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A Random Tribute to Steve Jobs

apple-remembers-steve-jobs-with-emotional-video-06ff0f8057

I’ll probably get the pants sued off of me for using this picture, but I thought was a good picture.

Anyway, I just read a little biography on the man named Steven Paul Jobs. His biological parents were Joanne Schieble and Abdulfattah Jandali. His dad was from Syria (now we know where he gets the cool nose!). They weren’t married, and they decided they weren’t ready for a baby. So they put Steve up for adoption.

He was adopted by Paul and Clara Jobs. They lived in what became Silicon Valley. (Yes, that’s just a nickname. It was Mountain View, California before businesses in the electronic field began experimenting and using silicon. Thus, Silicon Valley.)

Paul Jobs was a repairman by trade, and he passed on his love for machines to his son. Steve loved watching his father, and he began helping him at a very young age.

Steve met Steve Wozniak through a geek, excuse me, computer club. Woz, as he was called, had made a hobby of designing computers. They became good friends. Steve and Woz started their business on April Fool’s Day 1976. There business would sell circuit boards to people who wanted to build their own computers.

They asked several of the local stores if they would like to stock their circuit boards. Everyone turned them down. One man was mildly interested though. He said he didn’t think the circuit boards weren’t marketable as there was a distinct rarity of computer building people. Thus, he asked Steve, and Woz, to make him fifty of the actual computers. He would pay them twenty-five thousand for all of them.

“Ok,” said the Steves.

The birth of the Apple. Why Apple? Because steve ate lots of fruit, and apples, he said, were the perfect fruit. Perfect, just like his computers would be.

The Apple II was the next step. Woz wanted it to have color (What? Unheard of!), sound (again, unheard of), and sharp crisp graphics. Steve wanted to have the computer be able to accept floppy disks. He wanted it to molded in plastic as well. At the time plastic was more expensive, but both Steves thought it looked cool, and that was important.

Yes, Steve Jobs was the designer of the modern computer. That’s pretty cool. Trendsetting means that you’re successful.

Soon after the Apple company grew (right around 1978) Woz was on a plane that crashed. Woz took months to recuperate, and he never returned to work full time at Apple. Steve had to work with other engineers now, and it wasn’t nearly as satisfying. The next Apple computer was a flop. No one wanted to pay $10,000 dollars for a computer.

Steve then started working on the Macintosh, a computer that would change the world. Steve picked the engineers by hand, and he put them in a separate building. He flew a pirate flag over the building.

“It’s a better to be a pirate than to join the navy,” Steve said. He meant it’s good to break rules, and think different.

Steve was weird. He only ate fruit. He didn’t wear shoes. He thought that his diet made it so he wouldn’t have to take showers often. People didn’t enjoy working with him because he smelled awful. Despite all these things, Steve was somehow one of the most charming people anyone knew. Everyone called it the “Reality Distortion Field,” or RDF. When Steve said something, he always made it seem as though it would work, no matter what.

In 1984 (real life) the Macintosh was released. The mac sold amazingly well–for a short time. Steve had misjudged people’s interest in home computers. This caused some strife at Apple. John Sculley, the man who Steve had hired to run the business end of Apple, wanted to get Steve out of the company. The company board voted. Steve lost all of the power he had at Apple, in May, 1985. He was moved to another office which he called Siberia.

Steve then went on to pour millions of dollars into the company he called NeXT. That was a failure as well. Steve spent a little time in limbo, during which he dated several women (including Bob Dylan’s former girlfriend), and located his sister Mona Simpson, a novelist. After a little while he got married.

In 1986 Steve got to work with a man he admired very much. Steve became an owner of George Lucas’s computer graphics company. They called it Pixar. The problem was that many artists didn’t think they needed to spend the money on something they didn’t think was necessary. Steve put more than fifty million dollars into the company himself. He paid himself a salary of fifty dollars a year.

In 1991, Steve had to lay off most of Pixar’s staff. One person he didn’t lay off was John Lasseter. Lasseter made short films for the company, and Steve thought that he was the best form of advertising the company had. His short film, Tin Toy, won an Oscar. Despite the Oscar, Pixar was a failure, and Steve was losing his reputation. People thought Steve was nothing but a slick salesman.

Steve eventually RDFed Disney into giving him the money for three full length animated movies. The first one was Toy Story. After that, Pixar went on to make a dozen hit movies. After struggling for ten years, Steve became successful again. He wasn’t a millionaire anymore, but he was a billionaire now. In 1993 John Sculley had been forced out of Apple, and Steve was asked to come back. Steve gave himself a salary of a dollar a year, and only agreed to run Apple for a short time, until they found a replacement.

Steve made some big changes, like agreeing to work with Bill Gates in 1997. Steve also cleared out the clutter that Apple had started to make. He removed products that weren’t selling, and he laid off so many workers that employees were afraid to ride on the elevator with him. They were scared they’d lose their jobs on their way to their floor.

Steve created the Internet Macintosh. The iMac was the next biggest thing. Apple convinced Steve that he should stay with them. From there, the rest is history.

The First Apple stores were created in May, 2001. Steve designed them himself. Then, in October, 2001, Steve pulled the cat out of the bag, actually the iPod out of his pocket. He created iTunes, and convinced the Beatles to sell their music on it. Steve then created the iPhone, in 2007, that was a huge success. On top of that, the rest of his products evolved into what they are today: the sleek, powerful super-models of the computer world.

In 2010, Steve introduced another groundbreaking device, the iPad. Apple sold three-hundred-thousand in the first day. In 1997, Apple nearly went bankrupt. In August 2011, Apple was the most successful company in the world.

Steve finally retired from his company, and spent lots of time with his friends, including Bill Gates. On his death bed, Steve looked at his sister Patti, then his children, and then his wife.

He said, “Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.”

A salute to the man who thought differently. Who asked “What if?”. A man who cut against the grain. A man who took chances.

A man who changed the world.

I say, “Oh wow.”

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J. Edgar Hoover Wouldn’t Approve of This Message (PART 2)

Picture 5When writing about a bad guy, I’ve stated before, you must make him realistic. He must be lovable, as well as hatable. He must have qualities, or goals, that are noble, and worthy of praise.

J. Edgar Hoover was exactly such a man. He was a fine, upstanding citizen, raised in the early twentieth century. His goal was to organize, and run, an exceptionally efficient organization, known as the FBI.

Hoover was quite efficient in all of his ways. He discussed, with an advisor, that wanted criminals would have less of a chance of escape if he deputized more agents. Shortly thereafter Hoover developed the Ten Most Wanted list. Hoover’s desire to lower the odds for criminals translates to one of the best law enforcement agencies in the world. The FBI is also one of the most feared among gangs, the Mob, and the Mafia.

The start of Hoover’s problems (or the problems Hoover caused), was closely related to his beginning at the FBI. When he became the director, Hoover started throwing the bad guys in jail. To quickly summarize, Hoover was dealing with the most famous gangsters, killers, and kidnappers of his time. They were dealing with an organization that they thought was porous in its law keeping. Hoover surprised them, and they all went to jail. Hoover got his first taste of perfection, and victory.

He locked up Ma Barker and her boys, Herman, Lloyd, “Dock”, and Fred. Alvin “old creepy” Karpis joined them sometime around the late 1920s, and the early 1930s. Technically the FBI never locked up all of them, as most of them committed suicide before they could be captured.

Hoover also killed, or put away, “Pretty Boy” Floyd, “Baby Face” Nelson, John Dillinger, and Bruno Richard Hauptmann (Charles A. Lindbergh Jr. kidnapper.) “Machine Gun” Kelly, Al Capone. All of the famous bad guys.

During the Prohibition, Hoover and the FBI were quite active. Drinking is something that many people do, and the fact that it was illegal doubled if not tripled the number of drinkers. People like illegal things. (Not to mention, selling it to addicts would make any bootlegger a fortune.) Point is, there were a lot of shoot-outs, and since “the manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors within… the United States… is hereby prohibited,” the FBI had a certain amount of jurisdiction, as the law was passed over the entire country. Thus making it federal law.

All of the success lead to the “G-Men”. No, not the New York Giants, but the Government Men. The name stuck, after a cornered “Machine Gun” Kelly reportedly cried out, “Don’t shoot, G-Men, don’t shoot!”

G-Men craze came in the form of children wearing G-Men pajamas, and playing with toy G-Men machine-guns. There was even a G-Men magazine, and subscribers of said magazine were taught how to get finger-prints using flour, and they were taught the G-Men secret whistle (two long, and one short).

During all of this Hoover developed his micro-management skills. He made sure that the FBI had a perfect reputation, and, most importantly, he made sure that the FBI got all of the big publicity cases. If Hoover knew one thing, it was how to play the system. Big publicity, equals free advertising. Hoover got the FBI’s MO out through the newspapers, and he didn’t have to pay. The MO was “We’re large, and we’re in charge.” It struck fear in the hearts of small crime-fighting operations, and criminals alike.

During the cold war, Hoover was definitely an anti-communism guy. Another one of the good/bad sides of him. He hated communism… so much that he was radically against it. When President Harry S. Truman signed the Executive Order 9835, in March, 1947, I can see Hoover dancing a jig with sheer glee.

The Executive Order initiated the Federal Employees Loyalty and Security Program. It applied to all two million federal workers. Anyone who was believed disloyal could no longer work for the federal government, although the term “disloyal” was never defined. Any employee could be dismissed, and any applicant turned down if there were “reasonable grounds for belief that a person is disloyal.” (This is the type of power that the Founding Fathers did NOT want the government to have.)

Keep in mind that during the cold war, the entire country was commie happy. Everyone was a communist if they did anything out of the ordinary. You were a commie if you sat at the same table every time at the local diner. You were a commie if you sat a different table every time.

The FBI investigated 14,000 employees, on the aforementioned grounds, and J. Edgar Hoover still wasn’t happy. He described communism as a disease that the USA needed to constantly guard against. With Executive Order 9835’s wording leaving everything to interpretation, Hoover was able to place wiretaps in peoples phones and such, if there was even a bit of suspicion.

“Mr. Hoover, sir, there’s this one guy who doesn’t look like a commie, doesn’t act like a commie, doesn’t eat like a commie, doesn’t talk like a commie–”

“Say no more,” Hoover would reply. “Wiretap his house, just in case.”

Hoover’s critics would constantly cite the small number of communists in the USA. Hoover would always reply, “It took only twenty-three men to overthrow Russia.” He obviously believed it could happen here.

That was one example of Hoover’s over-reaching paranoia. Hoover was good friends with Senator Joe McCarthy. Go figure. McCarthy was one of the worst kidney-punching sleazeball ever. He developed a low-blow type of politics. It’s called McCarthyism, defined as, “the practice of making accusations of disloyalty, especially of pro-communist activities, often unsupported or based on doubtful evidence.”

Point being, Hoover, and McCarthy, were both insanely against communism. Problem was that they both used the issue to investigate or eradicate political enemies, or anyone they deemed pee-pee ants.

Hoover was doing the wrong things, but for the right cause. It’s the ultimate bad/good, good/bad struggle that every author wants for his antagonists. Unfortunately for you, my tired reader, there’s more.

Bye for now,

Ian, the writer soon to be searching for a book, or several articles on concise writing.

 

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J. Edgar Hoover Wouldn’t Approve of this Message

J. Edgar Hoover

I have recently (within the last month) read two books on the man known as J. Edgar Hoover.

He was evil.

As a writer, I strive to create really good bad guys. Antagonists must be authentic, not your everyday, I’m-gonna-take-over-the-world-for-no-reason-other-than-I’m-a-megalomaniacal-megalomaniac type bad guys. I strive to make them three-, four-, even five-dimensional. If they appear human, and are lovable, and hatable, I feel accomplished.

One way I try to get the readers to love my bad guys is by making the bad guys’ goals charitable, noble, worthy, and honorable. If I have the bad guys trying to accomplish something that is right, or that they think is right, I’ve got a even more conflict for the reader. “Is the good guy doing the right thing? Is the bad guy going to win? Do I want the bad guy to win? Do I want him to lose?”

Readers eat that stuff up. They like to worry about the characters. (At least that’s what all of the books on writing fiction tell me.)

Either way, J. Edgar Hoover would make the best bad guy ever!

John Edgar Hoover was born in Washington D.C., January 1st, 1895. Quite punctual, as usual. Well, he hadn’t any “usual” yet, as he was just born, but… well, it set the standard I guess. He lived in the same house for the first 43 years of his life, a very Hoover-esque thing to do.

He was a good kid, always kept his nose clean. “As a youth I was taught basic beliefs,” said Hoover. “For instance, I was taught never to put another book above the Bible.” Hoover never drank with any of the other high school students, instead he found companionship with his family.

Another lovable quirk was the fact that he had a stutter. As a perfectionist, he knew this was unacceptable. In order to avoid it, he developed a machine-gun-like manner of speaking. (Awwwwww! Iddindatsocute?)

After graduating high school, Hoover took a job as a messenger and file clerk at the Library of Congress. He learned the incredibly complex card-index system, and learned it with a hunger. He worked at the Library for four years while earning a degree in law at George Washington University.

Hoover was a man with a plan, and a man with a purpose. Many recall that he seemed more purposeful than most anyone else. His niece, and superiors were among the ones specifically quoted in the books.

In July, 1917, he his law degree, and took as a clerk in the Justice Department (JD). Within three months, he had gotten a promotion. Over the next seven years of his career at the JD, Hoover would get promotion after promotion. After two years on the job, he was considered the JD’s expert on aliens.

In August, 1919, Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer appointed Hoover the head of a new division, the General Intelligence Division (GID). Its job was to “research” (spy on) political groups that the government deemed too radical, and thus dangerous. U.S. political groups!

Using his index-card experience, Hoover created a filing system for the GID. The index contained information on 100,000 individuals who were considered political extremists. Within a few months this file had grown to 200,000 individuals. By the files third year of existence the number exceeded 450,000. Not content with this list, Hoover created a list of the 60,000 most dangerous.

I’d like to point out that this man was already overreaching his bounds. The GID is a department of government that is highly unnecessary, and I believe is part of the reason Hoover was in on the Watergate Scandal. He felt that the government had power, and he was twisted by that power. Twisted so much, that he did things that he never should have done. Watergate was just one of those things.

Hoover also hated communism. Another good point in this strange man. He wrote, “Communism is the most evil, monstrous conspiracy since time began.” He preformed a study on it, and quickly established himself as the nation’s number one authority on the subject.

Look up the “Palmer Raids”, and you’ll see what kind of control freak Hoover was. Hoover was in charge of planning them, and the total control factor really shows up. He arrested many, many, many people on suspicion, and it was one of the most shameful times in America. America is a country that advertises freedom, but this was an act worthy of some Nazi, or Communist state.

One year after the Palmer Raids, in August, 1921, Hoover, just 26 years old, was named the assistant director of the Bureau of Investigation (the FBI before the F, which is followed by “ederal”).

Now, before we go any further, I should explain about the old Bureau. The one with BI for it’s initials. (BI stands for Bad Intellect)

The bureau was a place that was full of irregularities, such as a system used in one Field Office, but no system whatsoever in another Field Office. The Agents were awful, getting into trouble left and right. Drinking a lot, and even drinking while on the job. The FBI, I mean BI, was finding more criminals inside its walls than outside. Hoover was ticked.

He set out from day one to fix the BI’s horrible system. He was taking over at a time when people where beginning to seriously question the bureau’s integrity. Image was everything to Hoover, and he was ready to get busy.

Hoover noticed an extreme lack of focus in the personnel, and made them one of the top most priorities. Yes, plural, the Bureau wasn’t a very well run organization. In fact, it wasn’t a very organized organization.

Hoover started by firing all agents who had a criminal past, or whose character was in question. Those who weren’t fired were retrained in “the way of the Hoover” as someone put it. Agents Hoover disliked, but he couldn’t fire without causing suspicion, where driven out by short-notice transferring. The agents reffered to it as being “on the bicycle.” Any agent on the short-notice list would be ordered to pack his bags and report immediately at his new post. It would go on and on until the agent resigned. Still others weren’t fired, but they quit because they didn’t want to work under the strict rules enforced by Hoover.

Hoover also installed an entrance exam. Citizens of the U.S. who were white males, between the ages of twenty-five and forty, had 20/20 vision, good hearing, and good health were eligible to apply. Those who had law or accounting degrees were given preference, as Hoover thought they’d be more professional in their evidence collection. Hoover believed the un-professionalism of the Bureau was the leading cause of its failure to win any cases.

Hoover was also the first directors to train the agents in the use of weapons. The agents were trained how to be an expert shot in revolvers, rifles, shotguns, and machine-guns. They were also taught how to launch tear-gas bombs accurately.

When Hoover became the director of the FBI (it was the FBI then), he set the standards to include all of the Bureau’s employees, including typists, file clerks, and lab techs. No drinking on or off the job. Unseemly behavior wasn’t tolerated. No coffee breaks, and personal property at desks was completely prohibited.

Hoover also installed a inspection system called the Internal Inspection Division. Agents from the IID would show up at Field Offices at least twice a year, and give out merits to FBI agents who preformed well, and give demerits to those who didn’t. Merits could result in a promotion or a raise, and demerits could result in a transfer to an unpopular location, and then finally to dismissal.

Hoover said, “I want the public to look upon the Bureau as a a group of gentlemen. And if the men here engaged can’t conduct themselves in office as such, I will dismiss them.” Before long, the agents were considered men of goodwill, and great character. This was due to the strict rules, and Hoover’s ever-watchful eyes. He found that the TV show, the FBIhad a scene in which an FBI agent was alluded to driving a little above the speed limit, and he ordered the speed reduced.

Each script for the show was reviewed by Hoover himself, and every detail during the filming process was watched by a hawk-eyed agent. If an actor held a weapon incorrectly the agent corrected him. If an actor had anything criminal in his past, he wasn’t allowed to act in the show. The actor that played Inspector Erksine was hand-picked by Hoover. Everyone that was on the set was background checked. Even the electricians, and the carpenters used to create sets, had to be cleared by Hoover.

All so that the FBI’s reputation would be saved. Hoover was a man who knew how to work the political system. Don’t back down. Stand your ground, and make sure you hold all the cards.

To close part one: Doesn’t Hoover sound so relatable. He works hard, he learns quickly, he’s simple, and he brilliant. He’s assertive, and meticulous. Maybe not your favorite boss, but he’d be a great son, right? Perfect, and self driven.

This adds to my bad guy analogy. Hoover was a very well kept citizen, who grew up in Washington, D.C. He was raised so that he had strong morals, and was fine man. He loved his country, and hated communism. So far, so good.

Hoover, as I have said, was a control freak when he took over the FBI, and that was something that would permeate the rest of his career. Overall, Hoover is likable, for the most part. He’s a good guy who fixed a corrupt FBI, right?

Wrong.

TO BE CONTINUED

 

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The Price of Freedom

Old_American_Flag_1_

America, land of the Free, and home of the Brave. The only place on earth, maybe in the entire universe, that freedom rings. True freedom, not even understood by many Americans, is what we have. And it’s what our soldiers fight for.

They fight for liberty, and justice, for all. They fight for our nation, whole, and united under God. They fight for our rights, our beliefs, and our well-being. They risk their lives for our freedom.

They risk their lives so that we may choose how much food we want. They fight so we can praise whichever God we see fit to praise, and praise him in the ways that we see fit.

They sacrifice daily so that we can marry whomever we may, so that we can spend our weekends however we might, so that we can choose how we earn our money, so that we can live our lives in relative peace and harmony.

Sacrifice is an everyday occurrence in our lives. You may not even notice its slight presence. It whispers in the air as you help someone, thus sacrificing your time. It bares its bittersweet face as you give up your slice of the pie.

Sacrifice is an everyday occurrence in the lives of our American soldiers. They sacrifice years of their lives. The prime years of their lives, when they should be finding the man, or woman, they will spend the rest of their lives with. The time they should be spending raising kids, playing with them, and enjoying life. Instead they keep a grueling physical regime, and they live simplistic lives. They spend all of their time away from family, and hometown friends.

They sacrifice their time, but also their bodies. They sacrifice digits, limbs, and other various parts of their bodies out of pure love of country. They loose the ability to walk properly when they are shot. They loose legs, and arms in IED explosions. (Improvised Explosive Devices)

They loose their ability to see, their ability to hear, their ability to taste, their ability to feel, and their ability to smell. They lose their ability to sense the world around them. They lose it all for their country, and fellow countrymen. They sacrifice it for freedom. Our freedom.

They sacrifice their minds, too. The act of killing a fellow human being churns many stomachs. Taking any life is difficult. Some of these men and women who fight for us kill nearly daily, each time it takes a bite out of their confidence. “Why do I do this? Am I doing the right thing?” they ask. For many, there is no answer.

The traumatic experience of loosing a comrade is incredibly stressful on a person’s sanity. It quickly douses the person with reality, and mortality. It brings out a certain amount of faith. As the saying goes, There are no atheists in foxholes.

As stated before, the bodily sacrifice is gross, and horrific. Taking this into account, seeing a gory wound may be even worse than receiving one. Many soldiers are haunted by these images for the remainder of their lives.

Then of course, many of these men and women never return home. They sacrifice their very lives for someone else’s freedom. They sacrifice all that they love, their family, their friends, their relationships, for your freedom. For my freedom.

I say thank you to those men and women, and to their families, because of their incredible service to this country. Thank you today, tomorrow, and everyday, for your incredible sacrifice.

God bless you.

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Why Scissors?

Picture 2

 

Why do directors only use scissors?

The English translation (with a little context mixed in): Ian wants to know why directors like Peter Jackson (above) don’t cut and paste more than they just plain cut out parts.

As an author, I know I’d only sell my novel’s movie rights to someone who would let me be a big part of the process. I would want to make the scene cuts, and tell them “No way, absolutely not! She wouldn’t fall for him, and she can’t fall in love with him because it’s part of her character not to!” Etcetera, etcetera.

I would want to make sure the director didn’t screw everything up. Problem is, the director wants to add a little spice. That’s how directors “sign” their “masterpieces”. I think anyone, and everyone, would have done a great job with the Hobbit, and the Lord of The Rings movies, because the fan base was already established. Everyone and their brother, sister, uncle, aunt, cousin, mother, father, and their friend’s family(ies) would be watching the movies no matter what, because the author of the book did all of the fan base work.

Don’t take me the wrong way. You could think I’m bashing Peter Jackson, but this isn’t really about him, his movie Fellowship of the Ring (based on J.R.R. Tolkein’s Fellowship of the Ring) just got me thinking about this hot button issue.

I am not usually on the “I didn’t like the movie ’cause it wasn’t the book” side. I’m typically the the first person to say “Of course it wasn’t the book! You came to watch a movie, you doofus!” For whatever reason though, I can’t get over what Peter Jackson did in the FOTR! (Fellowship Of The Ring.:-) )

Again, this isn’t about him, but directors all of the world. Take the guy who messed up Prince Caspian for example. I don’t know his name, but he messed up the whole movie by putting everything out of order! I’ll take a little stylistic whatnot, but complete redo says, “I don’t think the author had a clue what he was doing when he wrote the book!”

That is unacceptable!

My father, my brother, and I, have just recently finished reading the Lord of the Rings series. We still have the images depicted by Tolkien emblazoned in our minds. Wether it be the beautiful landscapes, the faces, the objects, or just the air, Tolkien described it masterfully.

We have the story fresh in our minds, and we can easily observe the powerful structure of the LOTR series, which is really just one long book.

If there was one thing I had to compliment him on, it would most definitely be his characters.

Gandalf: Kind and loving; a fearful wizard of power. Friend to all; mentor to all. Sam: Loyal, loyal, loyal, loyal, loyal, witty, funny, loyal, loyal, loyal, loyal, loyal, loyal, loyal, loyal, loyal, and loyal. Frodo: Bold, and afraid. Self-controlled, Ring-controlled. Wise, humble. Incredibly strong, pitifully weak.

The pure genius in each character is perfected with a certain time aspect. It takes time to like someone. Time develops trust, love, and all other ingredients necessary in a relationship.

Peter Jackson through time out the window in the Fellowship of the Ring. Why? He needed more time? Yes, he did. He had to show the subplot of Saruman building up the Uruk-Hai. He had to show the orcs tearing down the trees.

But, why not show them in their own time? Why not copy the book that you’re modeling the movie after?

Why not tell it as the flashback it is?

I don’t rightly know, and I may not ever know. I certainly hope that’s not the case though, but as of now, directors around the world leave me wondering: “Why scissors?”

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It is What It is, and It Ain’t What It’s S’posed to Be.

Republicans-vs-Democrats

 

party  |ˈpärtē| Noun ( pl. -ties)

2 a formally constituted political group, typically operating on a national basis, that contests elections and attempts to form or take part in a government.

The problem with today’s political system is that it’s all about politics. You laugh, but I’m only half kidding. Meaning I’m half serious. You see the picture up there, and it makes you laugh, but it’s not kidding either. It’s very serious. It means what it says.

Translation of the Photo: a) The parties hate each other. b) It’s ALL about the parties, not the candidates. c) why did the democrats pick the donkey as their logo?

The one thing that is funny, is that the parties don’t matter any more. It used to be (or so I’m told–I’m still climbing the Hill, not even close to over it) that you could count on your politicians. You could count on them to do what they said, considering that if they didn’t, it would be lying, and you, the moral citizen, would take it upon yourself to relieve this lying scumbag of his title.

Used to be, that if you believed in what the Democrats brought to the table, you’d vote for them, along with the other citizens who believed in them as well. If you believed in the Republican party, you’d vote for them.

Then it got ugly when people started “being” Republican or Democrat. People chose sides. People started hating the other party, as if it were a professional sporting event, and it was the biggest rivalry game on the face of the earth: “The American Thunder Elephants, versus, the USA Butt-Kickin’ Donkeys!”

It reached the point where Republicans couldn’t say or do anything to win over any of the Democratic voters, let alone the Democrats they were supposed to “work with” on any political problems. They were unable to convince anyone that they weren’t the crazy radical Rightists that they had been labelled.

Same goes for the Democrats, they were branded, by the Right, as power-mongering, America haters. They were evil in the eyes of all Republicans. Maybe the Right was right, and the Left was right. Maybe both were what the other said they were. Maybe not.

Both sides have good people, and both sides have bad ones, that’s just human nature showing up. Human nature makes it impossible to be perfect, thus, nothing is perfect. Things really started heating up when the Progressives got involved. They were trying something bold.

In his book, Common Sense, (which inspired this post,) Glenn Beck says:

Many people will hear the word Progressive and immediately think of liberals or Democrats–but they’re not synonymous. Progressivism has less to do with the parties and more to do with individuals who seek to redefine, reshape, and rebuild America into a country where individual liberties and personal property mean nothing if they conflict with the plans and goals of the State. If the Progressive cancer were limited to defined political systems, it would be fairly straightforward to isolate it, treat it, and eventually be free from the disease. But it’s not. It’s infiltrated both political parties and the entire political class–the bureaucrats, lobbyists, trade unions, and corporations that all look at the government as their own personal ATM machine. The Progressives weren’t interested in taking over political parties, because that kind of thinking was too small; they wanted their movement to engulf the entire country.

I like that paragraph, because I think it says well what has happened. There are no parties anymore. Regardless of what anyone says, the parties are irrelevant. They are just masks now, hiding what the politicians’ beliefs really are.

It’s convenient, is it not? The fact that the parties have reputations that are so well known. Republicans are very Right. Democrats are very Left. They are predisposed on every issue. Any member of the party, before saying anything must ask his-/her-self, “What has the party said in the past?” or “What will they think?”

So, isn’t it convenient, then, for the Progressives, that both of the parties are representing them, and they don’t have to do a thing. They have both parties believing that Progressivism is the way to go, if not in name, then in ideology. They have it so, good, moral, thinking, and serious voters are voting for someone they don’t want in office. People who are strongly against Progressives are forced to choose Progressive Republican Candidate Jones, or even more Progressive Democrat Candidate Smith.

They have those choices, or they can vote for a small party candidate, and practically waste their vote. The vote is only wasted because of the ignorant I’m-Only-Gonna-Vote-For-My-Party-‘Cause-The-Other-One-Is-Evil People can’t see across the party line. They’ve got their political blinders on, and they aren’t going to vote for anyone else. Thus, there’s a total of about five votes for the small party candidates (or at least that’s all the good the votes do, in the Grand Scheme O’ Things).

The country was founded on a principle. The political system was founded on a principle. The principle was, and is, the fact, that man can govern himself. The Founding Fathers asked themselves this, and they decided we could.

The principle is necessary to the political system. It’s based on man’s belief in morality, and a strong, strong foundation in God. It is a necessary part of the American Experiment. We must keep ourselves in check. We must make sure that our fellow man is held back, if he cannot restrain himself. And above all, we must make sure, that we clean out the garbage of the government very regularly. We have to remain founded in God, in order to realize what is right, and what is wrong.

The principle of self-government is quite ingenious, as it is self-cleaning, and self-regulating. It works like this. The people vote for the best candidate. That would be the one who appears to be the wisest, the most intelligent, the most inclined toward the moral side of things, the most godly, the most up-standing citizen.

Then, while the candidate is in office, we find that he is truly a man of character, we see he keeps his promises, we see he does what we want him to.

Or, we see he is a power-hungry, sneaking, lying, slithering, skulking, little scumbag, who doesn’t do anything anyone tells him, and is clearly in it for the glory, and self-promotion, rather than for the betterment, and support of the beliefs of his voters. He cares nothing for the voters he ditched on Inauguration Day. He just wants more money, or more friends in high places, or more political status.

“No matter,” say we, the citizens of America, because we know. We know that next time voting season comes around, we’ll be ready for this liar. He won’t last another second in office. We’ll vote for anyone but him.

The problem is the Progressives. They’re game-changers. Game-breakers, if you will. They changed the rules. It’s harder to vote for the right guys now. You have to use your Morality Meter, and scan the politicians faces for their true meanings. You have to read their eyes, and read in between the lines, you have to find out what they’re really getting at. If you aren’t careful, you might, in the process of trying to remove a scumbag, put one right back in his place!

The Progressives broke the system, but evil always loses. That’s why Glenn Beck’s news company (TheBlaze) has the motto, “The Truth Lives Here.” Because truth always prevails. The truth is always right, it’s always the truth.

“You will know the truth,” Jesus said. “And the truth will set you free.”

You need to stay true to your beliefs. In the land of the free, I have a right to disagree, but I can’t change who you vote for. That’s your decision 100 percent. Vote based on character, and morality, rather than looks, and appearances. Vote for someone who will be your servant. That’s what the government is: a servant.

Show ’em who’s boss!

 

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Mom, Why do I Love You?

Mom, why do I love you? You yell at me. You beat me. You, at one point or another, refuse to fold my inside-out shirt right side out. Thus leaving me to do it, and waste an extra two seconds when I get dressed.

Is that all? Far from it! You make me eat carrots, broccoli, spinach, green beans, lima beans, beans in general, vegetables in general. You don’t let me play outside until my chores are done, or my math is finished, or my teeth are brushed. (And by brushed you mean every part of every tooth? Impossible!) You refuse to let me play video games until I clean up a mess (regardless of who made it.)

You say to me, “Do the dishes.” I say to you, quite eloquently, “Why?” You reply, venom shooting out of your eyes, “Did you eat on these plates?” I nod, gulping. “Then you had as sure as… well, anyway, you’d better clean ‘em, ‘cause if you don’t, you aren’t gonna eat off of them any more.”

“Yes, Mom,” I say, not really meaning it, but my stomach advises me to do the dishes.

You don’t let me watch the movies I want to watch. “There’s only one, okay maybe two, bad scenes, Mom!” I whine. “No,” is the reply.

“There’s only a little passionate kissing! Only a little blood! Only a little swearing. Only a few decapitations! Only a few suggestive scenes! Only a few provocatively dressed women per square foot! Come on!”

“No,” you say. “I don’t like it. I don’t want you to watch it.” (I storm out of the room.)

“Hey, Mom! Can I read this book?” I say. One glance at the science-fictiony cover, and the book is judged. Guilty on all charges.

The charges being: Too scary, too gory, too graphic, too adult (what in the world is that supposed to mean? Since when is adult an adjective?), too scary, and above all, too SCARY!

“No,” say you, handing the book back, with out cracking its pages. “No, I don’t want you to read it.”

“But it isn’t even bad! I already read the first one!”

“You did!”

“The cover wasn’t as bad, you said I could read it.”

“Well, un-read it, and don’t read this one. I don’t like it.”

“Mom!” I scream in anguish. “OF COURSE you don’t like it!!!! You’re a mom! Moms like the bible, romances, biographies (on rare occasions), and self-help books! You aren’t supposed to like it! Just let me like it! Augh!!!!!!!!!!”

“No, I just don’t think you should read it. By the way, did you finish your mandatory* reading this week?” *Emphasis mine.

“No, not yet,” I sigh.

“What’s the title again? Something like Sarah’s Brown Horse, right?”

“Yup,” I reply, grabbing Sarah’s Fanciful Brown Horse, heading for the nearest place to read. I shake my head. Why do I even let you be my Mom? I think darkly.

But, you don’t do this without reason.

I break windows, curtains, tables, cups, plates, and bones (mine or otherwise). That equals yelling (and money out of your pocket). I eat brownies when you tell me to save them for after dinner. I ride my bike in the front yard when you tell me to not. I play football in the house, with express orders against such actions. That results in beatings. I take off my shirt at night, and quite irreverently toss it into the hamper, with its inside out. That results in, well, uh, an inside out shirt, of course.

You know that carrots, broccoli, spinach, green beans, lima beans, beans in general, vegetables in general, help me grow strong, smart, and tall. (Tall and strong being important to me, and smart being important to you.)

You try to teach me that the work must be done before I play. A concept I refuse to, or have a hard time, or just plain can’t, understand. You try, and fail, because I refuse to, or have a hard time, or just plain can’t, understand why I would work when I could play.

You make me do my math so I can survive in the world of numbers. You do it so I can make a living, and keep it. So I won’t be cheated out of my money. You do it for me.

You make me do the dishes so I’ll be responsible. That way I’ll be a real man in the world. You try to ready me for having a job, a family, any responsibility I might obtain. You try to take away some of the growing pains. You do it for me.

You keep me away from the things that will hurt me. You keep me away from immoral women, so I don’t fall into that trap. You keep me away from bad language, as you see it doesn’t behoove me, beautiful as I am in your eyes (well, and mine too). You keep me away from images of death as you see no goodness, no pureness, no everlasting life in death.

You keep me away from what will hurt me, like you would if I was playing with fire, you try to help me, even though I kick and scream. You try to protect me from what I don’t want, even though I clearly think I want it. You try to help me, even though I make it infinitely more difficult.

Is that all? Far from it! You save your last bit of Ice Cream Sundae, or your french fries, or your hamburger, or your sleeve of crackers. You buy be stuff you know I’ll love. You help me when I struggle with a math problem. (I reply to her help with something like, “But that’s so stupid! It makes no sense!) You give me hugs, you laugh at my jokes (usually :-)). You think I’m awesome, (I have no problem agreeing) and you love all of my creations.

You love me.

That’s why I love you, Mom.

I love you.

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Why Indianapolis Hit the Big-Time

In 1820, Indiana found itself in need of a Capital (they probably noticed that before, but you know Congress: always going nowhere fast).

Anyway, Indiana decided to label a city as its capital. They called it (pause for effect) Indianapolis (cymbal crash). Ironically it means “Indiana City”. Polis means “City”, and Indiana literally means, “Pittsburgh”. OK, it actually means “Indiana”. Thus, Indianapolis. (Remind me to congratulate the namer [Jeremiah Sullivan, Indiana Supreme Court Judge] on his utterly amazing naming abilities.)

While most American state capitals tend to be located in the central region of their respective states, Indianapolis is the closest capital to being placed in the exact center of its state.

Its plan was created by Alexander Ralston. Ralston was an apprentice to the French architect Pierre L’Enfant, and he helped L’Enfant plan Washington, D.C.

The size of Indianapolis was originally one square mile. In the exact center there was a large circular commons (basically the town square, with a twist!). In the middle of that, there was a plot of land upon which the Governor’s mansion was to be built. The mansion was constructed, but none of the governors wanted to live in the mansion; there wasn’t enough privacy. In 1857 the Mansion was torn down; 30(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) years after it was built! That is some serious ornamental longevity.

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In its place a neoclassical limestone and bronze monument, the Indiana Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument, was constructed. (Above) You can see the circular property, defined by the dark grass, and I believe you can make out the fence–a collection of pillars with chain strung around. You can also see the fish-bowlness of this set up, per the buildings surrounding it, and the major roadways entering the “Monument Circle” as it is titled now.

But that’s not the point! Those are just some cool facts about the old Indianapolis. I’m here to tell you why I think Indianapolis hit the Big-Time. Here goes:

Very basic observance has shown me that major cities, and minor ones too, are always built where there are good resources. Water being the top resource of desire, most cities (minor or major) are built on, or near, waterways.

There are two simple reasons for this. One is the fact that water is necessary for life, wether it be human-, animal-, or plant-life, water is a pervading necessity. Thus, humans, creatures who always attempt to improve, wether faster, stronger, or whateverer, try to live closer to the resource. In this case, and many others, the resource is water.

Two is that water provide(s)(d) good transportation for goods. The Mississippi is quite famous for transportation. (It also has its size going for it.)

Both came into play here in Indianapolis, but one more than the other. Number two was the main reason that Indianapolis was chosen for the state capital. It was located right on the White river. The White River starts up near the highest point in Indiana (Fifteen to twenty miles North of Richmond, IN), from there it goes through Muncie, and Anderson, and then it goes right to Indianapolis. Perfect for trade between Indianapolis, Muncie, and Anderson, right?

Wrong! After settling into Indianapolis, the people realized, after several grounded boats, that the river was too shallow for larger cargo boats. Can’t you just see all of the committee members smacking their faces? I certainly can.

(If you’re the curious type, it runs into the Wabash, and that flows into the Ohio, and then that runs into the Mississippi, and then that flows into the Gulf of Mexico.)

In essence, the committee had put the capital in one of the worst places. It was destined to fail. But Indy was determined to go down swinging.

In 1936, Indianapolis attempted a canal, but that was a financial disaster (I swear they tried to cover it up, because I couldn’t find anything other than a sentence about it.) In 1945, though, twenty-five years after its capitalization ( 🙂 ), the first railway made it to Indy, bringing with it the trade so desperately wanted and needed.

And as far as I can tell, the trains were one of the main factors in the growth of the Indianapolis population. Before the trains there were approximately 8,091 Indianapolisians. In 1860 there were 18,611 Indianpolites. In 1870 (25 years after the railroad came to town) the total of Indianapolisers was 48,244. (None of those names for Indianapolis-Dwellers were correct. Can someone tell me what to call them? Oh! I know! I’ll call them… Indianapolonians!)

The other big factor for population growth was World War II.

In the 1940s, many of the factories converted into war vehicle parts factories. People were recruited far and wide to come and build parts in Indianapolis. Many of the factory workers settled down in Indianapolis after the war. They stayed, and the population of Indianapolonians was bolstered.

It’s kind of funny, actually. Indianapolis was supposed to be one of the biggest Trade-Towns. But the Capital Committee screwed up. They thought that Indianapolis was in such an opportune place.

“Look!” they said. “Liquid clear stuff! I think we should build a city here!”

They forgot to measure the depth of the liquid clear stuff. Unfortunately for them.

In essence, Indianapolis is only the shadow of what it could have been. A ghost. A Ghost-Town, if you will.

Now, to explain how Indy made its way to 372 square miles, and a populace of 829,718 Indianolphians, I’ll tell you a few more HistorChunks*.

One other big factor for population growth was World War II.

In the 1940s, many of the factories converted into war vehicle parts factories. People were recruited far and wide to come and build parts in Indianapolis. Many of the factory workers settled down in Indianapolis after the war. They stayed, and the population of Indianapolonians was bolstered.

Another factor was the car industry. In the early 1900s, Indianapolis broadened its pallet. It dipped its brushes into the drab colors of Factory-gray. Indy manufactured, among other things, lightning rods, saws, stoves, and wagon wheels, but the major production was cars.

Yes, Indianapolis was the Detroit of its time. If I didn’t have a deadline, I would have found out which car companies started in Indianapolis, but, alas, I have a deadline. Anyway, The World Book Encyclopedia (from 1980) said that most of the car companies moved to Detroit by 1920, and none were built after 1937. In context, to me, it sounds as though a whole bunch of them started out there. Maybe all of ’em.

I don’t think driving cars in circles, albeit fast ones, is any fun to watch. But, for those of you who do, the Indianapolis Speedway was built in 1909 to test all of the cars. And in 1911, the first ever Indy 500 was held. Memorial Day weekend.

It’s coming up! You don’t wanna miss the Indy 500. 500 miles of pure circleness!

* HistorChunk. A blip, blurp, blorp, globule, paragraph, or any other small chunk of history, comprised of two or more facts. If it is just one fact, it is in fact, a fact, ironically. This account is factual.

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Can U SCee it? Part 5

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4/25/13 Buffalo, NY

Buddy Nix, the Bills GM, and Doug Marrone, the Bills head coach, held their breath for the gazillionth time, in anticipation of disappointment. HUGE disappointment.

“The Carolina Panthers have traded the fourteenth pick in the 2013 NFL draft to the Cardinals…” the commissioner looked up to the right. “And with that pick…” the commissioner looked up to the right. “The Cardinals select…” he looked to the left as a group of fans shouted, “Who?”

4/26/13 Buffalo, NY, J and J’s

Tom passed the hot sauce to his buddy Rob, as they shared a meal at J and J’s–the best breakfast restaurant in the world. The steaming home-fries were soon drenched in Frank’s Red Hot, as well as the eggs–over hard–and the toast, too.

“So, as I was saying, when the Cardinals traded up, I was like, “Oh, God! They’re gonna take Barkley!’ ”

“Ah hah! There you are!” Tom was interrupted. He glanced up to see the happy, brown face of the India-born owner. “I just come to see how you doing. Is everything good?”

His choppy english was replied to with many “Yes!”s. He made a small joke, which was completely un-understandable, and then the sayer of the joke laughed so hard that the hearers laughed along. He ambled away from their table, humming a little tune.

“Go on,” said Rob, still chuckling.

“Okay, so, I was flipping out when they moved up. I’m trying to think what the Bills will do if Barley ain’t there, and I can’t think of a dang thing! So then what do the Cardinals do?”

“They go and draft Barkley,” finished Rob, chuckling at his friend’s excitement. “I saw.”

“Exactly! I can’t even imagine Buddy Nix’s face, let alone what my own looks like. I’m half-dead on the couch, all slouched over, and my wife is looking at me like I’m insane. She already thinks I’m crazy for watching the draft in the first place!”

They broke into a short round of laughter, and the Indian owner yelled something about too many jokes–even though the comment itself was another joke.

“But then I look up, and see the Saints pick whoever they picked, and I’m thinking I’m probably gonna need some depression pills. Then the Bills are up, and they pick E.J. Manuel! I just stood there. I swear I didn’t move until the Steelers had picked. I was too stunned. But, when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t help but be excited. I was thinking about training camp, and preseason, all that. I still can’t wait for opening day. This is gonna be another good year, Rob, I feel it.”

“Yeah, just like you felt it last year,” smiled Rob. “But, that’s the Bills’ niche. They make their fans happy enough to buy season tickets, and then they flop.”

“To a winning season!” said Tom, raising glass.

“To a Super Bowl!” said Rob, raising his.

They clinked glasses, and their hopes were just as high as ever.

I’d like to say a little word of clarification here, as I don’t want anyone to be confused. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, THIS DIDN’T REALLY HAPPEN! The part in which the Bills traded with the Rams was true, and the part where the Bills drafted Manuel was true. This was a dramatization, and it was supposed to be finished before all of the guys got drafted, but it wasn’t 🙂 Who’s fault is that? Mine.

I would also like to say that I had already written the St. Louis-Buffalo trade before it happened, and I would like due kudos. I would then like to bow my head in shame, and say that I didn’t think that E.J. Manuel was the quarterback that the Bills were going to draft, but they ended up doing it anyway–without consulting me, thank you very much! 

This whole thing (the fictional tale) was planned so Matt Barkley would walk onto the stage and hold up the Bill colors, but I guess it weren’t to be, so it weren’t. E.J. Manuel got to have that emotional moment, and he certainly deserved it. His mom fought breast cancer while Manuel was still in college. Definitely not an easy thing to have going on, especially not when you’re trying to focus on playing football.

Go Bills! Who drafted the quarterback E.J. Manuel, 16th overall, in the 2013 NFL Draft.

P(ost).B(log). I would have called the series something other than “Can U SCee it,” but I honestly thought the Bills would draft the USC Trojan, Matt Barkley. I was thinking of changing it, but “Can FSU see it?” is too confusing. Why does FSU care anyway?)

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Can U SCee it? Part 4

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4/25/13

Hundreds of miles apart, bonded by incredible anxiety, both the Buffalo Bills war room, and the St. Louis Rams war room, let out a collective sigh. The combined wind of exhalation would have filled a sailboat sail, and probably moved the boat a couple yards. The feelings were selfish, but in the NFL draft, you’ve got to fight for your rights, before you don’t have any.

The Jaguars had decided to forgo a wide-reciever in the first round, and instead selected Chance Warmack, a beast of guard, who was 6 feet, 2 inches, 317 pounds. He was expected to make an instant impact, and he did. At least on the Rams and the Bills.

Five minutes later the Cardinals picked up Luke Joeckel out of Texas A&M. He was a 6’6″, 307 pound tackle that would start from the start. The Bills knew that now was the time for action.

The phone rang.

Buddy Nix reached a wrinkled hand out, picked up the phone, and he said hello.

“Hey, Buddy, Jeff here, I gotta counter proposal for you.”

Buddy held his breath, as did all of the Buffalo war room occupants.

“I want to do everything you said, with our next year’s first round pick, and Fred Jackson.”

Buddy exhaled for what seemed like an interminably long time. He looked at Marrone. Marrone read Nix’s lips, and grimaced. Then he held up his hands as if to say, Why not?

“Jeff, gimme a second.”

Buddy hurriedly dialed another number, and the phone rang elsewhere in Buffalo.

“Hello, Fred? Yeah, it’s Buddy. How’d you feel about going to St. Louis?”

On the other side of the phone Fred Jackson had a bit of a dizzy spell. He sat on his couch, and found that there were tears rolling down his cheeks. He looked up at the ceiling and whispered a small prayer.

“Do what you want, Buddy,” he replied shakily. “I understand.”

Buddy heard him sobbing, and promised they would only do it if they had to. He contacted Fisher, trying to offer him the same deal.

“We don’t want that,” said Fisher. “We want Austin, but we don’t think he’s worth the amount your making us give.”

“I’m gonna take Austin if you don’t trade. I want him, but not as bad as I need those picks!”

Buddy looked at Marrone who had his fingers crossed. The offensive minded coach was crossing his fingers, though he couldn’t honestly say which version of the trade he would enjoy more.

“I’ll do it,” said Fisher. “Both first round picks. No Jackson.”

Nix pumped his fist, and nodded to Marrone, they both smiled huge smiles. After the technicalities had been worked out, they gave each other bear-hugs, and called Jackson.

“You’re stayin’ here,” drawled Buddy, loving the sound of Jackson’s enthusiastic “thank you’s”.

The Rams quickly selected Tavon Austin, and the draft continued according to schedule. Suddenly there was a rumor that Rich Eisen reported. He said it was possible that the Cardinals had just traded with the Panthers.

The Bills war room exploded into action, with Nix and Marrone demanding information on the rumored trade. Nix’s face had paled significantly, and his smile faded instantly.

“Let’s hope they don’t want him,” he said to Marrone.