It’s been weeks since I’ve gotten to see Grand Master Flex (a.k.a. Gene Milstead). From what I hear, he’s tearing it up over at FEMA. I’m really proud of him. FEMA is an organization desperate for people who will be accountable for their actions. And Gene is silly enough to probably make everyone there love him.

I’m proud of him for more than being the great FEMA savior… He’s a man after God’s own heart. He is not ashamed to speak of his faith in Jesus, and his demeanor towards non-believers is very welcoming.

Did I mention he was The Starbucks Kid? What else could you want out of a guy? He fed my need for speed, shared his faith, and works to save lives without wasting tax payer money.

Gene is the suburban hero. I hope that got a smile out of him. Seriously, we miss you, Gene. Come home soon and visit. We need to catch up.

Barely a twelvemonth after
The seven days war that put the world to sleep,
Late in the evening the strange horses came.
By then we had made our covenant with silence,
But in the first few days it was so still
We listened to our breathing and were afraid. On the second day
The radios failed; we turned the knobs, no answer.
On the third day a warship passed us, headed north,
Dead bodies piled on the deck. On the sixth day
A plane plunged over us into the sea. Thereafter
Nothing. The radios dumb;
And still they stand in corners of our kitchens,
And stand, perhaps, turned on, in a million rooms
All over the world. But now if they should speak,
If on a sudden they should speak again,
If on the stroke of noon a voice should speak,
We would not listen, we would not let it bring
That old bad world that swallowed its children quick
At one great gulp. We would not have it again.
Sometimes we think of the nations lying asleep,
Curled blindly in impenetrable sorrow,
And then the thought confounds us with its strangeness.
The tractors lie about our fields; at evening
They look like dank sea-monsters crouched and waiting.
We leave them where they are and let them rust:
“They’ll molder away and be like other loam.”
We make our oxen drag our rusty plows,
Long laid aside. We have gone back
Far past our fathers’ land. And then, that evening
Late in the summer the strange horses came.
We heard a distant tapping on the road,
A deepening drumming; it stopped, went on again
And at the corner changed to hollow thunder. We saw the heads
Like a wild wave charging and were afraid.
We had sold our horses in our fathers’ time
To buy new tractors. Now they were strange to us
As fabulous steeds set on an ancient shield
Or illustrations in a book of knights.
We did not dare go near them. Yet they waited,
Stubborn and shy, as if they had been sent
By an old command to find our whereabouts
And that long-lost archaic companionship.
In the first moment we had never a thought
That they were creatures to be owned and used.
Among them were some half a dozen colts
Dropped in some wilderness of the broken world,
Yet new as if they had come from their own Eden.
Since then they have pulled our plows and borne our loads,
But that free servitude still can pierce our hearts.
Our life is changed; their coming our beginning.

If I was a goose, would I start out as the ugly duckling? Probably. Why is it that people always pretend to have a good life to save face? Is it really so bad to be one of the billions who lives a life of stress, loneliness, insecurity, and fear? Why hide it? What’s the worst that could happen if everyone were honest? Advertisement and Marketing spending might plummet because no one would pay for BS. But then again, people would finally be able to look perfect strangers in the eye and say hello. That’s a worthwhile tradeoff.

There’s not a lot to think about when you’ve been sitting in the same room for hours and your eyes ache from staring at the stupid screen. I used to think I was full of deep thoughts. Then I got married and worked a real job and paid bills. Suddenly, deep thoughts became luxuries that I only experience late at night when I write in my journal. I used to argue with my friends because I didn’t think they used their minds enough to consider the “important things in life.” Of course, those friends were married and had children and real jobs while I was a college student living for free.

What an ass I have been! If any of you happen to read this, I apologize for being a jackass.

Yes, I have mush head. My ears need to pop, I’m sniffing like mad to hold back the tide, and my head feels like mush. Hence, I have mush head. The day has been surprisingly productive despite the mush. I’d say the chances of meeting my daily productivity goals are 97%. The remaining 3% is reserved for any potential post-mush health factors we cannot possibly anticipate yet might lurk around any corner.

I was very disappointed to learn that a friend had let a certain domain name expire. We were going to start a blog/site this time last year. I am to blame for the failure. He had the design ready to go, and it looked good. Here it is a year later, I go to the URL and find that it’s owned by some dude in a slavic country. Not cool. Not cool, but mostly my fault.

Oh well. The blog was going to focus on home decor, and as much as I enjoy seeing it and choosing it, I don’t really know how to describe it. I am by no means the dictionary of all things fashionable. It’s probably for the best. Now we’re talking about other ideas. You never know what’s gonna stick and work out to be the idea.