I was outside at 1am this morning, right about the time the bulk of the UPS air fleet arrives at Louisville International every night. Despite flying numerous times and having detailed knowledge of how an object flies, I am still mesmerized by flight. It is still magical to think of a sky filled with silver tubes shooting across the sky. I would love to get my pilot's license, but I think that it would make flying into something procedural for me. Time will tell.

The Johnstown flood happened today in 1889. It wasn't a flood so much as it was a dam-break. Johnstown was a little town 12 miles downstream from Lake Conemaugh in Pennsylvania. The lake was owned by a prestigious hunting and fishing club which had allowed the dam to become dangerous. When it broke, 20 million tons of water wiped the town off the map, killing over 2200 people. Yet no one was able to successfully sue the hunting and fishing club. How times have changed.

Two short articles from our friends in North Korea:

World No-Tobacco Day

Pyongyang, May 28 (KCNA) -- Activities are being conducted in the Democratic People's Republic of Korea to mark the World No-Tobacco Day, May 31. The government is directing efforts to encourage people to quit smoking harmful to them. Medical workers across the country are intensifying propaganda about the harmfulness of smoking among the people and stimulating officials to take the lead in the anti-smoking campaign.
Multifarious propaganda activities such as performance by artistic propaganda squads, screening of the scientific film "health and tobacco" and photo exhibition have been conducted as demanded by the new century.
Much effort is being made at industrial establishments to create a favorable environment for the young people to refrain from smoking.
In this way, the DPRK is joining in the efforts for the implementation of the no-smoking initiative of the world health organization for building the 21st century free from cigarettes and the 2000-2004 action program of its South-East Asian Regional Office.




U.S. war against Iraq dismissed as unjust

Pyongyang, May 28 (KCNA) -- The United States describes its Iraqi war as a war for "freedom" and "peace" but it can never justify the injustice and criminal nature of the war, says Rodong Sinmun today in a signed article. The article brands the Iraqi war as a war of aggression against independence and peace, a war unilaterally perpetrated by the U.S. in disregard of international law and the UN and typical state-sponsored terrorism in the 21st century.
Iraq has never infringed upon the interests of the U.S. nor threatened it. Therefore, there was no legal justification for the U.S. to mount a military attack on Iraq as unanimously claimed by the world public, the article says, and continues:
The inspection of weapons in Iraq was conducted according to the UN resolution at the end of the 1991 Persian Gulf War. Therefore, the Iraqi issue should have been settled according to the UN resolution. However, the U.S. unilaterally perpetrated military invasion of Iraq without any approval or resolution of the UN.
This has brought into bolder relief the despicable true colors of the U.S. imperialists who go arrogant, disregarding and mocking at the UN and international law.
The absurd pretext put up by the U.S. during the war helps clearly understand the injustice of the war.
When invading Iraq the U.S. cited the Iraq-laden ties and the "Iraq's possession of weapons of mass-destruction" as pretexts.
But any objective material evidence which can testify to those things has not yet been discovered, to say nothing of the period of the war.
As claimed by the world people, the true aim sought by the U.S. In its Iraqi war was to have a monopoly on Iraq's inexhaustible oil resources.
The U.S. is, indeed, the world's biggest oil thief and a rogue state.
With nothing can the U.S. cover up the unjust and criminal nature of the war and its selfish aim sought in it.



Does it strike anyone else as interesting that the rhetoric from Pyongyang sounds a lot like the rhetoric from the anti-war crowd in the United States and Europe? Just a thought. And I am very, very glad that they have taken a stand against tobacco. After all, murderous thugs with nuclear weapons don’t kill; cigarettes do.


Kelli and I saw “Bruce Almighty” this past weekend. For a film from Hollywood, it was amazingly respectful of the Western concept of God. Most of you know the premise, so I won’t rehash it here. The point of the exercise was to show that many people turn to God and ask for miracles but overlook the miracles we perform for each other every day. If there is a Supreme Being or some over-riding intelligence in the universe, He undoubtedly acts through the normal actions of man and nature.


There seems to be a resurgence of “religiosity” in this country right now. Most of it centers around Protestant Christianity, which kind of leaves me cold. I have a great deal of respect for people who are sincere in their faith; what turns me off is this ever-growing concept that God hands out things to the faithful. A case in point: there is a chiropractic office in Louisville that advertises on one of the local talk stations. In the ad, the narrator says, “This is God’s office---we work for God.” Really? You mean that the Almighty cuts the payroll checks? Does He hire and fire? Could I get my back adjusted and then pay my bill by sacrificing a dove or giving money to my church, since it’s all intended for God? AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!


One more thing while I’m on the subject: could everyone PLEASE stop talking about blessings!!!??? If you own a beautiful home, God did NOT “bless” you with a house. God blessed you with talent and ability at your conception. You honed what you were given into an ability to do a certain job that pays for your lovely abode. That’s how it works. God may push or help you stand, but you have to finish the race.

I received an e-mail from a good friend today mentioning that my posts lately have been a little glum. Please don't worry. When I write, I write from my heart. Whether it's history, politics or something going on in my personal life, I write about what I am thinking at the moment. Many days (like today), I read what I wrote last night and think, "Damn, dude, that's pretty black." But there it is, unscripted for the world. I have only edited an entry one time, and that was when there was a glaring factual error in what I had written. Smile.

I found out this afternoon that one of my uncles is due to have open-heart surgery this week. He has had heart trouble before, so this turn of events is not surprising. However, the fact that this is all happening to HIM does shock me. Gus is not overweight and exercises regularly. To my knowledge, he was never a heavy drinker. His only vice is smoking, which he gave up some time ago. He is the only one of his brothers who seems to have heart issues, even though he is the youngest of his male siblings. I guess you never can tell.

Our friends Mike and Tammy were in town this weekend, and it was great to see them. Their presence reminds me that Kelli and I do not have many friends with whom we socialize. Sometimes I am bothered by this, as if I am missing out on something. But we both have a large number of siblings, and maybe that makes a difference. We are never lacking for invitations to outings and such, which makes me wonder how people with lots of “friends” manage to fit everyone in. As I have written here before, I think that my definition of what a friend is may be different than the norm. I believe they should be judged by quality, not in quantity. I know many people who seem to be almost desperate for friends. They must meet every neighbor, co-worker, etc. and bring them “into the fold”. I think it’s a plea for universal acceptance or proof of success in life.

I have found myself becoming more and more moody lately for no good reason. I have often thought that I suffer from some mild form of depression, but I have never considered it serious enough to seek medical attention. I asked our family doctor about it over three years ago and he attributed it to stress. I was still working at Diesel Injection then and I was under a tremendous amount of stress, so I dealt with it. But now, after working alone and relatively stress-free for almost three years, the feelings have not subsided. Part of the problem may come from working nights and never getting a really good “night’s” sleep. But I am increasingly filled with a sense of dread; I think about getting old and dying more than anyone my age should. More and more, I can make myself tear up at the drop of a hat. Both of these are well-known symptoms of depression.

But seeking help for this means one thing: talking to a psychiatrist/psychologist. Please understand that I have nothing against “the talking cure”; I am just afraid that I wouldn’t get anything out of it. I think that I am too self-analytical to really be able to unload to a stranger without constantly re-writing my thoughts. I know many people who do go or have gone to a therapist and proclaim it great. I always joke with Kelli that all I need are some good anti-depressants. I’m not sure I’m joking anymore.

DECORATION DAY
Henry Wadsworth Lonqfellow

Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest
On this Field of the Grounded Arms,
Where foes no more molest,
Nor sentrys shot alarms!

Ye have slept on the ground before,
And started to your feet
At the cannons sudden roar,
Or the drums redoubling beat.

But in this camp of Death
No sound your slumber breaks;
Here is no fevered breath,
No wound that bleeds and aches.

All is repose and peace,
Untrampled lies the sod;
The shouts of battle cease,
It is the Truce of God!

Rest, comrades, rest and sleep!
The thoughts of men shall be
As sentinels to keep
Your rest from danger free.

Your silent tents of green
We deck with fragrant flowers
Yours has the suffering been,
The memory shall be ours.

Jessica Lynch, the Army private who has become kind of a folk hero, is under investigation by the Army. The goal, as it were, is to find out what really happened the day of her capture. As you may remember, most of Lynch’s comrades were found dead, many of them shot in the head. For her part, Lynch claims to remember nothing, a common side-effect of trauma. Much folklore has grown up around her---that she shot and killed a few Iraqis and was only captured when she ran out of ammo, and/or that she helped the SEALS who rescued her (isn’t it odd that it took a bunch of sailors to rescue a soldier?) by firing a .45 at her captors while being carried out of the building. I don’t buy either of those stories, but it has nothing to do with her. The truck she was in crashed at the site, and some in the military believe that she sustained most of her injuries in the wreck. Most likely, she didn’t put up much of a fight because she was simply hurt too badly. Furthermore, SEALS do not hand out weapons to people they are rescuing because each man in a boat crew has an assigned area in a building that he is supposed to clear; an injured soldier with a weapon becomes an unknown variable in that equation. I’m sure the SEALS took enough firepower with them that they didn’t need stray rounds from a pistol flying around. Just for the record, I know that a) the Army and Marines leant support to the SEALS and b) SEALS aren’t sailors in the traditional sense. I just had to throw that in.


When I stared this blog, my friend Steve told me that it would be great therapy. Like so much else, he was right. The one problem with posting private thoughts on a public site is that, at some point, people begin to read it on a regular basis. At first, I only told close friends about it. Over the past year, however, people have either found it by accident or by second- and third-hand invitation. This makes me a little self-conscious, which is one of the reasons why I took the counter off the site. But to be true to myself and the people who take the time to peruse my ramblings, I must write from the heart. Thus, out comes the following:

I could write an multi-volume epic concerning the mistakes I have made in my 32 years. No one has died because my errors (that I know about), nor has anyone lost any significant material possessions. My big mistakes, the ones that make me wince when I think about them, have all been about the heart. Most of them have been made because I can not help but feel things deeply. Slights that others let slide cut me to the core; praise that seems incidental will buoy my spirits for days. I know I am not alone in this, but, sometimes, I feel very alone with my inability to govern my passions.
And so it is with my friendships. Outside of my biological and in-law family (I’ll explain why I threw in “biological” in a minute), I can count my true friends on my hands and feet. Throughout my life, they have always been measured by quality and not in quantity. The people who I now consider friends are held deep in my heart; even the ones with whom I do not often speak are thought of almost every day. I have a passion for them (don’t confuse this “passion” for something sexual; that’s not what I mean).
So it is with the group I refer to as my “Texas family”. They are a group of about a dozen men plus their wives or significant others. I have known them for nearly a decade now, and even though they are nearly a thousand miles away, I feel as if I am always a member of the group. I lived in Texas for two years in the mid-90s and was immediately accepted into this diverse clan without question. They treated me as a son and brother, and I accepted the responsibilities that come with those positions. I have settled feuds, given advice, delivered bail money and offered a shoulder to cry on. Their influence, as much as anyone else’s (besides my wife), has made me who I am today.
As I have written here before, our little group isn’t what it used to be. The reasons are too numerous and complex to go into here. But when I visit, the old ship sails again, rust and all. So it was at the end of March when I made my annual pilgrimage to attend the NASCAR Winston Cup race at Texas Motor Speedway. The weekend was a little tense and things boiled over early the morning of the race. I said some regretful things (which I later apologized for) but I flew back home feeling very sad about the entire state of affairs in my home away from home.
When I got home and checked my e-mail, the accusations we already starting to fly concerning some of what had occurred over the preceding weekend. It was too much for me to take. In a fit of rage/disgust/something, I fired off a rather long e-mail to the parties involved and their significant others. In it, I expressed my belief that things could not go on the way they were and that something had to give. The big problem, as I see it, is that no one will come forward and express their feelings on anything. This, I explained is “cowardice wrapped in bravado”. I also announced that I would be taking a break from my visits, possibly until the first of the year. I encouraged everyone on the mailing list to come and visit Kelli and me any time, as only a few of them have been here before.
Only two of the people on the list responded, both agreeing with what I had to say. Except for removal from another person’s mailing list, I have been greeted with stony silence. Needless to say, I believe I may have struck a nerve. As always, I talk to my friend Peter often, but other calls have become scarce. I have wondered if it is just a question of “giving Matt some breathing room” or just writing me off. It would be a lie to say that it doesn’t hurt to be sort of left out in the cold. I don’t regret writing what I wrote, although I probably should’ve been a little more pointed in my accusations. I don’t know; I guess I just miss my friends.

Most people who follow politics today will say that the political landscape has become much meaner than it was in the days of the gentleman politician who made his point based on reason and logic. Oh, we are so enamored with what was! Just for the record, today in 1856 Preston Brooks attacked Charles Sumner on the floor of the United States Senate with a cane. Sumner was in recovery for three years. And I thought James Carville was a low-down bastard.

Kenny Chesney won Single of the Year at the Country Music Awards. His is the only country concert I have ever attended. It was a pretty good time. The only bad part of the evening was the opening act, Montgomery Gentry. The lead singer of the group ran around stage with the mic stand, as if he was warming up for a joust. He was also wearing a black duster, which made me uncomfortable because I kept thinking about how hot it must be. I’m slowly turning into my mother.

Betty Winston Baye, our chief Louisville-area race-baiter, is at it again with another column about how whitie is getting away with murder while poor Jayson Blair of the NY Times is fired for being a LIAR. The fact that his skin color is the only thing that got him the job in the first place is somehow unimportant. How many times have I heard journalists refer to the NY Times as “the newspaper of record for this nation”? PFFFT.

What I am about to say may sound prudish, but it denotes a very troubling trend in our society. I heard a conversation yesterday about how sexually aggressive many college-aged women seem to be. The message, it seems, is that “the boys do it, why can’t we?”. In fact, more than one adult video production company has actively recruited talent at places like Indiana University.

For the record, why can’t young women behave like young men? Most men of college age, if given the chance, will sleep with anything even remotely female. We are, for better or worse, aggressive, competitive hunters. Most of the time, we are limited by our commitments, the law, guilt or, in some cases, the inability to find someone to hook up with. So why shouldn’t women behave like this? The answer is simple: they aren’t men.

Allow me to explain. For years and years, feminists (who long ago forgot what their struggle was originally about) told women that they were just like men with different plumbing. While we can all agree on issues such as universal suffrage and equality of pay, that wasn’t enough for the NOW crowd; they had to BECOME men in order to feel equal. In doing so, they denied what most right-thinking people know is a biological fact---that men and women think differently and, more to the point, view sex differently. Now, the young women of the 70’s have daughters who are college-aged and the fruits of the experiment are beginning to speak for themselves.

I am not making allowances for men here. Many, many men of all ages behave like despicable bastards when it comes to relationships. I believe this is rooted in the still-lingering belief that all American males need to be strong, silent types who don’t express emotions. Without a significant, caring male present in many households to dispel the myth that it is unmanly to be open, honest and loving, it is perpetuated ad infinitum.

The problem, as I see it, is that we have created a generation of women who have no respect for, or awareness of, the strength of their sexuality. Sex is just another thing that is required of them, and it is often given freely enough that it is not considered a big deal. What is missing is the true emotional attachment that comes from a committed relationship. Instead, love and affection come in 30-minute intervals while everyone’s clothes are off. As long as the sex is “safe”, no harm will come to anyone.

But the harm does come. It comes in growing up with no sense of mystery about love and intimacy. It comes with the realization that being desired as a sexual object is different than being respected. It comes with the realization that a condom doesn’t offer any protection from a broken heart.

I guess this all comes to my mind now as I see our oldest nieces and nephews go through high school and college. They are above the fold, in my opinion, because they came from homes where they were exposed to good relationships. But many of their compatriots were not and, at some point, peers become just as big an influence as parents. As sad as this may sound, there’s not enough money in the world to make me want to be in their shoes today.

My father has a “parable” about people, and I have found it to be very true. Imagine that you took a group of people who work together and told them, “From here on out, we are going to pay you not to work. You don’t even have to show up here Monday through Thursday. All you have to do is come in on Friday morning and pick up your paycheck.” Dad’s theory is that it would only take about a week before someone started asking why the company wasn’t offering direct deposit.

The story is funny in the abstract, but not when you are the person hand out the checks. My wife and I are not wealthy; however, we were in a position three years ago to bestow a kindness on someone in her family who is less fortunate than we are. We did not intend for the situation to continue indefinitely, but it is hard to take something away from someone you care about who has become dependant upon your charity. On Sunday, however, things came to a head when the person actually complained to my wife about our apparent lack of concern for this person’s situation. As those of you who know Kelli can imagine, she was livid. Needless to say, our contribution to this person’s life is coming to an end this week.

Now, because of our (mainly Kelli’s) kindness, there are hurt feelings and a growing chasm between us and another member of her family. Through it all, I have to wonder why we bothered in the first place. Was it worth the trouble that is now bound to occur? I honestly don’t know. I know that charity should not be offered with the expectation of gratefulness or repayment. But should it really be this hard?


Today in 1927, Charles Lindbergh took off from New York in a successful attempt to be the first human being to make the flight across the Atlantic solo and non-stop. The flight lasted 33 ½ hours, after which Lindbergh was hugged by thousands of unwashed Parisians, joyful that he was not there to take over the country. Some of them surrendered anyway, just in case. When I think of Charles Lindbergh, I always think of Jimmy Stewart, who played him in the film.

I saw the end of another Stewart movie the other night and I can say, without reservation, that it was the sappiest piece of crap I have ever seen. The name of it was “Strategic Air Command”. I watched the last 15 minutes only because Jimmy Stewart was a real pilot in a real war (back when Hollywood actually contained some men of honor). But the last scene was the clincher: Stewart and his wife, looking at the sky as a flight of B-47s, undoubtedly laden with huge 1950’s thermonuclear devices, streak overhead as the music swells. All in technicolor.

The Dixie Chicks were in concert here in Louisville a couple nights ago, and very few people protested. Is anyone surprised at this? Most Americans have the attention span of a hummingbird and Natalie Maines’ comments were made over two months ago. I remember a friend of mine telling me that “their career in the US is over”, to which I said, “Everyone will forget about it by May” (when the US leg of the tour began). That’s one thing that bothers me about country music---it is patriotic by nature, but almost in a “mob mentality” kind of way. We went to a Montgomery Gentry concert a few months ago and the “ra-ra America” stuff kind of reminded me of a basketball game. In some ways, there is nothing wrong with that; it is good for our national character to cheer for something so right. But it must be anchored in something substantial, something real and deep down that remains when the cheering stops and times are hard, as I believe they will be in the future.

I'm posting this on my PC, which is now running Red Hat 9. That's a distribution of Linux. If that doesn't mean anything to you, don't worry about it. I still have old, trust Windows XP on the other drive, but these Linux distributions are becoming very impressive with their ease of installation and use.

I was thinking about snobbery on Saturday, and I came to the conclusion that we are all snobs in one way or another. There are three main types, and I think we can all see ourselves as one type or another: I use the term "he" here to denote the generic person; please know that this is proper English.

1. The Old School Snob. This kind of snob is what most of us generally think of when we think of snobbery. New money, old money or Sugar Daddy's money; what matters is the fact that this kind of snob is wealthy, you're not, and that's all that matters. This is very typified in a place like Churchill Downs, where the rich sit, literally, on top of the great unwashed. Dress and manner are very, very important to this group, and very little deviation from the norm is allowed--thus, this snob is almost always white. Politically, he comes in two distinct flavors: Country Club Republican and Elitist New York Liberal Democrat.

2. The Art Snob. The Art Snob is not defined monetarily, but in his choice of lifestyle. He works in some artistic medium---paint, sculpture, photography, film, graphics, performance art, theater, etc. He turns his nose up at anything "mainstream", be it a choice of dining, movie-going, club-hopping or clothing. In opposition to the Old School Snob, the Art Snob is broadly defined in reference to almost everything (housing, clothing, race, education, etc.) except political persuasion; to be a conservative is, to him, to be a Nazi. Only radical socialism is acceptable here as anything else will get you thrown out of the band.

3. The Hobby/Obsession Snob. This is the most common type of snob because he is so wide-ranging. My experience with him has been mainly in the tech fields, so I will draw my example from there. He is an expert in something (Linux, for example) and is so proud of his achievement (or, more likely, threatened by others') that he is very unwilling to share any knowledge he has obtained. He can be found in chat rooms and bulletin boards all over the Internet, berating people who ask questions that he considers rudimentary. He has long ago forgotten that his knowledge was had the same way. This type of snob is the most likely to be found in a dead-end job and/or living with his parents.

You have to admit, I have yet to run into anything I can't place in a little box.

I want to talk about the three kinds of snobbery, but I'm too damned tired right now. I'm posting this here to remind me.

I'm going to quit with the "Matt:" thing before each of my posts. If you have authority to post here and you do so, just identify yourself in some way.

We had a beautiful lunar eclipse last night. During the eclipse, the moon is dark (or red, if local viewing and atmospheric conditions are right), lit only by starlight and light refracted by the Earth's atmosphere. I took a pair of binoculars to work, and the sight I saw through them was almost terrifying. Under normal conditions, the full moon is so bright that many details of her surface are washed out. We are left with a bright circle that seems two-dimensional. But when the sunlight is blocked from reaching her surface, an entirely different satellite is revealed: ominous, gray and, most surprising of all, spherical. For the first time in my life, the moon actually looked like a planet and not part of the background. For the better part of an hour, I could look at this menacing ball above our heads in its true 3-D form. Truly, truly stunning.

I'm in the process of upgrading my father-in-law's computer. I have enjoyed working on it because I know the pleasure it will bring him. He owned a computer long before anyone else I knew and his current machine was approaching four years old, an eternity in CPU generations. It is hard to imagine that even a budget processor today is more than five times faster than the top-of-line CPU of 1999. This doesn't translate to an exponential increase overall (hard drive technology is a major bottleneck), but it's still an impressive difference.

You know by now about the truck driver who left a tractor trailer full of people at a truck stop in Texas. It's hard to believe that a human being could be so callous. Could he not just unlock the trailer and tell the riders to get out and go their own way? I have a theory on this case: the guy driving was getting paid for the safe delivery of these people and it wasn't his first trip. When he saw things going south, he abandoned the trailer, hoping that everyone inside would die. Otherwise, the people he was doing this for would be implicated, leaving him out in the cold. And before you Texas-haters out there (you know who you are) point fingers, know that the driver was from New York.

Matt: General Tommy Franks, commander of Allied forces in the Persian Gulf, is being brought to trail for war crimes in Belgium. It seems that Belgium has a claim of "universal jurisdiction" when it comes to crimes against humanity, even if Belgium or Belgians are not related to the case. Can someone explain to me how this makes sense or is legal? Of course, nothing is going to come of it; it's just being done in the name of political expediency. But next time, let's let the Germans keep the Socialist basketcase of a country.

Matt: Wow, I've really gotten slack. I like to put something up here every day, just to have some continuity. Most of my posts are written at night, and then posted when I get home in the mornings. However, I have re-committed myself to doing a serious workout every night during my "lunch" hour, so most of my posting time has gone out the window. I will endeavour to do better.

I just finished watching an interesting, yet very frightening, history of the Trident submarine. The Trident subs (actually called Ohio-class ballistic missile submarines) are one leg of the nuclear "triad". Now, there are only about 16 or so of these subs, as they are very, very large and expensive. They were first designed in the 70's when Congress became worried about the new Soviet Navy. The scary part of the this tale is how officials in Congress and the Defense establishment wrangled with Navy admirals over the mission of these monsters. I'll try to boil it down:

Most of us believe that a nuclear weapon is a nuclear weapon is a nuclear weapon. Not so. Early on, nuclear bombs were inaccurate as hell. Of course, it didn't matter. But as the 70's dawned, new technology allowed nuclear missles to become frightfully accurate. This means that a smaller weapon could be used against a smaller target, like a missile silo or even a concentration of troops. When the Trident missile and the submarine to carry it were being designed, the Secretary of Defense and the people at Lockheed-Martin wanted to make the missle super-accurate (so it could be used as a first strike, "counter-force" weapon). The Navy hated this idea because, as one Admiral put it, "If it's that accurate, some damned fool's going to want to use one of them." Eventually, the Navy won out. Now, every missile made by anyone is highly accurate, so the argument is moot. What is frightening is how the Navy understood that the missiles should only exist as a deterrent, but there were civilians authorities wanted to create something that someone might actually want to use.

One final note on this: Admiral Hyman Rickover, the father of the nuclear Navy and still a huge presence when I was in the nuclear power program (he had been dead for several years), was testifying before Congress when all the wrangling was going on. Never known for being politically-correct, Rickover was asked: "What do you think are the chances this nation will ever have to fight a nuclear war." His answer: "I definitely think we're going to blow ourselves up."

Matt: Sorry about the lack of posts over the past few days. I really don’t have a good excuse except to say that I have not been in a writing mood. So this morning I will try to cover some unrelated items that have been floating around in my brain since Tuesday.

I received an e-mail last night from the gentleman who edits the 84Online Newsletter. What, you may ask, is that? It’s the newsletter that was created in conjunction with 84Online, the radio show that currently occupies my Sunday afternoons (I’m the fat guy on the left who looks like he just got picked up off an island). I am currently the “E-Mail of the Week” editor, meaning that I scan through the questions our team receives and pick one that is interesting, weird, insightful, etc. and send it to the editor for inclusion in the newsletter. However, it seems that, for reasons I won’t go into here, our beloved editor is going to resign his position. Depending on whether or not I can talk him out of his decision, the newsletter will become my baby starting next week. This is, in some ways, exciting; the newsletter (sent by e-mail) has over 1800 subscribers, which is pretty decent. But our current editor also receives criticism for some of the things we talk about therein---not something I am looking forward to. But, if pressed, I will do it because worthwhile endeavors need to be kept alive. If you do not subscribe to the newsletter, go to the website above and do so now. That is not a request.


On Wednesday night/Thursday morning, I became momentarily obsessed with a question: how hard would it be to create a side living by making up a story? If you don’t know what I mean, check out the Coast-to-Coast AM website. George Noory is the guy who replaced Art Bell, for those of you who don’t keep up with late-night AM radio in this country. The site and the radio show regularly feature guests who are such crafty liars and con men that I am beginning to think I should join their ranks and live off the gullibility of others. Here’s some points I’ve come up with:

1. My story needs to involve gloom and doom. People seem to believe this more than rosy pictures of the near future.
2. I have to include an alien somewhere. Aliens are always big with the sci-fi, living-in-the-basement-with-my-computer, need-a-shower set.
3. I need to present my case one of two ways: a dramatic flair (ala’ Richard C. Hoagland) or a flat, deadpan delivery that makes me sound as if I don’t usually use my vocal cords to communicate with humans.
4. I need a poorly designed website.
5. My story must include some sort of government cover-up. Our federal government is covering up evidence of UFOs, Bigfoot, Planet X, Reptilian Overlords, The Illuminati, Secret Oaths of Freemasonry, The Ark of the Covenant, Remote Viewing, The Coming Global Super Storm (an Art Bell favorite) and Crop Circles. And you thought your tax money was being wasted.



I found out that my wife and I are close enough to being rich to smell the Cuban cigars. My country club invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail. I must get those ascots back from the cleaners.


Madonna, in France, being Madonna. If we are ever going to invade France and use it as a gunnery range, there is no time like the present.


I heard an interesting quote last night, “People over-romanticize children.” What a mouthful! My wife and I (childless and very happy about it) have been trying to find a way to express how we feel about the “baby zealots” in our lives. That quote is about as close as it gets. We love children and believe that there are millions of good parents out there. There are also millions of lousy parents out there who have no business owning a dog, much less raising another human being. Once you have a child, you have him FOREVER. You are never NOT the parent of that person. Why do people not get that? Babies don’t exist to make you feel better about yourself or help keep your marriage together. If you married someone because you want to have a baby, you are an idiot, plain and simple. Parenthood is not for everyone; let’s quit pretending it’s just another stage of life.
We have some friends who just had their first child, a boy. They are both in their mid-20s, and I am amazed at how well they are handling this change in their lives. One thing that helped them, I think, is something that almost never happens between two young, married people: they actually talked about how a baby would change their lives. They realized, before conception took place, that certain financial and lifestyle changes were going to take place. They don’t agree on everything, but at least the door has been opened.


Yesterday, May 8th, was the anniversary of the end of World War Two in Europe (1945). To mark this anniversary, I re-read the German and Japanese surrender documents (almost as fun as sniffing glue, but without the brain damage). They are very, very different in wording and scope. The German surrender document is very lengthy and almost completely devoid of emotion: do this, do that, tell us where you planted mines, where all your subs are, etc., etc. The Japanese document, by contrast, is much shorter and very vague, but full of pointed jabs at Japanese government and the Emperor (it is worth noting that the German surrender barely mentions post-war government). The Japanese were basically told that “you will do what we tell you, when we tell you and that includes all you bastards, so stand by”. I’m exaggerating, of course, but not by much. I have read these documents before, but not one after the other. I wonder: did the wording have to do with the bitterness of the war (Japan started it, after all), or was the reasoning more racial (the Japanese sold the war as freeing Asia from colonial powers)?

Matt: Today in 1954, Roger Bannister set a world record by running a mile in less than four minutes (he did it in 3 minutes, 59.4 seconds). Today, the mile is not a common race length (the metric system is used worldwide for track events), but Bannister’s time is regularly beaten in so-called “glamour” events. In my opinion, this goes to show how much better training and nutrition have become in the past fifty years.

Today in 1942, General Wainright surrendered all American troops in the Philippines to the Japanese Army. I have covered this issue in some detail before, so I will not rehash it here. Wainright was a POW until the end of the war and was present when the Japanese surrendered on board the USS Missouri on September 2, 1945. President Truman awarded him the Medal of Honor for his courage in captivity. He died in 1953, eight years to the day after the Japanese surrender took place.

Today in 1937, the German dirigible Hindenberg burst into flames while trying to moor at Lakehurst, New Jersey. Most of you have probably heard the commentary of Herb Morrison, the radio reporter who cried out “Oh, the humanity!” as the burning wreckage hit the ground. I have always heard that Morrison was fired for this display of emotion, but I can’t find any confirmation of that. His report was broadcast nation-wide (a first for radio), so I can’t imagine his career came to too much harm.

I have had two non-IT people tell me in the last 48 hours that they are regular listeners to the radio show. When I begin to question why I bother, things like that buoy my spirits. Since the entire AJ incident (if you don’t know, don’t worry), I have been a lot more distant from our beloved delusional host. But the core of the show, the five or six guys who keep the wheels turning, keep pulling me back in. No, this is not the part where I fall over in the kitchen and have a heart attack.


When you work alone and at night, your brain, which normally has to work AND communicate with co-workers, suddenly finds some idle time (or CPU cycles, if you prefer). So I find myself thinking of all sorts of things: my past, the future and other things that are better left unsaid. But one thing that keeps cropping up is a running argument in my head concerning faith. As most of you know, I was born and raised Catholic. I attended twelve years of Catholic school. My wife is also Catholic. But, for me at least, belief in Catholicism and the entire concept of a Creator is becoming more and more untenable. To believe in God, one must have faith. And that is where the trouble starts.

If you were to remove God and morality from any of the world’s major religions, you would still have an excellent means to control a population. After all, the concept of heaven and hell is not exclusive to Christianity; some scholars even believe that Judaism borrowed the concept from the early Muslims. Any way you slice it, threatening someone with eternal damnation is good way to get their attention. And what if they ask for proof of the Almighty? Tell them that they must have faith in Him, for they will not know Him until they die. Oh, and by the way, to be faithless is to be a heretic.

So, as the night wanders on, this is where my brain wanders to: early man, unable to accept the finality of death, created the concept of an afterlife/reincarnation, etc. Early empires, needing a stabilizing force, embraced the teachings of religion as a means of control. Christianity comes along, becomes a binding force in the civilized world and BOOM, here we are.

I read Maugham’s “The Razor’s Edge” for the first time the summer after my Junior year of high school. Larry, our anti-hero, tells the narrator he had a falling out with Christianity when he began to wonder why a loving Father would demand worship from his children. Why, indeed? That very thought has become a mantra as I wrestle with faith. I keep going back to the concept of a bipolar God: all-loving, but demanding prostration from those He loves so much. But I had a thought this morning that may have answered two questions for me: One, why do we have free will when it seems that so much bad has come from it and two, why does God demand faith.

The first concept is simple: maybe we have free will because we have to freely choose God. Maybe, at the risk of sounding disrespectful, God needs our freely-given love in the same way we need His. Evil is the turning away from God, denying Him the love that He shows us. The worship, then, is not demanded; it is our outward sign of love for our Father.

The second question addresses faith, which is much more difficult for me. If God wants our love, why doesn’t He just write messages in the sky or speak to us through our TVs? Here’s one idea: Jesus said that we must be as children in our relationship with God. When I was a child, my father knew everything. I didn’t know that he was going to come home from work every day or keep a roof over our heads---he just did it and I didn’t know any better. I had FAITH in him because I was a child. To me, he was dad, that guy that just made it all happen. Maybe, with God, it has to be just that simple: He’s on the throne, and that’s all we need to know. Hmmm.

Matt: Check this out. I have a feeling that there is something going on there that I should've known about before now. Norton Defiant!

By the way, I discovered two new blogs hosted on Blogger: "My Gay Ass Blog FUCK YOU BLOGGER" and "anus". "Dattblog" just seems weak now, doesn't it?

Matt: I noticed that, with two exceptions, I am the only person posting to this blog. That's OK; it's not for everyone. If you didn't get my e-mail on this subject and want the POWER OF THE WORD, drop me a line.

It's 2AM here in Indiana. Sunday morning. It is at times like this that I feel most alone. Kelli has been in bed for almost two hours; my work shift does not allow me that luxury. I tried, at first, to have "normal" weekends. It just wasn't to be. I found that I was tired all weekend, and moody to boot. For everyone involved, it is better for me to keep the same sleep pattern all week. I find myself thinking of all the things that are pushed out of the way by everyday life: what was, what will be, how I could've done things differently in this situation or that. It accomplishes very little, but it almost always leaves me in a dark, brooding mood. In thirty minutes or so, I will take a Tylenol PM and go to bed. Sunday will be bright and I will forget my dreary Saturday night until next weekend.

Next Sunday is my birthday. 32. As I recently told my mother-in-law, I have now reached the age I thought was "middle-aged" at 18.

Matt: I watched a very interesting expose’ last night on Adolf Hitler. Normally, histories of the Third Reich concentrate on the Second World War. The first half of this documentary looked at the early years of the Reich, which is, in my opinion, where all the important lessons lie.

Many have and do wonder why a man so unqualified as Hitler was able to rule a first-world, technologically-advanced, predominantly Christian nation. The answer is simpler than many are ready to believe: He (through his henchmen) made the country run well. To the damaged German psyche that emerged from World War One, this was of paramount importance.
At the beginning of the 21st century, we can look back at that time in European history and wonder how so many could turn their backs (or openly collude with) on such evil. But is it really that far-fetched? Consider, if you will, the last occupant of the White House, William Jefferson Blythe Clinton. Liberals, rest easy; I am not going to compare Billy Bob to Hitler. When Clinton won the presidency in 1992, we were going through a mild recession. As the economy improved and the tech bubble grew out of sight, it seemed as if Bill could do no wrong. Dubious land deals? No problem. Serial adultery (and possibly rape)? No problem. Having sex with an aide in the Oval Office? No problem. After all, the economy was good. If Bill Clinton could’ve run for a third term in 2000, there is a strong chance that he would’ve won. In a survey taken before the 1996 election, 65% of the women polled believed that Bill Clinton cared about them just as much as their own HUSBANDS did (I’m not making this up). So is it impossible to imagine modern-day Americans or Europeans or Asians or Africans rallying around a tyrant who gave them hope and jobs?


On a lighter note, today is Oaks Day here in Kentuckiana. For those of you who live far afield, know that Oaks Day is the day of racing before Derby Day. Traditionally, Oaks Day was the day when the well-heeled true racing fans went to the track. Now, it is only a shade more subdued than the big day itself. At the risk of being sacrilegious (I know; that shipped has already sailed), if Jesus had been born a horse, today would be Easter and tomorrow would be Christmas. Ticket to hell for one, please.


Benjamin Spock (not Mr. Spock, trekkie boy) was born today in 1902. His book, “The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care”, probably did more to raise a generation of brats than any one work before or since. It has been argued that this book (published in 1946), made the Vietnam generation what it was. Take that as you will.

One more thing: Does anyone else think it’s cool as hell that our President made a carrier landing yesterday? And isn’t it even more cool that he originally wanted to do it in an F/A-18, not the S-3B “Hoover”? (Before you e-mail me, I know it’s called a “Viking”; flight deck crews call it the “Hoover” because it sounds like a vacuum cleaner). I knew I liked this guy. Cowboy cool. And I mean that in a good way. And yes, I know it was a great photo-op and even better PR. But I guarantee the sailors appreciated it.