Technology comes to rural Minnesota
The farm where I grew up is finally visible on Google Earth. Sorry, no link. You have to know the address to find it, although the pointer shows up on the Holm farm directly to the south.You can even see the cabin I built in '92. It's the little white speck southeast of the donut ponds in the upper righthand corner.
I know it's boring to you, but humor me.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
BLOODY, BLOODY, BLOODY! I HATE IT!
So I send my son to a very nice preschool for two half-days every week. This is one of those preschools where you have to rush in and get on the waiting list as soon as you get the results from the pregnancy test. I shit you not. And it ain't cheap either. Yes, I am yuppie scum. So anyway, apparently to raise money for art supplies, they've decided to have the kids, or rather, us, because the kids are friggin' two-year-olds, sell candy bars. The fuck they don't have enough money! What the hell kind of art supplies are they buying? Marble and gold leaf?
I refuse. I did my time selling fucking candy bars for band trips and Boy Scouts, thankyouverymuch. No way am I going through that again. I'm sure that many of you lived through the hell of hitting up family and going door-to-door through the neighborhood to trying to sell these damn things. Well, it didn't get much worse than my experience. My family was poor, and my relatives all lived in the cities, so I wasn't getting blood from that stone. As for going door to door, my "neighborhood" was a rural township populated by Scandinavian corn and dairy farmers.
You ever tried tried selling anything to a Swedish farmer? You couldn't sell a Swede two quarters for a nickel, let alone a stale candy bar for a dollar. And even if you could, they've got 15 nieces and nephews who've already hit them up before you could pedal your rusty old Huffy to their door. For-fucking-get it. You ain't getting the ten-speed or even the shitty walkie-talkie. You'll be lucky to sell the bare minimum to get invited to the damn party at the Pizza Factory.
Besides, those fund raisers are a scam anyway. The only ones making real money off them are the con artists who sucker schools and youth organizations into buying their overpriced, repackaged junk-food in the first place. Not a chance in Hades am I going to be a party to this bullshit.
I refuse. I did my time selling fucking candy bars for band trips and Boy Scouts, thankyouverymuch. No way am I going through that again. I'm sure that many of you lived through the hell of hitting up family and going door-to-door through the neighborhood to trying to sell these damn things. Well, it didn't get much worse than my experience. My family was poor, and my relatives all lived in the cities, so I wasn't getting blood from that stone. As for going door to door, my "neighborhood" was a rural township populated by Scandinavian corn and dairy farmers.
You ever tried tried selling anything to a Swedish farmer? You couldn't sell a Swede two quarters for a nickel, let alone a stale candy bar for a dollar. And even if you could, they've got 15 nieces and nephews who've already hit them up before you could pedal your rusty old Huffy to their door. For-fucking-get it. You ain't getting the ten-speed or even the shitty walkie-talkie. You'll be lucky to sell the bare minimum to get invited to the damn party at the Pizza Factory.
Besides, those fund raisers are a scam anyway. The only ones making real money off them are the con artists who sucker schools and youth organizations into buying their overpriced, repackaged junk-food in the first place. Not a chance in Hades am I going to be a party to this bullshit.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Distracted
Just checking in to let you know that I'm really busy. But I have a good rant in the works.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Sober
I'm back on the wagon again. Last night I went out to celebrate that fact (among other things) with Black & Tans at Capone's. I'll probably go celebrate it again today with Hank's and Kokanee at the Satellite. Nothing takes the edge off clean living like a good beer buzz.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Eleven years
I think I'll knock off early today.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Sorrow
Friday, March 09, 2007
Big Brother
I removed Site Meter. It wasn't working very well, and I figured I really don't have any reason other than ego to keep track of who is visiting. Besides, it's just creepy seeing some of the search terms that lead here. I mean, "Erotic Milking?" What the fuck?!?
Summing it up
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Spin
Fnord
After his speech, Cheney feels pain in his leg and is quickly diagnosed with a blood clot.
All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Speaking of palm trees...
I'm in the middle of reading The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. I'm enjoying it immensely. Usually, when asked to describe my religious beliefs I generally say "agnostic". The closest thing I've ever had to a "spiritual" experience is standing on top of a mountain or watching trout swimming under my kayak in a still spot in a river. While I enjoy the spectacle of a Spanish mass or a gospel choir, they come nowhere near to inspiring the awe and wonder that I experience in the natural world. As a result, I feel no desire to dwell in a supernatural world. No more than I desire to play video games inside on a warm sunny day.
Looking back I realize that in spite of my religious upbringing I've always been a skeptic. I was the kid in kindergarten who told the other kids that Santa isn't real. When I was a teenager, I took a great interest in reading the Bible. My parents raised us in an evangelical protestant church so I tried to understand the logic behind Christian theology. I excelled in my confirmation class, but the more I learned, the less convinced I became. This distressed me, because frankly I had hoped that God would give me some solace in the living hell that is adolescence. Instead the only peace I found was On the ski slopes or riding by dirt bike out to the abandoned cemetery in the woods behind our farm. Now, this is where some will tell me about Elijah's "still small voice," but unless that voice came in the form of sexual fantasies about the girls at school, I'm more inclined to take my experience at face value.
As I began to build my own life I eventually paid less and less attention to religion for purposes other than amusement or trivia. I stopped bothering to attend church or pray as I got nothing from them. I bookmarked the Skeptic's Annotated Bible in my browser and enjoyed the lyrics of punk rock legend cum college professor, Greg Graffin. However, I have avoided the "A"-word, opting for the more wishy-washy sounding "a"-word. I still had the Jack T. Chick style caricature in my head from childhood of the angry, insensitive Atheist. The word felt dirty. However, with humor and acknowledgment of the wonder of the universe, Dawkins has managed to take the sting out of the term. So I feel like I can honestly say that I am, and have been for many years, an Atheist.
Looking back I realize that in spite of my religious upbringing I've always been a skeptic. I was the kid in kindergarten who told the other kids that Santa isn't real. When I was a teenager, I took a great interest in reading the Bible. My parents raised us in an evangelical protestant church so I tried to understand the logic behind Christian theology. I excelled in my confirmation class, but the more I learned, the less convinced I became. This distressed me, because frankly I had hoped that God would give me some solace in the living hell that is adolescence. Instead the only peace I found was On the ski slopes or riding by dirt bike out to the abandoned cemetery in the woods behind our farm. Now, this is where some will tell me about Elijah's "still small voice," but unless that voice came in the form of sexual fantasies about the girls at school, I'm more inclined to take my experience at face value.
As I began to build my own life I eventually paid less and less attention to religion for purposes other than amusement or trivia. I stopped bothering to attend church or pray as I got nothing from them. I bookmarked the Skeptic's Annotated Bible in my browser and enjoyed the lyrics of punk rock legend cum college professor, Greg Graffin. However, I have avoided the "A"-word, opting for the more wishy-washy sounding "a"-word. I still had the Jack T. Chick style caricature in my head from childhood of the angry, insensitive Atheist. The word felt dirty. However, with humor and acknowledgment of the wonder of the universe, Dawkins has managed to take the sting out of the term. So I feel like I can honestly say that I am, and have been for many years, an Atheist.
AWPC
With apologies to Jake:- X: There's water damage under the sink in the greenhouse. I need to write up a proposal request to fix the leak, but I don't want to give the plumber a blank check. Can you run up and take a look at it?
Engineer: I'll try and get up there sometime this week.
X: No rush. I'll take care of the cabinet. We'll replace the bottom shelf and re-caulk the perimeter of the room for good measure; caulk is cheap.
Engineer: (snicker)
Friday, March 02, 2007
Welcome
I've noticed a few hits coming from Rothman's MCAE '92 page.
So I went to check it out. I don't even recognize most of the people in those pictures. Shit, I didn't even recognize myself at first.
So I went to check it out. I don't even recognize most of the people in those pictures. Shit, I didn't even recognize myself at first.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Ever wonder?
What would happen if you took Newt Gingrich,
...Dyed his hair brown,
...Let him grow a week's worth of stubble,
...and gave him a baseball cap?
Now you know.
