There is a long, slow, sweet rain that has been falling all day. I'm sitting at my dining room table, grading a huge pile of end-of-year projects my students have been working on. My buddy Haas called up and said he had four Cubs tickets, but I'm guessing that game will be rained out.

To tell you the truth, I'd rather be here, listening to the roll of the thunder and the sound of that rain gently fall from the sky.

Today on Great American Things: The American Farmer.

Ever notice how people tend to think farmers are a variation on white-trash? In movies they're often depicted as simpletons, rednecks, fools, etc. If you've been around as many farmers as I have, you know this isn't the case. They're highly intelligent, and take their work very seriously. The machinery and tools are kept in excellent condition, the fields and yards are kept tidy, and those grand old farmhouses are midwestern mansions on the hills.



And another thing...Ashton Kutcher, the Midwest's farmers would like their fashion back. I'm tired of seeing you strut around wearing a John Deere cap tilted to the side. And everyone else can give back the western shirts and the Carharts (sp?) jackets as well. Leave 'em to the professionals.

With Memorial Day tomorrow, and the 60th anniversary of D-Day next Sunday, I have decided to devote this week to Things that Matter. I tend to use this forum as a way to get out my anger at the current state of All Things Bush-Related, but I think we should stop and remember some of the greater achievements our country has had.

First up: The Gettysburg Address.

Each time I watch Cowboy Bebop I get into a new character. Right now Jet is the fucking man, because every time I stay up late to watch it, "Ganymede Elegy" is on. It's the one where he visits an old girlfriend and ends up having to take her and her idiot boyfriend in.

The show has a way of getting under your skin, and lines and images haunt me for days and days. Right now I keep thinking of Jet's famous line, "I'm the Black Dog. Once I bite, I don't let go."




Speaking of Bebop, I was driving to work the other day and the radio was playing that last sequence of songs from Abbey Road. "Carry That Weight" came on and I flashed back to the final episode, and Spike's last stand. I can't get it out of my head. Listening to the Beatles sing, "Boy, You're gonna carry that weight a long time" hit me in some weird way and I started to cry a bit.

Maybe I was just thinking of Spike.

Georgie! A short play by Me (with picture!)

Reporter: President Bush, is it true that you have decided to admit to the country your administration is a horrible failure?

Bush: Yes, it's true. I have ruined our image to the rest of the free world, while bankrupting our own country with my tax cuts that clearly were designed to help my wealthy friends. I have taken us back, morally, to the days of the Puritans with my born-again evangelical style of Christianity. Instead of using our military to actively search for the real terrorists, I instead picked a fight with a two-bit thug named Saddam. I have been a horrible president, and I feel it is best that I do not seek re-election. In fact, I urge all of you to go out and vote for John Kerry. He ain't perfect, but he's a helluva lot more qualified than I am in these troubled times.

Reporter: Mr. President, this is astonishing. Is there anything else you would like to add?

Bush: Yeah. Gotcha! Man, you reporters'll believe any crap that comes out of this mouth...

Happiness....





My sister and her daughters are in town this week, so I'm back to being Uncle Rock for a while. Tonight we ate Chinese food (the girls ate hot dogs) and made drawings. Maddy had a wee bit of trouble falling asleep. Man, there's nothing worse than listening to a poor, lost little girl scream for her mom in a darkened bedroom.



And one more thing: I mention "Hilary Duff" once in my ramblings, and now she's the goddamn number one search item on that top Blogger banner. Creepy.

Fahrenheit 9/11 won the Palme D'Or!

I'm very, very certain many people will react to this news in the following manner:

"That just goes to show you, them damn French hate America, and after we saved their ass in WW2"

"Fucking French."

"Is that the fatass that hates Bush? I hate him!"

"What's the Palme D'Or?"

I really hate it, by the way, when people try to make comparisons between something that happened a long time ago and today. For instance: The French should automatically support us in everything we do, because we liberated them from the Nazis in WW2. Or that Bush is a good guy because lots of people didn't like Lincoln during the Civil War (sorry Bob).

I don't like those analogies, because they don't work for one simple reason: the people running the world right now weren't running it back then. It's an entire new set of players, and we must judge all actions based on what they're doing.

So yeah, America has done some wonderful things over the centuries, but excusing all of the shit that's going on in Iraq right now because we helped win World War II and later put a man on the moon? No, that doesn't work. We don't get a "Get Out of Jail Free" card because we defeated Hitler. We didn't earn a line of credit, and if we did, we used it all up during Vietnam.

Moving on to other things...

Astute readers of this blog will note that I have had a few weird episodes involving dizziness, strange, heightened dreams, and increased anxiety/light sensitivity, etc.

I figured it out. I've been going through some serious withdrawl. I decided to hop on the Soma bandwagon earlier this year, and in some cases, I was pleased with the results. (The number one result being that I wasn't so much of an irritable prick.)

But I also became incredibly lethargic, experiencing neither high nor lows. I gained 20 freakin' pounds, and found myself drinking more and even picked up smoking again. And what else happened? I found myself in more conflict and controversy than ever, and along the way became incredibly disillusioned about friendships and family.




So enough of that. 9 months was enough. Before people start furrowing their brows and wondering about the State I'm In, don't worry. My moods usually don't involve me lying in bed for three days straight and looking for tall buildings with easy roof access. Depresson is "the family curse," which basically means that when my family gets together it's always a sure bet that one of us will a) try and find a quiet corner to hide in or b) sleep through most of the afternoon. We're fun like that.

And let me issue this warning to you out there that are thinking about saddling up a Happy Pill: don't do it unless you really think you need it. The side effects are much more difficult than people claim they are. Be ready for weight gain, lots of sleep, and some really fucked-up dreams. (And that's before you start to go through withdrawl.)

The dreams were the worst for me. All of the weight that I carry around with me (inside my head, not around my waist) came rushing out in my dreams, where I would have to endure nightly episodes of being reunited with my asshole father, or eerily reenact all of the shit I go through with my friends. It's not fun.

For now, I'll live with my irritibility and desire to Be Alone a lot, but at least I won't have to drag my fat gut through nightly sessions of Hell anymore, and I'll actually want to get up earlier and walk through the world with a little more energy.

I have much to discuss, but I shall start with a recap of last night's events. We had a retirement party for Dave and Connie, two teachers I have worked with for the past six years. It was held at Sue's house, which is a gorgeous piece of land out in the country. They are renting a garage apartment. I think I shall live there and become their adopted son.



Anyway, Haas and I busted out the pipes in a little Dave tribute, much beer and wine was consumed, music was played, etc. etc. I work with some great people; they do a good job of avoiding the usual teacher stereotypes, although I do see the occasional denim dress floating through the halls.

Dave played a banjo that used to belong to my mother. Mom went through a bluegrass period in the mid-80s and played for a while, but gave it up. Then she gave it to me, which didn't do much good, because there's no way a left-hander like me can play a 5-string banjo. And so...it moved on to Mr. Dave Croon, who is making some fine music out of it.



Haas and I were supposed to go to a bachelor party later that night, but we just didn't quite make it. Stayed late at Sue's, and then we heard that the corresponding bachelorette party had busted up early. So we whisked our way back to Oswego to rejoin Haas' wife and Sarah, but Sarah parted before we made it.

And so Haas and I ate Taco Bell and watched Chris Rock.

And now I'm even fatter and haggard looking.

I have a number of things to do this weekend, but I was having a little trouble figuring out what was most important. So I decided to Ask the Orace...

The Oracle Advises...

writing a play

Ask the Oracle a Question


Looks like I'd better get busy.

Just to clarify a few things, in case people think I'm losing my mind. All these weird things that have been happening to me are the result of coming off some meds I've been on. Dizziness, irritibility, light/noise sensitivity, etc. Not very fun.

But man is my libido back!!!!!

I just gave out this URL to a bunch of people. Let's see if it creates a new realm of communication, or a plethora of lawsuits and interventions...

While out with some friends tonight I started feeling strange. I had been a bit disoriented all afternoon; my equilibrium didn't feel right. Then my heart started racing, everything was too bright and loud, and I needed fresh air. I felt like Tony Soprano watching the ducks in his pool.


I think I may have some serious problems...

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Ok, that one I don't agree with. I also too a "Which Country are You?" quiz, and I was fucking Columbia. WTF?

create your own personalized map of the USA
or write about it on the open travel guide

I'm so into these little quizzes and online map-generator things. It tells so much about you...



create your own visited country map
or write about it on the open travel guide

You're The Guns of August!

by Barbara Tuchman

Though you're interested in war, what you really want to know is what
causes war. You're out to expose imperialism, militarism, and nationalism for what they
really are. Nevertheless, you're always living in the past and have a hard time dealing
with what's going on today. You're also far more focused on Europe than anywhere else in
the world. A fitting motto for you might be "Guns do kill, but so can
diplomats."


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

I'm sitting at work right now...avoiding the large pile of biography essays that I need to grade. I just don't know if I'm up for writing that starts out with...."There once was a princess that everyone loved. She was kind, loving and everyone loved her. Her name was Princess Diana."

Sigh...all my girls want to write about royalty and teen pop stars. My guys are a little better. I've got essays on Frank Llyod Wright, John Wilkes Booth (!), and Neil Armstrong. This is just an odd time for girls....

In their defense, I don't allow them to write about Hilary Duff or Lindsey Lohan. Instead, they've picked some really interesting people, like Bessie Coleman and Marian Anderson.

Anyway, I'm at work because I have two meetings to attend tonight, so take that, people who think we teachers just work 6 hours a day and are home by 3:00.

I'm bored. All I want to do is clean this room and box things up and get out of here; I'm ready to start theatre, even though the damn play still isn't finished. (I think I'll change the title from The Bonfire to That Damn Play.

I don't really talk much about work on here, and I don't plan on it, but I do have to say I work with some really great people. Although this embarrasses me a bit, I'm the oldest guy on my team. We're all young, and seem fairly happy to be here, and all get along very well. I'm a little nervous about next year, though, because we have to hire someone new, and I hope we find someone that really fits well on the team, since we've gelled so well.

Enough of this. I've gotta be boring all of you out there. Go read Bunny or something. She's more entertaining than me.

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

This weekend my buddy Eric (who is from Minnesota, so of course all we do is make jokes about Canada) bought pipes. We probably did this for a number of reasons, the main one being that a teacher we work with is retiring this year, and he's known for his love of pipes. So I guess we're trying to fill a void or something.

Another reason is that we probably are geeky enough that we want to be hobbits and sit with a pint of beer and have a good smoke.

I'm very happy to say that I saw this film in the theatre when it came out, and immediately wanted to rush off to some random European city, find a beautiful French girl, and spend the night having conversations like Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy did in Before Sunrise. I'm aware that a sequel is coming out, and I have to say I have mixed feelings. I've always enjoyed the idea that I never knew what happened to Jesse and Celine after they parted at the rail station in Vienna. Over the years my mind alternated between them finding each other six months later and living happily ever after (which Waking Life" seems to suggest.) Then again, when I was in a pissed-off, bitter mood about true love slipping through your fingers, I figured they never met up again. But at least it was up in the air.

Richard Linklater is now going to give us the answer to this question...

I guess it's 10 years later, and they meet up. So, in a sense, both of my guesses were right. But how shall this one end, and what are they like 10 years later? They're both my age, so my own personal generational zeitgeist is at stake here.

Meanwhile, I had a dream the other night that I was plopped down in the middle of the plot of All the Real Girls, and it was just as heartwrenching of an experience as watching the movie was. It was yet another variation on my dreams where I'm trying to find this girl that I'm in love with, but she's never where I can find her.

Enough of that.

So yesterday I came home from work and had a couple of drinks and watched The Simpsons. Then I started to get sleepy and decided to take a nap. Upon waking up around 9:00 PM, I noticed my head hurt. It wasn't any sort of hangover, since I hadn't drank much. There was also a cut on my knee. As I walked into my bathroom to relieve myself, I noticed my towel rack was on the floor, ripped from the wall.

Then it started coming back to me.

All I could remember was noticing that I was on the floor of my bathroom, my head leaning against my tub. At some point I had fallen and grabbed the towel rack to break my fall. I don't really remember any of this, but that's the best I can do. I have no idea what happened. I wish I could just blame it on being extremely drunk, but alas, I only had a couple of vodka and tonics.

If anyone can help solve this mystery, feel free to comment. I'm at a loss.