Try to not fall asleep during my video please.  Kudos to Keebler, Cameo, and Andernerd who did most of the work.  I helped, but I’m just glad we got it done.  Go team!

<object width=”425″ height=”344″><param name=”movie” value=”http://www.youtube.com/v/kiTl8eshy6Q&hl=en&fs=1″></param><param name=”allowFullScreen” value=”true”></param><param name=”allowscriptaccess” value=”always”></param><embed src=”http://www.youtube.com/v/kiTl8eshy6Q&hl=en&fs=1” type=”application/x-shockwave-flash” allowscriptaccess=”always” allowfullscreen=”true” width=”425″ height=”344″></embed></object>

I’ll open this blog with a question. A hook, as they call it. These generally captures the readers attention, and sets up a goal for the writing. One thing I’ve noticed when skimming through news papers or magazines, is I have only ever read an entire article word for word if it had a good hook. I conjecture that the hook had a hand in that. So I can presume that this is an excellent technique for starting a piece of writing and I shall work on mastering this approach. (but this isn’t a blog about writing postulate, this is a blog about me), (and heroes).
Life would be lugubrious, wouldn’t it? If we didn’t have heroes. Whether they be sterling or molevolent, heroes (or role models in general) change the lives of people who look up to them. There is no room for refutation in that statement. Whether they be leaders or baseball players, people will eminate those they believe they should be like, and respect. Now that we are clear with the definition of hero, it is time for a plunge into some of my insolence.
I myself don’t bank on heroes too much, but I am interested in the characteristics of a hero. So what makes a good hero? Luke Skywalker is a crackerjack example. Brave, pure, modest, powerful, and conflicted but overcomes. Basically just a macho man, if you will humor my metaphor. People love themselves a good hero, and it makes me wonder why there aren’t more out there. Notice that the good stories always has the hero ultimately thwart the evil, selfish, vicious, murderous, bad bad, bad guy.
I’m musing now, but it does intrigue me how so many people admire and believe in the good of protaganists in these stories, and yet so few actually eminate these essentialities. It’s curious how few people try to be pure, or good, in any resemblence to their fabled champions. But then again, heroes to too many people in real life are the narcissistic, red carpetted, verbose celebrities. Not all of the celebrated men and women are terrible, but they are hardly what we should be emanating.  It seems to me, that the more someone else is focused on himself, (or herself for the feminists) the more the world begins to fall apart, and everything starts to waver.  This is my reasoning behind the theory that, (although it be a bleak outlook with a rather large florescent sign) there can be no peace among selfish men.  Meaning no peace at all.  In a household, or a world as a whole.  I apologize if that isn’t what you wanted to hear, and you have every right to think me a slight loon.  That is your right.

White is a good shade. I like it better than black, because said shade leaves very little to the imagination. It’s black… tada! But if you think about white, I mean, really think about it, it’s a stellar thing. Have you ever honestly seen how pure white could be. I’ve seen some pretty flourecent whites in my day, but I don’t even think there is a limit to how white-white can be. So, my thought is, every white is off white, because it can always be more pure a white than the one shown.
An aquaintance of mine back in Boise has this theory, that white is really the shade that holds all the colors within itself. You think black is the shade with all the colors mixed right? So do I. But if you think about a prizm, and when it is shown in the light, all the colors of the rainbow stream out of it. He explained it better than I’m about to, but maybe white holds all the colors inside itself, and black holds all the colors outside itself, letting it show for all to see. So basically, black may simply be the oppisite of white, (but we already knew that huh?) just in more than one way. Just thought I’d indulge you. Add to that the fact that white is the color of purity, and we begin to realize just how cool the shade you’re reading about really could be.
Yes, this is what goes through my head, and don’t even get me started on musical theory.

This is it, the feature presentation,  my latest blog entry;  dearest chuck, it has been too long.

Blogging.  You know what it is;  those bodies of words on the internet that always seem to be focused completely on the writer, and another subject.  This is one of those things, of coarse.  I’ve noticed that in every blog I’ve read outside of this blogging site, they always have some deep, meaningful, wise, ingenious, message that the star of enlightenment shined on them minutes before, while deciding what to write on their blog.  They’re always preaching something.  Sorry if I’m skeptical, but I think these people simply like to sound smart, or they like to hear their own voice.  Or they just like the attention.  Or maybe I should start a new paragraph.

It’s okay if you like to read this sort of inspirational star shine goodness, but you’ll never find that on this blog.  I’m just going to say stuff how it is without the fluff, ‘kay?  Well, I believe this blog about me, (and blogging) has gone on long enough, dearest chuck.  Kudos.

What about it? It’s just another one of those holidays that I don’t celebrate, like saint patricks day or national sports wives day. (yes that’s a holiday) Why celebrate it? Because it’s politically correct? I’m about as politically incorrect as they come when it comes to the environment. Sure we should take care of the earth, but we can’t save the earth because the earth doesn’t need saving. Some people just analyze the data too much and see what they want to see from it. Like the JFK assassination. There’s as many theories about that as there are people making them. A similar concept is global warming. You look at something long enough without blinking and eventually you’ll go blind.

Why do I hate environmentalists? Well, I don’t, but I’ll indulge you as to why I disagree with them. Example: They make too big a deal out of the flight path of the Canadian geese, and because of that, we can’t put up windmills to create energy. Idiots! Animals can take care of themselves, they don’t need us making sure they’re getting a steady three meals a day, they can get their own food. If an animal is dying, then that’s the sign that the system works. Survival of the fittest. If a goose is stupid enough to run into a windmill, fine. The other geese will learn, and their way of life will continue. They aren’t THAT stupid. When did it become our job to make sure all the animals lead a happy life? Sure, don’t exterminate them, but as long as we regulate things, (like hunting) the species will continue. Yes. I don’t mind hunting. Actually, hunting bores me to tears, but I approve of it.

Just one more tedious thing to rant about. I love the earth, the ocean, the sun, the rain, canyons, forests, long walks on the beach (just kidding) all the nice green grass, and the blue… (actually grey) skies here in Oregon. I likes cats, and wild beasts of many sorts, (like the puma, which is a cat). You may think I’m a jerk for thinking we shouldn’t try to save the animals. You may think me an idiot for thinking we shouldn’t waist millions of dollars on conservation efforts (like when they thought that cows eminating gases from the rear was contributing to the CO2 level in the atmosphere; the effort was a BIG waist of cash), and you may think me narrow minded, but I can afford to be, I’m right. Too many people are thinking we’re all going to kill ourselves, and all the animals with us with what we’re doing, and that’s just silly. Everything is being taken care of. We’ll be fine. Shalome.

jonathans-podcast

It’s fiction by the way

All through middle school, I was an insecure kid with long hair.  In sixth grade, I didn’t like the teachers, and the only things that mattered to me was my grades, and my friends… if I had any.  In seventh grade,  I was an obnocsious little creep with smile on my face, and an urge to be noticed.  What a loser.  And in eighth grade, I spent most of my time wrapped up in layer after layer of increasingly stressful drama.  Every page I read, lead to yet another plot twist as it all unfolded before my eyes.  Not good days.  But after school, every day,  I would walk outside, rain or shine, and lean up against my tree.  The perfect little tree,  made specificly for me.  With a branch that jutted out perfectly for an arm rest.  Whether life sucked, or if life was choice,  the tree was there, neither comforting me nor discouraging me.  It was simply there, awaiting the ten minutes I would stand under it each day.  Some days for shade, and others for cover.  Either way, it was always mine.

It was… okay. They were pretty vague and left out some key components, like Zero. Stanley’s voice was a female, and he’s supposed to be a heavy guy. Messed up. The music made up for all of the little messed up things though, and they did pick some of the more important passages from the book. They leave the story on a suspense note which is worth kudos and I’d give it a nine out of ten. An A-. The only thing that really bothered me was Stanley’s voice.

http://odeo.com/episodes/11244883-Holes-by-Louis-Sachar

We were once again in the all too familiar setting; the messy canopy of books lined the shelves, the tangle of shirts strewn about the floor, and of course, the ever messy bed, never knowing one day of orderly garb.  This place was my room… my home.  I was sitting on my bed next to a half asleep Ulises, as we watched the show.

Now, Ulises and I both had experience in the art of all-nighters, but the one almost had us.  We also had over my friend Keebler, and this was his first time.  I expected what I usually see in rookies, too much soda and out like a light before 2 am.  That wasn’t the case.

Keebler was still thriving at four am, and I can’t say the same for me and Ulises.  Keebler had none of the signs of sleepiness which consist of bags under the eyes, the sensation of heavy eye lids, and of course yawning every ten minutes.

I have always considered hanging out with my friends to be among the best of pastimes, that belief is doubled when Keebler is in the right mood.  He was successfully convincing us that he WAS the bandit, and how only he knew the proper technique for stealing fruit.  (He was playing Super Mario Sunshine as he said this)

“Ha, ha!  They’ll never catch me!”  He declared.

At four am in the morning everything is hilarious, so naturally, me and Ulises were laughing so hard we cried.  It darn near killed us.

Of all events that are friend related in my life, that one stands out as one of my favorites.