Gas

I think gas is great
In all forms
Especially the kind that comes out my ass

I am in a particularly sour mood this morning. I suppose it is because I was in a particularly sour mood from yesterday, the first day back to work after a 10 day vacation. Who was that poet who talked about a permanent vacation? David Lee Roth? I don't remember. I wish I could be a stay at home dad, or work a job that I actually enjoyed. Ayy me, I just want people to leave me alone. People are fucking stupid. I suppose I think that because I'm in a particularly sour mood this morning.

Theology

The Tarantular would officialy like to express it's interest in, and support of, Feminist Theology. Further more, we assert that Rosa Parks was a feminist theologian and would like to memorialize her with this post.

Mountain Dew "All Night Long"

The Tarantular would like to give it's official endorsement of Mountain Dew MDX Energy Drink just because this commercial is goddamn funny as hell. The "Sunglasses at Night" is not nearly as funny. But forgiving that, you should go out to your local grocer or independent gas station owner and buy Mountain Dew MDX . . . just because.

Hooker Lane, Powerball Senator

According to a NY Times story this morning, there's a suburban street in Connecticut named Hooker Lane, and the residents aren't too happy about it. They support a motion to change it to Stonebrook Lane.

Sheesh.

I mean, sure, I understand that the snickering probably gets old, but we need these people to carry the fight, otherwise sooner than later we'll change the planet Uranus to -- this will be terrible -- like, Edgewood or something.

And what do you think of Judd Gregg, the Republican Senator from New Hampshire, winning $853,492 in the lottery yesterday? What's up, New England?

Speedy Lee

It was round abouts February when I got a speeding ticket while transporting one of the guys on my caseload. It was for 70 in a 55 and the copper wasn't having any mercy for the fact that I worked with "troubled youth" and was late for a meeting. A month later I had to drive all the way to Gates County--armpit capital of North Carolina--in order to "get help", a.k.a. get my ticket reduced so my insurance wouldn't go up. After this I started driving slower--10 miles over the speed limit at the most.

Then there's Katrina and jacked up gas prices, yadda yadda yadda. I hear this thing about how any speed over 50 mph is giving you increasingly bad gas mileage. So I've slowed down to about 5-7 miles over the speed limit. Sometimes I even drive the speed limit. I can drive 55.

The thing about driving the speed limit is that, instead of passing all of the people driving "slow", you are the one that's getting passed. It's quite cathartic actually. You don't even have to really pay attention to what your doing. I have a 17 mile commute to work and back. I'm never in a hurry in the morning, so why drive fast? That extra 2 or 3 minutes in the car is another song that I get to listen or another story on the news.

So I encourage you to try it out. Drive the speed limit. It saves on gas, reduces the risk of tickets, gives you more time to listen and makes you think about why the hell you're in such a hurry in the first place.

And for the record, I am jealous of those of you that get to ride the train or the bus. You bastards.

Bears

Man the Bears were fun to listen to today! Pummeling the struggling Vikings 28-3, the Bears had two great offensive series' resulting in touchdowns. Although his fumble at the beginning of the game was enough to piss anyone off, Kyle Orton's 16 completions to 8 different receivers for 2 TDs certainly made up for it.

The Offense showed up, baby! Jones, despite his knee injury, rushed for 89 yards and 2 touch downs. Mushin Muhammad (5 recs. for 48 yds.), Des Clark ( 4 recs. for 19 yds. and 2 TDs) and Mark Bradley (1 rec. for 15 yds.) made plays from the receiver core.

And ohhh the D-fence! When Urlacher sacked Culpepper on the Minnesota 1 on 4th down (leading to one of the Bears TDs), ohhhh man. Urlacher had 2 sacks, 8 tackles and 1 assist. Awesome game! Damn can he play! He was backed up by Harris and Idonije, both with key Culpepper sacks. The secondary was active as well, breaking up plays and forcing turnovers. Charles Tillman and rookie Chris Harris both had an interception.

The Bears were firing on all cylinders with Special Teams making big plays as well. Bobby Wade returned a punt from the Minnisota 2-yard line for 49 yards setting up the second Bears touchdown. And Special Teams blocked a second half field goals attempt that kept Minnesota to 3 points.

I have to go tend to Abby now, but Wow, the Bears played good today.

How'd your team do?

Thunder Marie Robinson

Realizing that dogs are people too, The Tarantular extends our deepest sympathies to Adam Robinson for the loss of his friend Thunder. Rest in peace little one.

I think it's cool that Abby and Thunder share the same middle name.

Cuppa Joe

Is it the weather? Is it fatherhood? Is it the autumn equinox?

Whatever it is, I've been downing loads and loads of coffee this week. Usually I'm good for a cup or two/day at work, but this week I've been averaging 4 or 5 cups. It's only 11:25 a.m. and I'm on my third already.

I am interested in your coffee habits. Do you partake of the java? Are you an addict? What's your favorite brand? My favorite coffee seems to be the kind brewed at a small, locally owned, out of the way gas station. You can just taste the labor and care that went into making it. Mmmmmmm.

Abby Lee

It happened on Monday morning. I am officially a father. Life is good.

Go to Abby's site here to read the birthing story and see some pictures.

I will also make a link, but for some reason all of the links are at the bottom of the page. I have no idea why this happened or how to change it back. I think it was probably Troy's fault. Aaaarrrggghhh.

AltizerDystopiaBirth

I suppose it was because I recognized the name Altizer as a prominent name (rather than Anthony Smith or Adam Kotsko) that I actually read this longer of posts--something I must admit I do not normally do (sorry guys). But it got me to thinking.

I've been reading a number of dystopias lately. I thought of one in particular--This Perfect Day by Ira Levin. This is one of those dystopias where society is trying to create humans that are all similar and unquestioning. They do this mainly by a regimen of mandatory injections that occur on a monthly basis. These injections not only control the outbreak of disease and viruses, but they also control the hormones (resulting in birth control and a lack of sexual desire) and dull the senses of one's individuality. The injections are accompanied by visits to a "therapist" who monitors how each individual is doing. If there is odd behavior or an individual begins to question things a little too much, then there injections will be adjusted, or they will get an extra "treatment." Everyone in this society also wears a bracelet that they touch to various screens in order to enter a room or purchase goods, thus tracking the movements of each person. After an arduous struggle, the main character, Chip, and his girlfriend find a way to avoid the injections and make their way to an island of "incurables" or others who are not on the "grid." Upon arrival, Chip is disheartened by the fact that he has to work in a mine and share an apartment with another couple in order to make ends meet. He is disgusted by the fact that most of the people who escaped to the islands have accepted this lot in life and have taken to drinking lots of whiskey and wine and watching bad television--thus dulling their senses once again.

There is more to the book than that, but I was reminded of it this morning--particularly the part of the "revolutionaries" succumbing to whiskey drinking as a way of life. I realize that after having "escaped" the bondage of my conservative religious upbringing--by actually thinking and engaging God through thought and through theology, and by, oh my God, drinking alcohol with a bunch of other lunatic artists/writers/theologians--I have settled for mediocrity. Whereas drinking used to be just an excuse to get together and be creative, now it's just an excuse. And it's not just that, it's the avoidance of the encounter with the Almighty. Oh there are moments of clarity each year--like when I reread The Sickness Unto Death last winter--but these are few and far between. I think that the dulling of one's senses can take various forms, but at it's heart is a refusal to encounter God, or a denial that this encounter is necessary.

When Altizer talks about repression,

for now “God” can clearly be understood as the source of our repression, as the very speakers of God can no longer speak of God without actually evoking our repression, and evoking the ultimate power and ubiquity of that repression.

I think about a repression that I understand as having been self imposed, or at least that has been accepted without question. But it seems that what Altizer is saying is that exactly at the point of this repression is where the opening for a revolutionary theology lies:

Now it is not accidental that God has now disappeared from our theological language, or from our critical theological language, as nothing is now more damning or more self-destructive than actually hearing God, or hearing that God who is now spoken in a hearable theological language. This, too, is historically unique, but it opens up a whole new theological path, and just as once we could know God as the God of absolute judgment, now we can know an absolute or an absolutely ubiquitous repression whose only source that we can name is God, and whereas once the way to God was through an absolutely guilty conscience, now the only manifest way to God is through an absolute impotence or repression, or that repression which only now is all in all.

I think that there is something to this, however without seeking the struggle and seeking the encounter with God, then one's repression is just simply that.

On a not entirely unrelated note, my wife had her first strong (i.e. painful) contraction this morning--an indication that she may be close to going into labor. She is due on Sunday, so it's about the right time. I can't believe how exciting (and scary!) this is.

I'm a Hopeless Indie Guy

I cringed at the track listing for Adam Kotsko's new mix CD, and then faced my depression in what I'm writing now. I'm not facing it completely, though, because I'm too scared to post it at the Pickle. I'm sort of hiding out at The Tarantula, if I can call Jason's blog that, if I can call him Jason.

This woman, right -- this genius, actually -- actually rolled over in my bed and, facing me, said, "Are you an indie rock guy?" She said that to me! She said it coyly, as if to say, "It doesn't matter how you respond. I mean, I'm already in your bed."

But my thoughts started raging. I think she asked, believe it or not, because when we snuck into my bedroom, my roommate thoughtfully started blasting Wilco's album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. That was conscientious of him; he wanted to dampen any noises he feared might come from, you know, the act of lovemaking. But then I sang a long a bit, because it's true what they say: I am an American aquarium drinker. I do assassin down the avenue.

And then she asked me was I an indie rock guy and it wasn't hard to answer, "No, I am not," because, after all, I know who The Arcade Fire are but I don't know what they sound like. And you can't be an indie rock guy nowadays without feeling something about Trans Am, but I just don't. I've tried and I don't. So "no," I said, and I meant it.

But the truth is, I don't "have" anything else. I am not well versed in Brazilian music, which of course is what you have to be into if you were once an indie rock guy but aren't anymore. I really like OS Mutantes; I mean, I'm not insane -- but I don't own any of their stuff on colored vinyl. You know I'm crazy about Daniel Johnston but he's as insane-guy-tape-trader as I get. I can name two songs I really like by Aaron Copeland, though.

But when it comes down to playing music while painting a wall, I don't know which Thelonious Monk record to put in, or if I'm going to get made fun of for playing a '60s dance album from Tahiti. I do know that if I play Sufjan Stevens someone is going to say, "This music is so sad" and I'll go, "Yeah, but listen to this build." And if I play Pistolero everyone will talk about their first time listening to the Pixies.

It's like Camus said in his posthumous novel: "You love [indie rock]. It's all you have." And so, I mean, ick. But I guess I have to forgive Adam Kotsko his list, don't I? I do, but with the admonition to, please, get really crazy about Braziliam music and then send me a mix tape.

Al Jazeera animated take on Katrina

Cartoon

Switching in the Rail Yards

You may notice that I have a new site on my blog roll. I came across this site the other day and thought it was pretty cool. This guy works in Toronto for the Canadian Pacific Railway. He just writes about his job and his family. He seems like a good guy and definitely has cool kids.

Trashy

I don't know if your neighborhood is much like mine, but apparently it is the culture to just discard your used McDonald's wrapper, Dorito's bag, Coke can, etc. wherever you are at. Yeah, that's right. You are walking down the street drinking a hug and you gulp the last bit down. What better place to get rid of it than in someone's yard? Every week I have to pick up trash in and around my yard. Dispicable. At first I thought I was being targeted because I'm a white dude. But that theory was quickly denied as I looked around at my neighbors' yards. Same thing. Trash everywhere.

This week I was particularly suprised to find some bicycle handlebars in my yard. Handlebars? Honestly! What's next, a muffler?

So if you are missing some handlebars to your bike, come on over and get them.

Here's a big thanks to Chief Troy (Pharm house) for making this blog not suck quite as much as it has been sucking.

what can i say? blogging's just really not my forte.

on a not entirely unrelated note, I bowled a 161 today. That's better than half as well as you can possibly do! Now that's pretty damn good I think.

Are you ready for some Football?

I sure as hell am! After following the Chicago Bears through much of their off season, I am excited to see how they look in a real game scenario. With a top ranked defense and some new offensive weapons, the Bears might just pull off a win on the road in Washington.

Emily and I are driving down to Raleigh to catch the game. The Fox station here will be televising the Carolina Panthers game, and there is no bar close by that has the NFL Sunday Ticket. So off to Raleigh we go.

Who's your team?

Aaargh. Another bad country song.

Have your heard the song Arlington by Trace Adkins? Yeah, this song is horrible.

Goddamnit! It's not o.k. for these kids to be dying! For what?! The fucking suits? Shit.

George Bush Doesn't Care About Black People

The only real reason I watched the NBC concert for hurricane relief last night was for Harry Connick Jr. A New Orleans native, Connick has been helping NBC out by touring the city and providing a raw, real and heartfelt commentary on the catastrophe. The relief concert included a number of stars who appeared on stage in pairs reading scripted comments and information about the hurricane. Mike Myers and Kanye West appeared together. While Myers read his script, West followed up with an angry rant about how the media has been covering the hurricane catastrophe. "I hate the way they portray us in the media. You see a black family it says they're looting. You see a white family is says they are looking for food."

West went on to address his own feelings about the racism. "It's been five days because most of the people are Black; and even for me to complain about it, I would be a hypocrite because I tried to turn away from the TV because it's to hard to watch. I've even been shopping before even giving a donation. So now I'm calling my business manager right now to see what's the biggest amount I can give; and to just imagine if I was down there and those are my people down there."

Mike Myers looked a little bewildered as West continued his unscripted comment. "To anybody out there that wants to do anything that we can help with the set-up that America's set up to help the poor, the Black people, the less well off - slow as possible. The Red Cross is doing everything they can. We already realized how a lot of the people who could help are at war right now fighting another war. They've given them [The U.S. Army] permission to go down [to New Orleans] and shoot us."

Here's a partial video clip that catches the "Bush doesn't care about black people" comment.

the little hippie sat kissing my wife as they sat comfortably under the computer screen. surrounded by white washed walls and an El Salvadorian harbor. Segovya sat playing volleyball on the beach. the flags were unfurled and the bells rang out. Hooora! Hooora! and the crowd went red and wild.

sitting under the tree, the little hippie sang softly a song and knitted socks for her daughter. the night was cool . . . cool in a way that comes after a southern spell of hot steamy days. the first cool evening that you actually enjoy sitting on your porch, drinking, staring, talking softly. an Israeli speaks to me about his pet goldfish and how envies their simple existence. he is a mechanic in Jerusalem.

pay the rent!!! this is a reminder for those of you that have not payed your rent. granted, it is past the middle of the month, but we understand each other, don't we. sometimes it is difficult, existentially, to actually pay money for shelter. helter shelter. the envious man under the sign agrees.

love thyself, love thyself geometrically and judiciously and theologically. logic is a funny word isn't it?

chronologic. the logic of the chronos. the days, the rain, the diminishing light. painful it goes as painful it comes.