Hard Hitting Coverage of News That Matters.

Iraq has a government now...

..And now the real news:

Apparently the Egyptians have enough sand to keep their heads comfortably covered for some time.
Despite living in a pretty rough neighborhood (when the term Egypt + bomb is Googled, you get 9,010,000 hits), Egypt has decided that the best way to keep tourism on track is to raise an ancient Roman city out of the ocean.


Part of the reason, my suspicion is, is that Lionel Ritchie is so big in the Middle East. Lionel Ritchie, a known "Roma-Phile", when asked why the Egyptians were doing this responded: "The answer is, I'm huge, huge in the Arab world. The answer as to why is, I don't have the slightest idea."
Obviously Lionel Ritchie is of the mind that the Egyptians are just trying to impress him.

Iranian spokeman Gholam-Hossein Elham, responded to the Egyptian plan by saying "Iran believes that access to peaceful nuclear technology is an indisputable and irreversible right of the nation.". Although no one is really sure what that meant, it would seem that the recent AP report about menstruation becoming optional really has the Iranians worried. Iran, whose official position has always been that a mentrual period should be a requirement for women as well as a dress code that makes Angela Lansbury look like Britney Spears at the VMA's,
is one of dismay. The chief of police of Tehran has indicated that he would add "An unwillingness to do their womanly duty" to a list of offenses he would arrest women for. A list that already includes wearing "flimsy headscarves, shortened trousers and coats that revealed the shape of the body".

Madonna, whose well known penchant for changing her ethnicity and culture, was obviously so distraught over Chief Abu-Wiggam's declaration as well as the Arab world so loving Lionel, that she immediately had herself crucified.

Crucifixion, of course was a popular form of execution in the Roman world, thus bringing us full circle.
The Romans man, the Romans.



The Arch-Groovus Report: We think for you...You're welcome.

The Oranization PT. III: The Transitional Cycle

The Organization PT. III: The Transitional Cycle

Now, its not that I did not like my Kenpo classes. After a year and a half I had attained an orange belt ( the first level of progression at the time) and was well on my way to purple. After having a new instructor nearly every other week for months 6-12, I now had a pretty cool instructor in a guy called Mr. Priest. Mr. Priest, I am guessing was probably in his mid-twenties, although at 16 everyone over 19 is pretty much just an adult, and there is really not much difference. But anyway, I had had about 5 months worth of lessons with Mr. Priest, and I saw him pound a couple people in sparring class over that span, so I was happy.
Like I said, it was not like I did not like Karate, I simply had other things I would rather do, like ditch school , skip karate and go see girls. Me and a couple friends had concocted a scam one morning to drive across town and spend some quality time hanging with these girls that we had met a couple of weeks ago cruising Speedway (yes cruising Speedway, you did it too so don’t laugh). We had a couple minor obstacles. First off we had school, and parents for that matter, and I had Karate later that evening. School was easy, in those days it was not hard to get over on the attendance process at a public school in Tucson, Arizona. The parents were not that hard either. All we had to tell them was that we were going to go do other stuff after school and we were set. The Karate thing, now this was a little harder needle to thread. If I wanted to stretch out my fun day as far as possible, I would have to find a way out of Karate. For anyone who has never been involved with Martial Arts instructors, let me fill you in on a couple things. First off, like most people, they do not like to get lied to. The difference between them and most normal people was the ever present threat of physical violence, or some other manner of pain like excessive push-ups or bag work. One way or another if you bruised these people's strangely fragile egos by lying to them, they would make you pay.
So there I am, standing in Austin’s living room staring at the phone, and waiting for the clock to turn to 10:30. Karate school opening time in those days. I took a deep breath, brushed up my story and made the call.
“American Kenpo Karate, how may I help you?”
Unfamiliar voice.
“ Uh, yeah this is Vincent Salvatore, I have a lesson tonight….”
I laid it all out for this mystery stranger. The illness, the staying home from school, and the regret at missing class. Oh, the regret!
“Okay, well thanks for the call Vincent.”
It had worked, I was set.

Now the strange thing about this plot, is that to this day, I cant even remember what this girls name was, the one that I was going to go see. I mention this because of the lengths I went to see a girl that I do not even hold in enough of a nostalgic regard to even recall her name. What I do remember is that she lived far.
If you have never been to Tucson, Arizona, it is likely as big area wise, as some major eastern cities with 4 or 5 times the population, and it has virtually no useful system of freeways. In New Jersey, where I was originally from, you could probably drive from Jersey to Delaware, by way of Philadelphia in the time it took me to drive to this girls house, never leaving the Tucson metropolitan area.

The details of the days events are really in no way pertinent to this tale so we will skip them, the long and short of it is that I timed my return home for about 8:30, the time I would normally get home from my lesson if I had stayed for sparring class. To make the illusion complete I changed into my Gi (karate suit to the lay person), sprizted my face with water to appear as though I had been sweating, and concocted a story about how tough class had been and that I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a black eye in the morning. It all went pretty well, until I got home from school the next day.
Now, normally I got home before my parents did, and I can’t remember why this day I did not. But I got home to find my mother waiting for me with the “You F’ed up” look that all women but especially mothers can pull up on command, on her face.
“I got an interesting phone call when I got home today.”
“Oh?”, I answered, knowing that “interesting” probably meant “condemning” or “fatal”.
“Mr. DeMarco from the karate school called, “
“Mr. DeMarco?” I thought…”I don’t even know who that is.”
“He wanted to know when you wanted to reschedule the lesson you missed yesterday when you were sick. I think we need to talk.”
Mr. DeMarco: The stranger on the phone.
Mental note: Add subversive social sabotage to the list of things karate teachers do to you when you lie to them.

I had to find out who this "Mr. DeMarco" was, and why he needed to ruin my life. I would soon find out that it did not matter.

One Whole Month!

Well gentle reader, The Arch Groovus Report is now one month old! I know, I know, it hardly seems possible. What a crazy and wild ride it has been. When I think back to the early days of this publication I cant help but feel a certain nostalgia for the simpler times. Let's look back at where we were when the Arch-Groovus Report began....all those days ago:

• Think about it, when we jumped on this crazy ride together gas was only $2.73 a gallon,
• Our National Anthem was sung in English ( except when it was sung in Spanish, but not like now when it is apparently sung in Spanish to rip at the fiber of our national identity, back then it was far more harmless)
• Dutch sloth bears and Barbary macaques lived in peace and harmony
• The leader of Al Quaida in Iraq, had not yet been revealed as a "hypocrytical, bumbling, POSER, that walks around in New Balance sneakers and seemingly can't figure out the operating function of the most simple assault rifle in the entire world".
• The Koreans did not have sexy-robot-love-women ( and I have to tell you, I am a little bit surprised at the lack of response to this story, I for one was incredulous)
• ..and the decision had not yet been made to reveal the inner workings of a shadowy and nefarious organization (No USA Today, my story not yours)

Thank you for your support over these trying and taxing 4 weeks, if we stick together we will make it through.



The Arch-Groovus Report...if my pants were news, I'd write 'em.

Fuzzy, Cute and Carnivorous

I know what you are thinking..."Another Dick Cheney post Vincent? Christ."

Oh if wishing would make it so.
No this is about an actual fuzzy and cute animal story. A dialogue with nature if you will. A story of bears and monkeys doing...well...doing what bears and monkeys do. Click here, animal lover.


You know this reminds me of a story that happened to me. I was at the zoo in Tucson, being a warm summer day the zoo was pretty empty except for the several busloads of summer camp kids that were wandering around bothering docents and wasting oxygen.

A few of them were sharing a rail with me, leaning over the otter enclosure, watchng the two otters frolicking and playing with a bird...some manner of water foul, if memory serves. Or at least we thought they were playing.

As one of the otters got in front of the bird and started playing a happy game of "Hey look at me, i am a cute otter" with it, the other otter skulked away, went into the water, and swam around behind the clueless bird. What happened next was quite possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen at the zoo. Otter #2 slowly rose out of the water like the face-painted Martin Sheen in Apocolypse Now, came up behind the large bird while his buddy distracted it, grabbed the bird by the neck and dragged it underwater. Now the kids thought the whole thing was still playful right up until the other otter took to the water let his buddy come up for air, and took over drowning the bird, which was promptly tore to ribbons by the two otter hit-squad. I swear the whole thing looked like a mob hit.

Reid Park Zoo....good times my man...good times.

v.

Temple Massage and Slashers

There are still times when I am finding myself severly limited by my own lack of ability to evolve. The strangest part of my psychology is that I begin doing things often knowing what the outcome is going to be. A+B+C=X. Same result everytime, and yet there are times that I walk into the same walls, knowing full well that it is there. It is in my way. It is familiar. The growing shadow as it looms closer. The same anxious comfort, familiar and hardened as I hasten the inevitable clash of brick and flesh. The same dull ache as I stare up at the sky for a moment in awe of my own ineptitude, before scrambling up to scurry around the wall and go about my day.
It calls to me, this wall.
Sometimes it even appears to me when it isn't even there. a hazy vaporous apparition, hovering on an imaginary horizan; intangible, lurking, failure. Reaching from beyond reality caressing the underside of my chin, beckoning forward, pulling with all the lightness of smoke, engrossing and mysterious, making me want to chase it...Hold on (cue needle scratching across record).
That is not possible is it? that I would chase frustration, chase the veiled pain that has plagued me. Crippled me. made me somehow less complete, or rather less than complete.
It is like the dumb girl, or the big jock in the slasher movie. I know not to turn that darkened corner, because I know what is there, what awaits me. But feet defy memory and away I go. Walking into the strangly lit blackness hoping that maybe, just maybe the Psycho with the big knife will be on his break. Outside on some cheap aluminum picnic table having a cigarette, and gossiping about the other psychos, or sitting in some dimly lit breakroom with wood paneled walls, apron untied, idly rubbing his temples, wondering if he paid the gas bill or what to make for dinner tonight. Spent and worn after a long day of carving up naive, less than cautious young people, their screams compounding his headache.


He would moan, I think, as he sits there idly rubbing his temples.......Anyway, long story short you have seen the movie, he is not on his break. They know he is around and they turn the corner anyway. A blood bath ensues.
I know how they must feel, my psycho doesn't take breaks either. I just have to be smarter than him. Or at the very least, remember which corner he is behind.





The Arch-Groovus Report...We Filter Crap, So You Don't Have To.

Putin Things in Perspective

Well, for those of you who think that the Russian press last week was being sensational and reactionary when they refered to Vice-President Cheney's comments about Russia, saying he potentially sparked a new Cold War...

Putin's Opening Salvo.


Is it just me, or did Putin actually suggest Russia needed to be strong because we are? That rant sounds familiar....50 years later.

stay informed

v.

Important Notice: Census

I think I fixed the "I need to be a registered user to post a comment " problem.


If everyone reading this could post a quick comment...It does not even need to say anything. I kind of want to get a head count. Composing and posting here is taking more time than I thought.

BUT, it is totally worth it to me if people are listening. This has totally sparked my interest in writing again, but if no one is paying attention, i should just start a Word doc and ramble on that in private.

Remember, your input and suggestions are totally appreciated.

love and respect
Vincent

Please, Mr. President..Change your Reply!!!

So, very exciting morning! I mean besides my special little day.

Dateline: Iran

Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad...you know, I don't understand why so many people have trouble with that name AH-MOD- IN-UH-JOD, Ahmadinejad...Anyway the Iranian President sent a letter to President Bush asking for "new solutions" to the current potential, ya know, difficulties.

Well it just so happens that being as highly connected as we are here at The Arch-Groovus Report, we have gotten ahold of the White Houses reply to the Iranian President. Please remember these are diplomatic communiques at the highest levels of Government, and were not easy to attain... I guess what I am saying is that I am pretty cool.

So here it is, the White House response to the Iranian President's letter to President Bush:



comments@whitehouse.gov
to m_ahmadinejad@iran.gov May 8th
On behalf of President Bush, thank you for your correspondence.
We appreciate hearing your views and welcome your suggestions.
Due to the large volume of e-mail received, the White House is
unable to respond to every message, and therefore this response
is an autoreply.

Thank you again for taking the time to write.


...well at least it is courteous! Which beats the old message:




v.

Freaky Friday!

Talk about a weird news cycle! I got up this morning and as I perused the news sites, I was hit with these anomolous bits of "news":

The Vice-President, despite his diplomatic accumen, offended some insignificant foriegn country.

Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld was accused of incompetence.

And a Kennedy was driving under the influence of...something.


The world just gets weirder by the day, the next thing you are going to tell me is that the leader of Al-Quaida in Iraq is a hypocrytical, bumbling, POSER, that walks around in New Balance sneakers and seemingly can't figure out the operating function of the most simple assault rifle in the entire world!!!!

Damn.

Okay...so rough news cycle. At least I can rest easy knowing that the Koreans aren't trying to develope an army of beautiful robot women!!!

...

MIGHTY ZEUS' LIGHTNING KOREA!!!!!!
It doesn't really bother me that the Koreans arent well versed in Asimov or Gibson, It bothers me that the have never seen an F'ing science fiction movie...or even Austin Powers. For the love of God and the Holy Land, Korea! This NEVER ends well! Sure, kids are petting them now, but wait till they decide they are smarter than you, and seeing as how you are building sexy robots, that won't be a tough argument to make.


At least tommorrow is Saturday, always a slow news cycle.

The Organization PT II: The Early Years
I actually completed my introductory lessons at the old location, up the road from the new strip mall that the dojo would soon be relocating to. The introductory lessons, or 1st 5er as it was affectionately known as, was essentially an overview of Kenpo as it was taught at the school. In those times, you learned a basic kick, training stance, guard stance, a block, a punch, a combination block-punch, and the first half of a self defense maneuver called Kimono Grab, which taught the student to stop a “bad guy” from executing a two handed grab to the lapel area and push. After you remove the opponents hands from you, the intent is then to strike his throat, forearm the head, punch the groin, then kick them in the stomach. It is kind of the self-defense equivalent of “shock and awe”. If done correctly, the intention is that the bad-guy never lay his hands on you, or pretty near anyone, again.
My instructor for those first few lessons was the man who ran the school at the time, Robert Porras. Mr. Porras was a shortish, slightly built man of debatable ethnic origin, with a closely cut flattop and large, slightly tinted eyeglasses. He seemed nice enough and taught me three enthustically delivered lessons, in which we continued to learn the basics of the system, the whole time slipping in comments like “Wow, Vincent that was excellent” or “Yeah, if you do it like that it will work”. At the end of the third lesson he revealed to me his secret plan: My teacher and I were going to team up and show my parents all I had learned, then we would sit down and talk about if you want to keep doing Kenpo.
“Vincent, you do want to keep doing Kenpo, right?” Do I? Three lessons in and I have formed a secret partnership with my instructor to show my parents the light. Of course I wanted to continue.
So, the forth lesson, the big show. My chance to show my parents exactly how committed I could be. I trained, I practiced, I showed off. Then my parents, Mr. Porras, and I retired to his office and sat down. He spoke to me first.
“Looks like you had a bit of a workout there!”
“Yes sir.”
“Now Vincent, do you feel like this is something you would be willing to work hard at?”
“Of course”
“Well Mr. and Mrs. Salvatore, we work all of our students on what we call the international belt system, it shows you where you’re at, and where you’re going…”
Mr. Porras laid out the whole thing for my parents, where I was at, where I was going. Then it happened. Everything had been going so well and he ruined it, he broke out the one stipulation that I had feared going into this:
“We have 1, 2, and 3 year agreements, at a cost of $14, $13, and $12 a week respectively”.
My parents heads, almost in slow motion, turned to face me; their knowing eyes soaking in my fear, narrowing to shield themselves from the glare of my previous childhood failures at commitment. Then the strangest thing happened: they looked at each other, then back at me,
“What do you think Vincent?”
I didn’t even realize which one of them had said it, all I knew was that there was a crack in the levy, a chink in the armor. I knew what I had to do; they had given space, now so must I. They had met me halfway, and I knew I had to go with the one year. Show them my commitment, but also display for my loving parents my sense of realism and introspection. Show them I was strong, while showing my weakness; show teeth and belly simultaneously. The one year, here it goes, the one year…
“Oh, the three years, definitely the three years!!! I am totally into this.”
Damnit.
My one chance, and I was victimized by Premature-Enunciation.
My parents for their part, turned from me back to Mr. Porras, and then to each other, had a brief exchange that got drowned out by the ringing in my ears, turned back to Mr. Porras and nodded,
“OK then, we’ll do the three year.”
…
Good God, they cracked, they were supposed to argue that! They were supposed to refuse, sighting my previous failures at commitment, then me and my Karate…no my Kenpo teacher would team up and get Karate Mojo all over them and Jedi Mind Trick them into signing for the one year! But instead they called my bluff. Caught up in the commitment tree by a lion of my own making I did what any self-respecting 14 year old would do: I reinforced my lie.
“Thanks, I am totally serious about this you won’t regret this”

A year later I was in my instructor’s office, getting talked out of quitting.
Rueben, Mr. Porras’ little brother, a strangely androgynous smallish man who kind of reminded me of the sister’s that shared the eye in Clash of the Titans, convinced me to give it 6 more months. If I still wanted to quit, him and his brother would let me out of our contract.
It turned out that six months later, neither he, nor his brother would still be at the dojo.


Next: The Gathering Storm (oooh, dramatic literary title!)

Connect the Dots, La, La, La, La

Oh Cruel fate, Oh Horrible, Cruel Fate...Gas is three dollars a gallon, what am I going to do.....The short answer to that, is nothing. Nothing is exactly what most of us are going to do. Would you like me to tell you why? Because many anal-ists predict, that you and I are going to do nothing, until gas is FOUR dollars a gallon. Thats right cats and kittens 1, 2, 3, FOUR.

But do not fret, gentle reader, because the Federal Government is on the case. These guys have a SIX POINT plan to handle the situation, and it goes as follows:

1) The President will follow 5 years of destroying the previous 8 years of environmental laws by ...That's right, lowering emissions standards!

Then Congress takes over for steps 2 and 3

2) Posture and act real indignant about the price gouging and record profits,

3) Trip over parliamentary procedure on the road to nowhere,

Congress gives the baton back to the White House for #4,

4) Complain about Democrats holding things up,

Then Congress brings the plan home with steps 5 and 6!!!!

5) Bide their time until November when you elect them back into office...

6) Go back to doing nothing, because hey, who will hold them accountable?



Now this begs the question, why do nothing? If the American people want it bad enough, why not take real measures to cut oil prices? For that answer we turn to the Center for Responsive Politics....Ok, not yet. Before we get to them lets talk for a moment about everybody's favorite little mom and pop oil operation, Exxon/Mobil.
Last fall when the county was gripped by the horrific aftermath of hurricanes Katrina and Rita, gasoline prices rose to record highs. The oil companies, Exxon/Mobil among them, cried and moaned about refining capacity and played the "If we do not raise prices, civilization will crumble" card. "It costs us more money to produce it now" They wept as profits bottomed out and their stock tumbled.....Profits did drop and stock tumbled right? Well not exactly.

This first chart follows gas prices over the past two years in Tucson and Philly:

Okay, now stay with me. The next chart tracks the price of Exxon/Mobil's stock price over the same period:


I think the most fascinating thing are the corresponding spikes in September '05 and the past few weeks. It is also interesting to note that on October 27th of last year, Exxon/Mobil announced RECORD profits for the third quarter. That of course, covered the time during the Katrina crisis when things were so hard for the poor oil companies.

Now lets get back to the Center for Responsive Politics. On their website they post campaign contribution numbers as reported by the Federal Election Commission. In the period leading up to President Bush taking office through March 13, 2006, the fossil fuel industry has donated $92,191,601 to political campaigns. On the average 80.5% of that has gone to Republican candidates, with 2006 seeing that percentage as high as 84%.

Now I know what some of you are thinking, "Well, when the Dems were in power the percentage was reversed!"...not really. In 1992 when the Democrats still had Congress, the split was 66/34...Still in favor of GOP candidates.

That's just Congress though, surely the President will find a way...Probably not. In two Presidential elections George W. Bush has collected $4.6 MILLION from the oil and gas industry with his Democratic opponents John Kerry and Al Gore pulling in $500,000...Combined. Just enough for the oil companies to hedge their bets in case the Democratic party accidentally stumbled to a victory.

CONNECT THE DOTS

• Price hike,
• You pay more,
• Oil company gets more cash
• Government threatens action
• Oil company pays out dividends,
• Shares with elected officials,
• Government shuts up,
• You vote them back in office
• Oil company complains of "Refinery Capacity"
• You buy another SUV,
• Price hike.

Enjoy summer driving season...

tomorrow, what if all companies got to be oil companies.

v.

The Organization Pt I: 8250

So before this exercise in exorcism begins, I would like to note that this may not be of interest to a lot of people. Their is going to be drawn out stories, references to people they don't know and terms and allusions that, out of context, make no sense at all. This series entitled The Organization, is really only going to appeal to a niche audience. Well, two niche audiences really. The first is going to be people that have first hand knowledge and experience with the Organization (The Organization, by the way is the first reference that only the people who have experienced it will understand...In fact, they already know what this is going to be about). The second niche group is going to be people who know me, and maybe do not understand some of my subtle idiosyncratic ways. No kidding it really is that powerful. The Organization shaped a good part of my life (and by good, I mean significant, or at least lengthy), both by the length of time that it involved me, and the period that I was in fact involved. Disclaimers aside, I know I have already lost some of you, so lets move on.
Actually, back to disclaimers. This work is going to involve real people. Some of whom, if they were to read this, would not be real happy with how they think they are being portrayed. Here is the thing about that, and this is important for both reader and character to understand: This is not who these people really are! The way the characters are portrayed is the point of view of the central character: ME. I make no assertions that my scope of some of these people is somewhat limited, and fogged by their participation in the Organization.
The other dilemma, is that one of the primary shapers of the story, who is not always going to appear in the most flattering light, past away recently. This is someone that in many ways I respect tremendously, and was actually a pall bearer at his funeral. His part in the Shaping is, in part, a realization of clay feet. Much like the human frailty of the Greek gods, observations of this man and their somewhat negative slant at times, stem from the contrast to an early reverence, and not from a latter day disrespect. That being said, I intend to offer my honest recollection of my involvement in this story.

The Organization Pt I: 8250

Austin. Austin was an interesting guy. I first met Austin in 7th grade, and we eventually became very good friends throughout Jr. High and high school. Austin from day one was what in Jr. High was considered wired. He was on the short side, got great grades, long and heavily hairsprayed bangs, braces, and a polite if not somewhat stiff mannerism. Polite even for an adult, but for a 13 year old appeared downright odd. I remember finding it refreshing to meet someone at Carson Middle School who had apparently been instilled in his upbringing with the same courtesies that I had. Austin occasionally said and did things that made me slink into the shadows and hope that the other middle-schoolers understood that I was simply the friend, that we did not in fact share a mind. Not so much in high school, but in middle school I remember not acting in the most loyal way toward Austin. He was one of my two best friends and yet I could not always find a way to support him through my own embarrassment at his public displays of honesty and congruence of image and identity. Austin grew up into one of the most eccentric, creative, and hardworking people that I have ever known. He grew into a artistic elitist, with a blue collar sensibility. With his art and writing being accentuated by the cooling and heating business that he owned and operated. By himself.
Austins part in the shaping was that of inadvertent messenger. Like many Jr. High age kids, the culmination of a hard week of school and trying to not be noticed, was for me, staying the night at a friends house. The tradition of staying up too late, eating poorly, and sneaking out to do ridiculously 12 year old things was alive and well in our lives. One of the first times I stayed over at Austin's house, he informed me that he had to go to class in the morning. Class...On a Saturday. Austin went on to tell me his big secret.
"I have a purple belt in Kenpo"
"Kenpo?"
"Kenpo."
Austin went on to explain to me exactly what Kenpo was. A system of martial arts that had its origins in China-Okinawa-Hawaii-California and beyond.
"Oh, Karate". I stated matter of factly.
"NO...Kenpo"
"Kenpo"
I realized throughout my eventual interaction with many practitioners of many different martial disciplines, that very few of them want their particular styles referred to as "Karate". I mean, sure they will put it on the signs outside of thei businesses because of the name recognition, but if you ask them it is always, "Chuan-Fa" or "Shorin-Ryu", or "Rick-Fu" or whatever. It would be like telling an Army helicopter pilot that they fly a helicopter..."Helicopter?" would be the inevitable response, "That sir, is an AH-64D Apache Longbow, with a millimeter-wave Fire Control Radar (FCR) target acquisition system, the fire-and-forget Longbow Hellfire air-to-ground missile, updated T700-GE-701C engines, and a fully-integrated cockpit. In addition, the aircraft receives improved survivability, communications, and navigation capabilities. Does that sound like a helo to you, sir?". Karate people are much the same way, but not always for the same reason.
So there I sat, on a cold hardwood floor spending my Saturday morning, the first of many entranced by the staff and students of the Chinese Martial Arts Association on Speedway. I decided that I wanted to do this. I wanted to be a bad-ass. I needed this. I was 13.
It was not until I was 15 that I actually moved on that impulse. Several things kept me from my destiny. First off was fear. Fear I would learn later, keeps many people from entering a karate school for the first time. Ironically enough it is also fear that keeps some from leaving it for the last time as well, but we will get to that later. The other thing was Vince and Rita. My parents were always supportive of what me and my sister Jennifer wanted to do in terms of extra-curricular activity. The problem was more me. You see, Vince and Rita had been burned more than once by my lack of followthrough with some of these activities. Ok, all of these activities. From soccer to guitar, my childhood was wrought with things that I did not stick to, although in my defense I did do guitar for two years and soccer for five, but often at gunpoint. So for my parents the thought of committing to driving all the way across town to take classes that I would likely not be interested in for more than the next month or so did not seem like a real sound parenting choice. So I bided my time and waited.
The end of my freshman year in highschool, a new strip mall was built near St. Francis De Sales Church, the Church that my family attended. We drove by the site frequently and as it neared completion, I would stare at it as we drove by wondering what sort of boring east Tucson retail garbage was going to go in it. Straining to see the "Coming soon" signs was when I saw it

8250 E. 22nd st. #123
COMING SOON
American Kenpo Kara...

"MOM! Pull in here!"
Kenpo! On my side of town. All sorts of scenarios began to go through my mind. I could be one of the first students. The teacher will surely recognize my potential. I will be one of the Senior ranking students! I will be a fixture here. This will be my true calling...There is an expression in Italian that goes something like “Quando dio, ole castigarci ci manda, quello che desideriamo.”...When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.

I got home animmediatelyly called to ask about classes and signed up shortly after. It turns out I did not have to wait until the grand opening to make my big debut; the school it would seem, had been around for several years it was just moving down the street a couple of blocks to a new location. I was duped. The strange thing was that I was not duped by some unscrupulous business practice or false advertising. No, I was duped by my own expectations. It was my first experience with unrealistic expectations in regard to The Organization. It would not be the last.
The next several years were wrought with them...Expectations of myself, of other people, of the Kenpo as a whole. So maybe there is our first lesson in this. Those expectations served me in a way. My expectations first of myself made me stretch to try and meet them, than later as a teacher I would at times expect somewhat unrealistic things out of others, thus streching them some.
So there it is. My first lesson.

v.

Who didn't see this one coming?

How did I know that when Avian Flu finally got to North America, that it would be here.

It like the saying goes "...I suggest you not underestimate the staggering drawing power of the Garden State"

Even for a sick bird. Figures.

v.

Como se Dice "OOPS"? (or Oh, Say Can You?...Ci!)

OK, I am not going to spend a huge amount of time on this, simply because I do not have a real well formed stance on this yet. But I would feel like I was not doing My job, if we did not at least touch on the incredibly overblown National Anthem in Espanol debate.

Now I would like to start by saying, I feel like this was neither appropriate nor particularly evil. I think you should probably not mess with anyone's national anthem, and being American I should add the obligatory "Especially not ours in the post 9/11 era." disclaimer...But in general no countries National Anthem. It is generally a source of tremendous inspiration for the more nationalistic among us, to say nothing of the fact that it keeps Lee Greenwood songs from being played at too many sporting events, which is a positive to be sure.

Now the other side of that, is that there really is only as much damage to our national psyche as we allow there to be. In other words, no particular evil was done by this, so I think we should demonstrate a thicker skin than Dane haters who light stuff on fire because they do not understand the purpose of the political cartoon as a medium for social commentary. Incidentally, as a side bar, if a cartoon makes the implication that your religion breeds violence, the best way to answer them is probably not to be violent.

So pardon me for fence sitting, but that's what I have. I think this was insensitive, but not particularly damaging. So lets turn the page on the "poor us" mentality when someone offends us When offended, a bully reacts violently. A truly strong person narrows their eyes, smirks knowingly at the offender and goes about their day.

....And now the big reveal. Why I think this was truly wrong:

It is not an emotional issue for me, as much as an intelligence issue.

Tactically speaking this was a tremendously foolish thing to do.

With most issues like the one at the heart of this matter (Immigration), in America there is the approximate 35/35/30 proportion involved.
35% of the people are liberal and sure of their position.
35% of the people are conservative and sure of their position.
The remaining 30% are not sure what to think and are often repelled to the other side by the "Grand Gesture".

How many people were affected, por exemple, by the Denmark-CartoonGate scandal. Pushed into the camp of the poor offended Muslim by the insensitive cartoons, only to be pushed back by the violent response.

I would not dare compare this to terrorism, as I said earlier "No harm, no foul". But using terrorism as an example by way of its intention, it is not violence for violence's sake. It is a calculated measure to get your enemy to react violently and inflict grievous wounds against your people. Thus gaining sympathy and support.

I think about the timing of the release of this song and the impending demonstrations planned for today May 1st, and I hope that it does not inspire the less enlightened among us to react poorly, like the bully when offended....

Strange, maybe it wasn't so bad tactically. I guess we won't know until May 2nd.

By the way, and not for nothin', but have you read the translation of the changed lyrics. If you just forget the circumstance and apply it to America as a whole, they become a lot less offensive.

And for those still overly offended by someone toying with the National Anthem, I will leave you with two words: Jimi Hendrix

Remember, Read.
v.