cumorglas



There aren't many people I am proud to call friend.

She's not crazy, but she's definitely not like the other kids

I must never meet this woman.

blog whose owner I would most like to sit down with over a series of beverages
 
 

some things you should know about me

reading list

Mcewinisms

archives

So, some thing I have said piques your interest, or maybe enrages you, or you just have a question about me that I haven't covered about myself. Here are the ground rules:
Any personal questions are on a quid pro quo basis. Tell me something personal about yourself of approximately equal value and I'll answer you.
Any questions on any subject that I know the answer will be answered, truthfully, along with some opinion.
Any questions that I don't know the answer to will be answered with what I think should be the answer if I were running things(which I am definitely not)

email me

IM


oh yeah and just so you know; everything here is © 2000 to me. I'm not a prick about it or anything. Unless you steal from me. Then, horrible Karmic Retribution will visited on your soul.
 
 
 

Powered by Blogger



Shhhhhhh!


cuz I'm too lazy or busy to read the stats page and just need to know that someone is listening

Friday, September 14, 2001

Todays post will be a refrain from a John Prine song.
Your flag decal won't get you into heaven anymore
they're already overcrowded from your dirty little wars
Now, Jesus don't like killing no matter what the reason's for
and your flag decal won't get you into heaven anymore

yup I think that's just what I feel like saying today.

Burn Babylon Burn 05:16 Cu Mor Glas| %

Tuesday, September 11, 2001

I am tired of our news outlets letting any fucking moron talk as if they are an expert.

In the past two years I have logged nearly a hundred thousand actual flight miles. I've been into and out of logan and dulles. I don't have any illusions about how good their security is. I have never gotten onto a plane unarmed. never.

In fact airports and airplanes have always been the only places that I feel the need to be armed to the teeth.

when I say this people look at me like I'm loon. but this scenario has haunted my night mares ever since I first started flying. I have always been confident that it is difficult to get guns on board planes. it is very difficult. so difficult that no one does it.

Knives are another manner entirely.

I like knives. I always have. I have knives. I always have knives.

I have guns too. but I don't feel the same way about them. I don't even keep them in my house. People are scared of guns. they make loud noises and enable you to kill things or people from a safe distance away. turning what should be a personal transaction into something very distant and impersonal. but in a way people are comfortable with guns. It is easy to simply think of guns as dangerous and let it be at that.

Not every person is wired in such a way as to allow them to kill with knives. it is a VERY messy and personal way to kill something or someone. innocent bystanders(and probably also not so innocent bystanders) are usually stunned by the amount of mess that knife attacts make. so stunned that a determined person with a knife can sometimes kill more people that a nutjob with an automatic rifle in a mcdonalds. Japan found this out this past summer.

My fear on planes has always been just this. someone would would show up on board with knife. after we got up in the air go up to the front, to talk with a flight attendant, do a quick down slice at the jugular, burst through the cockpit door lock it from the inside and kill both pilots and auger us into the ground at 500 plus miles an hour. it never occured to me that they might have taken out a building with more people in it than my hometown.

I always got a seat where I could see the cockpit door. and my hand was never far from my own knife. I was cranky with flight attendants that liked to close the curtain for the first class and often argued with them to leave it open just a little so I could see the door. some people might have classed me as paranoid if they knew why I was so insistent. So I never told them why. I just let them assume that I was a pain in the ass fraidy cat.

I am not the worlds best knife fighter. but I am good. better than many who practice a hell of a lot more than I do. good enough to take out two or three bad guys in an enclosed space like a 757 cockpit.

I know that I am not the only person who feels this way on airplanes. I know it because spyderco makes a knife called the copilot. it has a reassuring big knife heft and feel but fits into the Airlines 2 inch restriction on blade lenght. and Boker sells a lot of ceramic folders. I never bothered much. I often carried my full size mariner(ten plus ounces of ats-55 steel) and never once had trouble with detectors.

I'd be willing to bet my right big toe that somebody like me was responsible for making sure that the plane near pittsburgh never made it to whatever massively populated place it was headed for. if that is true we may never know. but in my heart I know it is.

In fact my first assumption when i heard what was going on was that somebody did just my nightmare with a big ceramic knife. My wife just told me that they think(based on a cell phone conversation with an exsenator's wife(now late wife)) they used box cutters. yup, box cutters.

fucking sharp as all get out at least for the first couple swipes. cheap as hell and very low mass. the metal detector would probably never catch them even dialed all the way up. my boots have more metal in them that a plastic frame box cutter.

so we are shutting offices all over the country, secret service agents are running scared, THOUSANDS of people are dead, and our country is in turmoil, because a few determined people with 79 cent knives had a grudge and a plan. Now our government is gonna look for a scape goat and our president is promising to hunt down "those responsible" and bring them to justice. but that is never going to happen because the people actually responsible are dead. in the planes they used to kill so many others.

over the next couple days or weeks we will see our people put to the test of what we believe. our president promised that they will protect us. but also promised that our freedom would win. what ever else I think about that man those two things are just not possible simultaneously. think about that these next couple days as we watch congress pass whatever kneejerk legislation they think appropriate.

And keep in mind that what ever conspiracy theory the feds or the media eventually latch on to. that it really could have been a few determined people with a plan.

and 79 cent knives.

Burn Babylon Burn 19:10 Cu Mor Glas| %

Saturday, September 01, 2001

sometimes being a parent is weird. I was playing scrabble with my oldest. His brothers were in bed his mom had sacked out long ago with a migraine. He actually picked up all his toys(and some of his brothers too!!!) so he got to pick the game we played. At six he loves words. loves reading, loves playing with words. Loves scrabble. we never play for points. just till we run out of tiles.

Today I legitimately got squirrel stretching between two triple word scores. A feat that would have thrilled me if I had been playing for points. Instead I remember a moment when he was just over two. He revealed a somewhat bloodthirsty side. I now realize that it is just normal for two year olds. at least for my two year olds.

Driving in my old pickup when a squirrel crosses the road in front of us.
"PAPA!!!! Quish that QUIRREL!!"
"No, it would kill the squirrel"
"I know! I WANT to kill the quirrel!"

I think he's out grown it. At least he knows not to talk about it anymore.

Burn Babylon Burn 18:16 Cu Mor Glas| %

Friday, August 24, 2001

This morning on the ride to work, I have never missed my caddy more. For those of you who don't know I once had a 1970 Caddilac Coupe De Ville. It was huge. It had a high compression pre emissions control 472 cubic inch engine. It put out 470 horsepower and 525 foot lbs of torque. It was 400 pounds heavier than my dad's suburban and eight inches longer. It was red with a white top. It had a white leather bench seat. It would do donuts on dry pavement. It refused to run on anything less that 104 octane fuel. when you rolled rolled all the power windows down there was no pillar from the windshield to the rear window. You could fit eight bodies in the trunk with out sectioning them first.

It was a mighty big car.

It was the ultimate good weather windows down stereo cranked get it out of your system car. There is an exit from the free way not too far from my house that I once took at well over 60 miles an hour with the foot down and the car in full float sideways mode. just to see if you could do it like Hunter Thompson says. You can. If you've got balls.

This morning the weather was PERFECT. the radio was on. I'd just had sex. The new butthole surfer's tune came on the radio. I flipped the volume all the way to the right. The problem was that the little pontiac sunbird that I drive lately was just insufficient to express my joy at being alive.

Oh well .

on another note this morning before I left for work I made a playlist of music to play in the morning when I get up to help set my attitude in the right direction.

the current list:

Hank Williams, Sr. - Hey Good Looking.mp3
Levellers - captains courageous.mp3
Thethe - Perfect.mp3
Fred Eaglesmith - Mighty Big Car.mp3
Levellers - One Way.mp3
My Life With The Thrill Kill Cult - Sex On Wheels.mp3
I mother earth - One More Astronaut.mp3
Levellers - The Boatman.mp3
Blue Rodeo - Diamond Mine.mp3
Northern Pikes - Kiss Me You Fool.mp3
Pixies - Surfer Rosa - 01 - Bone Machine.mp3
Fred Eaglesmith - Seven Shells.mp3
Screaming Blue Messiahs - gun03 Smash the Market Place.mp3
Levellers - Carry Me.mp3

It may date me but there it is.

Burn Babylon Burn 17:58 Cu Mor Glas| %

Saturday, August 18, 2001

today the theme is heroes. what makes a person a hero? that's pretty easy for me to picture in my head but hard for me to describe. I am going to tell three true stories from the news. two of the stories are from the local news and one is about somebody I know and miss cause he's far away. Two are stories of heroes and one is not. I sort which is which at the end.

Story A:

A volunteer fireman goes back into a burning house after rescuing a family. In his haste to return and look for hot spots he refuses to take the self contained Breathing apparatus that is offered to him(by his own father!!). He, not surprisingly, succumbs to the almost complete lack of oxygen. the newspaper hails him as a great hero who died valiantly saving other's lives.


Story B:

A guy Drives into the ambulance parking of the local VA hospital and shoots the attendant who says "Hey you can't park here!". He gets out of the car with the gun and as he tries to get into the E.R. is confronted By a volunteer patient van driver who take two or three slugs in a successful attempt to wrest the gun from him. Then a record clerk who was trying to render some aid to the van driver and took the worst of the injuries, several deep stab wounds from a knife. The assailant the fled to his car and took off. While the police were tracking the plate he called 911 to turn himself in and report that he was suicidal.


Story C:

After locking up the retail establishment where he works(sort of like getting hit with a fire hose for eight hours), a twin engine plane crashes into the very highway he is driving on. He stops, gets out of the car and hops the embankment, scambles down to where the plane is. He tries to open the hatch, tries in broken Spanglish to calm the woman who is trapped inside as a passenger. Eventually he clears all the glass out of one of the windows, climbs in and forces the hatch from the inside.



Okay boys and girls, here is the secret hero decoder ring:



Story A------ not a hero, a natural thinning of the herd. in spite of the enormous outpouring of support that has been forthcoming, this guy is just a garden variety moron who exercised bad judgement and died because of it. he not only didn't he die while saving people he endangered two more firefighter who had to go in and get his sorry ass and left a family behind.

Story B------ heroes Galore here. It might be a stretch to call the parking attendant a hero as he was really more of an innocent bystander but, he did take a bullet in the line of duty and that has to count for something. The volunteer van driver, definitely a hero. Records clerk, yup, definitely a hero. And behind the scenes there were the people the news left out. The E.R. crew and surgeons who stitched the three injured folks back together while worrying that the nutjob would be back to finish the job, probably should count too.

Story C------Hero. Hell Yeah. Me surprised, Not even a little bit.

Burn Babylon Burn 20:44 Cu Mor Glas| %

Tuesday, August 07, 2001

and then BLAMMO! a whole month wips past.

I'm cranky. REALLY CRANKY

It's hot it's been hot for like ever. I don't like the heat. Work is complicated. As near as a can I figure I'm canned but I can't get the guy to call me back and tell me for real. So I might not be. I might have to go back to managing the store.
which would actually be a good thing. I can un-fuck the place in a month or two and then get it back in the right direction and positive comps. but that will mean that I am not home schooling my eldest this year. which is probably ok, it's only first grade and he's already covered everything in that curriculum.

But some decent things have been going on. I've been able to go out sailing twice in the last two weeks. once on a friends dad's boat. I even got to dive on the prop and unsnarl the shaft. Once on some acquaintances cape dory 36. Among the biggest 36 footers going. I got to be on the helm most of the way and I am gaining some confidence with a wheel instead of a tiller.

On the way home from work saturday I was listening to the CBC station out of Toronto. They had some live show and and I started right at the beginning of what turned out to be Fred Eaglesmith singing a song called white rose. He's a bitter angry man who grew up farming in ontario. not unlike my ancestors. It rang clean to the bone for me. to the bone I am composing this listening to him now. Now I don't particularly like country. I've often been heard to say that all seven good country song were written by Hank Sr. and Johnny Cash and every other song after that was a lame imitation.

Fred Eaglesmith is not a Lame imitation

He's the genuine article.

It may be also that I am going through some wierd internal thing related to my family's Homestead. I haven't been there in years. too many years. My little sisters and my new brother-in-law are up near it right now, but they are staying at the hunting lodge down the road on account of the homestead needing some roofing work and glazing on the windows. in all, two or three days hard work for a determined person. It really should get done before winter(read September) but I just don't see how I can take the time away from my work (unless I actually do get canned and then I really won't be able to afford it,) and my familly to go up there to do the work. In my own head the place I became a man was up there and the place I learned just what that means was there. I've got my own issues with that to work out right now. I haven't been doing so well in the providing for my family part of being a man.

For those of you that are curious it's in a town called charlton. such a small town that you can't even get driving directions to it from yahoo. You have to get a map to Englehart and wing it from there. which is pretty much what happens as there aren't any roadsigns anyway.

Burn Babylon Burn 18:43 Cu Mor Glas| %

Sunday, July 08, 2001

that was the first real writing i've posted here in quite a while. spell and grammar checked by hand in notepad and linkchecked in opera. but don't expect more like that anytime soon. this came at the cost of two nights sleep.

Burn Babylon Burn 22:31 Cu Mor Glas| %

On the way home from work saturday I happened to catch This American Life. It was the independence day episode with the Vowell sisters on the trail of tears.

I got to thinking. this story is pretty similar to every other story in the great collection of stories that make up the attempted genocide of the entire sum of native north american races. Everyone gets taught the "trail of tears" in school here. It has all the classic elements; greedy white people, malfeasance of the federal government, long forced march to a place unsuitable for them to continue their lifestyle, lots of them dying, buried on the way.

I know a story similar to this.

when I was young My mom bought a horse for us. It was a beautiful horse, slightly crazy, very inbred, fast and incredibly agile. It was an appaloosa. There was an important rule at the appaloosa horse club.

You must never ever ever breed one of these horses with a draft horse. If you do we will throw you out of the club, never allow you to register another horse and eventually come to your house and murder you in your sleep and leave parts of your sorry family's corpses all over the town as a warning
Well maybe it didn't say exactly that but the tone was there. As a ten year old kid, the story of how that rule came to be, left quite an impression on me.

For me the story begins right near the end of the actual story. In the late 1870's the US Army takes possesion of all the horses from the Nez Perce tribe(a name that particularly irks them, because in the generations since the obnoxious frenchies gave them the name nasal piercing has gone back out of fasion for them). The US Army hates these horses, because for much of the last few months and 1700 or so miles it has been getting its ass kicked by fierce men on these even fiercer horses. This has just recently changed because you've recently gathered a much greater number of the US Army and had some astoudingly bad weather in your favor. Unlike virtually every other group of natives on the continent these nose piercing "Dreamers" have been selectively and scientifically breeding horses to do just the sort of things the Army wishes its cavalry horses would do. The problem is these horses just won't do the same things for them. The US Army takes the other route and breeds every damn one of them with draft horses to make their progeny slow and not very agile at all.

Fast Forward to nearly two decades ago. I had been doing some barrel racing with my Shetland pony.(which happens to be a very poor choice of breeds for that sort of thing, as they are a miniature draft horse, but I was ten and it was the pony I had, and I was quite fond of her so just shut the hell up, ok?) I was competing in these gymkhana events with the real gamers, who all had appaloosas. While there are other horse breeds that excel in gymkhana like cloverleaf barrels or keyhole, The kids who did the game series in the summer played polo in the winter.(It might be worth noting at this point the kids I am refering to were between six and eight years older and not what some of you might have come to mind when you think polo player. These kids were all white trash from the outlying towns and drove beat up camaros and hauled the stock trailers around to events with their dad's farm truck. For good or ill, at that time of my life, I idolized them.) They had appaloosas because that was just the horse you wanted to be on when you had to charge into a crowd of other people on horses and armed with nothing but a very long hammer steal their ball and run it down to the goal. The game is essentially similar hockey or lacrosse, but on horseback played by marginalized adolescents it achieves a level of hostility that makes those sports seem tame.

They have these horses because a group of very dedicated white people have spent most of a century trying to breed the draft back out of those horses from the tribe in the Palouse hills. They are fine beautiful horses if a little inbred. That is why they are so particular about the draft horse thing. The club has a version of the tribes story they tell to explain the tradition. It goes something like this:

In 1877 the Nez Perce Indians, led by Chief Joseph, were told to leave their lands for an already crowded reservation in Idaho. The tribe refused, whereupon the Army showed up and commenced to chase the indians all the hell over the West until trapping them on a mountain almost in sight of the Canadian border. Chief Joseph then surrendered and while his people were figuratively bent over and nailed by a draft horse their horses literally were.
Again I have taken some liberties quoting here but that is pretty much the way I remember it.

Like all stories involving two or more people there are a few versions of it and the above version seems to have left out some facts. As it turns out four fifths of the tribe (those led by other chiefs) signed the treaty and moved without much incident onto the Lapwai reservation.(These folks don't seem to make much noise about Chief Joseph. They do however have an interesting program in which they are trying to get their kids into breeding and using horses. When I was in college I was involved in a program where we taught "at-risk" kids of the local reservation to build canoes. It wasn't ironic, it was just sad.) The appearance of the Army to roust them off their land wasn't a sudden surprise although it was hastened by the rash act of a few young braves. When they did finally surrender, their trail of tears wasn't over. They were marched from Montana all the way to Leavenworth, where they dropped like flies. From there, they were sent to Oklahoma. If they converted to christianity they were allowed to go to the Lapwai reservation from there. Joseph and the others who wouldn't convert eventually were sent to a reservation in Washington.

If you prefer you can read the whole story from the perspective of Chief Joseph. It has a little intro from some missionary at the time. You could also read the version from the general that Joseph mostly faced in this whole deal. I'd recommend that you read Joseph's account first as General Howard's version is mainly written as a rebuttal. They are both found on the web courtesy of someone who has done an exhaustive amount of research on the topic for a book.

All in all a sad story but really not an unusual one. Whether you you look at the example of the jews in Germany or the natives in North America, or the neighboring tribes to the Incas, the moral to the story is always the same. You have much more to fear from governments and similar large organizations than just about anything else. In spite of all our squawking to the contrary our government is no exception to this. But never forget that greed plays a huge role in this too.

Burn Babylon Burn 21:47 Cu Mor Glas| %

Thursday, July 05, 2001

yesterday was independence day.

A day we celebrate telling the english to stick it.

as for independence well that's questionable these days.

for independence day I tried to figure out how to feed my family without giving any money to the evil motherfuckers at archer daniels midland.

the beginning of that process is mapping out the ties of corporate ownership and board of directors ties. It's incredibly complicated. I'm looking for a little help if any one knows much or a site that has already done the work It would help.

the ultimate goal is a cleverly designed page where some one can easily navigate the web and see each person in the chain with their responsibilities and related crimes against humanity. something a little bit like what those extremist anti-choice sites.

Burn Babylon Burn 06:15 Cu Mor Glas| %

Saturday, June 30, 2001

I want you to picture something.
You work at a toy'r'us.

it's the saturday before christmas

you don't have any of the cool buzz lightyears that in the ad(and you only got three when you did have them any way)

the boss took the day off (presumably he didn't think it was an important day)

he also left you with less staff than you would have on a normal saturday.(approximately half of which are B-players you wouldn't even have hired much less have still working.)

everything profitable is locked up so you customers can't help themselves (even assuming that they knew enough about the product to)

every eighth customer tramples the six patient(they at least know that they should be embarassed to be shopping at the last minute) customers to blurt out "is this the right doll for my kid!?"

you have a slightly misanthropic nature in the best of crowds.


with that picture in your head I am going to bed.

Burn Babylon Burn 20:25 Cu Mor Glas| %


this page best viewed while sitting down and drinking Old Weller out of a large Brandy snifter