Almost Time To Vote (a rant)

November is coming and the political signs and ads are in the air.

I don't care like I use to. I probably should but I don't. The politicians are all starting to sound the same to me.

Does my voice matter? Does my vote count? I'm sure in some way it does but it doesn't always feel like it.

The big election for us this year is the Governors race. And a race it is. Both canditates are currently neck and neck. I lean towards the Republican as I always do but not for any specific reason in this case. I tend to vote Republican because I like what the Republican party is supposed to stand for (smaller government, etc.).

In reality there is not a politician I've ever seen or heard that stands for all the things that are important to me. So in essence I am often choosing from the lesser of two evils. I want a candidate that doesn't raise my taxes, one that will maybe even lower my taxes, one that will stop creating new laws and start enforcing existing ones, one that stands up for the family, one that gives more freedom to those that earn it and takes away from those that don't, one that will protect this country from its enemies, one that treats all people the same, and one that lets those willing to help those in need do so. I don't think that is too much to ask. A lot of politicians sound like this when they are running for office but then they get there and the real agenda kicks in.

I don't want to sound dissallusioned. I don't want to sound like I've thrown in the towel. But lately I have began to make a concerted effort to put all my faith in Christ and not man. Maybe part of that process is affecting my political outlook. I'm not sure. Ultimately I want what Jesus wants. I want love and justice to prevail.

A note to all politicians: If you want an example of how to do things right take some lessons from Jesus. Read the Gospels and see what Jesus thinks is important. Take care of the poor, the children, and the widows. Feed the hungry, house the homeless, and treat people with compassion. Love your neighbor as yourself. If you don't know who your neighbor is look to the teachings of Jesus.

Poetic Musings From My Car

Sitting, peeling a Three Muskateer
Thinking of the squirrel on the line
One step from disaster and a few yards from success
His path is before him, he has little choice
He follows and gets his reward
Or he falters and gets death
God has put a path before me
It leads through the narrow gate
Falter I can and falter I have
Yet unlike the squirrel
I have the blood of His Son
Which, because of grace
Keeps the path always before me

Bug'n Me II

Speaking of things that bug me...

Have you ever been listening to a CD and at the end there is about 10 minutes of silence and then another song plays. A "bonus" song. Come on now that is crap. I didn't buy the CD for forced silence. I bought it with hard earned money for music.

All artists, record producers, record labels, etc. hear me now... STOP DOING THAT!!!

On all accounts it just stinks. I don't get it. Can somebody explain it to me? I don't want to hear that it is artistic. IT ISN'T. If it was artistic it would be original. Since this unnecessary silence appears on over a dozen of the CD's I own it isn't original. It's been done so now let's stop this practice. STOP IT NOW!

On some of my CD's it is a single track of silence then the "bonus" song. On others it is like thirty separate tracks of silence and then the "bonus" song. Is this silence supposed to prepare us for the awesomeness of the "bonus" song? If so, it does a lousy job. It only serves as a major source of irritation. Or am I supposed to be meditating on the greatness of the previous song? Educate me on this if you can.

If I want silence I will turn the CD off!!!

My, My, My

Lately I've taken notice of something that people say often and for some reason it is starting to bug me. It isn't any big deal and really shouldn't bug me but it does.

I was talking with one of the guys from our shop at work and he used the phrase "my lawyer". I instantly thought to myself "does this guy really have a lawyer?". Really who out there has a lawyer. Doesn't having a lawyer entail having a retainer in place and a constant need for one.

The use of the word "my" is what is hitting the irritation nerve. My lawyer, my contact at..., my doctor, my pastor, my, my, my, my God.

This is such a possessive word. The dictionary I have lists it as the 'possessive form of I'.

It just seems so self important to announce something as mine. Oh, I'm sure I have done it or still do. I just don't like the way it sounds.

"Wait until I talk to my lawyer!" I know you can hear the tone of voice in your head that usually accompanies that phrase. There is always an inflection on the word 'my'.

It isn't important but it just bugs. I know you are probably thinking to yourself that Brian is sounding a little too sensitive on this and maybe he's got other issues going on. You may be right. Just don't say "You should see my shrink". I may lose it.

Autumn Is Here

Ah, one of my favorite times of year. The rain is coming, the leaves are changing, and the extra blanket gets put on the bed.

When people stand around and complain about the rain I rejoice. I love it. I welcome it. Bring on the rain. Bring on the cold. Matter of fact I hope it snows this year. Lot's of snow. So much snow that I have to tunnel out my front door. That would be cool.

We get to watch the leaves turn and then fall. One of my favorite things in all creation. At our house we have the oak trees, our blue berry bushes, and the tree in our front yard. Yeah it's a little work cleaning them up but it is all worth it.

Eight Wheelin'

Tonight the family headed out for a little fun. We went skating. Roller skating to be precise. Really we did.

It's been at least twenty years since I stood on eight wheels and it showed. Through the clumsiness and shuffling feet I made it. My wife however bit it hard trying to exit the rink. We think she may have sprained her wrist. Ouch. Sorry hon.

My kids had a blast. My daughter took off on her in-line skates and my son... well... he hung to the walls until two minutes before we left when he decided it was time to let go and see what he could do. I was proud of the both of them.

I forgot how much fun skating could be. My body will pay for that fun tomorrow as I already feel the muscles reminding me that I don't use them enough. "Hello Brian your not eighteen anymore." That is what they are saying. If I plan to ski some this year I better start preparing the old bod for it.

If we go more I think I'll try the in-line skates. They look more fun and not as old school as the skates I had on tonight.

Birthday Celebration

For Kathi's birthday we had a nice evening out with our good friends Joe & Missy.

We started with babysitters for the kids. This was an adult only event. One of the few of these we get in a year. We love our kids, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's nice to leave them behind.

With John Mayer's Continuum in the CD player we headed for dinner at a quaint little place in North Portland called Lovely Hula Hands. This restaurant was excellent. It is in a little house that according to the staff was built in 1910. Our neighbor Krista recommended this restaurant and advised us to arrive around 6:30 in order to be seated right away. She was right. By seven there was a crowd waiting outside. Thanks Krista.

After dinner we headed to one of Kathi's favorite stores; the world famous Powell's Books. If you haven't been to Powell's you are missing out. It is the worlds largest independent new and used bookstore. For those of you who don't like to drive into Portland don't worry there is a location in Beaverton. Although it isn't as big it will only get bigger when it moves. That is right. The new location will only be five minutes from our house. Sweet.

The girls ran off to the education and children's section as Joe and I wandered. We ended up at the coffee shop to get some liquid fuel for our lady shoppers. After we delivered the goods to the ladies we headed up to my favorite section, the red room. This is where the house the religious books. This is also where I met "The Prophet".

The Prophet: "Are you familiar with this section of the store?"
Me: "Sort of."
The Prophet: "Well I am looking for a book on the Psalms."
With Joe's lead we pointed out the shelves with the books and commentaries on the Psalms.
The Prophet (as Joe ducks around the corner): "I am not looking for the book of Psalms, but a book on the Psalms."
Me: "I'm sure you will find one here. They have plenty of books on the Psalms."
The Prophet: "This is our book, our book."
Me: "Uh, sure it is."
The Prophet (as he randomly and quickly pulls a book off the shelf): "Look here's one!" It was a daily devotional on the Psalms by someone I've never heard of.
Me: "I am sure it will be fine." (I wonder if I am trapped)
The Prophet: "Let's see if it has a word for us."
Me: (crap I'm trapped)

The Prophet proceeds to open the book to a random page and begins to read out loud. He is holding the book so that both of us can see the pages. I am doing my best to be polite and appear to be interested. He leans in closer.
Right about now I begin to wonder if God sent this guy to me or is it one of the poor lonely people of the city that isn't all right in the head just looking for some attention. Either way I stayed for a bit.

The Prophet (as he finished up the reading): "Do you know what that says?"
Me: "Uh, not really."
The Prophet: "It says... Emmanuel... EmmANuel... E..MMAN...UEL!"
Me: "..."
The Prophet: "Isn't that awesome?"
Me: "Sure."
Silence...
Me (as I slowly slink away): "Well thanks for sharing that with me. You have a great evening. I hope you find the book you are looking for."

Phew. A narrow escape. Sorry Mr. Prophet I just wasn't catching your vibe.

Joe and I finished up our looking and went and found the girls. It was time to get home to rescue the babysitter.

The evening was filled with good food, good coffee, good fun and good friends. A perfect birthday celebration.

Today's Her Birthday

Happy Birthday!

To My Best Friend

My Wife
& The Mother of My Children

I Love You!

Need Sleep

Some days are tougher than others to wake up. Today is one of those days. It reminds me of a song by Riley Armstrong which goes like this:

LOOKING STRAIGHT AT THE LIGHT / IT NEVER USED TO BE THAT BRIGHT LAST NITE / BUT IT'S A NEW DAY WITH FUZZ IN MY EYES / ALARM IS STILL RINGING WHEN I OPEN THE BLINDS / HOW DO THESE PEOPLE DO IT / THEY ARE LIKE DRIVING AROUND LIKE THERE'S NOTHING TO IT / I IMAGINE IT'S LIKE THE MEDICATION THEY'RE ON / OR PROBABLY JUST THE COFFEE BUT / ONE THING IS CERTAIN IN LIFE / AND THAT IS THAT TODAY I'M GOING TO EAT CEREAL / I MEAN COME ON LET'S GET OUR PRIORITIES STRAIGHT / BUT BEFORE YOU KNOW IT I'M OUT THE DOOR LATE / JUST TRYING TO CATCH SOME RAT OR SOME RACE / OR SOMETHING I'M NOT QUITE SURE WHAT IT IS / SO FOR NOW I JUST BEST KEEP RUNNING / AND BY NINE A.M. MY BRAIN AND MY BODY / FINALLY DECIDE TO MEET / AND WE COME TO THE SAME CONCLUSION AS YESTERDAY / YOU KNOW WHAT I, NEVER GET ENOUGH SLEEP * SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / ALWAYS WAKING UP TIRED / SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / IF I DON'T SHOW UP, I MIGHT GET FIRED / SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / ALWAYS WAKING UP TIRED / SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / IF I DON'T SHOW UP, I MIGHT GET FIRED * THEY CALL IT COMMUTING / BUT I THINK THEY SHOULD CALL IT INTRAVENOUS / CAUSE IT'S WHAT I NEED EVERY TIME I GET STUCK BEHIND A TRUCK, JUST TRYING TO TURN LEFT, JUST TRYING TO TURN LEFT, WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO TURN LEFT / WHY DON'T YOU PARK THAT CRAZY LITTLE CUBE VAN / HOP IN I'LL DORP YOU OFF OR SOMETHING / CAUSE AT THIS RATE WE'LL BOTH BE LATE / BUT I'D RATHER BE LATE THAN BOTH BE SITTING HERE DOING NOTHING / AND BY 9 A.M. MY BRAIN AND MY BODY FINALLY DECIDE TO MEET / AND WE COME TO THE SAME CONCLUSION AS YESTERDAY / THAT I NEVER GET ENOUGH SLEEP * SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / ALWAYS WAKING UP TIRED / SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / IF I DON'T SHOW UP, I MIGHT GET FIRED / SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / ALWAYS WAKING UP TIRED / SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / IF I DON'T SHOW UP I MIGHT GET FIRED / (BRIDGE) SLEEP GO ON AND SLEEP SOME MORE / SLEEP GO ON AND SLEEP SOME MORE * SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / ALWAYS WAKING UP TIRED / SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / IF I DON'T SHOW UP, I MIGHT GET FIRED / SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / ALWAYS WAKING UP TIRED / SLEEP, NO I NEVER GET ENOUGH / IF I DON'T SHOW UP, I MIGHT GET FIRED

You said it Riley!

How It Should Have Ended

There is a series of videos on Youtube.com that are subtitled "How It Should Have Ended". They are both creative and funny.

Here is one of my sentimental faves:

Butt Rock!

A couple of months ago my neighbor found out that I like heavy metal music. He called me a closet "Buttrocker". Uh, I'm not sure about that one. First I am in no closet and second I don't rock any butts.

I didn't know the origins of that classification of Rocker so I had to look it up. I checked out Wikipedia for thier definition of Butt Rock:

Buttrock is a sometimes derogatory term for many types of rock and roll & metal genres of music, much as the terms hair metal or mallcore are. The label 'buttrock' is meant disparagingly toward most '70s & '80s heavy metal bands as
well as a lot of early thrash metal including BayArea thrash, Teutonic thrash and even some Crossover thrash, though especially the term is used for bands of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal . The connotations which the term implies contrasts the using of the term Nu-metal pejoratively, in that, 'buttrock' denotes unsophisticated rock or metal music, lacking progressive traits.

Examples of "Buttrock"
Europe
Poison
Cinderella
Warrant
Mötley Crüe
Buckcherry
L.A.
Guns
Winger
Jackyl
Ugly Kid Joe
The term is rumored to have originated when persons, when complaining to "rockers" about the quality of the music they listened to, received the response: "But it rocks!" This was eventually shortened to "buttrock" and has become the term of choice when describing a seemingly meaningless selection of metal music.
Retrieved from "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buttrock"

Well that's all good and fine.

I think my brother found the best example of butt rock on our vacation last weekend. See if you agree:

Beta-time Sucks

Why did I sign up for the beta? Why for the life of me.

I'm pissed. I can't leave comments on non-beta blogs. What the... Maybe I missed the fine print or something but I don't remember a warning about this major inconvenience.

Blogger people! Hey! Yes you. Fix this! The only thing more important than being able to post on a blog is to be able to comment on one you've read.

Blogger GET ON IT!!!

Coming soon is something that should only be used when referring to new movies.

So Bloggers who have blogs I regularly read and comment on I am still here. One hand is tied behind my back but I am still here. For now... Typepad anyone?

Evil Brian is being held at bay.

So Jen... my comment for your Beauty and the Beast post: "Le Poisson, Le Poisson, He He He, Hou, Hou, Hou. I know you hear me doing that."

Kath... one for you: "Watch out for the Twofers, they get you everytime. They jump off the shelves and bite you before you know they are there."

Drunk Idiots

Okay. Before I post on this past weekend and how nice and relaxing it was I must rant.

It goes like this. Sunday evening we were all sitting around the campfires in our respective campsites enjoying a little quiet reading time as the kids played. Next to my parents campsite, which was next door to ours, was the path that led to the bathrooms. As we sat quietly some of our neighbors were taking a group hike to the bathrooms to do whatever they did there. This group had passed by earlier in the day. They were all loud and laughing. Obviously drunk. As they were passing my folks site one of the ladies pulled her pants down to moon the guy behind her. My mom saw it. As they snorted, laughed, and made a big production about it my mom protested and asked them to move on. The lady that did the moon job got a little belligerent and ended up yelling back at my mom to "mind her own business bitch". Real class. Calling a sixty plus year old lady a bitch.

At first I didn't get up, figuring they were drunk and stupid, but then I saw my dad get up to confront them. So, I got up to be his wing-man. I went to the restrooms but didn't see my dad. The offending group, of about eight, were milling about just outside the building as my dad appeared from the men's room. I am not sure what they were all doing. It reminded my of grade school girls who couldn't go to the potty by themselves. I asked my dad if he had said anything to them and he said "not yet". As I turned to go I again saw the group of offenders. I had to say something.

I calmly approached the ringleader, who happened to be the mooner, and I said "she was just looking for a little respect you didn't need to start being rude". I was quickly lambasted by an assault of poor language and equally poor advice. Mature things like "this is a free country", "we are just trying to have fun", "if you don't want to see it go stay at the Marriott", and other choice and grown up responses you'd expect from an eight year old. Except these were coming from a grown adult. I was good. I held my tongue and my fists. Choice retorts that could only come from the bottom of a bitter sailors tongue quickly came to mind but never made it to the mouth. I could have said "look who's talking you fat ugly trailer trash cow who couldn't get laid in house full of..." ah, I'll keep those to myself. They are from the evil Brian. She flat out denied that she mooned anyone and later change her story that there was a lady up the trail that did the mooning. She could hardly keep her story straight. Idiot.

In my life I have definitely learned a thing or two about people. One is to never argue with a drunk or an idiot. Here I think I was dealing with both. I don't like people like that. It wouldn't have mattered what I said or did she had an audience and was going to perform. I prayed silently as I walked back to our site that God would strike her down and have her eaten by worms. Okay, not really, but I did wish harm and poor things on her. Soon to be followed by an apology to God and a little forgiveness seeking and a prayer that one day the mooner would look back on this event and think "I was a fool". I doubt it will ever happen but you never know.

The risk you take camping is the other people in close proximity. For the most part we had decent neighbors. Although one guy with a loud stereo was about to be accosted by my brothers banshee yell and my word of advice to keep his radio down before I treat him to a little Demon Hunter. That is why I always preferred backpacking.

One last note. My brother was upset we didn't get him to come along. He had some great retorts to her Marriot comment. My favorite was this. "The Marriott? You can't even spell Marriot! It's spelled y.o.u.c.a.n.t.a.f.f.o.r.d.i.t." Nice Daniel.

Vacation! part II

Nothing like starting off the first night of vacation with a little rock n' roll.

I took my nephew and a couple of his buddies over to the Rock n' Roll Pizza to see Spoken. It was a great show. The opening acts were The New Ending, The Finalist, and House of Heroes. House of Heroes opened with a little tribute to Queen with Fat Bottom Girls. Sweet.

The crowd was small. Or does that mean it wasn't a crowd at all? Not sure. Anyway... there wasn't as many people there as I would have expected. Too bad. Fans missed out on a fun show. The guys from the bands are great. They make themselves very accessible to the fans before, during, and after the show. I got to speak with a number of them about life on the road, their music, and life in general. Wow. These fellas have chosen a rough way to make a living. I pray that God blesses them for it.

Also represented at the show tonight was the organization To Write Love On Her Arms who I posted briefly on previously. I spoke with Jake, the west coast representative, for a little bit. We exchanged email addresses so we can have some further talks. Not sure what will come of it, but I'd be very interested in helping them in anyway possible. Please pray for God to lead in that.

I think tonight was the first time Jon (my nephew) stepped into a mosh pit. I say stepped into when in fact he was stepped on a few times. After seeing him go to the floor five times I stopped counting. Although I did keep a watchful eye on him and his friends as I was the one responsible for them tonight. I didn't want to return broken children to their parents. I for one don't mosh. I don't see the point or enjoyment in bashing into other people. I guess I'm too old to get it.

The rest of my vacation will be considerably less raucous. Camping at the beach does not entail any moshing or head banging.