Changing Tide: Thank God!

“The establishment is winning,

Now the battle's nearly won.

The rebels are conforming,

See the father, now the sons.

All the urgency and energy

Have turned into complacency,

Now the schools and universities are turning out

A brand new breed of young conservatives.

Conservatives.”
--Ray Davies of The Kinks, “Young Conservatives,” 1983.



I saw something today that did my heart proud and offered some relief.

As I wandered about at three Garage Sales, I noticed people were selling books written by Bill O’Reilly and Rush Limbaugh. And the best thing, they were selling them for a mere fifty cents or a quarter. Hardback books for so low a price is a bargain (unless it is written by Bill O’Reilly or Rush). If I had a lighter, I would have bought them and burned them in effigy.

Guess what Bill and Rush; your crappy writing and banal ideas are no longer of interest; no longer touted; no longer worth a damn thing. Yay!!!

Thank God people are wising up to the contrived notions of “Dumb and Dumber.” Since Rush was first, he can be “dumber” as his hate-driven drivel has been spouted for longer than Bill O’Bully.

The nation has grown tired of the hate speech; the war, and the stupidity of "party" politics that these two slobs have regurgitated time and time again--as their vomit spews over the minds of the easily paranoid. Face it folks, the only two people worst than these two pseudo Nazi’s is Ann Coulter and Sean Hannity. I would count Rupert Murdock in the mix, but I figure he is too old to really matter as his death and impending afterlife in Hell is coming soon enough.

I love to listen to people rip either of these two apart. My personal favorite moments of time from these “commentators” of twisted values is when they are caught being the hypocritical bums they are. Then the fun really begins.

Rush preaches from the pulpit of Conservatism to the puppets about the wrongs of drug abuse while he is hooked. It is so great!

Bill raises the stock on family value as he snidely reminds what a great family-oriented demigod he is to the mindless sheep while all the time, he is making illicit and horny phone messages to his fellow female workers. The only thing better would be if he called a male and started having phone sex, as opposed to a female. Tough, hard-hitting journalist O’Reilly will not talk further of it. Of course he will not; because admitting problems and his own weakness would be honest; we all know he is not honest. He seriously brow beats and bullies others, but for his own "errors of judgement" (his words, not mine) he has refused to comment.

Their legion of fans are immuned to the diseases these two have developed over the years--which is also quite sad to me. I am all for cheering on your team, but a time MUST exist when a person stands up and says, "there are wrongs in the world." Rush and Bill are examples of two of the most "wrong" people that have ever gained attention from such a mass amount of foolish people. Then again, the public was also stupid enough to vote in President Bush the second time.

I actually enjoy watching Keith Obermann more and more.

After teaching civics this summer to a fairly open-minded class from a fairly conservative text; I must admit I was worried. People should really read the Constitution more and citizens should study precedents set by the Supreme Court with more details. I mean, the past cases show mistaken rulings that were corrected with the idea that we are a nation willing to accept change (ala Plessy v. Ferguson).

Bill O’Reilly and Rush Limbaugh have a true problem; and that problem is they cannot admit they are wrong and have blindly backed the wrong administration.

Now I fully recognize that someone paid full price for the books I saw, still it seems symbolic that people are willing to have them removed at such a low price. What is even better is the idea that at such a cheap price, no one is touching them because people feel cheated reading their sinister and caustic rhetoric.

Update: An Open Letter To Tank Johnson

HOLY CRAP!

THE BEARS REALLY SHOCKED ME.

THEY LET JOHNSON GO.

LET THAT BE A LESSON TO ALL OF YOU--MY WORDS ARE PROPHETIC AND KARMA IS A "BEAR," SO TO SPEAK.

BYE BYE TANK. TRUST ME, IT WAS YOUR PLEASURE TO BE ON THE TEAM, NOT OURS.

GOD, I LOVE IT WHEN I AM RIGHT!

An Open Letter to Tank Johnson

“They’re tryin to make me go to rehab

I said no, no, no

Yes I been black, but when I come back

You wont know, know, know.”

--Amy Winehouse from the single “Rehab,” 2007.

An Open Letter to Tank Johnson:

Dear “Tank,”

May I call you “Tank?” I mean, a tank is a big, slow moving vehicle that helped win wars. It was a tool that helped others. It brought comfort and power to many around it. It is often heralded as being a leading cause of victory.

You understand my lack of conviction of calling you “Tank.”

I think I will just call you Mr. Johnson—we all know what a Johnson is, right?

You know, you have hurt your team this season and last season by your neglectful actions. I would not say you were the cause the Bears lost the Super Bowl, but you were a distraction. You were punished, and what did you do after telling the fans and the Bears that you would be a good boy and play nice?

You were pulled over for “driving erratically” and speeding.

Now Mr. Johnson, I was pulled over for speeding two weeks ago. Thing was, no one did a blood test on me. Do you know why, Mr. Johnson? Well, I can tell you—see, I WAS SOBER!

Mr. Johnson, I have been drunk before, oh yes indeed. I have made the mistake of imbibing much too much; but I was never arrested for it.

Now monthly I give a blood draw at the hospital, a coumaden test; but that is something different than a blood draw at the cop shop.

And when I was pulled over, I, like you Mr. Johnson, was fully cooperative. So much so, that I was given my license back. What can I say about you, sir?

Well, you are a cooperative guy.

You see, Mr. Johnson, the NFL is extremely lenient with the players. If you had just calmed down and thought of your team, your eight game suspension would be dropped to six. You could have led a chorus of naysayers to turn and say, “Wow, Tank Johnson is a class act.” Now, all we have is the quagmire that your muck has produced and you will again rely on someone to bail your butt out.

And here’s what I hope the Bears do: FIRE YOUR ASS.

No seriously, they should. For all the kids out there who think they can break laws and still play; for all the folks who pay hard-earned cash to watch the Bears; for all of the countless fans who you just pissed on; for your teammates who stood beside you when it was not easy to do so; for the friends who you have so valiantly clung to even though they were bad apples; and for all of the people—the good people—you have lied to; the BEARS SHOULD FIRE YOUR ASS.

Mr. Johnson, you continually put yourself in a position of a stupid, excuse-ridden, phony. And for what reason do you do so? I am at a loss, sir. The NFL gave you a gift and you just chucked it away.

Here is a clue, Mr. Johnson—stop being a kid in the candy store and grow up already.

Personally, I have grown tired of your antics: as tired as I was of Jim McMahon whining; or William Perry’s weight; or of Steve McMichael’s drunken tirades; or of Bryan Cox undisciplined behavior; or Lance Briggs’ ceaseless whining; or of Mike Richardson’s excuses; or of countless of others who have put their self-serving needs ahead of the team.

Now I have grown tired of seeing you don the uniform of my team.

You may never read this, Mr. Johnson, but from one fan who has supported and savored every triumph and supported and felt the slow burn of every failure of the Chicago Bears for the last 40 plus years: my advice is to quit because you do not deserve to wear the team colors.

OK, Crown Me Part II

“They say I'm crazy but I have a good time

I'm just looking for clues at the scene of the crime

Life's been good to me so far

Lucky I'm sane after all I've been through

(Everybody sing) I'm cool (He's cool)

I can't complain but sometimes I still do

Life's been good to me so far…”

--Joe Walsh, Life’s Been Good, 1979.


Among my favorite students, Jamie sent the photo that was taken just prior to her graduation. She is a great young woman who will someday rule the world—of that I am confident. She named me as her favorite teacher in her class profile in the paper—it is an honor and one of which I am proud. This is a very charming and charismatic young woman who will not be fooled. She is fiercely independent and one who sets high standards—so thanks Jamie for the photo. The honor truly belongs to me.

Well more proof positives of the development of Department Chair have arrived this week.

I finally received the “important” mailbox.

Let me explain.

We, at Pontiac Township High School, have two types of mailboxes. One is for the regular teacher and relatively small-ish in design. The other is a large one, stressing the importance of Department Chair status.

I was given my larger one this week.

This is good and bad. The good is that I have a large mailbox showing my status. The bad is that more crap will be stuffed in it.

Ahh…I really do not care.

I have waited twenty some years for this. Give me the junk mail, the crap memos, and the bulk—I care not.

I was approached at the end of the school year to re-evaluate my position of not teaching summer school. Summer School is as torturous for me as the kids. We offer Civics and a large quantity of kids take it to “get it out of the way” so they can enroll in other courses—since Civics is required. We attract many music and co-op kids.

All are fine with me.

My qualm is that I need a break--we star summer school the week after graduation--uhg!

On a positive side, I have an excellent class—and for the first time, I am teaching the upper-part of the alphabet. I would prefer the lower since I was in the lower part. You know the type, we were always last for lunch, last in line (Go Dio) for almost everything, and last to die in tornado drills—sacrificing ourselves for the A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P kids. So I enjoyed being asked to teach the upper echelon kids—the privileged, if you will.

They are fun, positive, doing well, and honest.

And the money goes to pay my taxes.

Life is good.

Rise of the Silver Surfer: It Is Fantastic

“Let's go surfin' now

Everybody's learning how…”
Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys from “Surfin’ Safari,” 1964.

I hate to admit it, but I really enjoyed the Fantastic Four Rise of the Silver Surfer film. Usually I am not as big of a fan of Marvel hero movies, but this one was well-done.

First of all, Jessica Alba looked great! The less she is “invisible,” the more I like it.

OK, got that off of my chest and I wish she would take some things off of her chest as well—wink wink, nudge nudge.

The storyline was entertaining and not overly deep. Granted Galactus is only mentioned and never seen, but still—it fit the genre of Marvel films and the comics as well.

The Silver Surfer CGI was fantastic. Lawrence Fishburn as the Surfer’s voice—perfect. The Surfer’s powers were incredible, and it looked so much better than I thought it would. Added to that, the film captured the character well.

Reed Richards/Mr. Fantastic was great, as was my major flaw with the first Fantastic Four film—the guy playing Reed and the writing of Reed was lame. This time, both remarkably improved.

Johnny Storm/Human Torch was fantastic as always. Perhaps a bit cockier than the comic’s version; still characterization is evident and he was the most engaging of the actors on the screen.

As I mentioned, Jessica Alba as Sue Richards/Invisible Woman is a plus. She has the potential, not only by her good looks, but by her understanding of the character of Sue, to steal every scene she is in during the film. I really was impressed by her way to capture Sue's disillusionment as well as Sue's spirit of humanity.

Now the major flaws: Ben Grimm/Thing is still silly to look at—perhaps a bit bulkier this time around, but still silly. The Thing’s characterization was again improved but the makeup/costume is to the point of distracting.

Dr. Doom is annoying again. The characterization of Victor Von Doom is missed entirely. I also did not see a need to bring him back, but they do what they do.

The “commercialization” of product endorsement was a bit annoying and noticeable, but it is what it is and it is a modern annoyance of film marketing.

Other than that and without giving away the farm, this was much better than the first: better special effects, more action, and more emphasis placed on characterization. The cameo by Stan Lee, by the way, was somewhat humorous. At least he can poke some fun at himself.

See for yourself and let me know what you think.

Ok, Crown Me King

“Don't ask why…

Don't be sad…

Sometimes we all

Must alter paths we planned.

Only try understand…

I want to save you

From the lost and damned.”
--Kamelot from the song Lost and Damned from the CD Epica, 2004.

Well, not much to report this week.

OK, I am lying.

I was “officially” promoted to department chair of the Social Science Department. The Board of Education was notified—and how do I know that I am the new Department Chair?

Well, it did not make the newspaper; otherwise I would have posted it.

First clue was when I sat in the interviews for the new member of the department. It was a great experience.

Second clue was when I found out no one else applied for it (so I guess I win by a default vote).

Third clue was when the administration wrote me to inform me.

Fourth clue was when Gene and I worked on Department materials for the end of the year. No way I was letting Gene go down in flames alone—that was a joke. Gene is a great friend and mentor. He is also the current department chair, and he is officially retiring after summer school. We are currently teaching summer school together.

Fifth clue was when Gene and I did the budget today—after which we went out for lunch and a board member came up to us when we were waiting in line. He shook my hand and congratulated me, as he commented that I will make an excellent department chair—as he said the administration let him know at the board meeting last evening.

Ahh...the "go-ahead" I was waiting for all of these months so I could "legally" blog the success.

Now I can mold minds from a position of authority.

Well, that and do a ton of paperwork. Gene spends countless hours just keeping tabs on department finances and sifting through the mishmash of memos and deadlines. Gene's wife came by my room the other day and I commented how much I "hated the paperwork." She laughed and said "Oh Eric, it has only just begun for you." I almost felt that a nervous relief accompanied her manical giggles--which caused me to worry.

Next year, I will have the opportunity to conduct meetings that present information from the administration—which is not too bad, except I was always a jerk at such meetings when I was one with the rabble. Karma is a bitch, I suppose.

I will also act as a liaison between the Administration and the Department Members when there is a problem. The trick is to defend your department member while enforcing the integrity of the Administration. This is usually only a problem when the department members are new—oh, every member of the department is non-tenured having maximum of three years of experience in the district at this point, with the exception of me. Hence the definition of "new" and of a "problem."

Well the Administration and Board finally achieved what they wanted—they forced me to grow up.

In all seriousness, this should be fun and challenging. I am also quite appreciative in my good friend Gene, the faith the Administration and Board has placed on me, and the hope to continue educating in a positive light.

The Twenty-Six Pound Alarm Clock

“Please don't wake me, no

Don't shake me

Leave me where I am

I'm only sleeping…”
--John Lennon of The Beatles, The White Album, “I’m Only Sleeping,” 1968.

Chumley has annoying little habit.

He has now taken to waking me every morning at 5:30, followed by further wake-up calls at 6:00, 6:30, 7:00 and so on until 8:00, in which he feels the need to sleep.

One might think he wants to play. I say "Nope."

He may want to snuggle. I say "Nope."

He may be bored. I say "Nope."

Here is what he wants: the bugger is hungry, even though there is food in his bowl.

I fed him the other night before I went to sleep, and his routine is that he wants to have “fresh kibbles” at 5:30 AM.

He starts by “licking” my arm, which if ignore, he "climbs" on things and disrupts life. Saturday, he climbed on the dresser and knocked pill bottles off and batted them about on the floor. Then, a half hour later, he moved to the small chest by the bed and knocked a magazine on the floor. Then, fifteen minutes later, he moved to climbing on my head.

What a Chumley.

I thought I would cure this aversion to letting me sleep by adding fresh food nightly, but apparently by 5:30 AM, the food is no longer fresh.

When I stir, he hops (yes, that is correct, a twenty-six pound cat hops) as he turns and runs to the stairs and climbs down. He purrs the entire way to the food bowl. I put in a small amount of dry food, and he purrs like I have never heard a cat purr, and then eats, wanders about as only Chumleys can do. Then cashes out on the footstool, as seen in the picture.

If I put Chumley in bed with me, and bury him in the covers, he licks and then bites me.

If I lay there and try to sleep, he licks and/or bites my arm.

The thing is, the 26 pound alarm clock purrs the entire time. It seems quite obvious that he is finding joy in waking me.

During the day, I find him sleeping and I will “tussle” the hair on his head to wake him. I then laugh. Still, Chumley purrs.

He is a loveable idiot, I will give him that much.