Category - Rants

I'm glad this World Cup thing is almost over. I'm probably risking being chastised by readers when I say this -- I can't mention my soccer opinions without getting a verbal lashing from someone -- but I think soccer is boring. Doesn't anyone else think so? I enjoy playing it for fun, but to a spectator, it's a slow, low-scoring game that's void of any excitement. Fans guess what the final score of a game will be. That's how boring it is.

The frivolousness of it all is compounded by the degree to which most of the world goes ga-ga over the sport. And it's all "My country's better than your country." The rabid devotion of fans to their national teams is disgusting. That's how World War I started, by the way. I don't think worldwide sporting events such as the World Cup do anything more than inflame national tensions. Don't believe me? Soccer makes people go crazy.

I'm probably just pushing myself toward further bashing, but I might as well add that I'm glad that Brazil is out of the competition. After the last World Cup (of which I had been blissfully unaware), the Brazilians all went crazy because Brazil's team won. I was in a car at Sample and Dixie, and people were honking their horns, running around, and generally causing a ruckus. I didn't feel safe. I mean, who cares if their team won? What does that prove? It doesn't say anything about them personally. I guess people just want to feel like they're better than everyone else, and that's no good. Try to control yourselves, people of the world. Just wanted to let you know: this soccer thing, it's gone to your heads.

I should probably add that I don't like sports in general. You probably hate me already, so what does it matter?

Yesterday, Independence Day, we had some relatives and relatives' relatives over. We played this game called ladder golf, which is actually fun. After having some all-American fare like corn, some beef thing, and other stuff, we went to see the fireworks show on the beach. It was pretty nice in spite of the fact that a zillion people and Lee Greenwood were there. (Oh, speaking of which, God blessed America yesterday. All those incantations have paid off!) After that, we went back home and burned firework-type things. It was fun.

Top Ten Stock Photography Clichés. You probably know them all too well.

Look Around You is a British show that parodies old educational programs programmes. The first season, which aired in 2002, poked fun at cheesy science films/videos of the 1970s and '80s. Each episode was about 9 minutes long. Now, thanks to the miracle of YouTube, you can watch them all: Maths, Water, Germs, Ghosts, Sulphur, Music, Iron, and The Brain.

One year ago: "I have a good mind to marry into Irving Berlin's family."
Two years ago: "It's not even really funny, but it might claim the title."

I weep for the future.

I don't talk politics much here. In my 2004 election coverage, I tried to give equal time to both candidates. But as I watched the news on election night -- as the votes came in -- I had a bad feeling that the election was going to go the wrong way. My suspicions were confirmed.

First, let us remember these simple words:

That's the first amendment to the United States Constitution. The first. The foremost. Numero uno. I think there's a reason they made it first. It's the very foundation of the freedoms that people sing about in jingoistic country-pop tunes.

Here's another sampling of that thing we call the Constitution:

It's the fourth amendment. You know, the one that gives you privacy. Remember that thing, privacy? It's so overrated, isn't it?

Like it or not, we're losing these freedoms every day. Some of it is in the name of corporate interests. Take network neutrality, for example. Net neutrality ensures that every Internet user has free and equal access to public content. As basic as it may sound, this right is being challenged in Washington. The companies that you and I pay to get Internet access want to take more control over what we see and what we pay more to see. In effect, they would control the flow of information into our homes, all in the name of the almighty dollar.

Let's think about the effects that this might have. What if you had to pay extra to be able to go to small web sites such as this? What if you were strapped for cash and weren't able to afford a "premium," all-inclusive Internet plan? Would this great big Internet of ours be a better place if you were no longer able to view my opinions and those of your ISP side by side? Not at all. What if you wanted to use a search engine other than the one owned by your ISP? Better go make yourself a sandwich while the page loads. Free speech wouldn't be so free. Open discussion on, say, Usenet? Forget about it. Equality on the Internet would be lying murdered in the street, blood dripping away into the sewer drain.

But there's an even bigger threat, and this is what I'm really getting at. The government has been using the threat of terrorism as an excuse to curtail people's civil liberties. They're making our country safe, right? Maybe! But are they making you, as an individual, any safer? You may say, "It doesn't matter if the NSA looks at my phone records. I have nothing to hide!" You may not have anything to hide... right now. But what if they made it so that you did? What if they changed the definition of the "enemy" to anyone who didn't like what the government was doing. What? Your friend went to a peace rally last week? We see that you've called her since then -- twice! We're taking you in for questioning.

Oh no, but the government wouldn't abuse its powers like that, you may say. Oh really? It is a fact that they are already spying on millions of Americans, maybe even you. They can find out what books you've checked out at a library. They can look through your luggage for no reason because no one is standing up to stop them. So where are they going to draw the line for themselves? If they've taken "security" measures this far, who's going to stop them from going further? Doesn't it bother you the least bit that Uncle Sam is setting himself up to be Big Brother? It may not happen tomorrow. It may not happen this year. But at the rate things are going, eventually everything will be in place for the United States of America to be a fascist police state.

Am I blowing things out of proportion? No. Don't think it can't happen here. Good governments go bad everywhere, and bad governments can get even worse before they weaken and fall. You may know that I read blogs that report the news. And the headlines show that our freedoms are being chipped away every day. Congress, the President, and the Supreme Court are working to take over our lives constantly. How often do I read a news story relating to more lost liberties? Every zarking day. I'll prove it to you. I'll collect every such news story I find for a month. On July 26, I will post here to show you how fast your rights are going down the toilet.

Here's an example for today! What happens when the government breaks the law by spying on American citizens without a court order? Here's what they're doing to fix that problem: they want to write it into law so it's not illegal anymore. Problem solved! (Except for that pesky Bill of Rights thing.) Yes, things like this are happening every day.

Is the threat of terrorism so great that no one can be safe from the watchful eyes of the feds? I don't know which is worse: being brought to a sudden, unexpected death by foreign terrorists or to a slow, painful death by the elected leaders of our own country.

But what can we do? Where are the riots in the streets? Oh yeah: nobody gives a crap. So here's a message to everybody that doesn't realize this already: America as we know it -- the land of the free -- is dying, and it's all because home of the brave is now a den of cowards who want to feel safe by accepting unquestionably everything the government does. It's time to wake up and smell the coffee, Mrs. Bueller. It's time to think for yourself. Liberate your mind from these arbitrary concepts like "patriotism." No institution automatically deserves respect; it must be earned, and right now the government isn't living up to its mission statement. So, if you haven't been able to see it, it's about time that you open your eyes to the evil that your government is doing -- and will continue doing -- to you.

Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably go to the library and get Nineteen Eighty-Four while I still can. On second thought, I should probably avoid the library and buy it.

(I'm sure that once the comments come rolling in, I'll remember why I never write about politics.)

From YouTube: Superman Leaves Physics 140 Class at University of Michigan. I doubt college is that exciting all the time.

Google News Cloud is a pretty nifty tool for viewing the most popular keywords in the news and seeing how they tie together.

One year ago: "I did it. I'm one of them."
Two years ago: "Seeing as it's black and in a black case, it probably won't stand the heat very well." And: "Man, am I stupid. I actually thought that those morons were going to come to this stupid thing."

Hello everyone, I am Gilbert. I shall be doing a guest post for today.

<guest post>

I wanted to be able to rant about something, but i couldn't think of anything that would be proper to rant about. Don't you just hate it when you cant think of what a good rant would be? So many things that suck and could be bickered on... yet I could not think of anything. A rant should be good, and have some sort of meaning to it, and if it can contain a lesson, that would be awesome too. But did I find a proper one? No... I did not...

Anyway... you may know me as the occasional mention on this web log, y'know, the guy obssesed with altering the images with pictures of Jordon... It's fun... really. In fact I propose a competition... altering of Jordon's picture, you wont win anything good... or anything... but you'll have fun (and if Jordon put's them up you can steal his bandwith later... or can you?) Anyway... just send the pictures to P.O. Box 5820 santa monica california 90091. < <(joke) Actually, send to hydrogsogilby at gmail dot com. The "winner" get's a mention or something... but if you participate... then we're all losers... I mean winners...

</guest post>

Hasta luego.

Asterisks are those little stars like this: *. They are not to be confused with a French comic book character. Anyway, I'm sorry that I ever wrote the following bit of rubbish, so don't ask me for interpretations on it. It's only here for two reasons: to serve as filler and to justify the time I spent writing it. So do me a favor and take it all lightly.

* * *

Wearily, he sat down at the computer. He had nothing new to say. He fired up his CD player, having no use for an MP3 player but desiring sonic pleasure from an old disc. After a long hesitation, he began to type.

This is crap, he thought. I have nothing to say today. I had nothing to say yesterday either. Or the day before. What does that show?

Did he really have nothing interesting to say? He could pour out one of his angsty musings one more time, though he was sure that the readers had already tired of it. Still, they were an old standby. It wasn't that he had it tough; he didn't. The problem was that he had it too good. He never grew up in adversity. He had worked hard up in school up to this point.

One demerit for no homework. Five demerits would get you a detention. No corporal punishment at school, just at home on that rare occasion. The whole thing stuck with him. "Be a slave to the System," he was told, "and the System will reward you. Do everything the System tells you, and you will go far. The System knows what is right. So get on your knees for the System. If not, then you, just a boy, will become a lesser man."

He was freer now. He thought that he had torn apart the walls that formed a labyrinth as an impediment in his mind. But there was another wall, stretching across the reaches of his mind, on which logic had no effect. The stones of the barrier of illogic had been laid long ago when the conditions were just right. Engraved on every single brick was a platitude.

Axe in hand, he could not bring himself to pick away at the wall. For every time he went to take a swing, another platitude would catch his eye: "You can do whatever you want." "Hard work pays off." The one he was about to hit would always read: "You're making a mistake."

The words haunted him. He had made mistakes: some major, some minor. But his worst fear was not the memories of his past mistakes, but the idea that he was in the process of making mistakes right now. At this very moment, a big mistake was compounding, snowballing, from a tiny mistake that would gradually add on baggage, day after day, week after week, and into the months and years.

The fault lay not with him, but with the System. "Do your best," said the System, "while finishing everything on your plate. You must honor the System. The system forbids irreverance." Once again, the foundations of the destroyed walls called back like scars in his brain. He thought that he had rid himself of this. But it had only slipped away and come back in another form, like a cancer.

And what of the future? The System was beating him now. "You must be a jack of all trades," the System had told him. But every waking hour of every day it became more increasingly, painfully clear that he could not. He could not handle being an intellectual giant, a physical wonder, and the life of the party. There was no room on his plate for all that. More than ever, attempt to fill himself up left him emptier than ever.

He felt as though he had nowhere left to turn. For what he needed most was the peace of mind brought by a bond between souls, or whatever it was that made the body work. But he was undesirable. He had nothing to offer but feelings. No one would consider him, standing in the corner, in the same way as he hoped. Feelings should have been enough, but the prospects -- the precious few -- demanded too much: biology, security. Things he lacked, either due to his own misfortune or due to the influence of the System on him.

The System's words repeated themselves in his mind again. "Save it," it had said. "You'll be happier later." Would he? "This is your job." No, it wasn't enough. Everyone else knew it somehow. It was enough for them.

It was then that he realized his tragic flaw. No, he was not lucky. No one should envy him. There was nothing there to be envied. For he had never done the things that the System had told him to do. As long as the rest of the world listened to the System, he would have to too. Here his obligation to become a functioning member of society had yet to be fulfilled. He could not bring himself to go and live.

In his mind he could imagine things as they wished to be. He would clear the murky tub of math formulas and historical names. He would make himself attractive, even irresistible. But what was stopping him? Fear. Though it was hard to admit, he yearned for his past even more than he cared about his future. Yes, how he wished to live forever the way things were, with all the love he could get and without a worry in the world. How he wished to crawl back into his bed and sleep.

* * *

And this is my problem in plain English. As much as I want to live out my days in success, I can't face the hard parts of the future. I'm focusing on living day to day, putting all my effort on school without giving a care about what really matters -- my ability to make it in the world. I'm kicking myself in the face by choosing hard classes that are going to inhibit my life in the present more than they will help me in the future. (But of course, it all goes back to my upbringing.) And I'm afraid that the problems that hurt me now will be hard to fix later.

As much as I would like to be in love, I'm probably the worst possible candidate for Boyfriend of the Year Month Week. Girls want security and pampering. I have no job/money and can't drive. But I don't want to face the pressure of learning to drive or getting a job. And so, while the world is passing me by, I grow more and more angsty and the need for companionship grows. It's a goddam vicious cycle. That's what I'm trying to get at. And you know what it's from? It's from me living a sheltered life. Whose fault that is, I don't know. But does that matter? I don't know.

I'll tell you what matters. I'm going to say it here. This is my sad attempt at a barbaric yawp: I, Jordon Kallich, am afraid of growing up.

Feedback from James Joyce's Submission of Ulysses to His Creative Writing Workshop. It's probably only funny if you've read Ulysses. You know who you are. I don't intend on tackling the massive work. Ever. Sorry.

How to Anger Telemarketers That Call You at Home. At our home we have a simpler solution: don't pick up the phone if the caller ID doesn't give the number. Works every time.

If you don't want to read boring and complicated rant, skip down to the part about the beach. I won't be offended.

It's that time of year again to choose classes, and so I have to figure out what classes I'm going to take (or have to take) for my senior year of high school. In a way, it will be the most important year because I have to make sure I have all the credits required for graduation. What's more, I'll be expected to take more than one AP class by various important grown-ups who expect lots of things of me. My precalculus teacher has recommended me for AP Calculus AB. Even the best students struggle in that class. I know some of them. Also, some computer has automatically recommended me for AP English Literature, but that's a recommendation I can more easily override. I'm not seriously interested in taking any other AP classes anyway, and here's why. First, I'll give you some background on the school: all-magnet school, no school on Fridays, longer school day, four 110-minute blocks per day, (most) classes change mid-year. (Hey, I'm getting pretty good at that.) Take time to digest that and then consider the following.

The men and women who run this school apparently decided that we bright students need to maintain our reputation as bright students and take more AP classes. So they're taking AP classes and pairing them off with other classes that aren't necessarily related! In most cases, the AP classes that presently run all year will still last the whole year but only take place every other day. The irrelevant class will be held on the other days. Not only does this fly in the face of freedom of choice, but it also screws up our already abnormal schedule. So freshmen expecting to take an honors English class will have to put up with AP Human Geography. Sophomores who want to take English II Honors must take AP European History. Some AP classes, however, are related to their pairs and will still function as year-long classes. Technically, when you take AP Calculus AB, the first semester Calculus Honors, and the second semester is AP Calculus AB. I doubt that that's going to change. I don't want to take AP English because I don't want to switch off between it and AP American Government. How is the teacher supposed to teach AP English, and how am I supposed to pass the exam, if we spend half as much time in class as we should?

I was actually supposed to have my classes picked out by today, but I didn't know that until today. I did know that the deadline was drawing near, which is why I spent some time yesterday thinking about the classes I would have to take. But today in first hour when some guidance-counselor-type people came in and told us that we had to have our classes picked, I sort of panicked. After a while of helping people select their classes online, they acknowledged that I could just go to the school board web site and do it at home. Then I'd have to meet up with some guidance-counselor-type person on Monday so they could go over my selections quickly.

"Quickly" is the operative word here. A few weeks ago, when we were handed our guides to next year's courses, we were told not to schedule appointments with the guidance counselors to discuss our course selections -- or the "guidance counselors," I should say. I'm dead serious, but no one believes me. It's like the "guidance counselors" don't want to guide or counsel you, even though it's their job. Anyway, trying to talk to them is a joke. Scheduling a visit is a chore, and sitting down and discussing things is funny. They don't try to understand you. They just want to get it over with so they can talk to the next kid and then have a smoke break or something. Allegedly.

Now those who wanted to skip that confusing rant can be reunited with the rest of us. (You didn't miss much, guys, really.) Anyway, I had planned to go to the beach yesterday with Nacole and some other people as some sort of spring break finale. (Bowling was the introduction, you might say.) Unfortunately, nobody could go for various reasons, so it was cancelled or at least postponed. It would be nice to do some friendly thing with Nacole sometime. We have a unique relationship: I asked her out, and she said yes not thinking it was a date; confusion ensued, but it was resolved. Instead of asking her out again, I let it go for some reason. But now she has a boyfriend that she loves half to death, which is why it makes it really awkward for me to be talking about us as if there ever was an "us." I dwell on the whole thing way, way too much. To her I'm probably just another classmate.

State Department to Americans: Don't act like an idiot when you're a tourist abroad. They're giving basic rules about politeness that Americans seem to have forgotten. One such tip: "Your religion is your religion and not necessarily theirs. (Religion is usually considered deeply personal, not a subject for public discussions.)" If only the government followed its own advice. Anyway, it's sad to see that as a whole, we Americans are as dumb, loud, and rude as we are perceived.

Make your own room-sized camera obscura.

One year ago: "Since Thursday, I've been thinking slightly a teeny bit more about careers, career options, colleges, curriculum, and so forth. Well, yesterday I filled out my course thingy for next year."

Yesterday I went with Kevin, Lisa, and my sister to the Sawgrass Mills mall. I hadn't been there much, but I knew it was huge. In fact, it's one of the largest malls in the US. I don't even think we covered the whole mall in the six hours that we were there.

I didn't buy anything (except lunch), but I was thinking about getting new shoes. At this one place I saw a pair of really cheap shoes that were bright orange -- like traffic cone orange. The others wouldn't stand for it. They didn't suggest that I not buy them; they practically ordered me not to. I called my mom (who had said that I could buy a pair of shoes and that she would pay me back), and she said I could buy them if I would wear them every day. I might have worn them every once in a while. I figured that if everyone was going to crucify me about wearing them like my own friends and sister did, I couldn't imagine what everyone else would say. So I abandoned them, and Kevin the non-punk bought a pair of those checkered punk shoes that have no laces.

From this I learned an important lesson. I'm already a freaky-looking wacko predestined to be cast as a reject from society, so I have to try to be as normal as possible. Wearing bright orange shoes (especially with the dumb jean shorts and boring T-shirts that I always, always wear) doesn't help. I want to be like everyone else, and I'm dead serious about that. I wish my overall appearance were at least pretty okay. And is it so much to ask to have hobbies and interests and musical tastes that are actually shared by others?

Will I look back on this years from now and say, "Gah, what a stupid teenager I was"? Yes, of course. But until I can become an ordinary functioning adult living in a mansion, apartment, shack, or house with a halfway decent job, a completed education, someone who loves me, and car payments, I have to put up with trying to be accepted. I have to pave the way to the future, but unfortunately I'm such a lazy sluggard that I'm just sitting here and whining about it instead of applying for a job or finding out what on earth I have to do to get my learner's permit. And if you don't like my whining, then you probably shouldn't be here at all, because complaining is apparently what I'm all about. Here's an outbound link for you: Leave now, and don't come back.

Funny how that turned from an innocent account of a shopping outing to a depressed rant. Oh well. My mind works in strange and stupid ways. Bad mind. No Wikipedia for you. As for anyone whom I might have offended in that last paragraph, let me apologize, shake your hand, and obtain a copy of the Florida State Driver's Handbook. After all, I'm only human, and even though Colleges Like It™ when you're a well-rounded person who's a born leader and is perfect at everything, I can't be. I'm book smart, so give me that if you want. I can see where you're coming from, though, when you try to make me be perfect. I know a million stupid and useless things, but I don't know how to live.

This made me laugh: Mr. Roger Lord Mortimer's Neighborhood (Flash, sound). I less than three YouTube.

Decoding Best Buy wall numbers.

Two years ago: "I should be at work right now."

Did you know that wearing headphones in school is a safety hazard?

It's true. See, if the fire alarm goes off, you won't be able to hear the, uh, piercingly loud alarm. And... you won't be able to see the flashing lights. And you won't... um... notice... that people are leaving the classroom... because you're wearing headphones...

That's how my school sounded today when they announced (or restated) a ban on headphones inside and outside class. The safety argument simply doesn't hold water. It's just a diversion from the one real reason, which is that it keeps people from learning in class. I suppose the bright folks down in the office anticipated that one reason to ban headphones would not be enough:

"But oh," you might say, "we shouldn't have headphones in schools." At what point does the ban go too far? Yesterday my friend Brian brought a small shortwave radio so that he could tune into numbers stations at lunch. He had it taken away, even though there were no headphones to take.

Another example of the school's strange policies came up again today. The school building was designed so that people could enjoy their lunch outside. As a result, the cafeteria doesn't come close to holding all of the people who have the same lunch period. Keep that in mind as I explain another school policy.

If the ass. principals find too much garbage outside after lunch, they decide to take it out on everybody by refusing to allow people to eat lunch outside. Today was one such day, so I had to eat lunch inside, contrary to my usual routine. They actually had ass. principals standing at the doors with evil looks on their faces, watching for anyone attempting to bring food out. (Apparently everyone who eats outside litters!) That cafeteria filled up fast, and I'm almost positive that the maximum capacity of the room was exceeded. Amid the jostling of people moving about, I spilled taco meat on my jeans and on my "Not Responding" shirt that I was wearing for the first time.

Reactions to the whole thing were universally negative. I saw that one person managed to smuggle out a drink in the leg of his pants. Others were sharing popcorn that had to have been popped in a microwave inside the cafeteria. My friend Evan had the best reaction to the affair. He and the people ate lunch with decided to leave a nice present for the ass. principals: a table covered in trash.

He also half-jokingly suggested calling the Fire Marshal to report the hazard of packing the cafeteria beyond capacity. But in order to do that, you'd have to risk using another nearly contraband device: a cell phone.

There are a lot of things named after Ronald Reagan, apparently. Was he even that good?

Have a question about coffee? Read the Coffee FAQ.

One year ago: "If anyone could fall in love with a fairly affordable pen, I did so."
Two years ago: "'They were multiplying,' he quipped."

This is my life.

(Imagine eggs or something.)

This is my life not knowing how to drive a car at the age of 16 years, 5 months, 15 days.

(Crunch!)

The eggs are broken. You may end up with a delicious breakfast, but you're eating the sorry remnants of my social life. Because they're the eggs. Which got cooked. Because I can't drive. Yeah.

When I turned 15, my parents supposedly said I shouldn't learn to drive (but I don't remember). Now they're saying I should learn to drive. And I want to tell them (because they always read this, because they know my URL, because I registered this domain name with their credit cards, because I didn't want to be perceived as a sluggish two-bit blogospheric hack whose opinions don't matter, because that would make me sad) that it's not their fault that I haven't gotten up and done whatever needs to be done to get a little piece of plastic that says you're allowed behind the steering wheel of a car.

But, going back to the point about my life being crushed like an egg, I do want to point out that they have me pinned in an interesting catch-22.

1. Money is good. Without money, you can't take girls out to dinner or obtain decent guitars. In order to get money, I need a job.
2. In order to get a job, I need to get a car (or walk), because my parents can't/won't give me a ride.
3. In order to get a car, I need to be able to pay the high cost of insurance. Not with hugs and kisses, dear friends, but with money! (See 1.)

I can't break into the cycle or else everything will collapse like some weird circle of Escherian dominoes. And because of all this, I don't have a sustainable source of income that I could otherwise spend on cool things, higher education, or girls. In other words, I'm being set up to live at home until I'm thirty. I'd probably sit around the house wearing glasses and bad sweaters and listening to old LPs and twitching. I bet mom and dad don't want that!

Maybe instead of higher education I should join the Army or something. It would be great for an egotistical ham like me because they dehumanize you and turn you into a unit or a thing. And you might die. Better still, a lot of people would automatically respect me if I came home with my short haircut and camouflage. Actually, I couldn't imagine myself in the military or anything. The kind of guy who joins the military is really Southern and has an angular face that the ladies really go for. I swear, those guys are all cut from the same cookie cutter. That must be how they can mold them so well. Or maybe they just terrorize you.

I wanted to get my learner's permit before the end of the year, but that ain't gonna happen. So that means I get my wheels and independence in The Year Of Our Lord Two Thousand Effing Seven. I should just kick myself to death. I should have gotten my permit on July 13, 2004. What was I doing then? Taking time exposures in my room. Then I would have gained independence on July 13, 2005. What was I doing then? Bellyaching like I am now. Some things never change.

I must do something about this. Be it resolved, then, that I will have my driver's license by Monday, January 15, 2007.

In the meantime, enjoy those eggs, will you?

In my last post, I made a request to everyone who does not use Firefox 1.5 or IE 6 on Windows XP. In other words, the Mac people, Opera people, Linux people, and so forth. If you're one of those types, I need you to test the new layout of this site to make sure it looks and works okay. E-mail me or post a comment and I'll get back to you. Now, I have had success with Firefox on Windows, IE on Windows, Safari on Mac, and Firefox on Linux. If you have any other combo for me, then I'm talking to you. Please post a comment or e-mail me.

Hate those annoying ribbon magnets that are on cars nowadays? Check out the AntiMagnet.

I really, really wish I had thought of this. A guy started with one red paperclip and traded up with his friends. Having traded various things, he now has a ski trip available for trade. His goal is to get a house.

One year ago: "I also had a brief stint in trying to teach myself Esperanto, but it's not the most useful language."
Two years ago: "In case I've gotten you curious as to how to block AOL users, these lines in your .htaccess file might do the trick."

During one of the last few days before winter break, my friend Justin wanted to bid me goodbye because he was going to go away or something. Of course, a Season's Greeting would be appropriate for the occasion. He wanted to wish me a merry Christmas, but he made out like there was someone aiming to shoot him down if he actually uttered the words "Merry Christmas" instead of "Happy holidays." Whoa, wait a minute. Just because you say "Happy Holidays" to general groups of people you don't know means that you can't say "Merry Christmas" to a single person whom you know celebrates Christmas? How come nobody forwards these memos to me?

Some other people I know seem to have this same idea that saying "Happy Holidays" is equivalent to waging a "War on Christmas." One person in particular (my sister) says that I'm "on the wrong side"! Sure, there can be commercials that say "Merry Christmas" just like there are ones that say "Happy Hanukkah." But it's a mistake to think that replacing "Merry Christmas" with "Happy Holidays" is somehow anti-Christmas. According to that logic, combining all holiday greetings into one would also be anti-Hanukkah, anti-Kwanzaa, and anti-New-Year's. Seeing signs saying "Happy Holidays" or "Season's Greetings" certainly won't stop those who celebrate Christmas from doing so. The so-called War on Christmas is an illogical and paranoid notion that exists only in the minds of those who assume that the effects of religious tolerance are working against their own religious beliefs.

I saw Jim Carrey's new movie Fun with Dick and Jane today with some friends. It was okay. Well, I liked it. But I like practically every movie I see, so that's not saying much.

Wikipedia has a list of common phrases in various languages.

Time Magazine has released their list of All-Time 100 Movies. I'd assume that, like their list of novels I mentioned, it only covers the movies produced since Time was first published in 1923. Of the 100, I've only seen 6 in their entirety: E.T., Finding Nemo, A Hard Day's Night, It's a Wonderful Life, Lawrence of Arabia, and Pinocchio.

One year ago: "If you like Jim Carrey, you'll enjoy it. Despite what the trailers would have you think, Carrey gets a chance to play not one but three wacky personae."

I've reported on an ugly scandal that's rocking my church and the school associated with it. I thought it was pretty much over with until I heard that on Sunday, there were protesters when the Archbishop came to bless the new school buildings.

To most of the people analyzing the situation, the whole thing comes down to this: either Mrs. O'Leary (the former principal) stole money, or Father Gabriel (the pastor) fired her for no reason. My parents are taking Gabriel's side, but I'm not going to take sides. I don't feel sufficiently informed, and I don't like either of them enough to say that he or she "would never do that!"

No -- rather than pointing my finger at either one of them, I point at them both. Because I go to the church and went to the school, both Father Gabriel and Mrs. O'Leary have been responsible for my moral and spiritual development. And now one of them is a big liar and a hypocrite. But, neither of them is producing hard and fast evidence that the other is a crook. Gabriel won't show people the books, and O'Leary won't say anything. So, if neither of them can prove their innocence, then we must conclude that they're both big liars. It's certainly possible. And I want you to think about that. I want everyone who has ever been a part of St. Elizabeth of Hungary Catholic Church or St. Elizabeth of Hungary Catholic School to think about that. Look at the hypocrites you've been following! You have to do something. What are you going to do?

It bothers me a lot, that all of this is happening. I'm troubled and disturbed by it. But I know how I can ease my mind and resolve the situation with myself. It'll be quite simple and pleasant -- for me, anyway. In fact, I wonder how so few people have thought of it before. But now isn't the time for such things.

On Monday, the Sun-Sentinel published this article entitled "Parish Scrutiny Demanded" (subtitled "Parishioners Want Financial Books Opened"). The version on the web site had a different title, as you will read. But it's informative just the same.

And here's a pretty picture:

The Jedermann Project makes average composites of faces. They all look weird.

I guess the idea of Phoneswarm is that they pick a payphone and post the number on the Internet for everyone to call. Neat.

The following bit was inspired by Scotto, although he hasn't been doing it lately. It's a sort of "Today in History" thing regarding old posts. Though he describes his posts from one, two, three, four, and five years ago when he links to them, I figure a quotation from each post should be enough to interest you in clicking. We'll see if it's a good way to promote my large archive of posts (although it pales by comparison to Scotto's, of course). After all, they're there to be enjoyed, and I enjoy them. Without further ado...

One year ago: "He was 26 years old and was planning to propose to his girlfriend."
Two years ago: "But after all, it is Wal-Mart."