no more blogging at blogspot

I tried to publish a simple post about football predictions but I keep getting html errors. I have no idea what errors I am making nor do I know how to correct html errors. Fuck blogspot. You can find me on Facebook from now on. Peace. Nick.

troof

I agree with many of the reviews. Al Gore seems more politically motivated than environmentally conscious in ‘An Inconvenient Truth.’ I found myself wondering why he felt the need to take on a rural Tennessee accent in his presentation and narration when in all phases of his political career he spoke like a human being. The interludes describing his childhood on the family tobacco and black angus farm were unnecessary and tedious. Combine these and ‘An Inconvenient Truth’ looks more like a paid political message than a crusader’s desperate attempt to raise awareness of global warming. Something on this scale ought to precede a White House bid, but in Gore’s own words he has no interest in such an endeavor. Why seek to improve an image that for all intents and purposes won a presidential election only to have it swiped away by political maneuvering? In ‘An Inconvenient Truth’ we have facts disrupted by glitz, which dampens the effect. I disagree with the same reviews because they demand empirical evidence and claim that none has been offered. In response I point to every photograph taken in the last five years that demonstrates glacial recession. What more empirical evidence do you want to highlight rising global temperatures than the disappearance of the snows of Kilimanjaro or the thawing of Alaskan permafrost? To see Gore’s charts marking the drastic global temperature increase in the last forty years juxtaposed with 600,000 years of the planet’s natural temperature cycle and still say there is no empirical evidence to say global warming exists is tantamount to choking on dinner and trying to cram more food down your throat while the world goes hazy. If you come crying when the Atlantic Ocean is in your living room, I will drown you in it. People don’t want to be bothered with what they can’t see. I don’t live in a place whose timeless beauty has disappeared because the temperature suddenly skyrocketed at an unprecedented rate. I don’t live there and can’t see it. Therefore it must not be happening, and even if it is it’s not important enough for me to worry. Ignoring the problem is easier than taking action. Turning the whistle-blowers into Cassandra’s is more fun than listening to them (I won’t explain that allusion because you have search engines to find the answers). Many of the reviews I read called on Gore to bring forth specific scientists who could back up his claims. Why do we need one scientist when every scientist agrees? Gore mentions Carl Sagan towards the end of his presentation. Read ‘Billions and Billions,’ Sagan’s last published book, to find empirical evidence, and then choose to listen or to keep ignoring it. No one enjoys hearing something is their fault. It’s easier and more fun to blame bovine flatulence than it is to blame yourself. Automobiles aside, though, carbon emissions from Hummers and Cadillac Escalades aside, we can do a lot to combat global warming. We have no idea how much we can achieve in our own homes. Every appliance we own that plugs into a wall outlet drains energy and affects the environment. If you turn off an appliance and a stand-by light remains illuminated, the appliance is draining energy and raising your electricity bill. Unplug your appliances when they are not in use and you can do more than you can imagine. I leave my microwave unplugged. It’s not hard, especially if it’s a device you rarely use. Something this ridiculously easy carries a certain level of absurdity, though. How can one person make a difference by unplugging their microwave? What if everyone did this? A little bit here and there adds up, and then we have a significant impact. This is asking a lot. I know. It’s better to complain and berate than to take simple action. By way of a PS, ‘The Belle of Avenue A’ by the Fugs started playing as I wrote this. I dreamed of a bum seven foot tall who crushed the bourgeoisie to the grass. Now it’s twelve o’clock and it’s time to say your useless prayers. There is a God.

observe and report

Every time I set foot on a battlefield I have an overwhelming sense of perspective. Examining lines drawn on a map or figurines arranged on a sand table is one thing. Being present on field is another. You don’t understand how small it is until you are there. The Roanoke College Choir made a tour of the northeast after my junior year, and our first stop was Gettysburg for a show at the seminary. The following morning we took a guided tour of the battlefield from our bus, and when we passed the wheat field I understood just how much of a tiny, horrific mess it was. Our guide said that combined casualties in the wheat field were equal to the total number of American casualties at Omaha Beach. To put this in perspective, Omaha Beach was a strip of sand that stretched for five miles on the Normandy coast. The wheat field at Gettysburg was a small piece of land that might have been four or five acres. I can almost wrap my mind around 3000 dead and wounded in an area that small. You think about combat tactics of the period, relatively unchanged since the days of Napoleon and earlier. You think about improvements in weapon technology, the development of accurate rifled guns both handheld and artillery, and you begin to see the futility of 3000 dead and wounded. An image begins to form and my mind shuts off, and I thank it. Today at Manassas I made my first stop at the Henry House walking tour behind the Visitor’s Center. I examined the map on the first marker and followed the dotted line indicating the trail, and I proceeded to spot the next marker. It was a short stroll over to the hill where Rickett’s guns did their best to fend off Stonewall Jackson. From there it was an even shorter stroll to the Henry House. I looked at the map scale, which was portioned in one thousand-foot increments. The entire walking tour which covers an entire day’s fighting is about two miles, maybe only one-and-a-half. Total casualties that day were 3553 killed or wounded, not nearly equal to the carnage at Gettysburg or even the single day’s bloodshed at Antietam, but it’s still 3553 people killed or wounded. Near the end of the tour we see where the 33rd Virginia Infantry massed for their assault, where they hid in the tree line as Northern guns pounded their position. Two Union canons set up on a rise not 100 yards away. Had either of those guns fired canister at the advancing Virginians they would have decimated the line, but neither one discharged. Regardless of whether or not those guns fired, how does anyone walk straight into imminent death that is only 100 yards away? It’s close enough to wave hello to your neighbor down the street. In college I took an Honors course that focused on the experience of combat, and two of the books we read dealt with World War I. Veterans who returned to the front years afterward commented on how small no-man’s land was, how large it seemed when they were there as youngsters but how compressed it was later in life. I imagine Civil War veterans had similar experiences. It’s impossible to fully understand the magnitude of something so small, something so deadly, be you an active participant or a mere visitor. The best thing to do is observe. No more, no less. Observe and pray it doesn’t happen again.

scenes from a coffee shop 5

Dramatis Personae: Nick, twenty-something Starbucks employee, determined writer, failed writer. Drive-thru Barista, Nick’s twenty-something male coworker. Drive-thru Customer, male, early thirties. Child Voice #1. Child Voice #2. (Nick stands at espresso machine. Drive-thru Barista stands at expeditor register) (Ping over headset) Drive-thru Barista: Thank you for choosing Starbucks. What can we get for you today? Child Voice #1: (over headset, yelling) I want one. Child Voice #2: (over headset, yelling) Can I…? Child Voice #1: (over headset) I want one. Child Voice #2: (over headset) I…get one. Child Voice #1: (over headset) I want one I want one I want one. Drive-thru Customer: (over headset after brief pause) Can I get a…venti…pumpkin spice latte? Drive-thru Barista: A venti pumpkin spice latte. Anything else? Child Voice #2: (over headset) Get one. Drive-thru Customer: (pause) No thanks. Drive-thru Barista: All right. Your total will be five-oh-one, we’ll see you at the window. (more yelling between Child Voice #1 and #2. when they finish yelling we hear a zany cartoon xylophone scale over the headset. silence as the car pulls up to the window) Nick: (to Drive-thru Barista after placing sticker on cup) That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard. Drive-thru Barista: (pushing buttons on his till screen) That was quite weird. (car arrives outside Drive-thru window. the face is indiscernible until the window opens. when the window opens we find Drive-thru customer slouched in the driver seat, a look of self-pity awash over his face as though he just saw a dog eating his last meal) Drive-thru Barista: (to Drive-thru customer) Hi there. Your total is five-oh-one. (Drive-thru customer hands over his debit card. window closes as Drive-thru Barista rings the order) Drive-thru Barista: (to Nick) This guy is sad. Nick: (pouring his milk into the cup) What do you mean? Drive-thru Barista: (tearing receipt) Just look at him. (window opens as Drive-thru Barista hands back debit card and receipt. look remains on Drive-thru Customer’s face with more yelling from Child Voices. Nick glances after applying whip to beverage) Nick: Oh, my. (places lid on cup. carries cup to window. to Drive-thru Customer) Here you go sir. And here. (reaches under Drive-thru Barista’s till and pulls up a bottle of malt liquor) This is for you sir. Drive-thru Customer: (takes bottle) Thank you. (Exit) Drive-thru Barista: That was really considerate of you. Nick: We do what we can. Poor guy. (FIN)

for my money it's still better than blair witch

Three thoughts after watching ‘Quarantine.’ “She is exhibiting the same symptoms that Mrs. Espinoza did right before she bit three people. I don’t think it’s a good idea to touch her. Let’s leave her here and barricade the door so she doesn’t come downstairs with the rest of us who are acting normal.” “The vet calls it super rabies? I have an idea. Let’s leave the three people who are currently foaming at the mouth in this creepy fabric storage room, close the reinforced shutter, and keep them as far from us as possible. If anything comes through that shutter, we shoot it. If anything comes down those stairs, we shoot it. If any of you start foaming at the mouth, we shoot you. This is no longer a matter of saving their lives. This is about keeping ourselves safe.” “They’ve been bitten. We’re trapped in this room. You have a sledgehammer. Are you retarded? I didn’t think so.” I applaud the Army for sealing off the building and shooting whoever tries to escape. The problem was contained before they had a major biological incident. That’s how you roll in a zombie-pocalypse. By way of a PS, I just watched ‘Say Anything.’ If there is blood dribbling all over your mouth from your broken nose and she still wants to kiss you, that’s love.

scenes from a coffee shop 4

Dramatis Personae: Nick, twenty-something Starbucks employee, determined writer, failed writer. Barista, Nick’s twenty-something female coworker. Technician, male, portly, bald, wearing a work uniform. (Technician works on an open espresso machine while Nick stands to the side watching) Technician: That should do it. (closes espresso machine) Nick: You fixed it? Technician: Let’s see. (pushes a button to make espresso shots. shots successfully run all the way through) Nick: Excellent. You have no idea how difficult this thing has been with us. Technician: When it reads ‘powder error’ like that usually it means you have to vacuum the grinder really well. When the message doesn’t go away that’s when you need to call us. You did the right thing. Your espresso machine should operate without any headaches now. Nick: Thanks. You’re a life saver. (Nick signs the invoice. Exit Technician) (Enter Barista) Nick: It works. Barista: Thank God. (a sticker prints out of the drive-thru printer. Barista takes sticker and places it on a cup. Barista moves to espresso machine. Nick stands next to her as she pushes the button for espresso shots. espresso machine makes a DEP-DEP-DEP noise like the Millennium Falcon’s faulty hyperdrive. Barista glares at Nick) Nick: He told me he fixed it. (opens espresso machine while another sticker prints out of drive-thru printer. Barista places sticker on a cup and another sticker prints) It’s not my fault. FIN

lock s-foils in attack position

Everyone knows the hypothetical Star Wars scenario, the great ‘what if’ of the first movie. What if the gunner on the star destroyer had fired upon the escape pod carrying R2D2 and C3PO? The Death Star plans never make it to Tatooine, Obi Wan Kenobi never leaves to save Princess Lea, and the Empire crushes the Rebellion. All the events of the three Star Wars movies hinge on this split second decision by an ordinary gunner. If he shoots, the story never happens. Talk about the butterfly flapping its wings. Watching Star Wars again today I came across another ‘what if,’ one whose implications aren’t so much chaotic as they are nefarious. Darth Vader holds the captain of the Corellian cruiser three feet off the ground, gripping his throat, trying to strangle the whereabouts of Princess Lea and the Death Star plans out of him. Vader says the Empire intercepted a transmission to the ship during the great battle mentioned in the title sequence. The captain says they received no transmission and that they are a simple cargo ship on a diplomatic mission. Vader doesn’t buy it and we have the lovely crunch as he tosses aside his captive. Think about the opening title sequence. Nowhere does it say Princess Lea’s ship was involved in the battle. All we hear is that Rebel spies were involved. At some point during the battle they transmitted the Death Star plans to Leia aboard the cruiser. It is quite possible the captain knew nothing of these plans. Princess Lea was aboard that cruiser for seemingly diplomatic purposes, and perhaps she was the only one who knew what she would eventually transport to Alderaan. When engaged in espionage, why inform your transport of your mission when it could endanger everything you fight for? The captain did exactly what he was supposed to do. He denied that a transmission took place and claimed the plans were not aboard because, in his mind, he was telling the truth. If you believe a lie to be the truth because all you have ever heard is the lie, how could you possibly be lying? What if Princess Lea sold out the Corellian cruiser to save her own skin? It’s a disheartening prospect. Maybe I’m up in arms over a bit of sci-fi fantasy because of all the reports about a half-assed attempt to rescue a kidnapped British journalist and his Iraqi interpreter. ‘Journalist, journalist!’ Something tells me it wasn’t the Taliban who shot him.