Early Start to the Day

I had this moment of glee this morning as I pulled into the coffee shop parking lot. On the front page of the WI State Journal is this wonderful photo of some children in a garden. But the Headline was what made me laugh. "I'm all for saving the environment," but that's just taking it a little to far. Jesus was way more political than you.

I worked out the mix of Joe's vocals on "I'm an American" last night. It was a pain realizing that I need to construct an isolation booth and get some sweet headphones that don't allow sound to escape. I kept hearing this ring from the drum track he was listening to through them mixed in with his vocal part. It's indiscernable once the rest of the music is mixed in but it keeps me from running compression on that track. Anyway. It translated into a lot of cleanup between phrases. I slapped a tremelo on his guitar part, rewrote the sampled drum parts a few times and decided to mix that after I get the bass part recorded. So all that's left is a tasty bass part and then cleaning up "America's Song" and then writing a transitional piece, somehow using the national anthem and (Buckshot go) Boo-yah!!! (It's a Psychobetabuckdown, Baby!) The last track of the EP will be completed. (pending discussion in the next band meeting)

I also bought my ticket to MT for the 4th of July. I can hardly wait. I leave Madison at 12:45am and get into Livingston at 2:55am. I don't have a long layover in Billings though. I really feel as though I'm missing out if I don't get to spend a quality 4-5 hours sitting in downtown Billings in the middle of the night getting propositioned by shellshocked old men to use some meth or lectured by denture removing, pain pill popping hippies on the oldest religion in the world. Cuthluh? Yeah.

Laugh it up

I was out tossing a frisbee yesterday with some friends on the capital lawn. One toss ended up floating it's way off the sidewalk and I was manuevering to catch it when I realized I was getting awfully close to the chain that divided the sidewalk from the grass. Sure enough. Hit that chain and rolled on the concrete. Fortunately, it was a graceful spill and the people drinking across the street could only laugh for a few minutes. I did straighten out that chain pretty good though.

I grind my self down to establish a point.

If you are going to toss a frisbee, do it in a park where there aren't things to trip over, such as chains.

There would be more but I've work to do and never enough time to do it.

Sweet dream on only three hours

I made the fool's mistake of going to happy hour yesterday. That turned into an all night excursion. Not a lot of alcohol, just a lot of time awake. So, some girl decided that since we had talked twice before, I was her crying shoulder for the frustration of her recently failed 'going to get married' relationship. She was going into the bathroom to punch the wall and stuff. It was a "little" annoying, but it got me thinking... I must have a tattoo that is only visable to those wearing beer goggles, scrawled on my forehead, that says,"Cast all your cares on Him." Because it seems like an awful lot of people open up to me when they know me almost barely.

Pretty night turned ugly. Pretty night wasn't pretty. Never was, never will be.

So I got home late. Crawled into bed. Woke up this morning at 6:37am. I then realized that I had had a dream involving the most notorious man in history. He wasn't speaking German but I was not on his side. (Which is odd since I always thought I was a wee bit evil. eh... not a bad thing I guess.)

Then I was reading an H-I-Larious website by some Iranian and could not stop laughing. Oh, the story of the restaurant and his dad asking him if he was gay because this woman was kicking the crap out of him because she thought her boyfriend was leaving her because he was in love with the dude with the angry homophobe dad who wanted to know if his son was gay so as to know if he needed to pull out a sword and kill his queer son. I was rolling on the floor. Pure Genius.

Planning meetings are an integral part of any successful business.

Morning Word Salad

It's been a whirlwind morning involving telephone flavored lattes and trains sitting in the middle of the road with idiots flying round on broomsticks. I watched people sit at the intersection waiting for a train that wasn't going to move even though they could drive three blocks south and get on the other side of the tracks. It was like watching AI bots sitting at a dead end trying to get through a wall. No ability to think around their problem, just the automated, "Must get to point B. Must get to point B. Must get to point B." I could have sat there at the crossing as well and enjoyed the new album I purchased last night. I would have justified being late to work on account of the train and soaked in a second run through 10,000 Days.

"It's a creeper." as one fan put it on (double you, double you, double you).amazon.com and they seem to be right in a certain sense. My complaints are more about the mixing of the album rather than the overall sound. Sure there are repeat guitar tracks that are straight from "third eye" but the vocals are so low in the mix it's next to impossible to discern if there's singing or not let alone what the words are. Third Eye is a perfect example of that, the section where Maynard is whispering. It's not possible to fully understand what he's saying. (but then again, do we really want to?)

I also put to rest this demon that's been chasing me for the last four or so years. A friend said that I should read the Davinci Code, I would love it, it's full of religious stuff, blah blah blah. In most cases the religious stuff is a definite attractor (bug to bug zapper). Last week, I went to used bookstores looking for a copy of the book but didn't know the name of the author and didn't want to embarass myself by asking the NPR listening, "modern-hip" author reading clerk where I could find a copy. (Sigh, roll eyes, smartass response 'in the trash?') So I bought a Milan Kundera book instead. I really think that point B is not my goal at all.

Anyway this movie is so utterly end-of-chapter-cliff-hanger/easy explanation of end-of-chapter-cliff-hanger, it's a lot like being slapped in the face with a cock. Not having it. Tom and Ian are great actors (hence first name 'familiarity' like we're bros) and they were entertaining to watch but the story and the conspiracy and the Scion of Christ Bullshit...UGH... and the flashbacks and CGI overlaying made a 'bestseller' into a 'blockbuster'. They got my money and I can now file my summons an complaint against Dan Brown. I was compelled by the power of Christ to see that movie. I may have picked up the book eventually but not gotten much further than the first hundred pages. The movie made the story, if you can call it that, accessable to me without having to give up too much time. And why was Tom Hanks crying at the end when he figures out that the bones of Mary Magdelene are buried in the Louvre? (Oh sorry didn't mean to spoil it) sorry... so sorry, SPECIAL SHOES SPOILER ALERT!!! Michael Keaton is a musician who dies in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and son. Through the magic he left behind, one year later, he returns as a snowman, and has the final chance to put things right with his son before he is gone forever. Directed by Troy Miller.

uh... like I said, Where the I Divides will be playing an exclusive gig for three people this weekend. The venue is top secret but I'm pretty sure it'll end up being a basement in Milwaukee. Rider consisting of

1. Three (3) 20 oz. bottles of DeJaBlue water
2. One (1) half-eaten box of stale Nabisco brand Triscuts
3. One (1) pack of Winston Cigarettes (may be replace with Vantage Cigarettes)
4. One (1) carton of Camel Light Cigarettes (Wides preferred)
5. An assorted collection of vintage Playboy magazines (nothing after 1977)
6. One (1) hobo/clown statue

Communits Checks

I went to the bank and deposited my check from the work week.
No, wait.
Wrong checks. I've been reading "the Joke" by Milan Kundera. It was funny reading the Author's Note in the beginning of the book because it made me start to think that the whole book itself was a joke or that the story isn't really the story that he wrote or something. The title has really got me speculating as to what the joke really is. (that's what I'm trying to say)

I think that it would have been great to have been kicked out of the party and conscripted into the army to serve as a miner for the party. Work, eat, sleep, be abused, work, eat, sleep, be abused, go to town every other weekend, maybe. No one expecting me to be somewhere or to do something. Capitolism is a pain in the ass. No, wait. That's my wallet I'm sitting on.

I think the 'joke' so far is that the one character was voted out of the party because he sent a postcard to a girl at a training camp that was joking in its message... something about Trotsky being right. He was joking. They didn't see it that way. I'd probably end up in Siberia faster than a three peckered owl. I'm always using cynicism and satire to mask my arrogant vanity.

Take it to heart

Dear Friends,
Take it to heart, because I was talking about you. That's right. SUCK IT!!!
Love Zach

In other news, it's been Operation Shitstorm at work this week. It seems that May is the month to sue and sue alike. No time for the loging of my mundane life or "insight" on news or blah blah blah.

I retooled "I Hate My Friends" and it sounds better now that it did last weekend. I also wrote something that Travis "Steve Schieler-ed" * as Late Smashing Pumpkins or Early Radiohead.

I called him today to remind him about the C. Earl Cinnamon Swirl pick up for Joe for precttice tomorrow. We're going to record lyrics and bass for another track (hopefully.) I'd like to do "Excuse Me Sir, Can I Please Have Back My Soul," but Travis is betting on "Plastic Head," since Joe is more comfortable with that one.

In other news, Travis and I may be making a trip up to Sparta/Tomah on Sunday. I wanted to take the afterknoon off from work today and do it but, Op. Shitstorm is still in full effect. I have to hunt down the Mayor to serve him a Subpoena. The Subpoena lists him personally, not as the Mayor, so I have to track him down personally, and that means being in his office around 4pm today. Oh well. In Tomah, my plan is to get a few pictures of the signage as namesake of the band and put it up on a website that is yet to be discussed with the other members. Then I'll be able to make my crappy friends (all three of them) listen to my band's crappy music and if they don't, I'll just make them feel crappy.

We also may have a drummer that everyone can agree on if only we can find a practice space in the Madison area that's reasonably priced.

Yeah. Crappy.

* Steve Schieler-ed: to snap fingers repeatedly while saying, "Oooh, ooh, ooh," while someone is playing an original piece of music in an attempt to place the song into a popular band's catalogue. In this instance, the song was something that B. Corigan or T. York wrote and I stole. Steve Schieler (name may be misspelled) is a real person. He used to do this to Travis when he would play music for him. Travis wanted to make a short film about him, Steve Schieler's Rock and Roll Training Video. It's a funny story. He plays guitar and you can hear a full band even though there's no band in sight. It makes people afraid and they run away in terror.

Um, Whatever

I wrote a song this weekend called, "I Hate My Friends." I think that I should change the name to, "I Hate This Song," but I really do hate my friends. (Not really, sheesh, get over yourselves.) It has this repeating 404 track that just drones on and I've been trying out different guitar parts over top of it and the only things that seem to work are these damn cheesy keyboard parts that I write.

I gave the song that title because I'm sick of my friends doing the same damn things every weekend and every weeknight. I crave adventure. I crave excitement. I crave Brains. We did get out friday night to see the Gusto. Pat used to play with Dave in Plan B, and no not the shitty emo group with the same moniker. Pat put his guitar behind his head and played a sweet solo. I was watching him after he did it and it took at least 30 seconds before the smile cracked on his face. You know the smile I'm talking about, the one where you know you just pulled something off and it kicked ass. (like the guy doing the mid-air splits.) I'd never seen him do that before. After the show, I was talking to him about that and he said he hadn't done it before, but it was all in all pretty easy to do. Pat's a skilled guitarist even without that added "glitter."

I have been getting numerous phone calls this weekend. So many people need my advice or something. I have no advice, or my advice is this, "Listen to more Primus."

I hate my friends.

Love, Zach

Here Today

Gone tomorrow. Joe put a U2 "rarity" on a CD called "Last Daze of Smoking." I also have a copy of that song which I got when I bought ATYCLB. It's just an incomplete "Beautiful Day." Different lyrics, different guitar ideas, but the song was hiding in there.

Today is a Beautiful Day. No. Scratch that, I'm tired and stuck in a Tropical Jesus. Some lady walked past me today as I was switching jobs and said, "You better hope you don't get cancer. You're gunna get cancer." She was smiling and seemed happy. She was talking directly to me. I know because I was lighting up a cigarette. Not just a cigarette, a Camel Ultralight. The second to last one in the pack. Once I finish this post, I'm going to go outside and smoke the last one. I didn't have time to respond to her that 1) all things give you cancer in this day and age. 2)I'm an addict and regardless of the consequences, I can't hate the addiction as much as I hate myself. 3)Cancer is the bodys ability to be immortal gone fishing.

I read a story by a Hungarian author about an idea that Cancer is nothing more than the body trying to heal itself and keep us young and healthy and alive. Unfortunately, after the fall of man a/k/a Adam and Eve's devour-ation of the fruit of the the tree of knowledge of good and evil, Gee Whiz took away our cell's ability to "know" how to properly administer the procedure of regeneration and the modern form of Cancer as we know it comes from this. There was also a story in that book about a brothel run by gypsys that, upon entering, one wouldn't be able to leave for an extended period of time (say 50-75 years) but not have aged more than a day.

I'm not really here today. Tropical Jesus. I just want to go to the gym and then read some more of the Social Contract.

The blend put out a demo that had a track that was just their frontman reciting a poem. I listened to it with James and Andy when we went camping. I can still hear the dude say, "no, we're getting married, and as my heart sank, I remembered how my mom used to put up with..."

It was the way he said, "No, we're getting married." It's real quiet-like after a long tirade about his friends abusive boyfriend. But the point was that this girl was a cold queen, or not a cold queen, but a bold queen, on a campus that only has room for Bitch Slut or Whore, she defies them all.

--Advance slowly down the trellis like the ugly plastic ones once sold at the Depot. And I just want to watch Shakes the Clown.

Gray clouds hang over my landscape. Don't want to move an inch. Almost got more tattoos yesterday. Decided it wouldn't make the greengrass on the other side seem so brown.

Walked up Fairchild and remembered when I had done that a year earlier and said, "I live like a King in Madison." Didn't feel that way today. Had a dream about a Lion on Saturday night. Angry Lion. Like a freak Leo. And who was telling me about Coke Black this weekend? Someone was while I was drinking an Oatmeal Stout. I said that I didn't need coke black if I had Oatmeal Stout. The Porter was 13% and they didn't sell it in pitchers for logical reasons that didn't make sense to me after one pint. "Fuck that! I want a whole Damnin' Hell Bitch-Ass pitcher so's I don't gotta stumble up the dammin'-ass bar for another. I can't walk in this condititon. Hell, I'm gunn have to just pee all over my pants where I sit as it is, and who's the sorry one then? Huh?"

Then I kept giving Alison grief about keeping a small beer bong in her purse because I though she was dowining everyone's drinks when they left to go outside for smoking.


(last thing to get put in the clipboard)

Blomit

striped down the side racing past on eight wheels. Sunglasses and sporty cap. hair, hair? what does this say about you and me, what does it all mean? When do i get to stop grinding curbs and creating cracks in belts chasing children and seal their fate with my endorsement. Watch the sun set on the SUV and the cigarette, bleached out hair down to your shaved pits and, bumper stickers that say, "Unless you're a COCK, get off my ASS!" And there's the same guy everyday with his defeated gait to the bus stop. I always think I should give him a ride since we both work in the same building. Or at least give him a pair of sunglasses. Why does everyone wear sunglasses? gaffas del sol. strange.

I can't wait till I get to, "at the Mountains of Madness," in the Lovecraft collection I'm reading. I've been reading a story or two before bed. Good timing for the middle of the night wake-up-drenched-in-sweat-fest. Unfortunately, that's about as deep as it gets. I read that story a long time ago and it didn't make much sense. I've learned a thing or two since then about the cold and uncaring nature of the universe.

I was watching the View with Tom Cruise et. al. from MI:III and Ving was talkin' 'bout Cruise's love for humanity. That's such horse shit. horse Shit HorseShit HORSESHIT! Road apple anyone? Mindy once scarfed down a road apple before my dad could pull her away from it. That's one of the best memories I have of her. Actually, that was the weekend she ate close to a pound of Jalapeno Cheddar Bread. Nasty, Nasty Bread. I don't like cornmeal in my bread. The best way to make cornbread is to use a yellowcake mix and a cornbread mix from our friends at Jiffy (bakery goods for lazy people) and combine the two and bake. Light fluffy and toxic.

It's a ramblin' friday. I can't wail loud enough for the Memorial Day to arrive for a day off.

Hangover Mondays are the best

I stayed up way too late last night after drinking all day. Or should I say, I was drinking from 2:00 PM to 4:00 AM and boy do I not believe how much I don't have a bad hangover. Funny how that works out sometimes.

I realized yesterday:

1. I want my life to be more like Spirited Away. I want to be an animated pixie with a dragon to ride on through the clouds. I would also like to have demons in Kabuki masks strolling around more. That would be pretty damn sweet. Much better than trying to serve a 90 year old woman a Summons & Complaint and having her tell me I've got the wrong number. I went there expecting to have this old woman answer the door and be fragile and timid and instead I got blindsided by a either senile or crotchety grump. (I met my match-but she'll never take me.)

2. Sunday nights are not a good time out. Regardless of what show is going on, there's no fun waiting to be had. It's just a fake assertion of a fake social life with fake friends who generate static to drown out the restless uncertainty the keeps me pretty fidgity and grumpy most of, if not all of, the time.

3. Goldschlager will not increase your net worth

4. If you ask a bartender for "Yellowcake," he will most likely not have any idea what you are talking about or will tell you that the bakery is down the street.

5. I like sleeping in my own bed, I don't like after bar parties, and I can't stand my damn brain on the day after running through every thing I said and did (that I can recall.) It's usually a replay of the scene for processing based on emotional categorical resonance and then crossreference filing based on the individual(s) present at said current memory as either apology owed or no worries about being friends anymore.

I'm really sleepy. Wish I was an illegal resident so I could take the day off today. I'll take tomorrow off instead. If I was an illegal resident, I probably wouldn't have taken the day off today, I would have done it tomorrow instead. A day late and a dollar. That's enough to buy two Pokemon hats, or five Charger's hats. And during band practice, we had to stop playing when the Packers were up to pick, it was annoying.

Terrible things I did to her in her dreams

"common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or significance in the vast cosmos-at-large... To achieve the essence of real externality, whether of space or time or dimension, one must forget that such things as organic life, good and evil, love and hate, and all such local attributes of a negligible and temporary race called mankind, have any existence at all... [W]hen we cross the line to the boundless and hideous unknown—the shadow haunted Outside—we must remember to leave our humanity and terrestrialism at the threshold."

If you will just take the special pills I've provided, I show you my theory, rather than tell.

and, boy howdy.

She's gunna be pissed when she wakes up.

In response to last Post's comment section:

The Council of Nicea is a fine example of "Religous Knowledge" and its capability to change. Back in 332 AD there was a decision on the status of Jesus as the Son of God as well as being God and also the being of "holy Spirit" getting into the mix, thereby establishing the Holy Trinity as it is roughly known today.

While this stands as a good example of the doldrum pace of change (seeing as this is a tenant of the faith for most Christian sects to this day) it also shows that Religious knowledge is flexible and dynamic. The Old Testament is full of Imagery from the Caananite religious tradition, co-opted no less, and yet the Isrealite people were admonished for partaking in their religous ceremonies on a regular basis.

These ideas were also taken from the Babylonians, and the Ancient Egyptians... sheesh, they stole from everybody. Romans co-opted the Greek Pantheon... and so on.

If we refer back to the idea that religion is used for social engineering or "Social Control", it can then be justified (perhaps) to argue that religion has to be adaptive and changeable. (In so much as the ability of people for change.)

Now here comes the fun part. All of this discussing of ideas is all based on knowledge obtained from sources that vary in their reliability from .99 to .01. I wouldn't go so far as to say that the book-learnin' stuff was on the low end of the spectrum but the ideas in my head may be closer to that. Point, though, is that this is all knowledge that can and will change as well. I spouted off the stuff about the early origins of god without really knowing that information for certain, just going off of what I've read and heard from sources that have the appearance of being reliable. As a professional skeptic, these are only there to be proven untrue.

Isn't that what life is about? Proving it untrue?

Scientific thoughts resumed

With the inductive reasoning trick, the ability to explain events of the natural world with accuracy and also harness the forces therein becomes similar to a cake walk.

Religious persons with a faith-based though process tend to retreat to the myth or lore of the religious texts (in the Judeao-Christian religions at least), which if scholarship is to be believed tells us that the origins of these texts are from oral tradition which eventually became a written tradition as well.

The method for obtaining an understanding of the world was essentially the same, there was a lacking in the passing of knowledge gained. (or something, the Ancient Egyptians built huge monuments and we only have relatively accurate answers as to how they did it.)

Anyway. The process of humanistic scientific thought is the same as the process religious-istic scientific thought. They are both trying to answer the same sorts of questions but through different filters and from different starting points. To take it back to the Science vs. Religion thing, I say that they are working toward the same goal which is an understanding that eliminates or lessens the fear of the unknown. I don't have to fear because I understand.

* * * * *

Completely different note. I am finishing up the last few chapters of No Man Knows My History and I must say that the issues that I feel like I'm dealing with on a personal level as a citizen of this country (economic, religious, and political on the national/international which have an impact on my daily life, i.e. gas prices, coffee shop discussions, "income status," etc...) are things that are universal. There were political scandals since the days of politiking began. It's all just a huge game. Just one big game. I don't want to play anymore.

A brief pause

Someone has a link to this site and I "browsed" over to it today. One of the headlines caught my eye. After reading that one article I went to their economic articles archive. I only scanned headlines but it's more than overwhelming for me to even comment.

This is all stuff that seems to be undercurrents that I can feel on a daily basis. I say feel because I'm not keyed in on it with laser-accurate precision but I have a sense of impending doom. Like when I have gone spelunking. There's always been a phantom in the back of my mind convincing me that there will be an eventual collapse.

"Kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall and you go out."

(I'll get back to the science thing, I swear)

Science on stage again

I wanted to say some stuff about the cost of health care but that'll have to wait. Health care isn't cheap anymore because of Malpractice suits and "advancing tecknological developmental research."

I wanted to continue with this exploration of scientific knowledge/religious knowledge.

I drove to Platteville yesterday and thought about the comment left on the post labeled Science. I didn't have a good answer until this afternoon which comes closer to what I think I was getting at. Scientific knowledge is only a form of understanding of the world around us through inductive reasoning except the conclusions are more acute in their resolves. Religious "faith-based" scientific arguments offer a different resolve based on a different "interpretational" apporach to the outcome of ((process) on an (object)). (Which would be a form of the scientific method.

Essentially Scientific Method is set up like this:
Process (P) is used on Object (Q) -- (P on Q)
Perform (P on Q) and obtain result (R1).
Repeat (P on Q) and obtain result (R2).
Repeat (P on Q) and obtain result (R3). etc...

Analyze data set (R1:R?) and interpret results.

So what we have is a way to understand or to more accurately predict an event or outcome.

More to come later

Science

I don't have the patience to put up links right now but yesterday I was reading some different articles concerning the issue of science "debunking" religious beliefs and also religious beliefs being upheld or found to be true through science.

It doesn't sit well with me, partly due to the language of each side, that of conviction in the accuracy and certainty of what they "know" so desperatly to be true, and also partly because I study religion and philosophy and have a mind that's agile enough to understand scientific concepts as readily as metaphysical ones.

I don't have any answers at this point. It's just something that's been bothering me, or, maybe what I'm trying to say is that, Science isn't the end-all be-all of knowledge just as much as Religion isn't the end-all be-all of knowledge.

I'm reminded of an idea that I came across in my personal studies. Some people take the wide path through the pass on their spiritual journey through life, some people choose to take the path that offers more spectacular views, and yet very few opt to take a path that is not yet set by anyone.

I've been interupted in my thought process so I'll leave it at this,

Science or Religion, either way you slice it, it's only an approach to ease the uncertainty of living. To decry one on bahalf of the other is to assume that one is correct and the other not. Pragmatic thinking would suggest otherwise.

A small "semantics" issue

I was watching Adult Swim last night and was throughly disgusted by what I saw.

Saved By the Bell is NOT ANIMATED. It is not entertaining. It just plain sucks.

Fuck Cartoon Network!

Pardon the language but if it's not animated, then they should be showing it on some other crappy Turner network. Even as much as I would like to Mr. Show episodes re-run during adult swim, I feel that that would be lying under oath to program only shows that remain and will always be animated. Saved By the Bell was dead before it even ran.

I do have one brief kudos to dish out though. The bump with the embossed Jessie Spanno dancing and singing "I'm so excited" over and over again as she breaks down all played in slow-motion was great. But it was modified to be considered animation (Almost) and in a forgiving sort of way that blurs the line between "Waking Life" and "The Lords of the Rings Part 1" (the old-school animated deal) (and if you want links, to bad, I aint doin it.) (Parenthetical asides aside)

I miss the days of rolling my eyes at Baby Blues and having to sit through an entire Sunday evening of re-run Oblongs and Big O only to have to struggle to keep my eyes open to watch Home Movies. I won't be staying up late to watch re-runs of Saved By the Bell. I've seen 'em all and making me watch them again isn't going to make me want to get the DVD's. The same holds for The Friends. Terrible programs.

The end.

Economic musing

There was an interesting article in the New York Times yesterday about the rising disparity in income and economic mobility of the Japanese. It is becoming more common for a Japanese young person to be stuck with fewer options in regards to employment due to their parents income because they can't afford to attend an expensive private school or a cram school which will more likely guarantee them enterance into the most prestigious universities.

Today on the radio I was listen to a program with an economist who teaches at Wheaton University in Boston and he was talking about almost the exact same thing happening in America. The topic wasn't centered around the education disparity (give it time with this education reform from the No School Left Standing) but there is a noticeable line drawn between rich and the favors they get and the rest of us poor and destitute. For example, the tax cuts that were supposed to jumpstart the US economy were doled out at $.95 per day for poor or not even poor but just middle class and the upper 10% were getting roughly $185.00 per day. Now I know that some people will argue that these people who got more back earned more and had to pay more taxes but my response is, "What percentage of their Income did they have to pay in taxes?"

Anyway. I don't like to get too in depth politically and I'm less likely to talk about economics. My specialization is in religion and abstract ideas. It just makes me a little more disgusted with the state of this "great nation" of ours. Look to your left, look to your right. "They Give no Fuck. Just as long as there's enough for them."

I should just move back to Montana and start my freelander cult.

Good fer nuttin'

So this evening I'm suddenly feeling a little more awake. It's hard to say why. Could probably be the full moon. The werewolves are about tonight. They do exist in southern Wisconsin if you listen to anything Travis has to say. Most people don't.

I finally got my stupid state taxes out the door. I've been sitting on them for a month and a half now, or rather, they've been sitting on the floor of my truck waiting to get into the mail. Ugh.

I also had a surprise serve tonight. I went to a trailer park to serve two evictions at one address only to discover that I actually had been given three evictions at two addresses. The sweetest thing was that I made $35.00 instead of $20.00 for the same amount of work. And I don't have to drive back there two more times to post and mail their asses out of their trailers.

I also FINALLY got that stupid picture scanned in from the Ben Folds concert. (Only a month now.)

Peace out for now

Or as Ms. Bell used to write in her Diary. I like Ben better than Zach.