It's all a matter of perspective.

Friday, August 02, 2002

John Derbyshire's column today is horribly depressing, perhaps overly pessimistic, and an absolutely necessary read. The title is Unpleasant Truths: A conservative view of the world today. In it he points out that conservatives (or anybody if you take all that he says as truth) have no reason to be optimistic and every reason to be the opposite. He goes down the line, point by point, driving us toward suicide. His sub headings are :
Most of us will die in poverty.
Quality health care for all is not possible.
Pop culture is filth.
The environment is collapsing.
Science has stopped.
Not all groups are equally good at all things.
Affirmative action is absolutely essential to social order.
Socialism is popular.
Conservatism is dead.
Nothing will be done about immigration.
Only Anglo-Saxon countries can do democracy.
China will get stronger and richer, without moving one inch closer to constitutional government.
Taiwan will be re-united with the some combination of economic carrot and military stick.
Something inconceivably horrible will happen in the Middle East.
The four horsemen of the Apocalypse are saddled up and ready to ride.
The next version of MicroSoft Windows will be even buggier and more counterintuitive than the last.
Poverty and hardship build character; prosperity and security destroy it.
The U.S. constitution is incompatible with a war on terrorism.
Justice is dead. and finally -
We are living in a golden age.

He makes compelling arguments that all of these statements are truth. I don't know if I believe it is as bad as he says. I think that there is still time to do something and perhaps even people willing to try. We do have a conservative majority in the U.S. in land mass; I live deep in the heart of the "red states" and feel pretty confortable here. I'm sure the view is different out on Long Island.

Thursday, August 01, 2002

How Gray Gavis is like Monty Burns.
For Christmas?
John Derbyshire is absolutely right about the US response to the latest Jerusalem murders. Five Americans were killed in a building named after an American. Our only option would be to treat Hamas exactly as we treat al Qeada, that is arrest or kill every associate of this murderous group that we can find.

If we will put up with the murder of five Americans, what is the cut off? 25? 50?
A brief history of the world

1521 BC – This guy in Africa got eaten by a crocodile.

1111 BC – People worldwide have a year-long opportunity to make a wish. Unfortunately the lack of a calendar keeps most from doing so.

537 BC – The plumbing that is in widespread use in central China very much resembles the plumbing still in use there to this day.

335 BC - Greek bronzesmith Adolpholus Philosophocles becomes the first person to use phrase, “Women, can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

27 BC – Persian Hamed Felafel bounces a 2 shilling check for some quat.

0 BC/AD – Jesus Christ, did you see that?

134 AD – Some Romans whooped the mess out of some Germans and took their mead.

234 AD – Some Germans whooped the mess out of some Romans and took their daughters.

569 AD – During a particularly hot August, English farmer Richard Merdelshire becomes the first person to remark, “It’s not the heat so much as it is the humidity”

866 AD – Frenchman Jean Luc Jiedioux encounters a group of lost German Monks in the forest near his farm and surrenders all of his possessions to them. Jiedoux then help them relocate their monastery and asks to be locked in the basement.

1111 AD – Once again people worldwide have the year-long opportunity to make a wish. Most wish for deliverance from the Black Death. Unfortunately, it is later discovered that the calendar is off by three years, therefore the wishes are not granted

c. 1650 AD - People in Europe discover art and music.

1776 AD – People in America discover freedom.

1913 AD – People in America loose it again.

Also I wanted to quickly mention a dream. A neighbor’s pit bull broke into my yard and bit all four legs off of my dog. I had to put the poor dog down to relieve its suffering and for some reason, the only thing that I had to do it with was a BB gun. I could not do it. So the dream ended with my neighbor (who had come to retrieve his murderous pit bull) snatching the BB gun from me and shooting my poor legless dog in the eye.

I am open to interpretation.

I woke up this morning at 5:00. I never wake up before it is time to get up and I have to hit the snooze button for an hour to keep for banging my head into the door jam when I leave the bedroom, but I woke up with a clear head at 5:00 this morning. I looked over at the alarm clock and thought to my self, "Did I set that before I went to bed last night?" I picked it up and looked, sure enough it was turned off. I set it for 6:00 and went back to sleep. When it went off an hour later, I was my usual dead to the world, groggy headed, crosseyed, cobwebbed self. Amazing! If I had not noticed the alarm clock at 5:00, I would have slept until lunch time.
Berkeley goes for breast-feeding record
Berkeley nurse-in
Breast-feeding mothers hope to break world record

Competitive Nursing in California. Is this a spectator sport? It is certainly a contact sport!

"The world champions of mass lactation are Australians, who set a Guinness World Record with 536 moms nursing simultaneously in a movie theater in New South Wales last Aug. 1. But the city of Berkeley hopes to bring the crown to America this Saturday at the Berkeley Community Theatre."
From Page Six

SAMMY Hagar, finished with fellow Van Halen frontman David Lee Roth, is dissing Diamond Dave's oversize ego, deteriorating singing voice and vanishing hairline.
Hagar and Roth had been co-headlining this summer's laboriously titled "Sammy Hagar and David Lee Roth Tour 2002: Song for Song, the Heavyweight Champs of Rock and Roll." But after butting heads with Roth non-stop since they began touring in May, Hagar vows never to work with him again.

"The guy is a [bleep]hole," Hagar told PAGE SIX. "He will never go on tour with me again. He's gonna have to draw a crowd on his own."

While Hagar admits that Roth's set of Van Halen classics is a crowd-pleaser, he ridicules Roth's decline from swaggering rock god to middle-age nostalgia act. "His voice is not too good. You sit there and go, 'I just saw a guy who was half the singer and half the performer he used to be, who spray-paints his hair on before he goes on stage and still acts like he's in Van Halen in 1982!' . . . It's a joke to me, it's like Liberace or something."

One of mop-topped Hagar's favorite targets is Roth's thinning locks. "We were all on the same plane to go to a show in Dallas, and Dave's hair was brown underneath his hat," Hagar tattles. "The night of the show it was raving platinum. I'd hate to be there when he puts that thing on."

Hagar says that he and Roth were supposed to finish their tour Sept. 2 at Jones Beach, but Roth vetoed it. "He said, 'I don't like the venue.' He wanted to play at Madison Square Garden and he wanted to close. He wasn't going to do it, so we canceled the show."

Despite his dislike of Roth, Hagar says the tour was a hit with Van Halen fans. "It was always a great audience and it was a great rock and roll show," he said. "If it wasn't for that, I would have put him back in nightclubs were he belongs."

Roth did not return calls for comment.

Wednesday, July 31, 2002

As Seen From My Dining Room

Fat man in a tank top,
With purple cut off shorts,
Fat man in a tank top,
And I hear his name is Schwartz.

Spilling out of his sleeves,
His arms are pasty, flat, and wide.
Keep your eyes up on his arms
So they won’t venture to his thighs.

A few stray hairs are all he has.
His head is thick and bald and round.
He’s a fat man in a tank top,
With feet like basset hounds.

The V-neck of his tank top
Provides us with some drama.
Giving glimpses of a spectacle:
Is that the backside of a llama?

Walking through his front yard,
The fat man pumps and sweats.
The armpits of his tank top
Now soaking stinking wet.

With grunting wheezing effort,
As if a Herculean feat,
Finally the fat man
Gets his trashcan to the street.
July 31, 2002
Col. Tom Parker
P.O. Box 165025
Nashville, TN

Dear Sir:

I was very excited to notice your advertisement for the position of rock-and-roller in the online edition of the Middle Tennessee News & Information. After reading the qualifications listed therein, I feel that I am uniquely gifted for the position and would enjoy it immensely.

As an outgoing man with a southern heritage I have always been very interested in rocking out. I consider myself a handsome man with magnificent hair and many times I have found myself encouraging my friends and acquaintances, both male and female, to not touch my pompadour under penalty of butt-whipping. I have purchased books on Elvis and sought out historical landmarks in downtown Memphis. Politically I support the legalization of drugs and candidates who can rock as an important part of our culture.

This position further interests me, as I am highly motivated and interested in being rich and famous. I have a passion for expensive goods and being revered. I would be particularly excited in sharing the stories of my rock and roll experiences of yesterday and today with the producers of VH1’s behind the music. I would be happy to work up a sample jam to show my abilities and rocking style. Also I would be willing to change my name to something more suitable of a rock-and-roller if you feel it appropriate. I was thinking something along the lines of Dirk Joad, but am open to suggestion.

Nathaniel W. Greer

-----Original Message-----
From: Dan & Leslie
Sent: Wednesday, July 31, 2002 2:30 PM
To: Nathaniel Greer
Subject: found something interesting
I have found absolutely nothing interesting on the web today and I have been far too busy to care.
Wasn't that truly the most horrific story of dental misfortune you have ever heard?

Tuesday, July 30, 2002

Deroy Murdock informs us of John Stossel's report this evening, and adds some insights of his own to the drug war farce.
My purpose for going to the dentist yesterday was to have crowns put on four teeth. The outcome of my trip to the dentist was something for more sinister.

Now first I must disclose my ignorance. I hate going to the dentist (Don’t we all) and therefore put off all dental work, including the six month cleaning. I am neither irrational nor grotesque; I brush and floss my teeth meticulously to try and insure that I do not need any extra work. Unfortunately, my stressful life and addiction to uppers has led me to the regrettable habit of grinding my teeth at night. Through years of this eroding action I have removed all enamel from the back side of my front four upper teeth. They have degraded to the point where they are translucent. The dentist informed me crowns were my only option, and quickly.

Here is what I know about crowning teeth: absolutely nothing. I have never had it done, read about having it done, talked with someone who had it done, or even cared.

Here is what the dentist told me about crowning teeth: I need to have it done, and it will be expensive. I asked if he was going to screw up my bite and he promised me he would not.

So I went in yesterday and climbed into the lab chair. They took impressions of my upper and lower teeth with something like pink biscuit dough that hardened in about twenty seconds. Then my dishonest butcher of a dentist came in with a big freaking hypodermic needle and went to pumping local anesthetic into my face. I took four shots way up under my upper lip and one right smack in the middle of the roof of my mouth. I could not feel my mouth, my nose, or the better part of the rest of my head.

At this point the dentist says, “I am going to go take care of something. While I am out, I will let Lady Horowitz (not her real name) come in and talk to you about payment options. Stunned from the abuse of my face, I could only say OK.

So the leech lady comes in, sits across from me, and says, “OK Nathan, the way that we usually do this is you pay for half of your crowns when you have the temporary ones put on, and the other half when you came back to have the permanent ones put on.”

And I replied, “Gee, I did not realize this was a two visit sort of procedure.”

And Theifella says, “Yes, you have temporary crowns put on, they order the permanent ones, and you come back in two weeks and three days.”

“Hmm.” I was starting to freak out a little. “I will be on vacation on the beach in two weeks and three days.”

And with that, Money-Grubber goes into the other room to inform Old Chainsaw Needle about the recent developments. After a few minutes, Dr. Ruin-your-day comes in and says, “Nathan, where are you going on this vacation?”

Growing quite put out, I mumbled through numb slobbery lips, “I don’t see how that is relevant, or any of your business.”

And he replied, “Well I would hate for you to get to wherever you are going and have one of those temporary crowns come off. I would rather reschedule and have to numb you again than ruin you vacation.”

With that, I went and got in the truck and drove home. I face stayed numb for four hours. I was unable to eat dinner until 9:00. When the anesthetic wore off, my face started to throb. I think the quack put the shots in with a jackhammer. My attitude about going to the dentist has not improved.
Dan has named our chior!

"74th. Baptist, sanctified rice, evangelical whole truth ministry, with the twist of faith choir for God"

This site was one of Yahoo's weekly picks this week. I especially enjoyed the recipies.
The headline on the front page of today was a perfect accidental pun:
Bush to Sign Fraud Legislation

Monday, July 29, 2002

I think that I want to be Larry Miller. Please read his column on The Weekly Standard's web site.
Did I mention that I have to go to the freaking dentist this afternoon?
Hello there. I’m so happy to meet you. Glad you could stop by. Good to see you. Welcome. Allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Nathaniel and I am from Little Rock, Arkansas. I was born on September 27, 1976 at Baptist hospital to loving parents who quickly discovered that there was indeed something very special about me. Perhaps it was the coal black hair, perhaps it was the bright green eyes, and perhaps it was the way the delivering doctor said, “That kid looks just like Alec Baldwin, only smarter” but there could be no doubt that I was careening down the path towards greatness.
As a baby and toddler, I walked early, I talked early, and I ate everything that would fit into my mouth. No, I was not one of those overfed babies that the state has to take away from an overbearing sugar-slinging mother; I got in to the cookie jar while my old lady was on the phone. I liked to sneak a hand full of sugar. I liked to get in to the fridge and steal a stick of butter. I wondered why the barbeque sauce bottle did not have a rubber nipple on it. What I did not do, however was sweat. It is not that I didn’t have the glands; I just didn’t have the ambition.
I spent my grade school years training on the English Horn, tambourine, and didgeridoo with such world famous masters as Bob Smith, Juan Miguel Burkina Faso, and Bill Murray who was still in his pre-Saturday Nigh Live “Serious Musician“ phase. I found out that sometimes it is not the notes that you play that are important as much as the faces you make when you play them.
“When you take that tambourine solo at the climax of a big power ballad, it is important to grimace like you have and itch in a place that you can not reach.”
-Jack Jackson, Percussionist and instructor

These gentlemen taught me well and it soon became obvious that I was ready to move on to more important things, namely lunch.
Feeling that I had developed enough cultural training, my parents sent me to Medical School at the age of 14. After being thoroughly examined by the students and doctors there it was determined that I was in reasonably good health for such a fat child and I was sent back to my parents. They were not convinced, however and sent me back to the teaching hospital for further examinations. The Doctors refused and a bitter legal battle ensued that still rages on to this day.
How do I feel about all of this? Permanently scarred, that’s how. And I do not mean that in a figurative sense. You should have a look at my lower abdomen. I have had so much work done, that I have started just administering local anesthetic and performing the outpatient grade surgeries myself. It’s not that hard if you are knowledgeable about anatomy and do not get queasy at the sight of a little gore. (I mean blood and guts not Tipper, who would certainly not be the little Gore)
I spend my days now wasting away at an uninspiring job in a cubicle about the size of a veal pen. (He has never seen daylight and his feet have never touched the ground) I’m surrounded by lab assistants who reward me for eating the blue pellets and give me a quick jolt of electricity to the pinky toe when I stop for breath. There are no windows, only concrete walls, and my only light source are the florescent lamp thirty feet away or the warm glow of my sweet, sweet companion, the PC monitor.
Don’t feel sorry for me, however. There are several good things I can say about my life. First of all, my hair grows in to a natural pompadour and you just can’t beat that. Also my wife is beautiful and creative and has not seen fit to leave me for a more handsome man yet, even though she is on air talent on the local morning show. I have a beautiful child who seems to not yet know the truth about me. I maintain a good attitude considering the daily challenge it is to lift the weight of my ever-growing gut. Also I have a few friends who encourage me by living lives that are every bit a sad and desperate as my own. I think it would be appropriate to mention that I have exactly two nipples, and I really believe that is precisely the amount one should have.
Which brings us to an interesting point; why exactly do men have nipples? They really show no function other than decoration. I do suppose they serve as a place to hang a piercing. I wonder if the nipple on males is like the appendix and can be removed without any noticeable changes in the body function.
God Bless you everyone.
"We're told cars are dangerous. It's safer to drive through South Central Los Angeles than to walk there. We're told cars are wasteful. Wasteful of what? Oil did a lot of good sitting in the ground for millions of years. We're told cars should be replaced by mass transportation. But it's hard to reach the drive-through window at McDonald's from a speeding train. And we're told cars cause pollution. A hundred years ago city streets were ankle deep in horse excrement. What kind of pollution do you want? Would you rather die of cancer at eighty or typhoid fever at nine?"
P.J. O'Rourke
The mystery of government is not how Washington works but how to make it stop.
P. J. O'Rourke
Anyone who wants to can buy me a subscription to The Atlantic Monthly.
I have to go to the dentist today. I'm all for oral health, but the thing that drives me crazy about going in for your six-month tooth cleaning is how much it is reminiscent of having your oil changed at a seedy mechanic's shop. You go in for standard maintenance and they will find two thousand dollars worth of work that you have to have done immediately.