Update At I could blame my absence on a hundred various little issues (Post-Christmas Bill-induced depression, fire in my wife's home town (Google "Pictures Maquoketa Iowa Fire" and see what you see), an aunt of my wife's being diagnosed with terminal cancer (and lasting about 5 weeks from "hey" to "oh"), my son's Pinewood Derby (and me running the damned thing), the beginning of the transition to Boy Scouts (Below), my father's elevated PSA count (he's 85, and has survived radioactive seeding of his prostate - so radioactive he and I couldn't dance for six months - not that THAT was a problem), the "Get the damned Christmas Decorations down, the Three Wise Men have come, gone home, gotten the thank you, and were already booking flights to Aruba, for crying out loud", and etc). Truth is I've just been a little busy. As noted above in my not-excuse excuse, my son is finishing up with Cub Scouts. His final meetings are next month, and his first Boy Scout events start pretty damned quickly thereafter. No rest for the wicked. Or for me, evidently. I was getting my son excited to go on a Boy Scout event called a Klondike Derby. My Cub Scout Den, and others, had participated in building sleds for this event, which consists of you going to a camp, loading the required gear on your sled, heading off to do various tasks, and being scored on the event. Der Tag -1 came, and my son, thrilled and excited to be included in another Boy Scout event, was nearly over the moon - until I got the e-mail noting that four adults and three boys out of 33 boys and 9+ adults wasn't sufficient - so they wouldn't be going. Thereafter, seven people popped out of the woodwork (three youth, four adults) who were going, hadn't gotten around to signing up. So I, being the flat-topped square-jawed slackwitted mouthbreathing knuckledragging sort of fool, said "is there anything that can be done to remedy this so it doesn't happen next time?" Foolish, foolish mortal. I discovered that that one question was the equivalent of saying "I'd be happy to be the communications chair for the Scout Troop." Those of you with a background in Scouting can take a few minutes and giggle quietly to yourselves at how stupid I was being. Truth be told, I had some ideas and saw Communications as the best way to implement them. So the question WAS leading, though I might find myself claiming it wasn't on certain bad days. But the job entails things that are admittedly my strengths - I need to revamp an existing web site, put in place communications procedures and policies, and generally organize things so that they are easy to do, and get done. What floored me, however, was the next day, after mass. The Scoutmaster (SM, in our parlance) and one of the leading Assistant Scoutmasters (ASM) came over. The SM shook my hand but narrowed in on my son, and apologized for not going to Klondike (great guy - knows where his bread is buttered), and then started chatting up my wife. The ASM started talking to me. In the midst of this conversation a sentence floated over that stuck in my head - in a most unusual way. "When I joined the troop," the SM explained, "I had a year to watch what Mr. X (his predecessor) was doing, so that when he stepped down, I had a year of experience." Oh. That's nice - I thought at the time. I mentioned that I was intending to take Assistant Scoutmaster training in the spring, and looked at Wood Badge (very developed leadership training - think not-quite-Eagle Project for Adults) next fall. The SM corrected me - "There is no such thing as ASM training. It's SM training - only difference is the patch on your shoulder." Then the load of bricks hit me on the way out the door. The ASM asked me if I'd considered being their Scoutmaster. I figured he was the lead dog in that race. "Me? Heck no. You're better qualified." The first words out of my mouth were "Me? Qualified? I hardly think so." I was thinking of Lazarus Long's words in his Notebook - and I'm paraphrasing poorly, here - "The first time I was a Drill Sergeant I shouldn't have been, some of those things I taught those boys got them killed." Then it hit me - like the other ton of bricks...
Then I stepped back and looked at my history. When I was handed the task of organizing the Pack's Blue & Gold (the annual "Cub Scout Dinner and Birthday Party") the previous year's attendance was 48 people. This is Scout-and-all-family-members-dinner from a-then-80-boy Pack. 48 people. So I and the other people who helped decided to talk to our then-eight-and-nine-year-olds, and find out what they thought would be fun - and do it. And so we did. When I took over family camp planning, we had five families attending. At this last one, we had over 90 people in camp. When I did Pinewood Derby, we ran a race that was so successful that the school people asked if we had any problems - there were no kids running in the halls. I have been fortunate to step up to the plate and handle an event shortly after it's "hit the bottom". With Pinewood Derby, we'd run two races in a row (which is tough for an annual race) that totally utterly sucked. Both races the electronics failed - and when you have boys that are racing and winning or losing by hundredths and thousandths of a second (this time, second and third were separated by 7/10000 of a second - that's right, SEVEN TEN-THOUSANDTHS), using the old Mk. III Eyeball just isn't satisfactory. So I've managed to come up smelling like a rose through luck of good timing, a little luck, a lot of help - and a little bit of planning. I don't know if I'll succeed at it, but it sure looks like I'll be giving it a try. Of course, just when I think "boy, howdy, do I have a lot to worry about" I take a spin round the internet, and discover that Mr. Farquhar's become a Daddy to a little boy. And then life snaps back into focus.
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Update At I just wanted to stop by to let you know that I'm considering leaving all of my worldly goods (both of them) after I die and bills are paid to these good people. Any page with the Ashleigh Brilliant quote "Sometimes I need what only you can provide: Your absence." is definitely worth it.
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Update At Court upholds man's conviction for having sex with dead dear. The story goes on to note that one Bryan Hathaway, 21, who had earlier pled no contest to charges of committing an act of sexual gratification wtih animals - then attempted to appeal, noting with the distinction honed by literally hundreds of beers that "animal" means "living creature" - and that his act was not, in his opinion, a sex act with an animal, but rather a sex act with a DEAD animal. Kinda makes you proud of our school system these days, doesn't it? I mean, when you're done vomiting and all. Now, I don't know about how the rest of you feel, but on my planet, using that level of logic to excuse your behavior really isn't going to win friends and influence people. Well, actually, it might influence people, but not in the way you'd like. You're certainly rather more likely to find yourself living in a rural area - probably with a fence around the land with lots and lots of warning signs on it. It seems the Judge took notice of this level of logic, when he said that Hathaway's arguments were "rather convincing" but in the end, the No Contest plea pretty much shut out any appeals. And then the judge picked up the book and slapped Hathaway rather harshly with it, ordering Hathaway on probation (probably figuring this is the sort of fellow who you really don't want in prison, given his propensity to enjoy dead wildlife), and also ordering he be evaluated to see if he's a sex offender. Let's see. He's riding his bike along the road in the fall of 2006 (which would have made him 19 - um, 19 - and no car? Oh, I see, already on Juvie probation for stealing a car. This story gets more and more worrisome), saw a dead dear in the ditch (gee, I wonder how long it had been there and how stinky it was), dragged it off into the woods and had sex with it. Then he returns to his halfway house covered in blood and hair - a treatment program where he had been sent for felony mistreatment of an animal where he killed a horse with the intention of having sex with it. My word. What other sorts of evidence do you require? If this guy ISN'T a sex offender, then I'm just generally staying the hell out of Wisconsin - because if that doesn't tip the bar rather convincingly, I'm terrified at what would.
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This is not a Web 4.0 site - nor 3.0, nor 2.0 - hell, it's barely 1.0. It is static HTML code, written and refined by hand using the internet-age equivalent of bone hammers and flint knives - the venerable WordPad under Windows and Firefox (that's at least a 2.0 release, actually). So no, there are no nifty-shifty whiz-bang things here. Frankly, there's only the written word, written (mostly) by me, of things that occur to me, or thoughts I occasionally (and some will say allegedly) have, and when it's fiction, I shall be sure to alert you as such. Other than that, I shall simply inform you that here, content is King. I've been doing this not as long as some, longer than others, and, as some long-time readers will tell you, I regularly and consistently piss people off, irritate them, and expose my ignorances for all the world to see. This is me, this is who I am, and this is why I put myself here - to see if it is possible for me to ... improve mine own self, as it were, since evolution is most assuredly done with me. With that said, on to the more standard verbage - I presume we're all adults - or at least fairly mature beings - here. The opinions contained herein are mine, wholly, and do not represent those of any organization, group, or other collective of other beings / people / things / whatchamacallits to which I belong, am associated, or appear to endorse. Truth is, folks, I am one of those square pegs constantly being smashed into roundish holes. Unfortunately for me - unfortunately, for the holes, as well, as I am often more akin to the granite that comes from where I grew up than something more malleable and ... well, workable. I have sharp edges, which are, regrettably at times, revealed here. Given that I am a unique individual, and that I am a collection of opinions and such, it must be noted that you are hereby legally provided notice that you can't blame those organizations for my thoughts. Unless I'm running such an organization (which, I assure you, is utterly unlikely - I much prefer to organize and work behind the lines), those groups should not be blamed for my jerkisms. However, feel free to take your frustrations with those opinions out on me, and leave the rest of the world alone. If you do e-mail me, I freely reserve the right to publish your e-mail if I choose, ignore it at my peril, or, in certain cases of gross stupidity or clear evidence of serious colo-rectal inversion (that's head in your butt for those of you without bigger dictionaries), add you to my kill file. Please do not take it personally, nor as a sign of your unique value to my world - my kill file is not exactly empty. You would, in fact, be joining a wonderful group (according to them) of people who dislike me and/or my opinions. We differ in that particular. As any sane being would. You have been warned. And Thank You for visiting.