Blogging Cures Dementia!!! .... or maybe it's Dominicans

Yeah I was shocked too, dude! Who would have ever thunk it? I mean here we are, once again sitting behind a computer screen, slowly irradiating ourselves like a bag of Microwave Popcorn while we think of ways to amuse or astound, and we might just be staving off our biggest fears. The USA Today reports people who tend to "over-think things" are creating some type of protection from Alzheimer's Disease.

DADDY DATE

So there we were, just the two of us. New Co-Worker was bereft with guilt at having ignored her children all the time she was fighting with the airlines, airport, concierge, FAA and FEMA over her lost luggage. Now all was right with the word and she felt her heartstrings pulled towards her little ankle biters.

So Y2Kette and I got to have a little Daddy/Daughter date. We went down to the concierge again and asked about restaurants. We looked over the list and as out-of-towners, we had no idea what they meant or how far they were from this remote golf resort. Then I saw it. The perfect item on the list, a must have for every little girl on a night out. We went to the Cheesecake Factory!!

We have been trying to have a nice meal out at night and we kind of made a rule to try something new. So Y2Kette ordered the Orange Chicken, thinking it would be some exotic French cuisine, only to be served Chinese food. I ordered a Sheppard's Pie, thinking it would be encrusted like a pot pie. It was mashed potatoes over chipped beef. But the good news is the cheese cake was like 80% off!! So we said we would like to order about 8 pieces of cheese cake and were promptly told to fuck off. Seems there is a limit of one slice per person. Fuckers. Y2Kette had the Oreo cheesecake and I have the carrot cake cheesecake. mmmmmmmm I love me some carrot cake.

Then we wandered over to Borders where I bought an old Stephen King book I read about five years ago. Yes it was on clearance. Shut up! Y2Kette appeared with an arm load of book and then wanted a bookmark and $45 later we order the other half of our $50 cab ride. Total cost for the evening around $150 but hopefully the memories will be priceless. Expensive fucking California cabs.

EARTHQUAKE!!!!

So I guess you heard about the disaster. Here I am all the way across the country, without any real support system and a natural disaster, an act of God's frustration with the really high gay population of the area (if you follow the nut cases) and we have a major earthquake. It was horrific . Traffic snarled for miles and miles on the freeways. Somewhere in town a guy in a Toyota Green Car Hybrid was watching the traffic lights sway to the point he accidentally drove through a huge store window. I am pretty sure there were blood curdling screams and mothers grabbed their children to their warm comforting bosoms.

I never saw any of that, and while it probably did happen, I am not aware that it ever happened around here in Palm Springs. No, in fact I was in a conference class that was DAMN interesting about neurobiology when my cell phone went crazy and I got like a half dozen urgent text messages from the home office. I go to my room, take care of business and go back downstairs towards the end of the conference, just before noon. Evidently, in the time it took for me to walk the rat's maze of hallways to get the elevator and thus to the conference room, we hadda whole lotta shakin going on! I am standing around, actually braced against a pillar as I start to bend and stretch out my back, even a small walk gets me hurting, but I feel I am getting better. (Thanks for asking) When the hotel staff come in and are staring at the crystal chandeliers. That's when they tell us we just had an earthquake. A pretty big one. And I freakin missed it!!

They point out the shaking glass on the chandeliers and mention how the building is built on rollers so it will sway when the Earth shakes. Soon all kinds of conference skippers file in the hallways and start their tales of survival. Some say the window shutters shook, some say the whole floor swayed under their feet, some even claimed stuff was rattled off tables. Again, I was clueless. Not even a hint of Spidey sense to enable my survival. Zip. Zilch. Nothing. I mean I was as flat lined as if watching gay porn. (with dudes... chicks are different) So, there I am waiting for Y2Kette to emerge from the session with the new co-worker so I can tell them how they survived the horrifying ordeal they probably never knew happened, like I had no clue, right? Only they ran out of the room laughing and glowing with the joy of having escaped with their lives, or enjoyed a good carnival ride. THEY KNEW!!

"So, did you know we had an Earthquake?" I ask them.

"Yeah!" Y2Kette beamed at me. "We were talking about brain physiology and the room shook and we heard this loud roar and New Co-worker yelled 'It's a Bomb!' and started to dive under the table. But then somebody from California said it was just an Earthquake. That was a good class. Where did you go?"

So as the dust slowly settles and we find some type of refuge in the still standing parts of the Palm Springs Renaissance Esmeralda Resort and Spa, we will find the courage to carry on, to rebuild and maybe, one day, with the grace of God, we will be able to put this terrible day behind us. But I suspect it will take A LOT of flex time from the office and maybe a few days sailing. On good old solid Oklahoma lakes.

Bedtime Story

So there I was, a pubescent fantasy come true. Two hot chicks in the middle of the night come to my hotel room and crawl into bed with me. For the next two hours we had a great time, a time that will be remembered for years.


OK Turns out Y2Kette forgot to pack the cords for the DVD player. Co-Worker's luggage still hasn't showed up and they wanted to watch 27 Dresses. So I offer the laptop, which has a pretty good sized screen but the speakers are real weak. So we all three huddle side by side at the foot of my bed (Y2Kette in the middle) as we strain to hear the tale of the always a bridesmaid never a bride Catherine Heigel flick. I gotta tell ya dude, I had to shift and move and stretch a few times. Lying like that really strains an old man's back.

Once the movie was over and the lights were back on, I noticed the giant 50 inch flat screen TV that is in the room has a box that will accept monitor cables for the laptop. At this point Co-Worker points out there cables in the drawer of the witting desk. Yup, you guessed it. We suffered all scrunched in front of that little screen, straining to hear when a huge TV was available. DUH!

A dude at the conference without luggage has said he started telling American Airlines they would have to buy him a set of clothes for each day he was without luggage at the conference. If we don't get a suitcase by tomorrow, neither Y2Kette OR Co-worker will have any clothes. That's gunna make for a LONGGGGGG plane ride home. AWKWARDDDDDDDD

HELLO?!!

What?!! I said I was in Palm Springs. I am in the freakin Esmeralda Renaissance! You mean Hilly and Karl and Jester and Dave can't take the time to pop by while they are in nearby Dave Diego?? Fuckers.

Calm Springs It Aint!!!

I know I know according to your records I missed a day of blog posting. I know, I know I am a failure. Well, come here, no really come here, lean real close to the screen because I want to whisper this in real small letters...

GET OFF MY DAMN BACK!!!!

See we got up this morning around 5:00 a.m. We showered, drank coffee and left in a frenzy because we needed to meet a co-worker along the way to the airport. We got to Tulsa International just fine, whipped into the private parking garage, abandoned the car was shuttled to the boarding gate, got our ticket, sailed through security and went to a gate only half way down the terminal, as opposed to all the way at the end, as usual. Then we waited and waited and waited. We needed to flight to Dallas because evidently Tulsa International only connects to Dallas, Denver and Atlanta. Fuckers!

So we wait and wait and finally they start boarding the plane. Then they stop. Then they say there is a problem with the engine. It should take an hour. NO PROBLEM!! We had a two hour layover in Dallas, so we will grab an early lunch there at the airport and just keep on traveling.

Only after lunch we found out the flight was delayed about hour and a half IF THEN. So now we have a problem, plus we already wasted a freakin hour. The lines to the service desk are way down the hall and nobody is getting much help. In desperation the airlines starts sending people out handing out cards for the 1-800 Service center. We call them because, lets face it, my back could not stand the strain from standing in that line. So I call and I am given three unattractive options. We pick the one that switched airlines, sends us to LA and then hops us to Palm Springs. We should arrive around 11:30 p.m. The plane leaves Tulsa in 5 hours.

So we visit and play and end up wasting time planning what we might do, but didn't really have time, so we walked out the front of the airport and back to the United ticket booth to start this adventure from the beginning. Only United refused to even talk to us. They said American Air was supposed to confirm, the flight was overbooked and we were screwed. And I can take my pissy attitude down the hall to the American Ticket counter. Fuckers!

So I go to American and start off the conversation with the claim I have a problem, I understand they did not cause it, but they will still need to call the manager. Then I told the situation. There was a good deal of finger pointing but the end result was Y2Kette and I got upgraded to first class tickets! I had told the kid I wanted to take her to some really nice restaurants while here in town. She thought I meant tonight, and refused to eat on the plane. A first class meal and she turned up her freakin nose!!! So now we have been traveling nearly 20 hours for a total of 4 hours in the air. We have eaten two meals at airports and one at the hotel room service. Yes, $30 for a hamburger.

It is so late because once we touch down, miracles happen. Y2Kette and I both have all our luggage. The co-worker... not so much. All her clothes and the office laptop computer were packed away in that bag. We waited and waited and waited before finally taking our $60 cab ride to the hotel.

If you seem to notice a recurring theme about money here... What? Like you don't know who you are reading! Sheesh!

Party Time!!!

You know there is so much discussion about politics that we are forced to chose one side or another in party politics. To be honest, while I come across as a Liberal Democrat to many (especially the redneck Repugs of Oklahoma) I don't really like much of the Democratic party and I am still registered as a Republican. While I kid about the predominance of Republicans, I am, by nature, very conservative. And my problems with the Republican Party have been that they in no way, shape or fashion represent my basic conservative beliefs. Like most people in my state, I would have probably considered Ron Paul over McCain, and General Clark always has always been our choice for President. Unfortunately, the Oklahoman primary choice never makes the final cut to the big game and then we have to choose between two of the guys we never liked in the first place. That my friend is American Politics.

So when we get right down to it, how do we choose between two people that you never felt were good for the job in the first place? As far as I can tell, the best, most intelligent decisions are going to require some real reflection on the part of the voters. And I really believe that American voters want the right guy in office. Most intelligent people know the shit is about to hit the economic fan. Many of us will be without jobs by Christmas and many will be without homes by Easter. Did you read two more banks have closed? It is going to get real ugly, real soon. As my old friend Cy used to say, it seems like a good time to start buying gold. The US Dollar is going to drop like a rock and we will suffer due to years of mismanagement. Even the Republicans are admitting all of this is a given, and saying we should stop pointing fingers at who is responsible (them) and focus on recovery. The new Alan Greenspan dude said just this week that we are headed into a downturn (depression) that will takes months to recover from, but not years. Of course he never said how many months. Maybe 2, or 36, possibly 48, how about 62?

So as I am about to fly out to Palm Springs and trying to figure out how to pack for two people for five days in two medium suitcases, I began thinking about my political beliefs. The old saying is, opinions are like assholes, everybody has one. Years ago former Raider’s Howie Long added, "...And they all stink." Howie gained even more of my respect that day. Anyway, here is my opinion.

If we went out and loaned money to our friends that we knew couldn't pay it back, who would feel bad for us and give us free tax money for being stupid? If we go out and buy all kinds of crap that we can't afford, including a house that has monthly payments of nearly half the household income, who will bail us out? If we turn out to be a danger to the safety and security of our neighborhood, who would not only turn a blind eye, but start giving us sacks of money to become an even greater pain in the butt?

OK the banks not only loaned money to people they knew were bad investments, they begged then demanded banking deregulation so they could make those bad decisions. Why should my tax money be used to bail them out? Will I benefit from a bailout financed with my tax money? What about the homeowners? I am surrounded by people snapping up the next big prestigious thing. They feel they deserve the lifestyle that includes a huge house and big cars and all the latest gizmos. They have been bragging about how bright they are for years as the rest of us save and live within our income. Why the hell should MY tax money be used to bail them out?

Let's consider the Airline industry. You know when 911 hit we were in a panic. We pointed fingers at the government who then went nuts with Homeland Security. Why didn't we ask about the Airlines? Why didn't we point out they have a level of responsibility to keep passengers and the public safe? This idea of hijacking was not new. Even the idea of flying into buildings wasn't new. But we reacted to 911 by bailing out the airlines because people were justifiably afraid to get on a freakin plane. So... did we just reward them for incompetence?

And how have they thanked us, with reasonable safety check points? With improved service? How about better connections? No way! Because Corporate America has learned the American people like to be treated like cheap street walker. Slap us around, take our money and demand we do a better job of serving you.

Did you know community after community in rural American bid against each other to create the best tax incentives (free money and gifts) that entice corporations to put manufacturing plants in their area? Our own community bought a phone center from some rent-a-car place. The corporation kept it here til the tax money ran out and then it was gone! Kwick-Set Lock Company did the same in a town a few miles away. They took a bag of local and state tax money to open a plant while stepping out the back door to set up a location in Mexico.

OK OK I could go on and on with the examples and then you would need to give your examples and I never would get my suitcase packed. The simple reason for my political beliefs is based on how things affect me. What is my sense of right and wrong. And, as you know, I am all about financial conservation. I have no freakin idea why taxes have to be so high. When I was a kid, local sales tax was about 3-5% Now it is around 10%. And I want to know WHY it needs to be that high? I do not see any more services than I saw back in the 1970s. In fact, I see less! Back when I was a kid you could depend on civil services, the Sheriff came when you needed him, the ambulance responded when called. Today you have to verify a real need and the bill will be passed around for the response, IF they can even find the place.

People have pointed out they have more expensive equipment like major traffic lights, but they use to pay a cop to direct traffic all the time, and they eliminated that job for a more cost effective light. Is the light no longer cost effective? If so, we need to know because we have a butt load of people out here that can waive their arms and blow a whistle for a living!

I hear they have to raise taxes to deal with inflation. But why doesn’t anybody mention that inflation also shows up on income? If you charge 5 cents on every dollar of bread sold you make a nickel a loaf. But then inflation comes along and I just bought a loaf of the best tasting low calorie, Whole Wheat 6g a slice Pepperidge Farm for over $3. That means with inflation the county gets 15 cents just because I want bread with my tuna salad. That’s an increase of three times over the old cost but that wasn’t enough! Now the total in local sales tax is doubled as well for the same essential services.

The problem is the country has adopted the corporate system. We have managers of managers of managers who tell a few people how to do a job. So you have levels of beau racy of people creating unnecessary work to justify their existence. You hear the world of business is different than the world of Government, but I have never seen it. So what we end up with is a country being run by guys like Bush that reward incompetence like the Airlines who harass people like you and me while we pay excessive taxes at places like Wal-Mart as more and more jobs go to Mexico.

Ha! You probably thought I was just rambling and didn’t have a point didn’t you?!! Mismanagement leads to a buttload of real problems. This is just job security for me, as I work with community groups to try to deal with the crap created by the people who win our twice a decade popularity contest. But from where I sit spaced out on Hydrocodone and thinking “wouldn’t it be cool to drunk dial up that girl I used to sit next to in Algebra 35 years ago?”, neither of the two parties represent me. Increased taxes are not the answer. If you can’t run a Government on 15% of the total GNP you are one hell of a loser! But on the other hand, the other guys, the ones who want lower taxes, keep running up the biggest bills!

You know what I wish? I wish we didn’t vote by secrete ballot. Then the guys who kept voting for this freakin loser could pay all the tax increases it will take to pay for their mistakes. Maybe THAT’S why they are so insistent ballots are kept in secrete. I wanna go back to a simple show of hands!!!

Nozzle Rage

Back Board Yet?

As seen on this site, here is a good explanation to the pain I been dealt. My Doctor called today and he came in on his day off to splain to me whats wrogn with my back The MRI shows I have a slight bulge (Shaddup!) on the front side of the disc, away from the nerve. That is probably why I am not in constant pain, and it only bothers me when standing. ...yes I REALLY wanted to say "when erect." Shaddup!!

A bulging disk is a condition related to the spine, usually the lumbar, or lower back, that occurs when a disk bulges through a crevice in the spine. Disks are the soft, gelatinous material that cushions the vertebrae of the spine. A bulging disk occurs when the disk shifts out of its normal radius and most often occurs simply as a result of age.

A bulging disk is different from a herniated disk in that a bulging disk typically occurs gradually over time rather than suddenly. A herniated disk is often the result of an injury or trauma to the spine. In the majority of patients who experience a bulging disk, there is no pain unless the disk becomes herniated or protrudes into a nerve.

In many cases, a bulging disk may be diagnosed as a condition secondary to another problem. Because a bulging disk does not always cause pain, it may only be found during a routine or diagnostic imaging test such as magnetic resonance imaging (MRI). Typically, a bulging disk is not a problem unless it begins to cause pain, becomes herniated or ruptures.

Treatment for a bulging disk or even a herniated disk is relatively conservative in most cases. Rest and lifting restrictions are common, and a doctor may recommend a combination of heat and ice therapy and anti-inflammatory medications or cortisone injections. Medication may be prescribed to deal with any associated pain.

Long story short: I am either too freakin old or too freakin fat. The bastard might as well have called me short and bald and cover all the freakin bases. Pay the lady $75 on the way out the door.

I Got Cut!!

So I go to my barber here in town and get a summer trim before I have to go out of town for a week long conference. Now my barber is actually a family of three guys and one woman. Really it's a Mom and a Dad and two sons well into their 50s. Mom doesn't cut hair much anymore and Dad is always the last one selected. It's a shame too because I think he might give the best haircut.

Now I don't play favorites so the first guy up is usually the guy I will pick for a haircut. Which is really a bad policy as the younger son ALWAYS is the first to his feet. He is closest to the door and a bit more spry than his old Dad. So, even though I looked longingly at the old man's chair, I took the first offered seat this afternoon.

I was the only customer in the joint. Mom starts talking politics and the banking crisis. She asks if I think we will fall into a recession. Mom was talking my language dude! Hell, it was like she read this blog, only spelled better! So we start talking political system changes and corruption, we talk economic instability and what it will take to secure our energy into the new century. And while deeply involved with mom, and now the other brother and Dad, I somehow heard, but never quite registered the nearly inaudible, "Uh... mmmm oh."

But now I was wound up baby! I was talking FDIC and trillions of debt and the new plan to bail out half of the homes falling into repossession. The room now was full of people for haircuts. The two empty chairs were now full and there was people waiting as younger brother leans forward and asks if I want my moustache trimmed. WTF?!! He never asks that? These are the guys who once said when a man gets to my age the eyebrows are the biggest part of the haircut! Now he is trimming my stache? I paused a bit in confusion, thinking it costs like a dollar more and... well... you know me. But what the hell, they had never asked before and right now they seemed to really value my opinion and must be thinking I am some big shot that was full of insider information. You know, the kind of guy you need to butter up and get on his good side.

I had mental images of myself propped back in my office with a personal barber cutting my hair while a manicurist buffed and polished my nails. All the time a bank of old heavy telephone rang away on my desk as an operator ran around frantically trying to keep up with the massive amount of important work I probably do through the day. Oh yeah, and I was chomping a big cigar, even though I don't smoke. But as Freud says, "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

But the moustache trim extended to my beard, then a neck shave (Front AND back) as well as the razor cut above my ears. I mean this guy really went to town and trimmed my eyebrows and never even asked about the nose or ear hair. I am telling you dude, I was treated like royalty. I was just sure I had hit the big time since my opinion was so well valued they were giving me the full treatment. And I was thinking this right up until the younger brother seemed to reluctantly remove the hair bib/apron, pop all the hair off and brush off my shoulders like he was walking the Bataan Death March. Then with a wince of trepidation he handed me the mirror.

I glanced at it. It was a bit shorter than I had wanted, bit not bad for the summer. So I told him it looks like he did the best he could, considering what he had to work with. Then he held the mirror behind me so I could see the back of my head. NOW I understood why I got the full service as massive chunks of fur have been gouged out of the back of my skull. I look like our furry little dog after I give him a Dad haircut. The threat of a Dad haircut is enough to make Jr run frightened and hide in his bedroom while chanting, "Mommy please don't let him do it! Pleaseeeeeee!!!!"

So I sit there in a room full of people who have heard me blow hard for the full 4 minutes it takes to trim the 8 hairs left on my head. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. You would have thought E.F. Hutton was about to tear somebody a new assholes the way they all hung just a little more on the edge of their seats. But really, what can be done? If he could be a better barber, he would have been. The thought did cross my mind of asking if he could put some of the hair back, but then I realized this would not work. So I paid him my $10 and made the same mental note I make every month. Next time go with the old man. Stupid freakin short term memory loss.

Back Again

OK The back situation. Here it is, I have tried to not mention it for awhile, because who wants to read about a whiner, right? I save that unsavory spectacle for those unfortunate to work or live with me. I had an MRI taken of my lower back one week ago Thursday. I took off all day Friday, and I spent the whole long weekend, confined to my computer room chair, creating this new blog.

Now to be fair, I did not work three days non-stop out of love and devotion to you, the reader. The fact is I sissied out. I ran away from the pain like a little girl (as heard on Clearly You're Retarded) and sat in a stretching position to allow my back to rest and hopefully heal. By Sunday I was going stir crazy!

So Sunday I go to church. I move quickly to a pew with the family and once seated, all pressure is off my back and all is good. No problem in the Presbyterian mini aerobics of up-down, up-down service. Then we go outside. Let me rephrase that, my family abandons me... a near cripple... and runs to the other car and leaves in a cloud of dust.

Where was I? Well, first I was pulled aside by my doctor who happens to go to the same church. He walks up behind me (Not hard to do at my snail's pace of mobility) and claps me on the shoulder saying "You're going to be ok." After a bit I realize he is talking about the MRI. He has already see the MRI! He then tells me he will talk to me about it later. I assume he means his usual conference call from his office while he looks at the test results and can answer any questions. At one week following the MRI and four days following church, I have yet to hear from him. I keep meaning to call and get busy on other things and it never seems to happen.

In spite of that I have been able to go easy and the pain has not been as bad as it was IF I can stay off my feet. I have found the biggest problem to be well wishers. OMG there are so many people who want to stand around and tell you all of their horror stories of intense back pain... Did I mention STAND around??

Sunday I got trapped by an usher at church, blocking the only exit, who then told me for a good 20 minutes about his bone graph operation for his upper spine. He explained in excruciating detail how awful it is to be on your feet when you have a pinched nerve. All the while standing in conversation and blocking the only exit. At Wal Mart we met the sweetest lady who talked to us for over a half house (after I had walked all over Wal Mart and was already in pain) and she was so concerned as we STOOD around and talked and she told me how important it was to not be on my feet and aggravate the situation.

To be fair, up to Tuesday morning I thought I was off the Lortab and on my way to recovery. All hopes have been dashed in the past 48 hours. So I hope to talk to old Dr. John very soon, although I suspect he will say I need to stay off my feet, don't carry anything heavy, lose weight, be less stupid, and pull his finger. I know, many of you wonder why I like old Dr. John. Well, other than being funny, and I need a sense of humor around me, he is very bright and treats me as a partner in all conversations. But most important of all... I believe we are near equal in our desire for him to NEVER EVER check my prostate. It might not be a healthy reason to base that decision but my every manly instinct tells me it is right reason.

In Which I Piss Off the South

So I go to this wedding the other day. It was held in a nice older and established Baptist Church in Tulsa. Everything is going fine until the preacher starts talking. And I have this huge urge to get up and walk out in disgust!

Whoa, don't get me wrong here, I can usually work with anybody, put up with most things and tolerate differences in opinion. And, I need to add, this guy never said anything to offend me. It was all about his method.

OK, see the way I understand it, a preacher, minister, whatever-the-hell you call him (no she preachers for Baptists) should be a teacher. But Baptists don't teach so much as... and I am really struggling to understand this myself... as force judgements upon others. You know, if you don't think abortion is murder, you can't be Christian. If you don't think Clinton was the most vile human ever, you can't be Christian. If you don't think all gay people should be treated as sex offenders and placed on a list and not allowed to work in public, you are not Christian. No matter what you do, if you are not just like me, you are not Christian. And I will ALWAYS be more Christian than you, so nana-boo-boo!!

There is hardly a Baptist wedding or funeral I have attended that I did not suspect would result in an alter call during the ceremony. Why? Because the fundamental drive behind the Baptist church is growth. SO they preach, not teach, they have a single single message... get thee unto a Baptismal font. Then they tell you if you don't believe as they do, you are a Unitarian, some kind of liberal free thinker that says sin is a judgment call and the bible is just a book and not a set of concrete rules to guide your life.

And I have spent the majority of my life buying into that philosophy. I hated it! All my friends around here are Baptists, and I mean good close friends I have know for decades if not all my life! People I love and respect and yet as soon as I hear a Baptist message, my skin begins to crawl and my mind screams "This just aint right!"

So, as I have probably mentioned a few times, this past Easter my family and I changed churches. It was not a spur of the moment thing. I had been pushing for a change for years, but it's difficult to leave. Mrs. Y2K and I were married in the church, both kids were baptized there, it was a fixture in our lives. But fuck it, we decided to change.

So we go to the Presbyterian Church and this chick comes out in a robe and starts the Easter service and the jaws in our pew were dropping. A woman minister?!! Cool! And there was not a single alter call seeking to reaffirm your already affirmed faith to show you were more Christian this week than you were last week because that is all that is important... that and bragging about you past life of sin. NO WAY! In fact, there was this service about crap that was actually in the Bible and ways it can be interpreted, both literally and figuratively. Figuratively....? What the f....?!! Holy Shit Batman, this church is about learning, and reading and interpreting and... and... and... it was cool.

So now I am all cool and actually enjoying church for now. Something I never would have thought possible. NOBODY KNOWS I BLOG!! shhhh! It'll be our little secrete, ok? Although I do wonder if, at some point, there will ever be a sermon on the great level of satisfaction one can reach by screaming the "F" word? This place just fits me and I can't imagine why it doesn't fit everybody.

But the other week we were in a service and there was a new family in the back. Like us they had walked in, looking for a better fit. Things were going great right up until the Minister said something about the Bible is not literal, Gays are humans, or abortion is a choice everybody has to make... it might not have been any of those... and in fact probably wasn't, but I can remember what I fuckin like, so fuck you! Anyway, it was a more tolerant view towards life that was mentioned, and this family in the back snorted disgust and the mother got up, grabbed her kid by the arm and stomped out dragging a bewildered kid behind her. I hope she made it to the church she meant to go to before the end of the alter call so she can share how she was such a better Christian than everybody else because she got to pass her some judgement.

The Gayest Place on Earth

So a couple of weeks ago I was told I need to go to Palm Springs for a training. OK, who doesn't want to visit Death Valley in July, right? Then I am told we have a surplus in a grant that needs to be spent or we lose it. I suggest taking Y2Kette to Palm Spring with me. The school would pay her way, pay her Per Diem (like $150 a day!) and pay her registration for the training.

Can you believe I got resistance on this suggestion?!! Can you believe some people in the college took issue with me wanting to take MY daughter on an all expense paid trip to Hollywood's Playground? Some thought it was me being greedy and trying to bilk the school and even a tax supported grant by slipping her into a trip.

But here are the facts. Y2Kette has been a part of every youth activity my office has participated in for the past 6 years. She has been in all the youth groups, gone to state conventions, giving up time with friends, and performed almost every tobacco vendor check we have done in the last two years. Plus she is just now finishing a two month summer internship where she was doing the work of a much higher paid professional and doing it damn well. In fact, we would not have had most of our youth participation if it was not for Y2Kette dragging her friends and classmates to the meetings with her. So yeah, as far as youth leadership goes, she is the best we have.

So we leave next week. It will be her first airplane ride. We are going to try to get her a private room, if the hotel is not already full. The room will have to be close to mine... not gunna allow any drunken sex parties with those darn kids and their rock and roll music, you understand. She will participate in the youth leadership track and the new girl and I will do the more boring professional line of classes. We agree her classes look way more interesting than ours. Some kids have all the luck, great trips, her own car, the coolest dad ever, and now Palm Springs. And do you know the main claim to fame of today's Desert Resort?

Let's just say it ain't your father's Palm Springs any more. Check out the LGBT stats. Yes, Palm Springs, once famed party town for horny drunken chicks is now the gayest place on Earth.

About That Question

OK so I can't stop thinking about this. It really pisses me off. This morning the Wall Street Journal has an article about the Freddie / Frannie Mac banking crisis. They claim the people who caused this crisis are Democrats like Chris Dodd and Barney Frank! You know the Repugs have always tried this crap in election years. They tried to take credit for the Clinton era of balanced budget, they tried to blame the initial G.W. Bush recession on Clinton, they even tried to blame the Iraq war on Clinton for not asassinating Bin Laden prior to 9-11!

Today the WSJ is claiming that not only are Dodd and Frank the ones who called for all the deregulation of banks, but are now acting like terrorists and making demands of the poor, hard working Bush administration. Those cold hearted Democrat bastards are saying if the banks are bailed out with tax money then there should be extra money that is spent on community block grants.

Those money grubbing bastards! After lining their pockets as... eh... Senators in the minority party, they now expect to line their pockets with pork that will only benefit ...eh... every state that has suffered from Bush cuts to federal programs like rebuilding Levies, flood water dams, roads, schools, hospitals, housing, mental health, and aid to mothers with children. Damn those evil Democrats and their stupid desire to invest in America when we could be fighting a war that has no purpose and that our own army as well as the occupied nation's government wants us to withdraw from ASAP.

You know my job is part of a federal block grant. Like most states, we do not have enough money to meet the needs. IN this state that has high levels of addiction problems, which like a ripple in still waters, will radiate out and affect the entire surrounding environment. In this state where there are so many people that are out of control with substance abuse, we lead the nation for putting people in prison. Most are there because of drugs. As prisons were privatized under the old Republican Governor Frank Keating, we seem to have more and more prison beds for the next druggie that comes along while a hefty chunk of change goes into corporate pockets.

Yet what these people need is treatment. They need in-patient treatment for 6 months to a year so they can gain the skills needed to get in control of their lives. Currently, while there are plenty of prison beds awaiting the next druggie, there is a waiting list for treatment beds. A waiting list that averages 900 standing in line, hoping to get the help that may save their lives, and provide positive support for their family for the next generation. 900 people that are not in control of their lives waiting for help that will not come because of budget cuts. 900 people that will most likely end up in prison because the help was not there when they needed it. 900 people whose children will grow up with the stigma of a parent in prison, rather than a parent in recovery. 900 people with children who are genetically designed to model the behavior of their parents. And when those 900 people get processed, there are 900 more already lined up and needing treatment. And this is how just ONE of the Federal Block Grant cuts have effected ONE state out of 50.

Do you suppose the Wall Street Journal might be, oh I don't know..... BIASED? Kind of makes you wonder who their general readership is mostly made of, maybe, ...oh I don't know... Bankers?

The Lil Missuz

So I play guitar very badly. I also sing a few of the oldies I grew up listening to as a kid. This is when everybody always leaves the room. I don't quite sing as well as I play, and did I mention I play badly? So, if there was ever any delusions of musical ability, my family and friends, dogs, pets and even neighbors enjoying the out of doors, all let me know, fairly quickly, that I am not gifted.

But, in spite of all of that, from time to time I will hit upon a tune, usually during a rare phase of the moon where the sinus cavities and phlegm level all coincide to allow a fairly descent, almost on-tune rendition of a song or two. Not often, so it seems to require the notice of my wife who will let me know it sounded "nice."

Now this is a seasonal thing. See, usually, I grow a bit mental in the Oklahoma heat and try to speed up fall by setting out decorations. I mean it dude! I have fall pictures on my computers, and I set up screen savers and put out fall leaf garland and try to create a fall like aura as air conditioners are running full tilt after 80-90 days of 100+ degree heat. And the hotter it gets, the Scotsman in me sees the Electric meter spinning every time the air conditioner kicks on, and sometimes it never seems to stop. I mean it man, out here it gets so hot in the summer, you walk out of a building and just get pissed off because heat is not supposed to be this freakin hot. The day might start off at 85 degrees and be 98 by 10:00 a.m. So now I hot, miserable and sinking into deep depression as I can't stop visualizing the electric meter spinning into the hundreds and hundreds of dollars. Seasonal Affect Disorder usually happens when the days grow shorter and active lifestyle people can't be outside enjoying nature. In my house, it's when the days grow too hot and you can't go outside.

So each day the radiant heat builds and it grows hotter. And each day I grow a little more pissed off. Each day I go a little more crazy until the calendar turns. Pre-Season football starts in August. Football is a fall/winter sport, right? That means there's hope, right? Then School starts, and school always starts in the fall, right? Only it's probably over 100 degrees the first six weeks of school in this state. But still, school always means fall and cooler temperatures, right?

So I put out fall looking decorations and don't burn candles because, what? Are you fucking stupid? It's hot enough to boil water outside and you want to add to the heat with an open flame? Dumbass. So I sit in the house that wont cool down because after a few days of over 100 degree heat, the house can't really get cold enough to feel comfortable. SO now I am a fat, old man sitting in the house wearing shorts and an open shirt, sweating under two fans and thinking only one thought... WHEN THE HELL WILL IT COOL OFF?!!!

Without much else to do at this time of year, I always start playing the guitar again. I play the oldies, then in desperation I look for Christmas songs and believe me there will be some "Let it Snow" chanting going on around the Dog Days of August and into September. And I wont be the only one singing. Sure we all say it is to practice for the upcoming holidays, but we all know, it is a wish, a plea... turn off the damn heat!!!

It jumped up into the 100s this week. Without even thinking about it, I found myself sitting at the Piano with my guitar, leafing through a few of my old song books. Within a few minutes all the family and the cat ran out of the room, saying they had things they needed to work on in other parts of the house. SO I do a song from Poco, and one by Stephen Bishop. I butcher a couple by the Beatles and one by David Gates. I embarrass myself with some James Taylor and then I move to the super sonic tones of John Denver.

SO there I am in the other room, going at it with "Annie's Song" when Mrs. Y2K comes in the room and offers her gentle encouragement as she hugs me. She says that song sounds "real nice." She squeezes me tighter. She did this the day before on this very song. Only she "Hugged" me by wrapping her arm around my neck, BOTH TIMES! And when she squeezed, in the middle of my attempt to hit the highest of John Denver notes, which cuts off all the air in my throat and I gag. BOTH DAYS!! And she maintains her "HUG" while whispering "how nice it sounds" until all singing has been throttled quiet. Then she kisses the top of my bald head and goes back in the other room, saying absently, "That sounded really nice."

OK, so there are days when she just scares the hell out of me!

Quick Question

I was just reading how the banking crisis may be avoided by the Government using tax money to bail out the lending institutions. The problem I see is, it was the lending institutions that asked for all the deregulations that led to this mess. So, why bail out the banks and not the home owners? What about the majority of taxpayers who scrimp and save and strive to live within their means. Which means saying no to bling it seems everybody else has? Are we rewarding greed and bad decision making at the expense of those who work and save?

I just don't understand how this is conservative fiscal responsibility. So the new American philosophy is spend what you don't have and pass the bill on to the losers that actually pay their debts. Wonderful.

Sunday Worship

So Mrs. Y2K is off to Sunday School with Y2Kette, and Jr and I will join them for church in an hour. Today's Sunday School lesson is on simplicity, don't possess more than you need, don't speak more than needs to be said, don't waste time blogging, etc. So I read the article/lesson and she asks me what I think of it.

"Well, for somebody preaching the need for simplicity, four pages seemed a bit long."

OK if the old heifer is going to call for ME materialistic, I am striking back. Sheesh, old Scotsmen and Depression era old-fuckers have been calling me and asking for lesson on how to be a cheap bastard. Naturally they want the lessons for free. Fuckers.

I am the near pinnacle of simplicity. I live in a house that was distressed and I did the rebuild myself. I drive old cars and save the extra cash that would go into payments and full coverage insurance. In fact, I would have tried to make Y2Kette's braces myself, having mastered the art of bailing wire manipulation, but Mrs. Y2K interceded because she has not embraced my level of simplicity. You know, I think I have only bought one new lawn mower in my life, and it was as crappy as buying any of the old worn out mowers. In fact, if you think about it, at least you know old mowers have been able to do the job. New mowers are like rookies in the NFL, right out of college. Sometimes you might get a Ben Rothlesburger and sometimes you might get a loser like Eli Manning.

Oh wait, the Giants called Eli a loser at the beginning of the season last fall and wanted him dumped from the team. Then he goes on and wins the Super Bowl in classic Rocky Balboa fashion. See, this is why I don't gamble. I would freakin lose money, and dude that would freak me out because I am simple. Like the lesson says. So, if you think about it, since I don't gamble and am a real cheap bastard I am practically divinely perfect in my spirituality. And therefore I don't NEED to go to Sunday School when I can stay home and blog. Hmmm since the lesson is on cutting back, I wonder if it is ok to skimp on tossing a buck in the kitty when they pass the hat around? Holy Crap! I am getting more pious every second!

I wonder if Simplicity extends to skipping church all together so I can watch the pre game show for football?

Welcome

Welcome to the new Y2K Survivor Blog. If you just found me from the old digs or you just found me, you are still welcome. I just made the move after about 18 months on what a few guys like this one, and this one and this one and this one... ok pretty much all of them on the blog roll... said I need to get a real blog.

So to be honest this is my third attempt. I did not like the looks of the others, but this one, I think I can work with. So I am excited to try this little experiment in self gratification.... eh publishing.

I started Y2K Survivor on AOL Journals back in October/November 2006 as a way to introduce my daughter into a new format of writing. Only I got to where I enjoyed creating this stream of thoughts, or thoughtlessness. So, after about the first year I have made an attempt to post every day. I hope you save me to your favorite list and come back. Maybe we can have some fun together.

Other Bloggers

So this weekend is the big Blogher Convention. I looked and I was not nominated for best blog ever, which was a disappointment. On the other hand, I was not nominated for worst blog ever. Seems Dooce and Perez Hilton have those slots sewed up pretty tight. This means this could mean many many things, but probably it means I am not doing it right.

So I go to other blogs and I read the one thing readers NEVER want to hear about is HOW you blog. Blogging about blogging sucks ass. Then all these sights that tell me to never blog about blogging proceed to tell me how they blog, or how they recommend others to blog.

NOTE: None of them were nominated for Blogher awards either.

Now I don't know if I have a style of writing other than fire up the laptop, stare a blank screen and mentally scream to myself, "Oh fuck!! What the hell am I going to do now?!!" But usually after staring for a few minutes, something clicks and I am off on a tale that unfolds for me about the same as it does for you. Very seldom to I do much tinkering, changing or consulting. I just pour out what is running through my mind at the time.

Which is probably why I was not nominated for the Blogher Convention. I don't plan, strategize or program. I had a three day post on how I did not become famous after blogging about not masturbating. But that was not planned ahead. Each post was a completely original thought process at the time of writing.

Now I will admit I tend to think during the day if something might make a good post. But generally I am way too busy looking at porn or taking a nap to give this site much thought during the day. There have been times I have even created two or three posts on a weekend with the thought of posting them when time was short in the workweek. I believe, to date, I have lost ever single one of those fuckers.

So mostly I sit at a blank screen and slowly build up a nervous energy that demands I put something on the screen. In time, this self inflicted pressure cooker ends up in the sterling prose that you see before you now. And maybe that is the secrete to a really hot successful blog. Post less, post quality over quantity and do a polish or two before posting.

Then there is my Floridian friends Adam and Britt who have started a whisper campaign to improve my readership. An improvement initiative that seems to know no bounds if I will only do one thing. GET A REAL BLOG!!!!

These guys seem to think AOL Journals is not a real platform for blogging, and to be fair, I didn't see many on the list of best at Blogher. I have tried Wordpress and frankly was not happy with the look. I like the way this site looks. It feels like me. Scattered yet thrown together in a last minute frenzy that somehow feels comfortable and inviting. Maybe I can get that at Google. I hear Gmail is really good. I also hear Time/Warner is trying to sell off AOL. Worse, the program will barely run, it won't load it's own pages or Email and they informed me they were raising their price for a service that is free everywhere else... even with them!

Which all seems to suggest that maybe sometime in the future, when there is time and I feel comfortable making the change that I might somehow, someday, consider making a real fucking blog! And I will, one day. Honest!