How I feel when people tell me politics aren't important and that they don't need to know about it.

Awkward times with the Sheriff and a knife.

It's a scarcely known fact that on some older models of cars, the ignition gets so worn down that you can use relatively anything to start it with. Other keys, can openers, and even pocket knives. My car is one such as that, and the pocket knife is my key of choice.

It was a normal, calm Friday morning, a little before 1 A.M. in downtown Tulsa. I was driving to go to my brothers house, from whence we would depart on a road trip to Texas. I glanced suspiciously over my shoulder to see if there was anyone behind me; I haven't had tail lights in my car for months and driving with your rear in the dark can make you nervous. I came to a stoplight and waited patiently for it to give me the green left arrow, when at the same time the Sheriff came to the same light on the opposite side, turning right.

"Come on buddy, turn on red. You can do it. Please don't get behind me."

No such luck. The light turned green. The Sheriff didn't budge. I took a deep breath and slowly accelerated, dreaming in the back of my mind that he wouldn't notice or simply wouldn't care about my blatant tail light violation. I passed under the bridge, and he followed close behind. I turned into the neighborhood I was headed to and he flipped on his lights.  I immediately thought of the joke "it's funny how red, white, and blue stand for freedom until they're flashing behind you." Pulling over, I starting fumbling around in the dark for my licence.

As he approached my vehicle I realized I didn't have a recent verification of insurance. "Fun stuff" I said with a wince. Upon my informing him of this, he went back to his cruiser and found my info on his computer.

"Alright son, I got you all checked out and..." He fell silent, mouth partially agape and eyes fixed on something in front of me. "Why do you have a knife sticking out of your ignition?"

"Uh... I'm just going to put that away." I put both my hands in clear view and slowly closed the knife and put it in my passenger seat. His gaze cut through the darkness and made my heart beat rapidly. I tried to explain that my car could be started with anything, but not without a good deal of stumbling over my own words. He stood there for awhile before handing me a warning for my tail lights.

"Use your keys. Fix your lights. Get your insurance verification."
"Yes sir, absolutely sir."
"Be careful out there."
"Yes sir, absolutely sir. Thank you sir, I will." I was thankful for him telling me to be careful, but  I was also pretty grateful that he didn't arrest me.

So remember kids, next time a cop pulls you over, make sure to at least try to make it look like you aren't driving a stolen car.

People.

There are billions of people in this world we call our own. I don't mean to bring the level of amazing of a lot of those people down, but I've had the divine pleasure of meeting some very incredible people in the short, yet oh-so-long 18 years of my life.

I've met the jocks; the guys who spend their lives in the gym and on the field, with their shirts off 90% of the time.
I've met the attention hogs; the people who would do anything to be adored by their peers.
I've met the geeks; the people who have a life that revolves around technology.
I've met the plebs; the people who want nothing more than to live an average life.
I've met the jokesters; the people who live to make you laugh.
I've met the thinkers; the people who make you reevaluate your life.
I've met the artists; the people who create the most beautiful work you've ever seen or heard.
I've met the downers; the people that, despite their dark disposition, divulge your desire for deep discussion and can help you release your inner emotions.
And I've met a few hipsters.

I've met a lot of people in my life. However, none of these unique, interesting individuals have proven to be as intriguing and awe inspiring as the ones who, despite their past mistakes and all the grievances against them, are still happy. Regardless of whether or not you're a jokester, a downer, or a geek, you have your own way of being happy. Life is hard and then you die, and despite how beautiful this world can be, the fact that not everything goes your way gets to some people so bad that they lose the joy of life.

When life spits in your face, kicks dirt at you, calls you names, abandons you, and stabs you in the back, you know how hard life can be. And when you make it through the day and still have a smile on your face and a reason to love, then you have earned my respect.

There are billions of people in this world we call our own, and you're one of them. None of them have any more potential to be amazing than you do. Smile, you're still alive.

Drowning in skin.

So basically, dust is gross. Most people know that dust is composed partially of dead, exfoliated skin cells that are just kind of floating around in the atmosphere. And since the thought of your ancestors blowing the breeze isn't gross enough, I'm going to try to gross you out even more, with science.

The average adult human has enough skin to cover up 2 square meters (if you skinned him and laid his hide out like a pelt), and that weighs approximately 20 pounds. Fun fact: you will exfoliate approximately 8 pounds of dead skin cells every year. By bypassing some simple mathematical, scientific, and common sense laws we can know that 8 pounds of skin would cover up about .8 square meters.

So the question here today is: how long would it take for there to be so much dead skin that it would cover up the whole surface of the world? To start off this discussion, I'd like to bring up the fact that after all this time we haven't started having to use snow plows to keep the streets clean of our little tiny dead cells that have been piling up. There are three reasons for this, two of which are pretty gross.

The first reason is dust mites. These little tiny creatures feed off of your dead flesh. There's really not a lot else I'd like to say about them, but really all you need to know is that they're tiny and disgusting. Also they look like this.

The second reason may or may not make you gag. You're constantly breathing in hundreds of thousands of deceased epidermis particles which are being destroyed inside of your body. You're eating yourself, and lots of other people in the world. Cannibal. Sick cannibal freak.

The third reason is all but too simple: since the exfoliated cells are dead, they will eventually decay.

Because of these facts, we will be working in theoretical boundaries. If everyone in the world held their breath, all the dust mites simultaneously expired Avengers style, and the skin cells that are already dead ceased to decay, how long would it take before the entire earth was coated in "dust"?

Earth is pretty dang big, sitting pretty at 510 million (510,000,000) square kilometers. Since one kilometer is one thousand meters, 510 million kilometers is 510 billion (510,000,000,000) square meters.

There are approximately 7 billion (7,000,000,000) people on earth. In a year, all of those 7 billion people would exfoliate 5.6 billion square meters of dead skin. (7 billion multiplied by .8.)

510 billion divided by 5.6 is 91.07142857142857. This number, which I'll just call 91, because it is basically 91 for all intents and purposes, is the number of years of exfoliation it would take by 7 billion individuals to cover the earth in dead skin cells.

Okay, we covered the earth. Now what?

Well there's a problem. Assuming a large portion of those cells didn't get sucked into the sea and they just kind of floated on top, we've only created a layer of dead skin about an eighth of an inch thick. I want people to be drowning in skin. I want there to be people pushing themselves around in canoes trying to get from place to place. How long would it take for there to be a layer of skin 7 feet deep?

To make an inch, it would take 91 years x 8 (assuming the coating of "dust" was 1/8th of an inch thick). 728 years.
To make it to a foot, it would take 728 years x 12. 8,736 years.
To make it to seven feet, it would be 8736 x 7. 61,152 years.

By the time 61,152 years passed, all of that skin would weigh in at 489,216 pounds, which is only slightly smaller than Tony Stark's ego.

I kind of wish I could say there was a point to this, but there really isn't. I just hope you're grossed out now after thinking about dead skin for that long. To be completely honest, it kind of makes me feel uncomfortable and dirty.

Until next time, kids!

Vandal Trolling

Today I witnessed a man trying to steal the Ron Paul bumper sticker off the back of my car earlier. "How silly of him" I thought. "If he wanted one, he could have just asked."

After he gave up trying to take it and walked away I took it upon myself to make his support of the good doctor Paul known and placed an extra sticker I had on the back of his truck.

As I was driving away I could see in my rear view mirror that he was so ecstatic about it that he was jumping up and down! I think he was trying to yell thank you at me too, but I had my music on so I couldn't tell exactly what he was saying. "What a strange, nice man" I said to myself.

Take me to the moon.

Would it be illegal to go to the moon? I'd like to go there someday, even if I can't come back.

Maybe I'll just work my whole life; I'll save up vast amounts of money and construct a space ship. If I still have any friends by the time I get that old we can go together. We can get space suits and everything. If we decide we don't want to go back, that's fine. Space is as good a place to die as any.

I'd love to die on the moon, actually. We can get out of our shuttle and lay down, weighing only a fraction of what we would on Earth, and just kind of rest peacefully. We'll talk about our memories and all the good times and the bad times; the times that made our lives worth living. We'll talk until we run out of things to say, and then we'll reminisce until we run out of air to breathe.

As the world turns, everything will get darker and darker, leading up to the point where there's so little oxygen left that we fall asleep forever. Hundreds of thousands of miles away, life goes on. They'll look up at night, but they wont even know that the man on the moon and his friends have ceased to exist. Our hearts wont beat and our minds wont think and our muscles will never contract again.

~

There are some people out there who have someone they'd like to spend the rest of their lives with. Life may be fleeting, but it leaves from you slowly with love, compassion, and every other emotion like a mother lets her child leave home. You may live a hundred times in your life, but you only die once, which is why to go to the moon and die with any person who considers myself to be their friend would be the best death ever. I'd love more than anything to lay down and see Earth off the in the distance, and with my final breath know that there's a rock in a vacuum that contains everything I've ever known. To anyone else, the people on that rock might as well be amoebae on a petri dish, but to an amoeba, that's all they ever needed to be to mean everything.

Fall Is Upon Us

The horrendous heat wave has (hopefully) passed for good, fellow Oklahomans. Like a fine wine, the leaves on the trees will become more appealing with age. The bold, vibrant greens will slowly transition into a mellow array of oranges, yellows, and browns. The soft, fleshy texture will leave them and they will shrivel up. Detached from their life force, dead in the gutter, trampled underfoot and scattered to the four corners of the world, the once sought after shade in the summer will litter the ground like locusts in a plague.

The waves will swirl around your feet, drawing the heat out from your body. The goosebumps raise every hair on your skin as a northern wind rushes between the cracks in your fingers. The spring showers' work is slowly undone as everything around you reverts to a lifeless state. The nurturing sunshine that made your heart blossom seems farther away than ever.

Every year, month, day, hour, minute, second, decision, expectation, distrust, and promise you have ever made has led up to the moment you're living in right now. All of the moments in the past were made up of moments just like that one happening as we speak. Every grain of knowledge inside of you floats away like a mote into the cosmos.

She paved the way for the spring rain that grew the grass and the trees. She was lurking behind the sunshine that grew your love into a beautiful flower. She is the frigid north winds that make you shudder; the waves that draw your life away have a name, and that name is Autumn. Love will writhe in defeat as the seasons change like all things do, and the dead, cold hearts will be kicked aside. They will decompose, rot, and be forgotten as they slowly amalgamate into the earth.

Time will pass. Hipsters will take pictures of their pumpkin lattes and post them to Instagram. The snow will fall and melt, and the sun will shine again. The warm rains will seep into the ground, and the forgotten, dead, and rotten love from the year before will serve one final purpose and fertilize the new grass. The leaves will bud more bountifully than the year before. The sun will beam once more, and the memories that would keep you from repeating past mistakes are thrown into the ocean, only to rise again months later as an ironic souvenir, along with the numbing waves at your feet in what you hoped would be the distant future, but inevitably happened upon like wildfire, and without remorse.

Your footprints will be left behind you in the sand as you pace mournfully, only to be washed away with the cold winter waves. The tears you cry will be blow away by the chill winds, and for a time your hope will, like all things, die, only to be reborn with the new year, blossom in the spring and summer sun, and pass on once more.

Human beings are one with nature, and our behavior mimics each other. Whether we came first or nature did I don't know, but I do know that there is always hope in the future, as well as the knowledge of futility. Like the blades of grass and the leaves on the branches, our hope will spring to life and die just as swiftly, until all things pass. This is the sorrow of all men and women. This is our curse. This is our fall.

White guys.

It doesn't matter who you are or what you do. If you're a tall skinny white guy with long hair and a beanie, all that I'll ever be able to see you as is one of those guys getting a face full of pavement after trying to grind a rail on your skateboard.

Or gay.

Or both.

Once Upon a Taco.

Once upon a time, a great man came to me in a quandary. "I hold here in my hand a taco." He said to me. "While being neither a burrito, nor a sandwich, it possesses qualities of both! How intriguing."

"Weird." I said with a chuckle.

"How dare you chuckle at this, the most serious of foods!"

"No way man, tacos are hilarious. I'd even go so far as to say that they are funny down to the very core of their being."

And on that day a great challenge was issued. If I could prove that tacos were inherently laughable, I would be crowned the better writer (and I'm totally going to make him give me like, five bucks or something.) If I failed to do so, I'm just a failure, and also as a bonus I have to give him back rubs for a year (although if he declines that offer I'm open to giving someone else back rubs for a year. I need the practice so I can go pro).

Picture related, I swear it. If you've seen this show, you know how hilarious tacos are.

Now, as my opening point, I'd like to bring to the table the fact that from the root of the word "taco," we also get the word "wadding." Yes, that does mean that all a taco is is a meat wad, often times served with lettuce, tomato, and cheese. Haha. Wad. Hahahahahahah wad! WAD! I dare you to go to the nearest Bell or Bueno (whichever you think is better, which is an argument for another time (but it's totally Bell)) and ask for a beef wad.

Secondly, there's a distinct difference between the Americanized taco we know and love today and the authentic Mexican taco, which can still be found in taco stands and other Mexican eateries. I'd say the average Taco you'd find today is about 5-6 inches in length and 4 inches tall, in a hard outer shell, with meat, lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese layered on top of each other. However, in a classic, authentic taco, you're going to find something quite different. Depending on where you get it from and how much it costs, all it really is is a soft, some times fried corn tortilla with meat, onions, and lots of cilantro. It's as if someone in Mexico, circa 1930, said "you know what'd make this burrito better? Less beans and everything and so much meat that you can't close it. Yeah." That is, of course, only my speculation of how the taco started, but I think it's a good speculation. Now you can find one dollar tacos on three inch tortillas that you can barely pick up because of how much topping there is, but I'm sure you could buy a five dollar one the size of a burrito, and it'd look almost exactly like how I described it's humble beginning.

Last, but not least, I submit to you that all this time, Americans have been eating tacos incorrectly. Innumerable times I have found myself dissatisfied with my taco eating experience because the delicious meat I crave is hidden beneath a thick padding of tasteless lettuce. What if I told you that we have been duping ourselves into eating that bland filler by placing it on top of the meat we desire so greatly? It's time for a taco revolution people! A literal one, which is way easier than the other kind. All you have to do is grasp your tasty ethnic treat from the top, securing all the filling inside, and flip it upside down. Viola! You can sate your hunger for meat without having a two or three bite interlude of tomatoes and lettuce between each scrumptious mouthful of beef.

In conclusion, I submit to you that taco's are funny because they are literally a wad of food (which brings back memories of Ron from Kim Possible), they're basically a burrito that got too big for it's britches, and that they're best eaten in an unconventional manner. All you have to do is imagine yourself as Tobey McGuire in the original Spiderman movie, and imagine Kirsten Dunst as a taco. Bam, upside-down hilarity.

Lul Wut.

Fifty years ago, Marilyn Monroe, a popular sex symbol of that time, would have been around a dress size of 12. Now, a lot of women would think they were overweight if they were that size. Suddenly women like Marilyn think they're too big to be pretty. Anyone larger suddenly becomes an unacceptable "model" size body for a woman.

Then, out of nowhere, a wild group of feminists appears! "That woman isn't fat, she's 'curvy.'"

Every day I get on the internet, and there's sidebar ads telling me that there's some secret tip to getting a flat belly, or that if I eat their magical fruit from Africa, I'll lose all that "stubborn belly fat," and they call it stubborn, as if everyone out there has been trying forever to lose weight. Every other page there's an ad telling me to get six pack abs. They also want me to find out if Justin Bieber is my soul mate, but that's not the point.

Then, men catch onto the trend. They start announcing that they want a "real woman" with "real curves," as if these tiny women aren't real.

Next, larger women start to protest the smaller, Cosmopolitan, "perfect body" women. A female blogger for xojane.com requests for larger women to post photos of them in their "fatkini's." (I know that Weekly World News is less reliable than The Onion, but the story is legit. You can research it yourself.)

People on the internet start joining the movement. Pictures like this one are uploaded:

Smaller women start feeling attacked because of their body type. The tables have turned.

And of course, me and most of the rest of the male gender are left sitting at home going "lul wut?"

And "lul wut" is what I say. Some people are born smaller than others, and vice versa. Magazines and television will probably continue to push their tiny woman agenda, and other people will probably keep trying to make them look evil and push their "curvy women are more beautiful" agenda, and women everywhere will probably blame it on men, and the government will probably call it "the war on women" because if they call it a war people will throw their money at it to support their cause, and I'll probably still be over there on the side saying "lul wut."

Awhile back I wrote a blog entry concerning women and their bodies, and it was witty and filled with all kinds of informative, scientific data that frankly, every guy I asked got a laugh out of. The girls, party-poopers that they are, thought it was sexist of me to tell them that yes, there is science in attraction, and that different guys like different things when it comes to women. I think it was really Sir Mix-A-Lot and his love for large behinds that got me in trouble. I think they misunderstood the intention of me posting his hilarious, catchy, crude, and thought-provoking song. (I say it's thought provoking because it makes me think about why some girls feel the need to criticize other women based on their body types. I thought girls were supposed to stick together, or something.)

While yes, he does love women who are indeed of a "curvy" nature, there's more to the song than "I like big butts and I cannot lie." Henceforth, here are the words of the great poet Sir Mix-A-Lot.

"Well Cosmo says you're fat, and I ain't down with that, 'cause your waist is small and your curves are kickin'.

See, he was simply standing up for women of all shapes and sizes. Which is probably what more women should do, too, but instead they have to argue and bicker about which is more beautiful, when they can't open their eyes and realize that they're all beautiful, even if not every single person on Earth thinks so.

Until then, I'll be here, watching from the outside as it all falls to pieces and more and more women of ALL (yes that's right, I said all. I'll say it again. ALL) sizes feel demoralized because of their bodies.

Lul wut.

Adventures in the QT parking lot

Look, lady in the nasty old SUV, if you're going to sit motionless in the parking lot at Quik Trip for more than a minute, It's more than reasonable for that guy in the small black truck to just kind of ignore you and back out of his spot. He knew you were there. He's not dumb, and he could back up enough to get out of his spot without hitting you. Therefore, I think you were a little out of line when, while he was still around fifteen feet away from you, you started honking and giving him the finger. You then proceeded to honk at him for the next twenty seconds as he left the parking lot, and I could see your lips forming some rather unsavory comments about him.

After he left, you continued to sit in that same spot, not moving. I waited and watched, and I could tell by the look on your face you just absolutely adored being cut off by me when you tried to pull into a spot. After you went into the store, I nonchalantly walked over to your car and made a few adjustments.

I hope you enjoyed the giant "you're a bad human being" I wrote in the dirt of your back window and the surprise Taco Bell Fire Sauce I squirted all over your door handle. If I had vaseline, car chalk, and saran wrap on me, it would have been way better, but sometimes you have to work with what you have.

Also, your left front tire pressure is going to be a little lower than the rest. The pressure gauge I was using to release air from it with left it at around 15 PSI. Not that that's like, a big deal or anything, but if you don't get it fixed, your tire's going to wear out faster, and then one day in the not too distant future, you're going to have really bad traction. So yeah. Take that. Greg: 1 Dumb hateful woman: 0.

Maybe next time you can put down your phone for a second and get out of the middle of the parking lot. If you'd learn how to drive like a normal, considerate human being, I wouldn't have to to this stuff to you. It's a little known fact, lady, but my name means "vigilante". The guy in that truck can sleep easy tonight knowing that the witch of a lady was thoroughly ticked off by the time I was through with her.

Also, if anybody here thinks I was wrong in doing this, there was a group of about four Hispanic gentlemen standing around a truck that had seen the whole ordeal, and they were giving me a thumbs up the whole time. Given the situation, I think I was absolutely justified in what I did. Maybe you should learn to contribute to society, strangely pugnacious woman, instead of being a giant rain cloud of suck on everyone's day.

The Moment I Turned Into Myself

Life is a series of memories that have, in one way or another, impacted one or more individuals to act in a specific manner from that point on.

I dislike preppy, clique-y girls. I tend to dress in any way I want, without regard to how others might see me. If someone has something to say, I'd prefer it to be said to my face and not behind my back. I like to speak my mind. I don't like going to buy wings from the Wing Stop by my house anymore. I have a deep-seeded hatred for gossip. All of these qualities in myself can be traced back to one specific moment in my life; one memory impacted me in such a manner that all of these things are a part of me now.

It was probably about 9th grade. My dad and I were going to go golfing, because golf is a gentleman's sport,  and we're real sirs. Because of the rules of the course, you have to wear pants or shorts with a tucked in polo, which is exactly what I was wearing. We decided to stop somewhere to get some food before we went out to the course, and I suggested wings, because we had never been there, and also because wings are delicious. So we get there, order some food, and sit down, waiting for our food to get to our table.

At this point, I notice that the only other people in the store was a group of three teenage girls. I remember  the two that were facing me kept giving me glances and all three of them were talking in a hushed manner, and of course, giggling about in their cheeky way. I got up to get a drink, and out of the corner of my eye I could see one of them looking at me and saying "what a fashion faux pas."


Now, first of all, nobody has even said "faux pas" since 1973, so I really don't understand why she felt it was an appropriate way to describe the fact that I was wearing jeans and a polo. Secondly, I was wearing jeans and a polo. People wear that all the time. I could have said the same thing about you and your Uggs and daisy dukes. That's the stupidest thing since Croc's, and Croc's are really stupid. My 1990 Camry is more stylish than you.

I didn't say anything. I didn't look at them, or even acknowledge their existence. I just sat there and quietly writhed around in my hatred for them. I've sat and thought about what I should have said to them. (The best so far is "you ugly anyways," but it's still open for discussion.) And even though I'd love to just reduce them to ruin, I think I'd probably just sit there like I did before and know in good confidence that they'll have at least one kid by 18 and be living off food stamps for the rest of their adult lives.

I don't like you, preppy, clique-y girls, with your secrecy and gossip. I will dress however I want, and I really don't care what you think, because I'm way above you.

So there you have it.

Remember them.

Remember me now mom, I'm wrapped in your arms.

Lying in bed as you read about farms.

Read about airplanes and trains and cars.

Tell me of knights and things in the stars.

Hold my hand and sing me a song.

Wherever you go, I'll come along.

I love you mom and I always will.

You think of those memories and time stands still.

Remember me now dear, when we had our first kiss.

When we were apart how you were so restless.

And that time at the park when we held hands and dreamt,

Of love and of life and of what it all meant.

Of the laughter and tears and the hopes and the fears

And the love that we promised would last for years.

I love you my sweetheart and I always will

You had my heart and I have yours still.

Remember me now son, you're my little man.

I know that you'll protect mom the best that you can.

Don't forget the time we had, playing catch in the yard.

Or when you lost your first fish because you reeled too hard.

Keep your chin up buddy, and I know that you're sad.

But when you think of a hero, you think of your dad.

I love you my boy and I always will.

Even though I'm gone I'm your daddy still.

Remember me still mom, though I'm wrapped in this flag.

Remember me still dear, the love that we had.

I'm here with you always, deep in your heart.

I'm here with you always even though we're apart.

Remember the son and the husband you had.

Remember your friend and remember your dad.

As they lower me down there's a tear in your eye.

Remember, even though it's goodbye.

Srsly 'Merica?

Imperialism: noun.
1. The policy of extending the rule or authority of an empire or nation over foreign countries, or of acquiring and holding colonies and dependencies. 


There are currently over 200,000 U.S. soldiers stationed in approximately 1000 military bases, which are in around 150 different countries world wide. Nearly 300 of these bases are in the Middle East.


Terror, as defined by Wikipedia, is a political strategy of the asymmetrical use of threats or violence against enemies using means that fall outside the routine forms of political struggle operating within some current regime.
Terrorism is performing acts of terror, as defined above.


About two months ago I got to see Newt Gingrich speak at Oral Roberts University. After he was done giving his little speech, my older sister, brother, and I got into a discussion with a few students from the university about some random political issues. Eventually the topic of the Middle East came up, and at one point in the conversation I blurted out "I think that the United States is over in these countries, terrorizing them for our governments own agenda. I think that we are terrorists."

You can probably imagine the following stares and faces. If you can't, they looked like this:

I'm not about to tell you that there aren't people out there in the world that have some serious problems with America. As a matter of fact, most of the world has a problem with America. I have a problem with us, and so should you.


I don't typically watch Fox or CNN. I sincerely dislike them. In my honest opinion, they're fear-mongering, war-mongering propaganda pundits. They all want you to believe that the whole of the Middle East is a bunch of rag-headed Muslims who hate America and our "freedom" and our "Christianity."


Well, first of all, if you're really convinced that the Qur'an is a book that preaches violence and that all the Muslims in the Middle East want to "kill all the infidels," I'd suggest you go do some research. However, since I know you're too lazy to do it, I'll provide you with some.


Way back when, when Rick Santorum was still in the Presidential bid, I would have a discussion here and there about some of his supporters, and they were all adamant about one thing in particular: we have to invade Iran because they want to have nukes, and if they have nukes they'll blow up Israel, and we support Israel because we're Christians like Santorum, which is why we support Santorum.


Well I hate to be blunt here, but they don't. Most people site the IAEA (International Atomic Energy Agency) when they try to argue that Iran wants nukes, but in the words of Iran, IAEA has "pro-Western bias" and just wants us to invade them more. I know you're thinking "really? You trust Iran over your own government? They're the ones who want the nukes!" Well actually, yeah, I do. When exactly has the American government been known to tell the truth? "Oh don't worry slaves, you'll get 40 acres." "I didn't have sexual relations with that woman." "I am not a crook!" "Ah, America, the land of the free! Except for you natives, get back in your reservation!"


Iran isn't building nuclear warheads. The CIA knows it, Israel knows it, Mossad knows it (for those of you who don't know, Mossad is to Israel as the CIA is to the U.S.). Everyone knows it, but nobody admits it. Even Iran is like "srsly guise we need this nuclear power plant to keep our country running, stop trying to shut it down."
"What was that Iran? I can't hear you over the sound of our bombs exploding all over you!" - America
":(" - Iran


"In exchange for suspending its enrichment program, Iran has been offered "a long-term comprehensive arrangement which would allow for the development of relations and cooperation with Iran based on mutual respect and the establishment of international confidence in the exclusively peaceful nature of Iran's nuclear program." However, Iran has consistently refused to give up its enrichment program, arguing that the program is necessary for its energy security, that such "long term arrangements" are inherently unreliable, and would deprive it of its inalienable right to peaceful nuclear technology."


How is this related to us being terrorists, you ask? I believe that we are terrorists because our government has flared up this conflict between the American people and the people of these Middle Eastern countries with their hateful propaganda and racism. Because of this hate and racism, many Americans advocate these wars that we're fighting, when we're killing more defenseless civilians than Al Qaeda members. We're terrorizing the civilians of Iran right now, just like we did to Iraq, as you read this. We're breaking into random houses and doing sweeps. We're interrogating and torturing innocents for information that we have no evidence that they even have. If you don't believe me, then I implore you to watch this video. No, I dare you to watch this video, then look me in the eye and tell me we're not doing something extremely wrong overseas.

It's all rainbows and discrimination.

I like gay people, because I believe that love comes in many different shapes, sizes, and colors. Gay people, from what I've gathered from my own personal experience, are very nice, because they also believe that love is a versatile thing. Straight people suck and are mean, because they want to put love in a neat little box, have the government regulate it, and put a tax on it so you can't have/be in love without paying for it.

There's approximately 600,000 people in Tulsa (2010 census). Around 1% of all American couples are gay or lesbian. So if I take a really big leap and by-pass some basic mathematics for the sake of being lazy, I can guess that there's about 12,000 gay or lesbian people in Tulsa. I don't even know that many people. I don't even know what "12,000 people" looks like. If I were to be able to remember every single person I've ever met and ever will meet, it probably wont even be near 12,000.

If every single person who served in the armed forces of the U.S. stopped doing so, we could fill their positions twice with solely gay people, with some to spare.

There are more homosexual people in America than Native Americans.

I don't see gay people as gay people, or a minority, or someone who's doomed to spend eternity chillin' with Satan. I don't walk up to one and say "how are you today, Mr. Gay man?" or "Howdy, sinner!" If you're gay, it's part of who you are, just as much as your ethnicity, eye color, accent, etc. It's your personality. When you see "homosexuality" like this, you'll understand why I don't think it's right that people bully gay kids, or deny them basic human rights. And this is where it gets juicy.

WHAT IS LOVE? BABY DON'T HURT ME.

But seriously, in the Declaration of Independence, they were all like "dudes, you should be able to do what you want, because the Man shouldn't be able to tell us what to do! The Man's trying to keep us down!" (in my version, the founding fathers we sort of hippies.) Henceforth, America separated themselves from England and their oppression and founded America, the land of freedom and opportunity. And then suddenly, 200 years later, our very own government stomped all over the Declaration of Independence and said "lol nope, gays don't get to be happy." If we're going to do this, I think it's only fair we return Lady Liberty to the French and surrender ourselves to the British. (also, if we're a democracy, we need to change our flag, because the classic "stripes and stars" one stands for a republic.)

California's Prop. 8 officially eliminates same-sex marriage in what I grew up understanding to be the most gay state of them all.

Question time: does love make you happy? A large number of heartbroken teenagers will probably try to tell you that it'll make you miserable, but let's look at the science. Love is the biochemical reaction inside the brain that releases "love drugs" (that's normal-person talk for dopamine, norepinephrine, pheromones, and serotonin). Basically, these naturally occurring chemicals make you stupid and happy and in love. So yes, scientifically speaking, love makes you happy. Is love not, under these conditions, one of the certain inalienable rights given to you in the Declaration of Independence? Or at least, the pursuit of love. And is marriage not the furthest extent of love?

I'm calling America out on their blatant discrimination of homosexual individuals. We're denying them their God-given rights, in the same way we denied African Americans theirs. And Westboro Baptist Church the modern day Klu Klux Klan.

I know that homosexuality isn't a race, but if you're "homophobic" to any degree, I see you as being on the same level as a racist. If you hate any group of people for who they are, you're just like a racist. A love racist, in this case.

I am not talking about your religion. You can have all the religion you want. You can follow all the rules and guidelines you want. I believe that you can be gay and still be a Christian, or a Muslim, or a Buddhist, or whatever you want to be. This isn't about whether gay people go to heaven or hell. All that is is your opinion, or someone elses opinion. If you have a problem with homosexuality because of your religion, just remember that "God is love."

Think about it. Makes sense.

I just don't care (about some stuff).

If I ever told anybody that I enjoyed American Idol, it was a straight up lie. I'm sorry.

I don't watch the finals. I don't watch the auditions. I don't find it very entertaining to see a bunch of punk kids cover classic songs, nor do I take pleasure in idolizing our musicians. I think it's a silly show. So there you have it.

I will not now, nor ever, give you input on who I think should have won, will win, once won, or shouldn't have made it past the first round. There are two reasons for this. Firstly, I don't know any of the participants. Secondly, because if you're the kind of person who would ask me to discuss these things, you probably also want to talk to me about Snooki's baby.

I don't care about Snooki, and I don't care about her baby. Approximately, there are just under 13 million women pregnant right now. My congratulations to each and every one of them. However, Snooki is an oompa loompa who's famous for being trashy and drunk. My sincere condolences for the future of that child, because we all know it's destined to be a Guido, and it will probably never know which of the eighteen possible candidates is actually it's father.

Now that you've probably gotten the hint that I don't care about a lot of stuff, I'd like to take the time to talk about Joseph Kony. Most of you probably know who Kony is because everyone and their dog have shared a video produced by the Invisible Children movement on Facebook. If you haven't seen it already, you can check it out here:


KONY 2012 from INVISIBLE CHILDREN on Vimeo.

It's about thirty minutes long. If you don't want to watch it, I understand. You've got Angry Birds to play, and before you head off to your dead-end desk job you need to stop by a giant corporation and throw your money at them for their nasty coffee and McMuffins.

I don't care about American Idol. I don't care about Jersey Shore. I don't care about McDonalds, Starbucks, or your IPhone.

I care about children. I care about the future. I care about freedom. I don't particularly care for the American government, and I really don't care for it poking it's nose where it doesn't belong. What's happening in Uganda, though, is important. This is bigger than me, and it is bigger than the government, and it's bigger than you. Kony is a terrorist. As an American, that should be a concept you can wrap your head around.

I refuse to tell you that you need to donate all your money to a foundation, and I wont tell you to become an activist just because it's something I and many other people consider important. You don't need any student loans or four year programs to educate yourself though. Watch the video and get connected.

War, in a soldier's words.

"Without racism soldiers would realize that they have more in common with the Iraqi people than they do with the billionaires who send us to war."

Journal of a hermit, September.

2011:
September 5th, Monday: It's been about four weeks since I've had any physical contact with the outside world. The most sun I've gotten is every other week I mow the yard. It's essentially torture. The glow of my monitor is the only light in my otherwise bleak and meaningless life. The internet holsters a myriad of comforts from this mortal coil. It is, in fact, the only place I still see people from my old life. As it stands, the world would have it be that my only activity would be to have my head buried in some textbook that couldn't teach me the difference between a simile and a metaphor. I used to go to a real school, where there were real people, and I really learned... on occasion. When I wanted to. At least there I had an option. The most educational thing I've done since last school year was read a Wikipedia article on the Large Hadron Collider.

September 11th, Sunday: I remember ten years ago today, like most people. I was six years old then. The twin towers didn't mean anything to me. I didn't understand about all the people dying. Looking back now, I see how symbolic it really was. Those towers were America. and when they fell, so did everything. We were the country that nobody could touch. Of course, we could go out and invade who ever we wanted, but we were a sovereign nation, above the third world countries and less technologically advanced. As terrible and humbling that day was, I think it was a good wake up call to a lot of brain-washed Americans who thought this country could go on forever without making a few enemies.

September 14, Wednesday: Can't help but think about how since they day we get into High School the only thing shoved down our throats over and over is college. Apparently, if we don't go to college, we'll end up either homeless or working for minimum wage at McDonalds. I know a few people with college degrees working at Mickey D's. What does that mean for them? I don't buy into all of it. I think that someone should be able to survive off their own wits and hard work. Maybe I'm naive like that. Point of the matter is we'll see who's right when everyone else is $50,000+ in school debt and I'm running my own business making profit. It's not like anybody actually keeps their first major anyways.

September 27th, Tuesday: I had a conversation with a co-worker the other day. He asked me what I liked to to in my free time. "I just like to hang out. Play some instruments, listen to music. I'm a pretty chill person."
"I'm the same way man. But don't you ever go out and party? You know, get some drinks and stuff?"
"Naw man I don't really party."
"I'm sure you still find a way to get some drinks though."
"Man, even if I wanted to drink I wouldn't do it with friends. I've seen some of my friends drink, and they'll be like, half a drink in and acting like a mental person. If I wanted to hang out with a bunch of retards I would, but I don't. All these kids think they're just having a good time and laughing, and they might be, but they're making themselves look stupid. It's different if you're going to chill out with a few and watch a movie or a football game, but you're jumping from party to party, driving around, trying to hide it in a water bottle even though you can smell it on yourself? Kids these days man. Kids these days."

A Public Service Announcement from Leg Ganders

Everyone's beautiful, but I can't say that to individuals or else people will think I'm flirtatious (dumb society's keeping me down, man). So if you're reading this, you're beautiful. If you're not reading this, you're still beautiful, you just haven't been told so by me today.

Go look in the mirror and tell yourself that you're beautiful. Do it. You're gonna do it, and you're gonna like it. So there. Don't worry about the fact that you think you'd be more pretty if your skin was a shade darker, or if you wish your eyes were blue instead of brown. Brown's more awesome anyways. Just don't tell my blue-eyed friends I said that.

Love you all. Hugs and stuff.

Late Night Drafts; Morning Confusions: part II

Presidents: why bother?

Alright, so, let's get the basics out of the way. The American government is set up as such: there are three branches of government. The Legislative branch makes new laws. The Judicial branch, which basically makes sure people follow the laws (the court system is held within this branch). Finally, you have the executive branch. This branch is basically the President, Vice President, and his little peanut gallery (aka his cabinet).

The Presidents job is essentially to say "yay" or "nay" to everything. If a bill makes it through congress, it goes to the President, who basically has the power to sign it into law or to say "herp derp I do what I want," veto the bill, and sent it back to congress, who can revise the bill and try again. Or, if they receive 2/3rd's majority, can overthrow the presidents veto and make it a law anyways.

Sooooo... why? What's the point of the President again? He approves bills that have already gone through a vigorous screening period that can last years just to get tossed back and forth between the House of Representatives and the Senate (which together make up Congress)? And even if he doesn't like the bill Congress can pass it regardless of what he says?

Here's a quote from WhiteHouse.gov. "In order to pass legislation and send it to the President for his signature, both the house and the Senate must pass the same bill by majority vote. If the president vetoes a bill, they may override his veto by passing the bill again in each chamber with at least two-thirds of each body voting in favor."

Oh yeah and also the Pres can even have his personal appointments denied by Congress. What's that? The President is kind of a useless figurehead? "Many of the duties as head of state are ceremonial and convey no real power." - Wikipedia.

One of the main jobs of the President is to plan the country's budget. However, even when he does that, Congress can just be like "naw man you're dumb," and throw out his budget.


The President does have executive power, however. If he wants to, he can just be like "bam, I made this law up out of thin air and there's nothing you can do about it." That's fine and dandy, I guess, as long as you want a dictator.

What I'm getting at here is why should we even have a president? People will try to tell you that we need all three branches of government to have "checks and balances" and to make sure that no one branch gets out of control. We could accomplish the same thing with two branches. The President can stonewall a perfectly good bill so it doesn't become a law just because he doesn't like it. That's not balanced at all, in my opinion.

So I'd like some honest feedback here. And I mean real feedback. Not the typical "no... just no," that I get when I put out some crazy idea. Yeah Matt, I'm talking about you. And I still think that this country could get itself some help if it started up some factories. It'd be creating jobs, we'd be creating goods that we could export, we could use renewable energy to run them. But no. You never listen.

Late Night Drafts; Morning Confusions: part I

Last night at around three in the morning, I jolted myself from my sleep. Mind racing, I grabbed my phone and wrote down two things: "Man advice: can't get a girlfriend." and "Presidents: why?"

This morning I woke up not remembering what I'd done in the middle of the night. My memory recovered once I saw what I wrote. At least, I remembered writing things down. I don't remember why. However, lack of knowledge never stopped me from taking action! So, I'll just take these and run with them. I'll run far far away.

Manly man advice for men: can't get a girlfriend? It's probably your fault.

So, for starters, let me share a couple of little factoids about women that most people would agree are somewhat true. Firstly, girls don't like to be kept waiting. Of course, this doesn't mean they wont keep you waiting. Don't even get me started on double standards. What I'm getting at here though, is guys, don't keep a girl waiting.

It's a widely known, yet rarely acknowledged fact, that there's a null-zone somewhere between "just friends" and "more than friends" where two individuals have "feelings" for eachother, the kind of feelings that make you feel all tingly, and take your breath away, and other cliche things like that, and despite the fact that the two individuals are blatantly in lesbians with each other, neither of them can muster up the gumption to do something about it. Henceforth, they're stuck in a sort of relationship limbo. If you've ever been to a high school, you've probably seen this.

Basically, the advice is to SUCK IT UP, PRINCESS. Make a move. And if you don't, you're a pathetic excuse for a man. Take it from someone who's been there and done that. It's not a gamble if you know you're going to win.

I'd have a secondly for these facts about women, but I don't know anything else about them (and I already wrote the firstly part, and I'm too lazy to edit). So there you have it.

Some time in the near future I'll write about my "Presidents: why?" First I have to remember what I was trying to say when I jotted that down though. Lawlz.

What's in a name?

This just in: a man named "Beezow Doo-Doo Zopittybop-Bop-Bop" has been arrested for assorted drug and firearm charges.

(and yes, this is his picture.)

In other news, a Wisconson man legally had his name changed to Beezow Doo-Doo Zopittybop-Bop-Bop.

This reminds me of a book I got once, called "The Duh Awards." It's essentially a compilation of Darwin Awards, except instead of dying at the end they usually just get arrested or looked down upon by society as a freak. For instance: (Runner-up for The Adam and Eve Memorial Disappearing Fig Leag: Recognizing talented innovations in nudity) "Runner-up: The President. When Theodore Roosevelt was president, he liked to swim naked in the middle of winter to get the day started--and pressured lobbyists and other politicians into joining him."

What a freaky man.