Cow Tipping and the Theology of Glory

well its been another year, another Calvary Chapel Youth Retreat. this time bigger and more mindless than ever. this time there were four or five other churches besides the one here that hosts it, so there were more people, out of which a grand total of one was any fun at all.
i arrived in the evening, having been graciously spared the first "teaching" and set up in a tent on the huge hill above the barn that served as a church. soon i had Mah Posse around and was up to no good. it began with a bonfire, then lighter tricks, finally some romping and then we were exiled to bed.
or so they thought.
'round about 1 am the four guys in my tent got together with three other girls from the other side of the field and went to the graveyard and a hay field a ways away. we sat and talked for a couple minutes then went around what there was of town. we considered cow tipping but thought better of it for that night, instead deciding on the next night for that particular endeavor. for a couple hours we built and maintained a fire and just messed around, and after that is kind of a haze, but i think it had something to do with chickens.
the next day was interesting. it started off with breakfast which was great, some one's mother cooked 200 breakfast burritos and we ate them happily. then there was a worship session in which we basically declared that Jesus was really pretty and shiny. then there was an entirely unremarkable sermon. we all slept so i can't really rant about that one.
at some point i got wet, but i don't exactly remember when. then there was THE sermon. a pastor got up and took the mic, and after telling us how he was once addicted to cocaine and meth and beer and had five kids out of wedlock before his tenth birthday he went on a very interesting rant. i do not quote him exactly, but here's something of the idea:
"...and now i see all you pure and innocent youth and it reminds me that we must be more judgemental. i know SOME" (enter menacing glare around the room) "people who claim to be Christians who SMOKE THE POT! i know some people who say they are Christians but they DRINK! or have SEX!" at this point the whole room covered their ears before they heard anymore no-no words "and all of you who don't have a quiet time, SHAME ON YOU!"
i turn to my friends on both sides and audibly say "I don't have a quiet time every day, in fact i hardly ever have a 'quiet time' so am i not a Christian?"
the pastor ignores me. "so if you see anyone who isn't being a saint, even though there is no such thing as a saint, judge him and question his faith until he does better. thank you."
having come with a copy of Bondage of the Will in hand (because i knew from past experience that i WOULD need some good theology to read) i walked up to the guy afterward and began talking.
"what did you mean by that? you just shamed me and most of my friends. I don't take well to being shamed and i really don't take kindly to people shaming my friends. so i'll give you a chance to explain yourself."
the guy was baffled. what? someone questioning his pontifications? how could this be?
"well, I, uh, you see in life..." *fog, fog, haze, haze*
"and how about all that about people who drink and smoke pot? i meet with a book club of Christians who drink and i know some very strong Christians who smoke pot. are you saying they're going to Hell?"
"...well no..."
"that's what you said, isn't it?"
there followed a short discussing that i will not relay, but i slipped in justification (oh, no, a big word!)and a few other fun phrases, including salvation by grace through faith, a little bit about baptism, and many other verbal whoppings of his butt. think of two boxers in a ring. one is me. the other is him. i was throwing punches, he had no arms. that's a suitable metaphor for that discussion. soon he woosied out and ran away, assuredly to cry in the senior pastor's skirts.
that night there was another bonfire, and we all went to sleep, as we were all far too tired to cow-tip. the next morning was cold, and mid-morning my friends' headbangin' Christian band played and i moshed and screamed, which was all very fun. I went back home about one, after which i went to the very first Madison Celt Fest (some of the three of you who read this know about that) which was all very nice.
the end.

some call it an overactive imagination

the other day i was listening to the BBC (if only to mock their accents because they all end their sentences like questions) and a very useless report came up. ADHD helps Kenyan nomads survive. why? no apparent reason that i could decipher. i find this exceedingly funny. then some guy mentioned "evolution" and my mind went to "natural selection" (the unconfirmed hypothesis that nature will eventually weed out the bad in a species and leave the good, eventually forming a SUPER RACE!!!). now according to orthodox scientists the ADHD Kenyan nomads should be naturally selected and therefore eventually all Kenyan nomads will have ADHD. consider that for a moment.
now, can you not see it? hundreds of wandering, hyperactive tribes, running into towns yelling "hey! hey! wanna trade!? huh? huh? wanna trade now? I'll give you my camel for some Mt. Dew!"
i just thought i'd share that with y'all.

oh, another thing on the subject of Kenyans. in case you have never seen:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=qRuNxHqwazs
http://youtube.com/watch?v=t-3qncy5Qfk

noble and manly music inspires the spirit, strengthens the wavering man and incites him to great and worthy deeds.--Homer

Both Robin and Maria gave me this one. here's the rules:

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool...
7. Include commentary

Opening Credits:
Worst Day Since Yesterday--Flogging Molly
(i can see this happening. perhaps the Main Character is a loser lying on his car hood. something like that.)

Waking Up:
Good Morning Spider--Sparklehorse
(again, only if the character is a manic depressive with an "i hate having to wake up" attitude. or if he wakes up on pot.)

First Day Of School:
Slaying the Dreamer--Nightwish
(only good if the people at school took Main Character's tool. that line always cracks me up...)

Falling In Love:
Ever Dream--Nightwish
(OK, though its got an unrequited feel, so maybe.)

Fight Song:
LCM--Children 18:3
(perfect. especially the "They're coming!" part and the solo after it. if only it'd landed on "Headstong")

Breaking Up:
Sorrow--Levinhurst
(again, perfect. even though i don't like the song.)

Prom:
Ballavanich--Wolfstone
(if the prom had bagpipes, sure.)

Life's OK:
Ditches--Children 18:3
(only if he gets over his greif by getting in fistfights. im starting to like my MC)

Mental Breakdown:
Phenomenon--Thousand Foot Crutch
(not to be confused with the Manamanah song. perhaps if he gets into shootouts with police...my shuffle seems to be stuck on metal.)

Driving:
Artist in the Ambulance
(PERFECT! a song about a car crash!)

Flashback:
Leahy--Call to Dance
(It just won't work. unless he actually has a guy in the back seat playing fiddle.)

Getting Back Together:
Even Sleeping--Children 18:3
(another song about a car crash. nope. unless they yell at each other before getting back together. amazing song btw.)

Wedding:
Braeds of Sutherland--Wolfstone
(this works. especially the ending pipe solo which is absolutely amazing.)

Birth of Child:
Between a man and a Woman--Flogging Molly
(um, there are some really tasteless jokes i could make here, but won't.)

Final Battle:
Move--Thousand Foot Crutch
(yes. especially if it was filmed in a really trippy Ridley Scott stop action kind of way)

Death Scene:
You Know We're All so Fond of Dying--Children 18:3
(hehehehe. delicious irony of the shuffle button.)

Funeral Song:
Grace of God go I--Flogging Molly
(this would work perfectly. but only if the action was muted, otherwise it would be pointless.)

End Credits:
Opus One--Madison Park.
(good. the only better one i could think of is This is My Father by Ashlee McIsaac. i've always thought it would be a good end credits song...)

Pictures

fine. you wanted them, now you have them. i hope you're happy. before you begin, look at the clock. remember that number.


this is Sjolinds, the wonderful chocolateshop.



these are some of the Sjolinds people. (left to right: Melissa, Tracy, Smelly and Sarah)


yep, you saw right.


State Street...


This is the wonderful hat shop. beautiful!


i thought he would look better like this...


Ragstock is wonderful, as i said before.


the one and only photo i could get of the inside.


Madison is known for its blatant homosexuality, and this young man we saw was one of them (look at the frilly shirt...)


a Russian officer found on the streets.


some young punk at the coffee/chocolate-shop


Melissa in her wall-crafted mustache.

so that's it. now look at the clock again. do the math, and know that i wasted that much time of your life.

A poem

a poem written by someone familiar to all of ye...i really liked it and thought i'd share. used without permission (haha).

I.

I worked, a long and lonely hour.
I tilled my fields,
Day by day,
And slept by night.
In the broad land
Under the broad sky
Alone.
The loneliness beat upon me
Raked its claws across my soul
Burned with each drop of sweat.

A storm came.
The rains washed out my fields
Leaving a mess
I could not clean up alone
But one was there beside me
And another
And another
And yet more

"We have been here all along,
Weary man," they said.
"You needed but to cry out.
Yet you did not.
So we came to find you."

And we feasted
We sang, and danced,
We ate and drank and toasted.
We made lighter
Many a weary hour.

We swam in the stream
We climbed the mountains
We braved the deserts, faced down
Wild animals.

We laughed.

II.

For a reason unknown to us
Unexplained, incorporeal
It was time to part.
We begged
Plead
Bargained
Offered argument
Demanded explanation
To no avail.
The cruelty was transfixed
As the stars in the heavens.
So we wept.
And we unsheathed our knives
And we carved our marks
Our scars
Scratched them on each other's souls.

III.

I left that place.
There was nothing for me there.
I went back
To where we had been
I went back to the table
The places were empty, the feast
Gone.
I went to the dance hall
The instruments were shattered
The music escaped.

The stream we had swum
Contained but water and the ghost
Of voices.
I reclimbed the mountain
There was scenery,
But the beauty had fled
The desert was hot.
The wild animals tore at me. I
Cared not.

The laughter died in my throat.

IV.

I wandered the land, and
An old man with a sad wide smile
Pointed me down a side road.
"Straight along here," he said,
"Can you find your friends."
But the road had many forks
I followed one to a train station
The train left without me.
A friend was on it.
I grew sad.

I followed another road to a house
Where there was a party
A friend was there,
But I could not find her.
I grew sad.

The third fork
Led to a dock
A friend waved to me from
The deck of a departing ship.
I waved to him
And was blinded by the sun.
I despaired.

V.

Taken by the hand again,
Again by a kind man, led
Down the straight path
To a hill. He said,
"Your friends are at the top."

I climbed, but I saw them not
I saw instead a weak man
Nailed to slabs of wood.
In His hands, gaping holes
Pouring blood
In His feet, gaping holes
Pouring blood
His mouth open,
A hole in his side,
Spewing blood
And spewing water.

A kindly man forced me to my knees.
"How dare you stand in the presence
Of glory?"
He took some of the water,
And washed me in it.
I gasped.
I burned.
I died.
I was awakened from the dead, new,
The mud removed from my eyes.

I knelt with the others.
It was true--
My friends were there.
One was dead
One was sad
One happy
One weary
One crying
One winked at me.

We ate the unknowable body.
We drank the impossible blood.
We were whole.

VI.

I wandered the road yet more.
My weariness, it seemed,
Would overcome me.
My tears flowed
And I cared not who knew.

A friend met me on the road.

"Why so wet?" she said.

"Those whom I love," I said, "I am
Parted from."

"Certainly," she said, "If you say that,
Your tears will flow without ceasing."

"What then shall I say?" said I.

"Say rather,
Those whom I love, I shall see again.
Those whom I love, I am united with.
The only one who loved me,
Gave his perfect body
For me."

Then my tears flowed fast, but not
From sadness.

VII.

I grow old... I grow old...

The veil falls away at last
We are finally all here
Our souls are exposed
And the scars begin to burn.

But they are washed, and
Hurt no more.
Rather, they bind us
And it is only in having them
That we are fully healed.

A man comes who is not a man,
And the scar he has carved on
Each of us
Binds us to him
He calls us together
We eat, we drink
We sing and dance.

We laugh.

4yze

recently i got glasses.
*waits for raucous laughter to die down*
And from this i learned a few things.
1) Bob really, reallyreally needed glasses.
2) Bob can still headbang.
3) The chair Bob was petting was not, in fact, the cat.
4) The world is even uglier than Bob thought.
i have several examples of the latter. first of all is Wisconsin's Snirt. this is the technical term for what occurs this time of year, when melting snow and dirt mix and form a sort of brown mush that collects in parking lots and my driveway. a month ago I thought it was tolerable, just a little annoying, but now i realize just how disgusting it is. it is repulsive.
also people, those i thought very pretty have very repulsive features about them. back when things were a little blurry eyes were perfect, skin was flawless, hair was not greasy. glasses made everyone ugly. thanks a lot.
the only other end of this is nature. it is even cooler than i first thought. the intricate patterns on leaves are more visible, the roots of a tree are more wondrous than ever before.
today i went to a zoo, just a tiny little thing funded by donation with about three small monkeys, a bear, goats, prairie dogs and a wolf. that's it. i looked at the newly cleared up monkeys, found them not too grandfatherlike, took a look at the prairie dogs, wished I could take a shot at them, saw the bear and found it fat.Then i went over to the wolf. i have seen this wolf a couple times over my life as a gray-white blur, but now i saw it in all its glory. its eyes were black beads, the fur was the texture of snow and it moved with grace i could hardly believe. that was when i realized that it was not an animal meant for a cage. the prairie dogs are fine in cages, the monkeys: whatever, i don't care about the goats or bear, but the wolf shouldn't have been there. you all know how much i like to verbally flick off PETA people, but on this one animal i agree. the timberwolf was to the woods what a lion is to the savannas: king. now a deposed monarch, stripped of crown and title, exiled to a tiny little piece of land. i spent a lot of time watching it, and slowly realized that even though everything might be a lot uglier the things which are truly beautiful are even more so now. maybe this is just the tiredness talking, but whatever.

Villainous Villainy

In the month of February there resides International Fake Mustache Day, like Talk Like a Pirate Day only for facial hair.
Here, in Tinylittlenowhereville USA, however, International Fake Mustache Day falls on the 14th of March. why? because the nice people at the coffeeshop/chocolateshop say so.
The Nemoyer happened to be around on that day so we celebrated as a trio, Bob's self, Nemoyer and Brother Smelly. the previous day we spent annoying the chocolateshop people, and so on the way into town we stopped by to say "hello" and "please don't call security." there we were given mustaches of magnanimous proportion, which we proceeded to put on and douse in coffee and chocolate. after tipping our hats to the nice people there we took a long car trip into Madison, State Street in particular.
there was the normal lot of idiots, feminists, militant homosexuals, artists, fire-and-brimstone preachers etc. first stop was Ragstock, a clothing store, only fun. I found meself a nice military trenchcoat and Brother and Nemoyer bought Poofy Shirts. they had guys eyeing them the whole way home. Nemoyer also found a naval officer's trenchcoat, which went well with his red Poofy Shirt, making him look like some sort of Russian army officer (in soviet russia, baby aborts YOU!!).
next came Sacred Feather hat shop. it smelled of leather and fun. Nemoyer found himself a Greek hat which complimented his military attire and i bought a Derby, which i am currently wearing.
on the way back we stopped in Pop Deluxe, a funky little store with odd things, where we found a dead goldfish floating in a tank, which was, at the time, amazingly funny.
we got back a bit before i had to go to work so we had some time in which to mess witht the chocolate shop people, who put up with us graciously.

pictures may or may not be coming. don't hold your breath.

also, BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH!

Books.

it's been quite a season here. cold, wet, and most of all, snowy. so extremely snowy, in fact, that the plows get stuck sometimes. and with nothing better to do (school doesn't count) i have been reading a lot. a whole lot. I have a stack of books on my DVD player that i fully intend to read soon-ish, and lately Bob has been making inroads into these books.
I shall sum these up and review.

1. The Shakespeare Code by Virginia Fellows

I do not know why i wasted 352 pages of good reading time on this. let me sum it up: Francis Bacon was superman. not only did he write many, many essays and whatnot, besides being way too busy in the state, but he also wrote all of Shakespeare. that guy must have had way too much time on his hands. he also wrote all of Spencer and The Bible. He got a visit from God when he was young and was the son of Queen Elizabeth The Virgin Queen. how did that work? Elizabeth, by the way, was a psychopathic nutcase who murdered her handmaidens left and right for small things. there's so much more drivvel to explain, such as the fact that Francis Bacon was also FDR, but i won't confuse you with the details. Ms. Fellows, i think, is just a bit too in awe of Bacon and thinks that because he was soooo wise he must have done every great thing ever done. what a guy.

2. Feed by M.T. Anderson
this is a great book. it is short, easy to read and amazingly smart. M.T. Anderson also wrote Whales on Stilts, the best children's book ever. he's probably Francis Bacon. The story centers on Titus, a young man living in "a world of tomorrow" in which we are all constantly plugged into the internet. not too far from the truth. it is a wonderful, bitter and cynical story of young love and airheadedness. big thumbs up.

3.Stardust by Neil Gaiman
once again Neil Gaiman pulls a great fantasy classic out of thin air. this is another very easy read, 14 point type and 1.5 spacing are needed to make it a 300 page book, and it's so engrossing that one finds oneself barricading the door and blowing back friends and relatives with a fire hose in order to gain more reading time. I don't think i will even go so far as to summarize it at all. that takes half the fun out of it. it is also a movie, which i have not seen.

4. The Hound of Heaven
Short poem, read it. one cannot sum up a poem. it's just not done.

5. The Red Badge of Courage by Steven Crane
a classic, only with blood. The writing in this book is amazing and Crane's insite into the human mind is extraordinary. if you have not read this book, well, add it to the list.

6. The Poe Shadow by Matthiew Pearl
i am torn between recommending this book and telling you to stay far, far away from it. It traces the "life" of Quentin Clark, a young lawyer in Baltimore who becomes obsessed with Edgar Allen Poe and his death, deciding to clear the poet's name of the mark of "drunkard" for the record.the book is not just a novel, however, it is also a thesis on the death of Poe and what Pearl thinks really happened, and I have to say he presents a very strong case. my complaint, however is that the middle 1/3 of the book, while necessary, is immensely boring. it does get better as it begins to draw to a close but was nearly unbearable for a while. i give it a light recommendation.

7. Deprivers by Steven-Eliot Altman
this is a fantastic book, one of the most creative pieces I've come across in a while, topped only on this list by Stardust. It is the tale of a future dystopian (aren't those great?) world in which humans begin to evolve a natural defense called SDS, Sensory Deprivation Syndrome, which, upon skin-to-skin contact, deprives someone of a sense (feeling, taste, sight, hearing, consciousness, sense of direction etc.), permanently or for a short time. it is an amazing adventure book, like a much faster paced 1984 with more guns and secret societies. for 16+ readers.

8. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
meh.

9. Lord Raven's Gambit by J.T. Howes
This is my final book as i am still reading it. so far it is rally good, if sometimes a little bit cliché. It's a high fantasy novel about...well, everything a high fantasy is supposed to be about. people killing each other off, magic, damsels, dragons, witches, poison, castles, all that good stuff. it sometimes resembles a fairytale, but in a more grown up way than C.S. Lewis or even Stardust. it's unlike anything I've read and i urge you, if you can find it, to read it, or at very least buy it, as the author could use some support.

so that's my list. if you don't like it I dare you to make a better one.

If e'er there was a way to go...

THIS WOULD BE IT

Code Duello

I have decided upon something. we need to bring back the duel. seriously, people should start dueling again. you see back in the day, not all that long ago, in fact, if you insulted someone it had consequences. now i could probably go up to someone on the street and call them an idiot and most likely they wouldn't do anything but laugh or call me something back. I could look at my brother and, as i so often do, say "you smell bad." and he would stare blankly. if i did either of those 200 years ago i and the offended person would exchange notes, then meet at dawn and take a couple shots at each other. most likely nobody would get hurt and we would shake hands and walk away. i propose we do this again. now, granted, the pistol/sword thing is a bit barbaric, but something slightly less fatal could be beneficial to the world. i was thinking paintball guns. they're inaccurate (as dueling pistols were supposed to be, even after rifling was invented) and if one didn't use a hopper there would still be the option of that nice dramatic pause between shots.
consider all the wonderful times one could duel. Bill Riley and Al Franken would have fought a dozen duels by now. if some guy cuts you off in traffic get his number and call him out. disorderly street fights would go down in numbers. people would not be able to insult one another without a consequence. politics would actually be fun. and best of all perhaps a sense of honor would be instilled in the disorderly mob that is our culture.
do you disagree with this? I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!!!

on a lighter, yet more important note, watch this video.

ATTENTION!

Merry Christmas.

wow...

North Korea is a very strict place.

BOOM!

Remember, remember the fifth of November, remember the gunpowder plot.
I see no reason why the gunpowder treason ever should be forgot.

NaNo...Again

Well it's that time of year again. NaNoWriMo is here! w00t! so this year i've gone with (yet another) post-apocolyptic invasion type story without zombies. I have decided to base this year's novel on the theory that China will one day invade the US. after doing a little research i find this strangely disturbing. obnoxiously half the "proof" for China invading us is just some lame "prophecy" crap. someone had a dream abpout chinese people killing americans and therefore the world's coming to an end. idiots.
so anyway it's based loosely off the song Fields of Athenry, the characters, that particular scene described in the song. that's kind of where i got my idea for the big "plot twist" so i'm happy. now i actually have some idea what's going to happen! yay!
i am very excited about this new one, i really like my characters (for now. wait until they get older and more developed and they'll start acting out...) and the setting is perrfect. another evil iittle town (called, of course, Athenry MN).

The Anual Word/Caffine/Santiy Counter says:
Day: 1
Word Count: 4,900 words
Caffine Intake: three cups of coffee
Sanity Level: 2

Agincourt, 1415

This day is called the Feast of Crispian (October 25):
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a-tiptoe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day and live t'old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say "To-morrow is Saint Crispian":
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars
And say "These wounds I had on Crispin's day."
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispianus shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

--Henry V Act IV, Scene III

Bloody Taggers

Bob has been tagged. i let my guard down, and now I'm tagged.

the rules for tagging are:
Link the person who has tagged you.
Tell seven truths about yourself.
Tag seven new people.
Leave a message with the person you have tagged so they know about it.

you shall all be feeling my tag soon >:)
so in compliance with the rules, here are seven things about Bob that most of you hopefully don't know:

1. I can play music using only my fingernails and chin
2. I have a rule that if a cheese curd squeaks on my tooth i must spit it out.
3. 42
4. I fully intend to read Tristram Shandy one day
5. i have a love/hate relationship with dogs
6. I make it a point to say "yes, there is" when someone says "there is no spoon."
7. I hate revealing things about myself. other than my dislikes.

There. Happy?

Book Klub

A post on this subject has been a long time coming, but it's finally here. Book Club. On the third Thursday of every month i have been going to a small Lutheran book club based out of a small church (or sometimes this scary guy's home) now I'm sure some of you are right now going "why, Bob? why? why go stroke your beard with people over books when as far as you go for reading is looking at the pictures?" Bob shall tell you why: FOOD! food everywhere! Indian, Mexican, American, everything. there are books and there is food. what could be more enjoyable.
i should mention one of the other people belonging to this society of literate Lutherans, and i ask you to visit her blog asap. this would be Not Freddy, who has faithfully (and eerily) observed us and documented our every meet. so check out the links remember to beware the ides of march. i warned you last time.

Obituary

I figured i should say something about Matt Miller. I don't have much to say other than he will be missed by those who loved him.

Please read this.

High on God Part II/1984 Parenting Tips

okay, so i believe i have a loose end to tie up. unless i am mistaken i must sum up the second half of my evangelical overnight. i hate to say it, but there wasn't much to say two. to tell the truth i slept through half of it because half of it was (fake) sermons. after sermon number 539 we went for breakfast, which was burritos. but why that particular food? i have no idea. they were good burritos, but...not at 8 am. please. there was another, longer, stupider sermon and the day was more or less finished up. we sat around for a while, waiting for rides and arm wrestling. this is an old tradition among these people. you see myself and a few of the other guys (and a couple of the girls) are constantly competing to see who is the most masculine, and a wonderful way to do this is by arm wrestling, racing and just plain wrestling. that was fun.

now, on to the other subject Bob promised you, and as you all know, bob on occasion decides to honor his promises once in a while. I've decided that my parenting tactics are going to be based off of 1984. first, i will have a Two Minutes Hate against hippies and poodles. you may already know of my plans to have them call me Captain Sir (just to keep them in line) but i think that putting up posters of my face with the caption "Daddy is watching you" will help significantly. They shall, of course, be enrolled in the Junior Anti-Sex League and recite fluent Newspeak. I will as well have a tape of myself constantly repeating "War is peace, doing what i say is bliss, eating your vegetables is strength." perhaps that will keep them in line. perhaps. My children shall live under the Iron Fist of The Parent!

and speaking of 1984, here is Big Sister.

okay, something fun. somewhat good band vs slightly annoying band.

Goo Goo Dolls: love top wallow in sympathy (http://youtube.com/watch?v=NMZUYeDrl-c)
Billy Tallent: has some good old fashioned pride (http://youtube.com/watch?v=I-9gu0lfQ50)

by the way, one of my kids is totaly going to be named Winston.

FOR YOU Conference

this past weekend I attended my first (national) Higher Things conference and I must say I was not disappointed. I will attempt to make this as short as possible as I need another 15 hours of sleep.
we arrived (the conference was held at the Minneapolis University grounds) kind of late and got checked in, then caught the beginning announcements and pleanery (seminar attended by everyone) which was based on the new piece of fine toyery from Wal-Mart. when that was done the 1,200 kids there migrated to the chapel for evening prayer. That was my first Divine Service with more than 50 people. It was pretty amazing.
After that we had free time, in which myself and a few others hung around and lightsaber dueled. About 10 pm someone pulled the fire alarm in the dorm and we were all evacuated. That was entertaining. We eventually got back in and slowly began dispersing to our various rooms and dorms.
The next day Bob got up early and went to breakfast which was amazingly good for cafeteria food. The man who swiped my food card smiled and wished me a wonderful day. I met up with people soon; we talked, messed around, drank too much coffee etc. then came Matins where we sang and prayed and all that good stuff. After that was pleanery II where we were introduced to Rev. Cwirla's preaching/stand up routine. Then lunch, and after the man cheerily swiped my card I went about my eating.
i think my favorite class was the one on cults where we learned that Mormons think they are spirit babies, it would be an even fight in a cage match between the founder of the JWs and Jack Bauer and wiccans are amazingly annoying people.
After that we took over the memorial union, which then became ours by right of conquest. The memorial union is basically the U of M campus mall, featuring shopping, pizza and a massive game room. After having my butt thoroughly kicked at pool by Alex, the rest of the group and I headed up to the top floor to play apples to apples, at which I did, erm, interestingly. We finished up with evening prayer and I spent the rest of the night riding the elevators with large groups of other kids.
The following day was begun with breakfast at which I enjoyed watching a friend fill a hiking canteen to the brim with coffee, and then drink it all. At Matins we went to eh 3rd level rather than our usual 2nd. It was fun, watching everyone below us scuttle around like ants. They are lucky I decided not to step on them…
For a while we went to more studies, ate, drank and were merry and then came 4:00. at 4 the busses to Midway Stadium left and after hopping on one with someone I had just been introduced to I was off to the ball park! Bob found her to be quite pleasant. I believe the whole city is a big pothole, which includes what’s left of Dinkytown. We had a good time at the game, sitting out in the cold rain, shouting “pants!” when they played the charge music (don’t ask…) and playing games we picked up at summer camps.
We had evening prayer there which was awesome; we stood in the bleachers and did the liturgy in the ballpark.
Friday was both the best and the worst. It was, of course, the final day which was sad but at the same time we had all had so little sleep that anything was funny. Anything. This included people taking down eating pavilions, dropped spoons and old cars.
We finished the first service and went for announcements and plenary, then finished off with our last breakaway and lunch.
There was a massive divine service with 1,200 people coming up for communion which was awesome. Afterward we stayed a while to say goodbyes and take pictures, which we did a lot.
The whole thing was a lot of fun and Bob is still kind of sleeping it off. It is, however, a little strange to be around people 24/7 and suddenly hardly at all. So, now that I’ve wasted your time with that, make sure to beware the Ides of March.