Master Helps's Us, Master Never Betrays Us...

I sit here in awe of the cinematic event I took part in last night. Oh my gosh.

Unless you are a carnivorous super-conservative crazy, you must go go go see LOTR: The Two Towers. Never before have I witnessed such an awe-inspiring, mesmerizing, and utterly moving film. This is the reason movies are made. This single film justifies the existence of Hollywood and absolves all of that wanton wretch's past sins...except Judge Dredd.

If I had to choose between LOTR and the Star Wars melodrama, I would renounce George Lucas' sagging mound of marketing fodder, and vow never to see "Episode III."

Peter Jackson has revolutionized the way epic stories are told on film. He creates characters that resonate to the core of human experience. These are the heroes we loved in our youths, the heroes that are absent from the stories told to the current generation of angry, sullen children. These characters ennoble us, make us bolder. They inspire us to fight the evil of the world, and overcome it.

J.R.R. Tolkien wrote this powerful series as part-fantasy, part-historical study on man's constant pursuit of power, and the evils he will commit in order to obtain it. While the horrors of Hitler's Nazi regime and the second World War were in Tolkien's immediate memory, we can relate today to the shock and terror of facing manifestations of pure evil. We know the fear and concern of hearing of a warlord building weapons to destroy the world. We hear voices saying, it's not our war.

So many moments of this movie resonate deeply. Gollum's constant battle with himself, the tearing of good and evil within his soul. Merry and Pippin's desperate attempts to enlist the forest spirits to the cause.

I'm still in awe of this film. Wowsa.

"If we don't do something, the fires of Isengard will burn all that's green and good in the world. There won't be a shire."

Executive Decision

(a memo from the corporate office)

"Well, I've talked it over with the Board of Trustees, and we have come to the decision to retain the URL "Teacherdave" until further notice. Also, the title, "Anything to disrupt the tedium..." will also remain in place, due to our well-established name recognition in the 16-35 year-old age bracket.

"Despite a global economic environment of uncertainty and possible downsizing, we guarantee our staff that there will be no layoffs for the entire 2003 fiscal year. So, rest assured, because your financial future is safe with this firm.

Have a happy and peaceful holiday season, and we will look forward to seeing you again in the new year!

--Steven J. Carnigal, Chief Operating Officer, A.T.D.T.T. Inc."

Well, that's a relief.

"Everyone's Beautiful"... except the Dead-ites...

Apparently, either my mind is starting to go, or King Arthur from the cult-classic Army of Darkness looks like a mulleted Don Chaffer of the indie folk band Waterdeep. Am I going crazy here? Or have I stumbled upon something mysterious and reeking of conspiracy?

"Understand the Dream is Over..."

Wow. A month. And so much has happened in that month. So let's get down to it.

I will have to change the URL of this site now, because as of this morning, I am no longer a teacher. Yes, it's true. I submitted my letter of resignation, with, well, resignation. The less said, the better, I suppose. I will limit my further commentary on the circumstances of my fall to the following:

I was offered the opportunity to resign. The sudden job change was unforeseen. The justice of the action is in question.

However, since severance pay is a good thing, I hereby speak no evil of my employers. I know, I did not excell as much as I could have, and I did not improve in the ways I was advised to improve. I earned this. But my lackluster performance notwithstanding, I was blindsided. All indications were that while the ice was thin beneath me, I still had the opportunity to move. This turned out not to be the case.

So now, I revert back temporarily to my former self, in which Papa John's Pizza is my only source of income. Not for long, don't worry. But for the immediate time, it is.

On the bright side of this situation, I will have more time to read, more time to write, and hopefully more time to post. So never fear, dear readers, I will keep you abreast of all my comings and goings.

I appreciate the warm sentiments that I have already received from some of you. I know the rest of you share their feeling. Thank you all for your support and affection.

Don't worry, it's not like I'm dying or anything. I'll bounce back. The fat ones always do. Cuz you can't fight physics.

If any of you would like to send my lovely parting gifts and monetary support, you know where to find me. ;-)

Thought of the Day

And it's an original, too.

"God and Friedrich Nietzsche were sipping coffee nonchalantly at a local diner, when suddenly they realized they were sitting next to each other. Nietzsche said, 'I don't drink coffee with dead people.' God replied, 'Neither do I.' They both sat silently for a moment, pondering, then each took another long drink."

"That's me in the corner...that's me in the spot light..."

I noticed that I have yet to really post anything of a religious nature. I don't know what this speaks about me personally, or about my stance on evangelism of any kind. I guess it comes down to the fact that my faith is a natural part of my life. Not a centerpiece, a flower arrangement on a coffee table, but a frame. "Wallpaper" on a computer screen. Background. Gives perspective, definition. I don't mean this analogy to explain importance. I don't know what i mean. What I'm getting at is that I'm not the type of person who will seek out "sinners" and try to rescue them. Most of the time, I'm in need of rescuing myself. And I refuse to stoop to such hypocrisy as claiming to have all the answers, or in some cases, even a good idea. I am broken. As such, I can't fix anyone else.

If asked, I could point you in the right direction, though.

So. All this to say, from time to time I may make some observations about "the church" or "religious people" in general. I can do this, in the manner of "Dogma" 's Kevin Smith, because I am one of them. Do not interpret this to be an "attack" on religion. That is not (usually) my intention. I just want to...comment, from time to time.

...

I never realized how gruesome the Christian faith is. Not in terms of brutality, mind you (settle down, all you Puritan hordes), but in terms of terminology. How gothic sounding can you get: "Draw me nearer to thy precious bleeding side"... "There is a fountain filled with blood..." "Up from the Grave He arose"... No wonder people outside the faith get a bit spooked. Hundreds of people singing in minor chords, verse upon verse about wanting to be covered in blood. All with sour faces. Creepy.

...

My church has grown over the past several years. We just opened up the new sanctuary recently. A marvel of technology and showmanship. Very nice stage facility. However one of the recent changes is a little odd. The music minister used to stand behind the podium and sing into the microphone. Then he started using a hand-held cordless microphone, which was okay. However, now, the AV people have him using an ear-piece microphone like Garth Brooks or a motivational guru. This would not be as bad, if it were not for the fact that this week, he was wearing an entirely too-hip collarless black sports coat, black slacks and shoes, with a black shirt under the jacket. There he was, shiny-faced, receding blond hair perfectly poofed and styled, making sweeping gestures as he slowly walks back and forth around the stage, leading the music. I half expected that at the end of the first song, for him to step to the front of the stage, and say, "Well, I hope you enjoyed your chicken salad lunch. So let's begin our second session. Now--how do we find your personal "Winner Within"..." Tony Robbins, watch your back.

Creepy Otherworldly Feelings

The other night, I had the notion to look myself up on the internet. Simply type in first name, last name, and see what happens. Wondering if Anything... will come up. What I found was unexpected.

I'm there. Or rather, my doppelganger is there.

David Mitchell. The author of Ghostwritten, which I find chillingly appropriate.

Review after review. Raving. Glorious.

He stole my name. He stole my name. He has the career I wanted.

He lives in Japan. Teaches university. He is THIN. I hate him.

So I did what any sane-minded internet user and reader would do: Went to BN to look this infidel up.

I found his book in the literature section. Was fully prepared to read a few pages, and rest easy in the knowledge that he was mediocre. I read the first few pages, then a few more, then skipped to the middle.

He's wonderful. He's a wonderful writer. Dammit. I actually verbally swore as I was reading it. I was that upset.

I'll have to go by my full name when I finally publish. But I will forever be plagued by the inevitable questions:
Reader One: "Have you read Dave Mitchell?"
Reader Two: "The guy who wrote Ghostwritten?"
Reader One: "No, the other one."

The other one. Dammit.

Been a long time since you rock and rolled...

Wow. Two weeks without a post. It's almost like I have a job or something.

The past two weeks have been spent worrying, stressing, putting things off, getting a few things done, and feeling rotten--with a brief two day hiatus from this tribulation period, in which I was able to leave the mess behind me and enjoy the comforting peace of being with the one I love more dearly than life. Unfortunately, I had to return Sunday night to this...job. I was tempted to call in sick, claim car trouble, or something of that nature. But maturity (?) and integrity (??) overcame tiredness and lovesickness, and I returned to the working world as I knew it. And I feel fine.

What else has happened since last post? Well, I had contact with a blogging hero of mine, who wrote me an encouraging email--that was a huge thrill. I went to see Punch-drunk Love, which i will discuss in an upcoming post, as well as the OBU production of Much Ado about Nothing. And I'm moving into the living room this weekend. Definitely more about that later.

So think of this as a preview, a trailer, a "Coming Attractions" reel. Grab your popcorn, sip your cola, and get ready for news.

"Hey, was that our fan?"

I found out today that my readership has grown. Welcome, Manders, to the "Anything..." family of readers!

I guess that means I have to watch what I say in this blog now. Keep it PG. After all, I am an authority figure.

Aw, who am I kidding?

"When I get you alone, when I get you alone..."

Okay, ranting over, back to the story.

So I went to the Hideous Corporate Bookstore, with my birthday gift cards in hand. I purchased two books and a magazine. They are:

-- A Year at the Movies , by Kevin Murphy (of MST3K fame)--The writer/producer/voice actor of the blessed and wonderful series spent every day of the year 2001 in the movie theater. Travelled around the world to various kinds of theaters, lived on theater food for a week, spent a week on the front row. The book is a tribute to the "movie-going experience." Plus, it's so funny. I'm on the first chapter, and I'm laughing out loud.

-- The Immortal Class , by Travis Hugh Culley--The diary/journal of a Chicago bicycle-messenger and aspiring actor. This book opens up a window to an under-appreciated and oft-maligned sect of American urban society. Plus, bicycle messengers are cool. At least I think so.

(This might be due to the music video by my new curiosity, Robin Thicke, son of Mr. Growing Pains, Alan Thicke, founder of "Jesus-palooza". The video has Thicke bicycle-messengering through a bustling city, while all the time keeping the beat to a remix of the seventies' hit "A Fifth of Beethoven". Fun.)

On a related note, my beloved bought me a new bag for school. It's what could be called a messenger bag, with the single strap and the flap with the buckle. Fun times.

Oh, right, third item bought:
--The latest edition of Book Magazine. I have enjoyed getting to read it lately. Good stuff. I like writer's magazines, they're so helpful. Okay, somewhat helpful. But inspiring nevertheless.

So there you go. My shopping excursion. It's like you were right there with me, isn't it? Okay, maybe not.

Forgive me, Nietzsche, for I have shopped retail...

Went to Barnes and Noble. It seems like a sinful confession, because BN is the big-name retail book chain. Movies like You've Got Mail and High Fidelity that demonize the Big Chain Superstore only fuel this subterrainian shame culture. Yes, boys and girls, sometimes you have to go to the "sellout" store. Deal with it. Too many people spend all their time being high-minded, bashing the corporate machine. Too many intellectuals, sipping their (Starbucks?) coffee, smoking their (Camel?) cigarettes and complaining how the Machine has made their lives miserable. Then they go to work at the mall.

I understand some things. Even if I could, I wouldn't shop at Abercrombie or Gap or American Eagle. I wouldn't wear Tommy or Ralph or anything like that. I don't drive a sportscar or foreign import. I don't listen to pop music. (American pop music, anyway...) I try to avoid the stigma of popular culture and all its "mindless drones". I've felt this way all through high school and college. I was working my weary way into the intellectual set, and being embraced by the underappreciated intelligencia requires a renunciation of mass-market consumer culture. God, they didn't even like buying new clothes. It was a full-scale rejection of the "Me" 80's. Material possessions, BAD. Starving, tattered, stubble-faced artist-philosophers, GOOD.

It's so ridiculous. Because we live in the world. You have to interact with the rest of humanity, however distasteful it may seem. And sometimes you can't find the book you need at the "acceptable" used bookstores. So you suck it up, and stroll into BN. Grow up, kids, you are not above the world. The allegedly "enlightened" should let their so-called light shine. Otherwise, you are no better than the rest.

What was I talking about? I don't know, I'm too pissed off. Nevermind.

"How about you take that amazing real estate offer and..."

Via Blather and Dave does the Blog (no relation), we present the consumer's weapon of choice to fight back against those insipid disrupters of family meals, the telemarketers.

Ladies and gentlemen, Anything... is proud to present "The Anti-Pitch" .

If you are a telemarketer and have just been offended, screw you pal.

Amazing what you'll find in the bargain bin...

I began a book yesterday that I bought for a dollar from Halfprice Books. Discount--woohoo!

The book is An Underachiever's Diary by Benjamin Anastas. I had never heard of it before, but the minimalist cover intrigued me. So did its title, which resonated with me for some odd reason.

The book itself is very interesting. Witty, ironic, self-mocking. Made me laugh out loud several times in the first twenty pages or so I've read.

Want more info? Let's hear what the fine folks at Barnes and Noble had to say.

Nine days a week...
Okay, so it's been nine days since i've posted. But i've got a good story... the story of a girl, who cried a river and drowned the whole world--no, wait nevermind...

Okay, so it was a bad joke.

Yes, it's been tough the last week and a half. The end of the term. The kids love it. Those of us who have to grade all their darling little essays do not.

I'll be more diligent in posting, I promise. Don't want to disappoint all two members of my audience.

"Days go by so easily that sometimes we forget..."

The reference is "Things I Prayed for" by Eli, by the way.

This is the Monday of the Ninth week of my teaching career. Nine weeks. What have I learned from all this? Well, here's some of it:
--You can spend hours and hours making lesson plans, just to have the principal call an assembly during your test time.
--You can't get upset when you don't make as much progress as you intended to.
--A moment's outburst can come back to haunt you again and again.
--Like it or not, you have superiors, whose word is law, usually.
--More than likely, you won't like their personality, or they won't like yours, or both.
--Whether you like your boss or not is irrelevant, and does not affect your required job performance.
--Putting things off won't make them go away.
--Neither will complaining about them.
--Neither will posting about them.
--You have responsibilities to people, and when you don't fulfill them, YOU are the problem.
--A contract is a contract. It's your word and your bond. End of story.
--Letting things pile up makes life harder, not easier.
--Eventually, all those piled up things have to be taken care of. And usually, that's the time when you get sick.
--If you don't give yourself some downtime, you become neurotic and insecure.
--If you give yourself too much downtime, you become stressed and behind in your work.
--Give yourself a goal to work toward, and a reward to await you on the other side of your mountain.
--If possible, make the reward a weekend visit from your amazing pseudo-fiancee.
--Carry on, endure all hardship with patience, because you must.
--You are never alone. Even when you're alone.

This is the short list. It's been in many ways the toughest nine weeks of my late-adolescent/early-adult life. But I have gotten through, thanks to God and family and my beloved one. One term down, three to go. Even so, come sweet summer...

Oversized claws=faster crawling speed?

Fans of crustacean competition might enjoy this page, the product of one of my student's bored days. My hint to you: always bet on blue.

It won't make you win every time, though. I just like blue.

"Spam, Eggs and Spam, Spam Bacon and Spam, Spam Spam Cheese Bacon and Spam, Spam..."

To quote Dr. Emmit Brown, "they found me, I don't know how but they've found me."

The "they" being, of course, America Online.

My recent dealings with the Internet version of a New York slumlord ("you'll accept my services at my price, OR ELSE!!!") were humorous, mainly because i wasn't the one being questioned about alleged ties to the adult entertainment industry. For the record, no, she wasn't using her email to solicit porn, someone had hacked into her account.

But now, after changing my preferred email account to avoid the (minimum) thirty to forty unsolicited SPAM emails i received daily, I have now been tracked down by AOL (Always On the Lookout?). They offered me a "free trial offer" of 1025 hours to try their product. Gee, I've passed on all the plethora of CD's that are floating around the world, available in every marketplace and business establishment imaginable. But since you've taken all the trouble to email me personally, Sure, I'll try your 1025 hours of free "service."

Really, 1025 hours. In six weeks. That's 22.8 hours a day, using the internet. Assuming i could conceivably do so, without considering work or, i don't know, sleep, for that matter, I would still have to figure out of every hour or so ten minutes in which i get knocked offline and have to log back on. That's over 170 hours i LOSE because AOL sucketh. That's 3.8 hours every day spent waiting to get back online.

Thanks, AOL, but, um, no thanks. And if you ever email me again, I will make sure you are miserable for the rest of your pathetic lives. You will pray for death, but death will not come to you. You will think you are in hell, but then the tortures i will wreak upon you will increase beyond your darkest imaginings of pain and torment. Because i am SICK AND TIRED of SPAM emails about your STUPID OFFERS.

Kill the pig, slit its throat, spill its blood

So the internet network here at the ol' jobsite has been down for the past four days. As a result, I have been going absolutely nuts. Really, how am I supposed to survive without my daily diet of various blogs and spam email? I couldn't enter grades into the computer, i couldn't check work email, i was adrift, disconnected, lost in a sea of angry parent emails to which i am unable to reply. My co-workers and I were turning positively tribal. If the network had been down any longer, we would have started hunting each other for sport.

But now (joy!) it's back. And I must go back to work. But not after a few comments and anecdotes.

And "sucks to your ass-mar."

Just When I Came Up with a Sure-Fire Video Idea...

Apparently, it's illegal to pay bums to fight each other and then videotape it. Who knew?

What really gets me is that they named the tape Bumfights, Volume One. Did they honestly think they would make more of these? That it would become a long running series?

Well, on the other hand, if "people" are making millions of dollars on a series of tapes that shows the same part of human anatomy over and over and OVER and OVER... I guess the purveyors of homeless violence would have the same aspirations.

(By the way, if you are one of the alleged 300,000 who bought the tape, remind me to beat the crap out of you sometime.)

Hey Pretty, don't you wanna read a blog with me...

Did my typical blog-cruising during a brief break. Found a entertaining (and on some levels, troubling)website that Bill Barol had linked from the Blather page. It's a multi-media presentation of the life and art of Edward J. Funkunkle, and is curiously reminiscent of the book House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. But fun. Creepy, artsy fun.

By the way, if you don't read Blather, you should. All attractive, intelligent web users do. Well, on second thought, nevermind.

The People's Republic of Casiotone

While surfing, i stumbled across the website of Five Minute Walk Records, which produces several rad alternative bands. What I found was that the site was under renovations, so in its place, the keen folks at FMW had put a piano keyboard . Not just a graphic, mind you, but an actual keyboard, recalling those beautiful bygone days of the mini-Casio keyboard. Go ahead, peck away at it; the eighties flashback is great.

And if you're skilled, you can reproduce several favorite 8-bit video game theme songs. I've already wasted about twenty minutes trying to play the Super Mario Brothers theme.

Rah rah sis boom bah

Yes, that's right, kids, football season is well underway. Down here in the Lone Star State, high school sports takes on an almost religious quality, as our school's warriors march up and down the field of battle, giving and receiving punishment. When they succeed, we cheer madly, enraptured; when they are crushed by the evil forces that oppose them, we weep, we cry out in anger, we question all that is good in the universe. Then we go to Denny's for dinner.

Homecoming being an especially event in the spectacle of all that we call high school football, it takes on a life of its own, bestowing ordinary mortals with god-like qualities. New royalty is crowned, and instantly they receive an added aire of grace and beauty. Gridiron heroes join the pantheon of sports icons, by performing legendary acts of skill and bravery. Band members can change their stars for one week, becoming heroes and pals instead of the joke that they are made into by everyone else, all year long.

Ah, football! Ah, humanity!

By the way, we lost 57-6 at Homecoming. We scored first, then they began putting the hurt on us. It was tough to watch, my friends. Really really tough.

Daily Diatribe

You know what i realized the other day? As i was flipping through a catalog for a local "big and tall" retailer, i noticed that all the models used were tall. No big men, just tall men. Even in the _____ big and tall catalog, large men are discriminated against. I realize this issue has been brought up before by other people, mostly overweight comedians, but we at Anything... take this issue very seriously and are calling for a complete boycott of all "big and tall" establishments that perpetuate this practice... at least until late spring, cuz i will need some summer clothes.

Bright and Shiny, Bright and Shiny...

I was accosted by a cult member last Thursday. Okay, she was a college student (maybe) who tried to sell me magazine subscriptions. Really well-trained, really slick. I'll demonstrate.

Walks up to me, backing me up until i'm pinned against the truck, breaking the three-foot personal space buffer-zone, and begins: "Hi! My name is Brandi** how are you doing that's great I'm doing a project for my communications class and was wondering if you could help me out can you do that aw thanks so much High Five! [we did] so what's your name [Dave] hi dave how are you doing lemme tell you what the project is all about i'm trying to earn 70,000 personality points so i can win a thousand dollars [at this point she holds up the card to show me the gimmick, while still crowding me] have you ever had a thousand dollars all at once i sure haven't and if i win that i could also win a trip to London Paris or Cancun now tell me dave do you drink be honest [nope] never?[nope, never] wow well are you in school not in school working non-working [out of school, graduated, working as a teacher] wow that's great what school did ya go to [i tell her] oh well that makes sense [no, i was just the designated driver all the time] oh okay gotcha so what i want you to do for me now if you can is take a look at this card here [holds up second card] now you see all those words there they are magazine titles now what are you into dave cars music cute girls in their underwear no playboys not on the list but i get 50 points for these titles and 30 points for..."

And thus, the penny drops. She was making a sale. Pathetic. I turned her down. Made a bit more small talk, blah blah blah, then she thanked me [handshake for good luck?] and was on her way.

Swear to god, she sounded just like that. The only time she used recognizable punctuation was when i told her i didn't drink.

You know what? I hate sales people. Even more than cult members. Because cult members make it clear what they're trying to sell you. Sales people want you to think they're doing you a favor, instead of the other way around. Argh.

**Not her real name, but god it could have been. Something ending with an "i", at any rate. With a heart instead of a dot above it. Those people... anyway.

Quote of the day

"Don't become a Nazi just to please Hitler..."
--my intended, via email, in reference to--well, that's classified...

For the record, I publicly denounce all forms of fascism or far-right-wing nationalist parties... except ours... Go GOP.

Paranoid, part II ...

Wanna create your own conspiracy theory? It's fun and entertaining...and just killed the last ten minutes of my time. Ahhhh, procrastination.

I think I'm paranoid...

A dear friend reminded me that one must be careful with internet posting. That people have been fired for ragging on their work situation online. This is a legitimate concern, and one that has left me paranoid for the past fifteen minutes. What if they see the page? Did i delete the web history on the network comp? Should I have? What if they--? Ah! AH! AAAAAAAHHHHHH! (Horse head, anyone?)

Did anyone see Conspiracy Theory? Yeah. You're not paranoid if they really are out to get you.

And if they are, I'd like to say for the record, "I love my job! It's the best job in the world! My employers are wonderful! There isn't a job in the world i'd rather do than this one! My tenth graders are wonderful! I love them all, and am always happy to have them in class!"

There, that should do it.

"I got love for my thugs..."

When i was first trying to break into the whole blogging "scene", I asked my friend Will if he could hook me up with some LiveJournal action, since he has a very spiffy LiveJournal site. But alas, he said he couldn't help me out, regrettably. However, I will give my bruthah the promised Name-Drop, even if he can't hook me up. Go check out his page--wit and merriment abounds.

It's not like I'm asking them to do brain surgery...

Tenth graders and their complaints. Geez. I give them the first test of the year (Parts of Speech!!! Hello fifth grade) and they lose their minds. This is an honors class, mind you. I just can't wait until the regular class sees it. I expect to have to call the riot squad. Again.

Enthusiasm Tempered with Realization, or, "Dave gots no skills"

After eagerly emailing my fiancee and fellow blogger that I was "part of the club" or somesuch phrasing, I realized that I am writing no code myself, nor am i taking the countless hours it must to maintain all the html and whatnot involved with web design. That I, in fact, am what we in the old school used to call a "Poser." (Or poseur, for all you technical people.)

I am prepared to acknowledge and accept the fact that I have no web skills, that my ostensible code prowess is mere smoke and mirrors, and that the real magic comes from the fun folks at www.blogger.com (BLATANT PLUG). So thank Blogger.com (2nd BLATANT PLUG) and think of them for all your internet weblogging needs.

Why am i blatantly plugging Blogger.com (3rd BLATANT PLUG)? Why not Coke or Microsoft? Because I truly care about Blogger.com (SEND CASH) and I'm not trying to namedrop big corporations like Hewlett Packard and Nike in the hopes of monetary compensation or free merchandise (shoe size=15.5)!!! My motives are pure. Shame on all of you.

What was I saying? Oh, yeah, no skills. I fully deny ever having web-skills and now and forever doff the hat to those that do, like my illustrious and incredibly hot fiancee. So there.

Please give me money. Thanks.

Sometimes I just have to shake my head at myself...

Is it pathetic and sad that I feel absolutely giddy after seeing my blog up and running for the first time? I think so. But who cares!!!

Dateline--Houston, 4:18 p.m. Instead of grading papers or creating a cruel grammar test for my abundantly lazy tenth grade classes, I sit here, adding one more shovel-full of personal opinion to the rotting rubbish pile that the kids call the Web. I'm hoping that this blog will be moderately interesting for the three of you who read it regularly. If it's not, humor me. At any rate, it's better than working.

I have high standards to live up to, you know. I've been cruising around, checking out other people's blogs, and I have gotten more and more convinced that I will never be as witty as some of you. But I press on, tongue firmly planted in cheek, hoping that amusement will result from my many labors.

For you who are visiting for the first time, welcome and thank you. I promise that I'll be more inspiring or entertaining next time. So to make up for my less-than-impressive first showing, I suggest you check out Feeling is Mutual and Blather. I enjoy them quite a bit. FiM, I'm a bit more partial to, however. That's what happens when you're engaged to the person blogging.

Anywho, thanks for stopping by, come again.