People have started to ask me lately if I were ever going to post again at this blog. I can only answer yes, but you never know when, how often, or if it is going to be worth reading.

Now that I know that people care, I will try to make more of an effort.

We will see . . .

You Are Animal

A complete lunatic, you're operating on 100% animal instincts. You thrive on uncontrolled energy, and you're downright scary. But you sure can beat a good drum. "Kill! Kill!"

The Muppet Personality Test

This past weekend at the Little Rock Farmer's Market I found a fellow that had some Pennsylvania Morels for sale. I picked up $5 worth (About 3/4 pint basket - small morels) and cooked them for dinner tonight. This is what I came up with. It turned out real nice!

Morels with Butter and Cream over Pasta

• Two servings of Dry angel hair pasta
• Olive Oil
• 1 egg
• Panko Bread Crumbs
• Heavy Cream
• Butter
• S&P

Prepare pasta according to package directions. Toss with olive oil, cover and set aside.

1. Pat Morels dry with a paper towels and cut into uniform pieces.
2. Dip pieces in egg wash, then panko and set aside on plate.
3. Melt about four tblsp butter in a small sautee pan with a tsp of olive oil, when butter stops foaming, add Morels.
4. Toss gently in butter until panko browns.
5. Add enough cream to float the Morels and S&P to taste.
6. Let it simmer for ten minutes or so until it becomes a sauce.

Serve over Pasta with freshly grated Parmesan.

New Video!


I finally found time to cobble together enough free software to

1.) Rip the DVD that KATV gave us.
2.) Convert at least the first twenty minutes to DivX
3.) Edit out one of the watchable tunes.

I hope you enjoy. I have an hour of this stuff if I can just figure out how to unwrap the package.

If anyone out there is a whiz at video editing and wants to volunteer to edit this DVD down into a song per file for me, I would be glad to mail them a free DVD, and then, later, sing at their children's weddings.

St. Andrew's Anglican

This past Saturday night was our regular Dinner for Eight meeting. This group is the last remaining vestige of our glorious old church, and contains some of our favorite people in the whole world. The group is so great, in fact, that it is now dinner for twelve. Because this group likes to stay out late and drink too much, Miss J and I asked my parents to watch the boys for us and take them to church the following morning. The boys love Country Baptist church, and Mom and Dad love showing them off.

That night at the dinner Miss J and I realized that since we were not going to have the boys we could go to church together anywhere we wanted to go. Of course, this being a group made up of all former members of the now defunct church, conversation inevitably turns to where we are all finding ourselves on Sunday mornings these days. As it turns out, a majority of the group was planning to go to St. Andrew's the next morning. I was already planning to visit an Episcopal congregation. St. Andrew's, being Anglican, was certainly close enough. My sister called Sunday morning and asked to tag along, we said sure.

Facilities:
This congregation has recently moved from a temporary space into a new building. This place is not yet finished. There was some siding missing from the outside, the parking lot was not totally paved, the landscaping was undone, and there were places inside where things were not painted yet. When this place is finished, it is going to be prettier than any church building I have ever been in. Lots or bright red and yellow, with dark wood trim and clear, rather than stained glass windows that allow a lot of natural light in. It was a really pretty place.

Crowd:
We were greeted at the door by a nice gentleman who showed us the way to the sanctuary. (We had unknowingly walked into the downstairs, back door.) Along the walk to the service we were accosted by two older women who were a bit over enthused and a little too friendly for me, but I am the nervous lonely type anyway. They were honestly glad to meet us and happy that we were there. That is nice. Upon entering the sanctuary, we were immediately greeted by the sight of our dear friends sitting right there near the back on the right. (This is where Otis had informed us that the cool people sit)

The rest of the crowd was very mixed. Black, white, other; young, old. I noticed that the people who were serving in the church, the laypeople, appeared to be completely normal. Like the sort of people you would know from work, not from church. I felt really comfortable among these people, like they were not judging me and did not feel like they were better than me. This plus the attendance of some of my closest friends made for a very relaxing morning.

The Service:
Once again they had a contemporary worship band. (Apparently they have a very traditional service at 9:00. I plan to attend that sometime soon.) A gentleman about my age with an acoustic guitar was leading. There was another guy playing acoustic and singing harmony, a chick singer, bass, drums, and an older fellow playing a mean Fender guitar. This band was superb, if a little mellow, and I thought they did an excellent job of adding contemporary music to a very liturgical service.

We did the responsive reading thing, we did the march the cross down the isle thing, we knelt, we stood, we sat, we did not grow bored, and we had plenty to reflect on. I particularly enjoyed the reading from the Old Testament. I remember enjoying it at the time, but I really enjoyed it later when my buddy Mike Page came over and started flipping out about it. Something about one of those olde prophet cats laying on top of a child to heal it.

Then the speaker came on. He did a real nice job, and was very entertaining. The substance of what he had to say was inspiring also. He talked about the funeral of a man he went to grade school with. He told how people went on and on at the funeral about what an amazing, generous, loving man he was. He confessed how the man drank too much, smoked, and worked long hours, but he still found time to make a difference. He loved the Lord and his neighbor.

After that was Holy Communion, High Church style. Now this made me a little nervous, because I had no idea what what going to happen, but I was pretty sure that I was going to have to walk down to the front of the auditorium. As it turns out, it was pretty neat, and it was no problem to follow those around me and see how they were doing it. An usher told our row when to stand up and when to go down front. We got in line at the end of the aisle, and another usher told us when there was a place available at the alter for us and where to kneel. One robed preacher dude walked by with the Holy Eucharist, and then one passed with the Blood of Jesus. The wafers were of the standard Catholic variety, the wine had alcohol in it and was very sweet and was passed down the row in a big earthenware goblet. Between each sip the cup bearer rotated and wiped the cup. If you were not comfortable with this, they had a centrally placed cup for dipping. Jenni quickly declared herself a dipper.

That was that, and we left. Mom and Dad had a beautiful Pork Roast waiting for us in Maumelle. Elapsed time: 95 Minutes.

Would I Go Back?:

Yeah, I am really having to remind myself that I am on a quest here. I would go back this Sunday if I did not have more churches to check out.

As a graduate of Bismarck High School, Bismarck, AR, let me tell you how proud this article makes me! My favorite part:

Education officials expressed most concern about Bismarck, which was projected to have an ending balance of negative $220,000 for the fiscal year that ends June 30th, 2008. An audit found multiple unauthorized payments, including an $18,000 contribution to a retirement plan for the district's former superintendent.

Remember that little tidbit as you pay your property taxes this year.

1UMCNLR

OK, before I forget about it, and before I go to another stop on my tour this Sunday, I thought I had better get down some thoughts about my visit last Sunday to First United Methodist, North Little Rock. Keep in mind that I went to the "Contemporary" service. This is the middle of the three Sunday morning services.

Facilities:
The church has several large buildings that take up almost all of the property, leaving little room for parking. Next door is an equally large Baptist church, so it makes for a foreboding presence when you drive up. Like an industrial park of 1980's church buildings. Although there were few parkings spaces, I did not have any problems finding one because I am the most punctual person that I know.

Inside it had the dark wood paneling/ big fancy light fixture/ stained glass thing that we are all used to. There were cushioned pews in three rows, with a couple or three dozen pews in each row. It had a large stage, but no pulpit. There was a place for the choir to sit on stage left, (choir is not "Contemporary" so the seats were empty) and a drum set balancing it out on stage right. I took a seat in the middle section, 2/3rds back, against the isle.

I should note that the sanctuary was all of the building that I saw. People kept talking about something called a Narthex. I have no idea what one of those looks like, so I may have seen it, may have not. I understand, thanks to Wikipedia, that the Narthex is at the end of the Nave. That did not help much.

Crowd:
Small. There were about 70 people there, which looked like none in an auditorium that could probably seat 400. There were more people my age than I expected, but this was the "Contemporary" service. I'm sure all the old folks were there at sunup to hear the choir and pipe organ. (Mmm, I love choirs and pipe organs sometimes. I think I will have to find me some of that action this week.) The children were in the back doing something else, so there were no kids in this service, except for a few pleasant, sleeping babies. In Country Church, the babies scream and coo, and the bigger kids run up and down the isles or color in books right next to you. That is fine, I guess, but it was awfully nice to hear what the people down front were saying.

The Service:
The "Contemporary" band consisted of a drummer, an electric bass, an acoustic guitar, a Fender guitar, and three chick singers. Everyone appeared to be really young except for the bass player and the middle chick, who took the lead. These two were 40ish I would guess. The order of service was very traditional: An opening song, then everyone was encouraged to shake hands with the people around them. 1UMCNLR seemed to take this ritual very seriously and the they were great at it. Everyone left the stage and went to shake hands. They took probably three or four full minutes. I suppose I was singled out as a stranger, because the Lady Pastor came and introduced herself to me fairly quickly. Everyone was extremely nice and welcoming. Next was prayer and announcements and offering.

It was during the announcements that I first embarrassed myself. (Which I am sure will happen at least once a week.) There was one person at the end of my pew. She suddenly motioned me down and passed me a red book. I opened it up and it appeared to be some sort of register, like at a funeral or a wedding. They don't have these at Country Church. I signed my name and put my approximate address, but then tried to pass it off to the people in front of me. As it turns out, there is one of these on every pew and they did not need it. Also, I thought it was a visitor thing like the cards they have at Country Church. Apparently everyone signs the 1UMCNLR register, members and visitors alike. I suppose it is sort of like taking roll.

After the announcements we sang three more songs. No one, that I could see, raised their hands or wiggled much, even though the lady up front encouraged us to if we liked. It was very nice and reverent and mellow. I enjoyed this part very much. This is when it first really felt nice to be in church again.

Finally the Lady Pastor got up and gave us the sermon. It was a very simple piece on money. Mr. Wesley encourages us to earn all we can, save all we can, and give all we can. I support that. Sounds like Mr. Wesley is a good old fashioned supply-sider like myself.

After the sermon we took communion Methodist-style which was new to me. Some nice people stood up front with a bowl full of what looked sort of like oyster crackers and a big ol' earthenware goblet of red stuff. We all lined up and took a cracker, then dipped it in the red stuff. I could not tell if it was wine or grape juice, because not enough got sucked up into my little oyster cracker to taste. Just to be safe, later on that evening I uncorked a little Blood of Christ to go with my evening meal. Can't be too sure these days.

After taking communion, some people went up front to the knee-padded alter and prayed - some people just went right back to their seat. To me, it felt right to go kneel and close my eyes, and thank the Lord for living in a place where I can go enjoy so many different styles of worshiping him. Also I thanked Jesus for forking over his body and blood like he did. Man, he really loves us. In the Bible, Jesus said, "This cup is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me." In Country Church they take The Lord's Supper twice a year. We were taught that when Jesus said, "As oft as ye drink it" what he really meant was, "Don't do this too often, or it will not be as special as it could and should be." Kneeling there in that ornate sanctuary, with strangers to my right and left, I could not imagine eating the Body and Blood and it not being special; not setting you back a bit and making you think about how loved you are.

Next were a few more announcements and we all filed out the back. I was the first one to my car and headed for home. Elapsed Time= 56 minutes.

Would I go back?
You bet. I had a great time. It was not a perfect match for me, but it was sanctified and the people were perfectly lovely and I think the Holy Spirit was there in the room with us.

Next Sunday though I continue the journey. I am thinking maybe Episcopal.

I agree with this interpretation 100%

Why would I start posting to a blog that I have been ignoring for the past two and a half years? Because I finally have something to say, that's why. Also, blogs have become fashionable again. If there is one thing that is true about me, it is that I simply must be up on the latest trends. Everyone I know has a blog, therefore I had to come back. Three years ago it was just me, James Lileks, and Tony Pierce. But now my sweet wife has joined (I would say inspired, but I am biased) this new wave of bloggers that are really great. Check her blogroll for examples. Miss J herself has what I believe to be the best dang ol' blog I have ever laid my medulla oblongata upon. (Again, biased.) Not that I have any readers I can send her, but anyway . . .

But most importantly I have undertaken a project of sorts that Miss Amy H. Amy has suggested would make quality blog fodder. I have started a journey to experience all forms of Collective Christian Worship that one can bless themselves with in my little corner of the Bible Belt. I suppose I should give some background at this point. This is going to be painful. Warning: Honesty to follow. If you are a part of my life and that bothers you, skip ahead to the lighter stuff.

When I first started dating the beautiful Miss J twelve years ago, we were both students at Ouachita Baptist University. I had an extracurricular job cooking at a hotel restaurant. She worked on the weekends in Little Rock for a non-profit called The Shepherds Ranch (now part of this). Since she was working several days in a row, and it was an hour drive to Arkadelphia, and since she was driving a '74 Plymouth Volare, she started spending the night in the guest bed of her Aunt and Uncle.

At the time, they were involved in starting a new church. This was going to be a non-denominational, evangelical, sorta baptist, sorta charismatic, church of other-church castoffs. Miss J thought that sounded right up her alley. I was not so sure at first, being raised Country Baptist and all. But after a few visits I was hooked by the casual feel, contemporary music, open and honest atmosphere, and absence of a hyper-religious, holier-than-thou, hypocritical atmosphere that engulfed most of the churches that I had been involved with. They named the new church Celebration Christian Fellowship, and when they moved into a permanent structure Miss J and I were the first people to be married there. We moved to Little Rock and were quickly integrated into the leadership of this fledgling congregation.

For the next eight years and seven months we were immersed in this vibrant community. This was not the kind of church that has services twice on Sunday and some sort of event every night of the week. It was not a full time job, but we were intimately involved in pretty much every ministry that the church undertook. I played in the Band and cleaned the sanctuary and helped remodel the building when it needed it. Miss J was the first employee of the church besides Uncle Pastor and started the Children's Ministry. She was an important leader in the Women's Ministry and did the announcements on Sunday mornings and was an always at the information booth out front when someone needed something.

This church was not perfect, but it did a lot of things right. We had small groups that met in people's houses to worship and pray and commune. We had a wonderful Christmas service where Grandfather Pastor would tell the Christmas story and everyone would be overwhelmed by the blessing. We had worship times where the lights were down, and the music was being led by something that the people in the band did not understand, and you felt like you might fly right up to heaven. When someone would move away, on their last Sunday they would be called down front where all of the people who loved them would form a scrum around them and Jon Shirley would take the Holy Spirit out of his bluejeans pocket and release it into the room and everyone would close their eyes and cry and pray for these people that meant so much to them. On Memorial Day the whole church would go out to Steve Leopard's house on the lake and eat BBQ and potato salad (Brian Roach style) and play volleyball. At the end of the summer we went out to Ferncliff and swam and paddled and sumo wrestled and baptized and cried and prayed some more and ate catfish.

Well to make a long story short, and to surely offend people who couldn't give a shit about what I have to say, and to perhaps even libel myself and get sued for damages, let me just say that Uncle Pastor lost interest in both uncle-ing and pastoring, but for reasons that I will dare not speculate about in public, decided that he would rather see this church fit into the space that he had time for rather than allow someone else to take the lead and provide what it needed to thrive.

The first step in this transformation was the decision that the church should have no organized activity whatsoever except for Sunday morning worship, and this was best when organized as little as possible. We had videos instead of sermons, question and answer time instead of sermons, Sundays with only music, and the rehash of a sermon we had heard a hundred times. When it finally degraded to the point where He decided he would rather continue as pastor of the church without a salary and without a building while doing another career full time than he would step away and let someone else lead this thirsty group of family, friends, and companions, Miss J and I decided that we had to move on. It was far too painful to watch.

So we left. (We weren't the only ones. Celebration still meets on occasion, with about two percent of its peak numbers.) January 1st, 2006 was our first Sunday at a new church. We have been attending Fellowship North mostly, New Life Conway some, and occasionally Grace Missionary Baptist (The church my dad pastors.) We have enjoyed all of these for various reasons, and have felt the spirit from time to time for sure. But, nothing has been like it was, and will likely never be.

Once I realized this, I became pretty depressed about my spiritual future. Miss J and the kids were fairly happy attending Fellowship North, and they had made friends. I, however am antisocial and have mental problems. Making friends takes a long time and a lot of casual contact for me. Also, I realized that I know almost nothing about how most people worship. I had only attended three churches in my life; The church I grew up in - a small country baptist church pastored by my dad; Celebration; and now FSN. When I mentioned this to Miss J, she made a generous and genius proposition. She and the kids will go to FSN when they feel like going to church, and I will be allowed to attend a different church every Sunday if I like, until I feel that I have been educated My mind should be opened to all of the ways that people in my home town worship the Lord.

I do not plan to go to any Baptist churches, I did that for the first twenty years of my life. I do not plan to go to any Church of Christ, because they are far to much of a strict constructionist in their interpretation for me (and do not allow Fender Guitars on stage.) I do not plan to go to any AOG or Pentecostal or anything too charismatic, because it kinda frightens me a little bit when people loose it like that. Remember the part about me being antisocial and having mental problems?

Where do I plan to go? Methodist, Presbyterian, Episcopal, Anglican, Lutheran, Orthodox, Catholic, and whatever else strikes my fancy along the way. Last Sunday I went to First United Methodist, North Little Rock, and I attended the "Contemporary Service." Hopefully I will have time to write about that before I make my next sneak visit next Sunday. If you are interested, check back and I will try to post about each denomination as I visit them. I will talk about what was different from my previous worship experiences, what I liked, how I was moved during the services, how I embarrassed myself, and how big my pompadour is each week.

Feel free to comment. Please suggest places for me to visit. You are also welcome to tell me that I am theologically screwed and riding in an aisle seat on the fast track to Hades. I welcome all input.

It is interesting on this third anniversary of the attacks of September 11th, to go back and look at some of the things that were said on that day. Early on, there was some misinformation floating around about other attacks that never really happened. I heard about a plane hitting the Statue of Liberty, and about car bombs in DC. I particularly remember the gas scare. People (at least in my office) were convinced these attacks meant the supply of gasoline would be disrupted. At one point my coworkers were even taking turns leaving the office to run out and fill up the tank.

Lots of people made a lot of predictions and presumptions in the hours and days immediately following the attacks. Senator John Edwards had a particularly lousy appearance on Charlie Rose that night where he was made to look like a lightweight by the likes of fiction writer Tom Clancy. The President made a so-so speech to the nation on television. Later, through a bullhorn, he was inspiring and uplifting while speaking off the cuff to construction workers in the New York rubble. "I can hear you. The rest of the world hears you. And the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon!"

My favorite opinion writer, John Derbyshire, wrote an article for National Review Online less than an hour after the attacks started. NRO reprinted it today and it holds up after three years as more accurate and important than ever.

Let nobody think that Americans are incapable of facing this foe and defeating him. Let nobody think that this country is any less able to "face the naked days" than she was in 1861, in 1917, in 1941 and 1950. We shall rise to this. We shall take our revenge. We shall absorb these blows, and strike back a hundred times harder. Let America's enemies crow today: Tomorrow they will tremble, and weep.

Playing music live for an audience is the most interesting of pastimes. This past weekend Cosmic Debris played twice. Friday night we played for two and a half hours in a small club in Little Rock. This is a place we love to play. The room is small, but just the right size for our crowd. It always sounds good, and a lot of my friends were coming out.

Alas, Murphy’s Law would reign over the evening. Brian, our sax man, was twenty minutes late due to an unfortunate key inside the locked car incident. This put us off of our game. Also, it was our first time to play together in well over a month. I, personally, stank. I made all manner of mistakes. My guitar tone was awful, I forgot how songs went, and I even stepped on my cable and unplugged my instrument during an important part of a tune.

At the end of the night, Luke (our lead singer) said to me, “Is it really worth it? You have a family just like me. Is it worth it to be away from them every weekend if we are just going to embarrass ourselves?”

And I did not have a good answer for him. So I thought about it. All night Friday and all the next day, I considered that maybe I was too old. Maybe I had missed my chance. Perhaps I was fooling myself and wasting time that I could be spending on more important matters.

Saturday night we were scheduled to play for four hours at a large, former strip club in a nasty town where we would just as soon not go. We booked this gig because the money was good. There were no expectations of anything but a night of hard work in a smoke filled room, with a moderate paycheck at the end. By the time we arrived and started setting up, I had decided that we needed to set an intermediate goal for ourselves. I told the other fellows in the band, “Let’s just use tonight to get back in the groove. Let’s relax and stretch out. We need to remember how to play with each other. If it sucks at times tonight, and they never ask us back here, then no big deal.” After all, I thought, the important gigs are in Little Rock. This one is a glorified rehearsal.

Well, to spare you the details, Saturday night we played perhaps the best we have ever played together. We were musical, experimental, tight, exciting, and entertaining. It came very naturally. All of the solos were new and unpredictable. Everyone had an amazing time, and we came away totally rejuvenated.

So now I will tell you the really weird part about playing music. The only comments I got from the crowd after Friday night’s show were positive. I convinced myself that they were just being nice, but the fact is, people seemed to really enjoy themselves and the place was relatively full for the entire night. Saturday night, after playing my little heart out and improvising some of the most emotional and intense guitar solos I have ever mustered, this is the comment I got from an audience member: “Nathan, you should really turn your guitar up some more next time. I really could not hear you at all on your solos.”

So who do we do it for? Us I guess. Is that bad? No it just can’t happen any other way.

There are several chances to avail yourself of the smooth sounds of Cosmic Debris in the next few weeks. The only questions are 1) How late will you stay up, and 2) are you packing heat.

Tonight, August 20, you can catch us at The Living Room, 3610 Kavanaugh, at 10:00 PM. We had a blast last time we played this room. The cover is $5, the refreshments are first rate, and a good time is virtually guaranteed.

Saturday, the 21st, we start our tour of Hot Springs at Jesters on Grand Ave. We will play the Customary (for Hot Springs) four sets.

Next weekend, the 27th and 28th we will make our debut at Boogies, 421 Broadway, in Hot Springs. Again, four sets a night, this time starting at the barely reasonable hour of 11:00. Come to these shows if you are feeling ultra-rowdy.

Labor Day weekend starts early this year. On Thursday, September 2nd, we make our debut at the White Water Tavern, 2500 W 7th St. This is very exciting for us, as it is THE club in Little Rock to hear local musicians. The music starts at 9:30 and will go on until we run out of people to play to. If you have never seen us play, this is your big chance.

Thank you for your support

Tonight at prayer time, Wylie Allman Greer (4) prayed, "Thank you for Greatness, and thank you for all of our freedom, and make sure it is all about Love!"

-----Original Message-----
From: Nathaniel Greer
Sent: Fri 8/6/2004 11:46 PM
To: charlie.ergen@echostar.com; CEO@echostar.com; CEOofdishnetwork@dishnetwork.com; Jim.Defranco@echostar.com
Cc:
Subject: Disgruntled Customer - Unauthorized Charge and Overdraft Fees


Dear Sirs,

I apologize for the lengthiness of this letter. My thoroughness speaks to my honesty and authority.

This past Spring I ordered Dish Network service in two rooms of my house. I signed up online and was charged a one-time payment of $49.95. I paid this fee with my Visa Check Card and the amount was dully debited from my checking account. About a month later a gentleman from Today’s Satellite in Little Rock, Arkansas, came out and installed our Dish Network system. My Dish Network account number is (x).

The system worked pretty well for about two weeks and then stopped working. First we could only get about half of our channels, then we could only get the locals, next it stopped working in one room, finally it stopped picking up any channels at all and we called in a trouble ticket. Again, someone from Today’s Satellite (different person than the installer) came out to work the ticket. This technician determined that I did not have line of sight and uninstalled my system. He took all of the equipment with him that day: Dish, LBM, Receiver, and Remote Controls.

Around a week later I took a call from Today’s Satellite in which a store manager asked if he could conference me in with Dish Network so that we could verify that my equipment was uninstalled. This would allow him, he informed me, to get paid for the uninstallation and would keep me from getting charged for unreturned equipment. I spoke with the Dish Network operator and the store manager, verified my information, waited on hold for a while and went about my business.

A week or so later I received an empty box in the mail from Dish Network with a note requesting I return my receiver and remotes. I immediately called Dish Network and told them I had no equipment. The call center agent assured me that I could throw away the box and not worry about it. Furthermore, he informed me that there was a positive balance on my account of nineteen dollars and some change. He said that he would mail me a check for that amount. Around one week later I received the check and cashed it.

On July 16, there was an unapproved charge from Dish Network on my Visa Check Card for $380.34. I first noticed the charge on July 19. I called the Dish Network toll free number to inform them of the mistake. I was told that the charges were for unreturned equipment. I explained that I did not have any equipment, and then I was assured that the money would be returned to my bank account immediately. Before I hung up the phone the Agent told me that I should see the money in my account immediately if my bank offers “real time updates” (they do not). Shortly after I got off of the phone, my wife, who was quite pregnant, went into labor. We spent the next few days in the hospital and Dish Network was the furthest thing from my mind.

Back at home on June 22nd I checked my account and notice that I had not been refunded the money. Now the lack of funds had caused a number of checks to bounce. I called Dish Network and was transferred to Paul Bowen in the Executive Office. He told me that he would transfer the $380.34 to my account immediately. Mr. Bowen also tried to give me the nineteen dollars that was in my account. He seemed very surprised when I said that I had already received that check. He further told me to fax him a copy of my bank statement, (which I did first thing the next morning) and he would make sure that I was reimbursed for the overdraft fees that were plainly Dish Network’s fault.

On July 27th I left a voice mail for Mr. Bowen because I had not yet received the $380.34. I did receive that money on July 28th. On August 2nd I left two more messages on Mr. Bowen’s voice mail inquiring about the overdraft fees. Mr. Bowen has yet to call me back.

The afternoon of August 4th, I called back and asked for someone in the Executive Office. After fifteen minutes I was transferred to a Chris Patricca. He informed me that he found my bank statement fax in Paul Bowen’s box, and would pass this information along. He promised me I would get a response in 24-48 hours. It is now Friday night, August 6, 2004, approximately 54 hours since I spoke with him. I have had no response.

Dear Sirs, your company stole the equivalent of one week’s pay from me, brought me financial ruin, and then ignored me. At this point I have creditors calling me and I still have late bills (with late fees) that I have no money to pay. I have been gracious, patient, and polite each of the times I have had to call and deal with your company’s mistakes. My patience has worn thin. I am not trying to pull any sort of scam; I just want you to make this right.

I have attached a .pdf of a report I pulled from my bank account. It shows the charges against my account from the period in question. You can plainly see that the overdraft charges total $261. Furthermore you can see that the total of checks I wrote during that time never equal the total of $380.34, therefore I would have never been overdrawn if not for your unauthorized charge.

Please make this situation right as soon as possible. It is the ethical, righteous, and proper thing to do.

Thank you for your time,

Nathaniel W. Greer

Miles Simon Cash Greer was born on July 20th at 3:10 PM. So far, he is very mellow. It is still hard with the newborn and the odd hours and the trying to behave one’s self, but you should see this kid. He is pretty neat.

Last night he was up late and I laid him on his back in my bed and drug over the laptop. I surfed through the music folders and found Freddy Freeloader from Miles Davis’ modal masterpiece All Blues. Miles Greer listened very intently and seemed to enjoy it very much. Next I put on Johnny Cash moaning Trent Reznor’s dirge, Hurt. For this one Miles was almost paralyzed. He tightened his legs up a little and cocked his head. For the duration of the song he sat perfectly motionless, eyes wide, straining to take it all in.
We have not tried Paul Simon yet. Do you have any suggestions as to which song we should give him? I’m thinking Late in the Evening.

This blog turns two years old this month. If memory serves, that is about the time to start potty training. Therefore you can look for much more cursing here in the future.

Actually, as you can tell from my recent output, you cannot look for much of anything here in the near future. Did I loose interest? Perhaps a little. More accurately I lost time. When I started this blog I was working at a call center where I never left my desk and had a fair amount of free time each day. Since then I have been moved to Network Support and I spend very little time at my desk and rarely get caught up on my work.

Furthermore, when I started this blog I fancied myself a Writer. I was studying writing at university, surfed monster.com and the classifieds every week for writing jobs, and wrote essays, short humor pieces and poems all of the time for my pleasure and amusement. I have since gotten over it. Not that I wouldn’t still love to write for a living, I have just been forced to face the reality that it is not likely any time soon.

Why is it not likely? Well, had I finished my writing degree and sought work as a technical writer in the market in which I live, I would have had to take a pay cut. Now perhaps this is honorable for some people, but not for those of us who have three other people to provide for and live paycheck to paycheck.

In addition to leaving me with little time to write for pleasure, my new job also left me with little time for homework. My grades quickly turned in to the kind that gets you kicked out of school. Rather than giving the establishment that pleasure, I said, “You can’t fire me, I quit!”

Then we sold our house and moved across town to a fixer-upper that had twice as much room. I spent six months pouring all of my free time into making this vintage 1940 worn out house our comfortable and modern home. I finished that up (ha! You never finish fixing up a house) just in time for my wife to get pregnant and sick. My sweet wife lives with 24 hours a day of vomiting for her first trimester. She had to move home to her mother’s house in order to be cared for, and to have someone to care for our little boy.

This led us into a three month period that I like to refer to as The Dark Ages. I found out that our house has the sparsest of insulation, and is impossible to heat in the winter time. A $300 gas bill led me to turn the Thermostat all the way down and close off the entire house except for my room, where I stayed in the bed, layered in clothes, huddling over an electric radiatior, watching the history channel or Democrat Primary coverage on MSNBC. One night I found myself wide awake in bed at 3:00 AM on a work night (morning) watching some show about the illuminati or something on TV, smoking a cigarette (I don’t smoke, let alone in the house) and drinking from a plastic half-gallon jug of Heaven Hill Vodka. This was the moment I realized that my family had to return to me, and soon.

Luckily they did return pretty soon after that. Miss J got to feeling much better and at this point is about ready to have that kid. We went to the doctor today. Only about two more weeks.

Another strain on my already tight schedule has been this rock-and-roll band that I joined, Cosmic Debris. We play most original tunes and I could not be more proud of our music. All of the guys in the band are top notch musicians (excepting me) and furthermore, are all cool guys to hang out with. We are well rehearsed, tight, and even enjoy a modest following of about 40-50 people per gig.

You might think that this would translate into more work than we can handle, but that is just not the case. Booking gigs in Little Rock has turned out to be the most frustrating experience of my life. I have played in a lot of bands, and this is the by far the best I have ever been associated with. We play songs we write, and we play them well. I have seen all of the groups that get regular gigs in Little Rock (I used to cook at a popular bar) and we are better than 90% of them. I just don’t understand why doors keep slamming in our face. We don’t expect to sign a deal with Epic and move to Los Angeles. We just want to be able to play live a couple of times a month.

So, aren’t you glad I haven’t been writing to you much lately.

-----Original Message-----
From: Patrick Greer
Sent: Wednesday, June 16, 2004 5:48 PM
To: Nathaniel Greer
Subject: My thoughts on the eve of the Open

1) Tiger will be a factor (but not win) because Shinnecock takes the driver out of his hands whether he likes it or not.

2) Look for an old guy to make some serious noise (Tom Kite, Jay Haas, Tom Watson, Stads, etc.)

3) Padraig Harrington will scare the harrington out of us and make us think (God forbid!) that a foreigner might win our open.

4) The wind will blow....lots!

5) Corey Pavin will still need his 4 wood to get home on 18 - but it won't matter to anyone but himself. (He really needs to grow the stache back and get some Just For Men gel.)

6) Sergio is also a good possibility if he doesn't hit driver at the wrong time. However, the New Yorkers are still pissed and he probably won't be able to deal with the heckling (which I think is exactly why Monty is a no show in the Big Apple.)

7) Finally, my prediction for a winner...........

Mickelson makes it two in row (if the blade putter is still in the bag and he leaves the flop shot at home.)

I fell asleep last night while watching Band of Brothers on the History Channel. Therefore, I dreamed all night that I was involved in warfare. It was not WWII and I was not in Bastogne though. It was more like I was in an Eastern European Communist Block country and I was involved in an uprising that was being violently put down by the Soviet Military. There was a lot of guerilla sneaking about and ambushing. But the most memorable part of the dream came when the Soviet soldiers started machine-gunning a crowd of protesters. I heard a voice next to me say, “That is enough already!” I looked over and there stood John Kerry with his poofy hair and three-thousand dollar suit. He wheeled around a big black cannon and pulled out one of those big Q-tip looking torches that you see them using in the PBS reenactments of the Napoleonic Wars. Apparently this 19th century cannon was a semi-automatic, because the Senator put five shots in quick succession into the Soviets and blew up a couple of tanks. The soldiers retreated to oppress another day as the crowd cheered and lifted a triumphant John Kerry and me onto their shoulders.

As it turns out, Bill Clinton is exactly like we always imagined he would be.

Anson said that those who socialize with Clinton say there's no off switch even when he's relaxed. One unnamed friend said of Clinton, "He just talks. You don't really have a conversation with him. He never asks about you. He never asks you your opinions on anything. He just loves to talk and have an audience.

"He is just self-absorbed. Totally. Not really interested in anything does or what they think. Except what do they think about what he is doing and what he is saying."

Another said, "He's like a walking Google. I don't care what word you put in, he will keep going and going."

Others describe him as a man who hates to be alone and who dominates every social setting he is in.

Which Bob Dylan song are you? Tangled Up In Blue

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