1st. Which, incidentally, will be our 1-year anniversary (and all the girls say "awwwww...")
As far as my job, it's something that pays the bills, not much more than that to me. I do actually have direction, though. I've found something I enjoy, and, with a bit of training, I can actually get paid to do it, so right now I'm waiting for Amy to finish a training program for her career (she's a teacher, and is currently in the training process for Waldorf schools, a very different, very progressive, and very interesting program.) Then we'll be off to Arizona for 2-3 years, as I'll be going to MMI (Motorcycle Mechanics Institute) to become a Buell tech. What's a Buell, you ask? If you asked that, really, you need to go to www.buell.com and find out for yourself. I ride a fairly modified Blast (492cc thumper, or single cylinder motorcycle for those who aren't familiar with that term.) That's right, I'm one of those scuzzy, hairy, smelly bikers on a loud motorcycle. Okay, okay, I'm not really hairy or smelly. Scuzzy is in the eye of the beholder, so that one may work for you. But, yes, the motorcycle is loud. The loudness wasn't the point, though, it was performance I was after, and that's exactly what I got. It's just that loudness was a side effect. It sounds really really good, though, despite the fact that it's a bit loud. If you've ever heard a Ducati with a serious race exhaust system installed, you have a general idea of the sound, and if you haven't, then maybe you should...
But, anyway, I won't talk more about my bike, though I could very easily. My ex-girlfriend would just glaze over, as do many other people. Amy doesn't necessarily understand everything I say, but she listens, and is actually interested, which still amazes me. She knows much more than she did about motorcycles after a short 11 months with me. She probably knows more about Blasts than half the people that own one. Honestly, the fact she actually had a spark of interest the first time I started rambling at her about my bike was huge points for her in my book.
So, that's a lot of information to digest, so I'll stop typing now, and let you all get back to your business. Eventually, there will be more from me. Hope you've enjoyed this entry, and if you haven't, well, that's really your fault for clicking, isn't it, so don't bother me with any of that.
'Til next time...
So, enough about my possible laziness, on to the general information!
As I said, my name is Scott. I currently live in San Francisco, though I grew up in Alabama, where I met Sam. I say met, but it is more the case that I've known him since early consciousness. Kindergarten, to be more precise. Hard to say that you "met" when the meeting in question was at age 4, and not something you remember really. You don't exactly have cocktail parties and mingle when you're 4. Anyway, I'm digressing, which is something I do extremely well, and if anyone reads this, they will certainly notice, especially if I post very often. And there I go again. Onward, dammit!! We went through school together, then didn't see each other very much for a bit, as I was away at college and blinded by something that seemed similar to love at the time. In fairness, it wasn't altogether unlike love, but I'm still not sure what it actually was (no, I am, but I'm trying to keep things PG-13 here...) I went away to college for 2 years, then left there to go to a different college closer to home, though that wasn't in the reasons for leaving at the time. No need to go into that here. I started playing Magic: The Gathering with a couple of people, and they said I needed to meet the local M:TG guru, who, as it happened, was Sam. From there, we spent quite a bit of time hanging out until he moved to Ohio. I moved to California soon after.
Why San Francisco, you ask? Well, where else can I pursue my dream of being a Leather Daddy? Not Alabama, that's for sure! Okay, okay, that's not the reason, but wouldn't it be fun if it was? I moved to the Bay Area because I met a girl. We were together for about 4 and a half years after I moved, then broke up. I'm okay now, though, and I am very happy with an altogether wonderful girl named Amy. We've been together for slightly over 11 months now, and will be moving in together (let's hear it for living in sin!) on June 1st. Which, incidentally, will be our 1-year anniversary (and all the girls say "awwwww...")
As far as my job, it's something that pays the bills, not much more than that to me. I do actually have direction, though. I've found something I enjoy, and, with a bit of training, I can actually get paid to do it, so right now I'm waiting for Amy to finish a training program for her career (she's a teacher, and is currently in the training process for Waldorf schools, a very different, very progressive, and very interesting program.) Then we'll be off to Arizona for 2-3 years, as I'll be going to MMI (Motorcycle Mechanics Institute) to become a Buell tech. What's a Buell, you ask? If you asked that, really, you need to go to www.buell.com and find out for yourself. I ride a fairly modified Blast (492cc thumper, or single cylinder motorcycle for those who aren't familiar with that term.) That's right, I'm one of those scuzzy, hairy, smelly bikers on a loud motorcycle. Okay, okay, I'm not really hairy or smelly. Scuzzy is in the eye of the beholder, so that one may work for you. But, yes, the motorcycle is loud. The loudness wasn't the point, though, it was performance I was after, and that's exactly what I got. It's just that loudness was a side effect. It sounds really really good, though, despite the fact that it's a bit loud. If you've ever heard a Ducati with a serious race exhaust system installed, you have a general idea of the sound, and if you haven't, then maybe you should...
But, anyway, I won't talk more about my bike, though I could very easily. My ex-girlfriend would just glaze over, as do many other people. Amy doesn't necessarily understand everything I say, but she listens, and is actually interested, which still amazes me. She knows much more than she did about motorcycles after a short 11 months with me. She probably knows more about Blasts than half the people that own one. Honestly, the fact she actually had a spark of interest the first time I started rambling at her about my bike was huge points for her in my book.
So, that's a lot of information to digest, so I'll stop typing now, and let you all get back to your business. Eventually, there will be more from me. Hope you've enjoyed this entry, and if you haven't, well, that's really your fault for clicking, isn't it, so don't bother me with any of that.
'Til next time...
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