In Which Your Faithful Narrator Talks About an Upcoming Dentist Visit

Going to the dentist is always so much fun. I think the expectation of going to the dentist is actually worse than the actual experience. I think I am in the majority of Americans that find the idea of going the dentist frightening, to say the least. Of course, the sadistic dentist scene from Little Shop of Horrors doesn't help much.

I'm only going for a cleaning and a check-up, but I'm sure I'll end with a "you've got a cavity in your wisdom teeth." Yes, I have my wisdom teeth, all four of them. I have a "big mouth" according one dentist I went to a few years back, so there is plenty of room in my gob for all those teeth. Also, I didn't have braces a kid, I guess that's important. I remember when my wisdom teeth came in. It didn't hurt that much, a little ache, but that was it. I was actually pretty happy about that because I saw what my friends went through when they had their ripped out and I wasn't down with that at all.

So, I sit here, visualizing that worst possible cased scenerios of sadistic dentists.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses Character Flaws

i feel like a cheater right now. i have publicly stated in the past that coffee is not a chemistry experiment, and i truly believe that. coffee should be had black. no froo-froo'ness for me. no, sir. i disdain the "coffee based drink" that is actually nothing more than a coffee flavored (if you're lucky) milk shake. no, friends, i drink my coffee black. i drink my coffee straight. i drink my coffee unemcombered by the fruit of the bovine teet or the sugar cane. but this morning, as i looked out the window and see an arctic wonderland of ice and snow, i caved, with my third cup of coffee and made it into a chemistry experiment: i added the afforementioned fruits. the result? a sweetened concoction that is not coffee, but a sweetened, brownish liquid that ceased resembling coffee the moment i twirled my spoon to mix it all up. so, in a moment of weakness i made myself a hypocrite, but i own up to it and beg for thy grace and forgiveness.

i woke up this morning a little before nine. emma was curled in a ball on my bed, by feet, her tail wrapped around her and the tip touched her forehead, though, i'm not really sure cats have forheads. perhaps it is best to say "the slope of her head just past her ears." i woke, my mouth slightly cotton-bally from the lack of water during the night and my hair askew in strange un-geometric positions, and looked out the window to see that old man winter had indeed visited my own little slice of heaven as i slumbered. i got out of bed and hit the kitchen in search of my first infusion of the last great legal drug, made my bagel and egg (i broke a yoke, damn) and commenced to watch some sports center. my monring ritual, if you will. i was able to see footage of the snow fall occuring in new england this morning. my, i think i'd rather watch that game from the warmth of a bar stool or my living room than in the stands, but, since i am admitting to character deficiencies this morn, i'll own up to one more: i'm a wimp and proudly so! the idea of being in the stands watching a football game freezing my ass off does nothing, absolutely nothing for me. the sheer thought makes my feet turn into size 10 ice cubes. no, droogies, i would most assuredly rather watch the game from the warmth of that nice round bar stool, or comfy soft (yes, i used the words "comfy soft") couch.

but worrying about the game is actually quite silly because i won't be able to watch it any way. i have to work this evening. i don't mind. this time of year is fun to work in retail. yeah, you read that right, too. i said fun. i don't mind working tonight because i have tomorrow off and i'm going out with beth. we are going christmas shopping tomorrow. not for each other, but together. at least we decided that last night as we talked on the phone. but strange things happen with our schedules. but i'm going to give it another go with her.

i'll have to get myself bundled up soon, go outside and try and shovel the ice and snow from the walk way so that it will all blow back and my labor shall be for naught. ah, pisswah.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Laments

I don't much like the job hunting process. I just don't. My self-confidence doesn't like it either. I feel a bit like I'm prostituting myself everytime I send my resume or fill out an application (I did both today). And forget about the cover letter. That really makes my head spin. I still think the best way to get a job is to walk up to the person in charge and say "I'd like to work here." Bossman says "Okay, you're hired." That would make life so much easier and my whole self-confidence thing would be much stronger, I think.

I applied for, believe it or not, a children's services librarian position today. Believe it or not, I'm not desperate, but I think it might be fun. I will keep applying until I find something. I haven't heard back from the IMCPL, yet, I have called them, but I left a message and the lady I interviewed with never called me back. I don't know if I should take that as a sign for good or bad. I'm leaning towards naught.

Onward and forward, right?

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Bemoans Straws on the Camel's Back

Its tough to keep positive sometimes. Its tough to keep a sunny disposition. I've been somewhat depressed today after having to have my car fixed. The fact that I haven't heard from the library that I interviewed with last week has started to gnaw on my subconscious.

I believe whole heartedly in "God's Plan." I believe that God has a plan for my life. I just wish he'd let me on the next act a bit sooner. I'd like to know my cue, if you will. Of course, I'm not even sure I'm in this scene... I'll stop with the theater analogy. I think you get my meaning, though.

I'll just keep on truckin.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Gets Tagged by Winter Weather

I had a small accident yesterday morning on my way to work. I didn't hit any one or really damage the body of my car. Instead, I did a bit of a number on my front end alignment, to the tune $414.25. That is actually 24.74 cheaper than the original estimate. It was low impact collision with a curb that caused the damage. I was turning into the parking lot of the mall that I work at and as I turned my wheel my car slid (we had a snow storm yesterday that dropped about 2-3 inches of heavy wet snow). I wasn't going much faster than 10 miles an hour, or so. I know that I am supposed to "stear into the skid" but when there is only a foot or two of space between the time the skid starts and the car's tire bump the sidewalk there isn't much time for anything other than bracing for impact. It was a bit jarring, but I was able to continue driving okay.

After work I went straight to the Chevy dealer and had them look at it. I was hoping it was nothing more than a simple realignment (50 bucks) but it wasn't, obviously. As I drove it to the dealership there was a strange humming coming from the wheels and I had to keep my stearing wheel at a weird angle in order to keep my car going straight. The thing that really burns my biscuits is I just had my car's front end realigned less than three weeks ago! Gah! I guess I just can't win for losing, huh?

Here's what it looked like outside my window this morning:

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Jones a Bit

I wrote the other day about the interview I had at the library in downtown Indy. I think I wrote about how much I really want the job-- if for no other reason than the beautiful building and the view. Well, the Indianapolis Star had a pull out section about the libray today. You can click here to see some panoramas of the new building and the view. I haven't heard anything yet, but I'm still hoping and praying and you know what they say: no news is good news.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses His Barking Dogs

My dogs are barking. Not actually dogs, because I don't have any dogs, but my feet. They are aching a bit. That's what happens in retail at Christmas time. Running hither and yon. Trying to help three customers at once. Making sure I get that display up right now! The phone rings. Answer it. Put the customer on hold. Look for their book while someone else asks me where their book is. Yes, its a lovely time.

I'm tired, hungry, and a bit grumpy. I hope the library calls soon.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses Another Interview

I had an interview the other day. It was for a part time position, but its a position I feel could lead to better things. The position was for, essentially, a reference job. The Indianapolis Marion County Library (IMCPL) has just done a massive renovation and rebuild. Actually, it is two years late and roughly fifty million, yes you read that right, fifty million dollars over budget. Most of that fifty million went towards fixing a defective parking garage.

I could do it. I could go part time at my current job and do that part time and believe it or not, I'd make more money a year than I do now full time. I'd just have to keep a certain amount of hours at my current job to keep my benefits.

I am trying not to get myself all wound up and excited about the job interview, though. I think it went well, but I thought my interview I had a few weeks ago went well and I ended up not getting that job. I guess you could say that I am cautiously optimistic and prayerfully hopeful. Though, I will say, it would be awfully sweet to work in a brand new building.

All I have to say is this: the view from the sixth floor is truly amazing, oh, and the old building that housed the library is now the fiction wing. Yeah, you read that right.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Gets a Shot of Needed Self-Confidence

Last night I discovered a website that listed library jobs. I started perusing some of them and I discovered, happily, that I might actually be qualified for a good many of them. There is a nice feature that lists jobs by states and then those states have links to universities and public libraries, so I spent about an hour or more happily bouncing around the country looking at library jobs.

I found a few that were enticing, but I didn't send my resume or anything because I didn't have my thumbdrive that has my resume on it. As a matter of fact, I've been thinking I need to redo my resume. Make it look more professional, the problem with that is I dislike working on my resume. I don't like "bragging" about myself.

When I didn't get the job I interviewed for a few weeks back I was actually more crushed than I led myself to believe. That, I won't call it a failure, really took the wind out of my sails, but yesterday I learned that classmate of mine got a job in a library in Savannah, GA. I figured, if she can do it, why can't I? I think I've mentioned my dilemma when it comes to my self-confidence. I can be my own worst enemy when it comes to that kind of thing.

In other news, but kind of in the same vein, I finally got my degree in the mail today. I'm, dare I say it... stoked. I feel like taking that degree and showing some of my teachers that told me I wouldn't get out of high school that I did, in fact not only get out of high school, I went to college and got an A.A. degree, a Bachelors, and now, my friends, a Masters.

Am I allowed to feel proud of myself for a little while? I don't think I can express here, in words, the feeling of accomplishment I have; it feels good to be able to say to my teachers from the past "I showed you!" And the 16-year old dishwasher who made a promise to himself that he would in fact get a masters degree someday can feel especially proud of himself for achieving that which many didn't think he could do.

So, to Mr. Campenero, my fourth grade teacher: I DID IT! To Miss Miller, my high school English teacher who told me I shouldn't try and take the English 101 class my senior year: I DID IT! To Mrs. Walsh, my Spanish teacher: I DID IT!

Now, I just have to take this good feeling and turn it into something positive. That's going to be the trick. I have to be careful because that voice of self-doubt will rear its ugly head.

Oh, did I mention that about two weeks ago I requested information from Concordia Ft. Wayne? Never hurts to look into things, right?

In Which Your Narrator Enters the Electronic Store and Survives Somewhat Unscathed

Going to the electronics store is always something of a nerve wracking experience to me. Particularly, when I go with my parents and I have to try and explain the difference between various electronic equipment. Try explaining the difference between HD and Blu-ray to a man, my father, who still marvels at something like, I don't know, color TV. The problem is, though, that I don't quite understand the difference between HD or Blu-ray, either. And I'll admit that I do in fact sometimes marvel at the fact that I am sitting in Indiana and watching a baseball game in New York. Or try explaining what the bells and whistle of Microsoft Vista as opposed to XP are. Another admission, I really don't know. I am not the most technical savvy guy in the world. Matter of fact much of the information and knowledge I do have is probably more from osmosis than anything else.

We went to H.H. Gregg today. For the last couple weeks my mom has been toying with two decisions. The first was about a computer. She has a computer, had it for about five years. Its a Gateway and has XP. Her problem is that it has started to slow down. So she calls her in house computer guru, i.e. me, your faithful narrator, and asks me fix it for her. Well, if it can't be fixed by staring at it, or doing ye olde disk cleanup I'm pretty much useless; however, I did poke around a bit and decided that if she got rid of much of the downloaded stuff and pictures she has seems to have saved she might just be able to get the thing chugging, again. I showed how to do that and then delete the stuff. The other day she did it and did clear off quite a bit of space. She says its moving faster now, which is a good thing. This morning she announced that she had decided not to buy a new computer.

The second decision she has been thinking about was getting a new TV my parents' bedroom. That is why we went to H.H. Gregg. H.H. Gregg is a bit overwhelming. Its TV section is quite impressive and if you look closely at the TVs they have there you can see subtle differences in the picture. I learned something today. Flatscreen TVs don't have very good sound. They may have kick ass picture quality, but there is little room for speakers. We went to H.H. Gregg twice, wait three, times today. The first time was this morning, around eleven, or so. We talked to this guy name Trevor. He talked to us for about a half an hour and we decided to get a TV by a company we'd never heard of before. So we took the TV home, plugged it in and I got it programmed to get the TV stations. Turned it on and started to watch it. The picture was good, I'll give it that, but the sound... oi, or to quote my mother "it sounds like they're talking into a can underwater," and my favorite "that's not how Paula Deen sounds." So, she called H.H. Gregg which turned into an exercise in patients. We took the TV back to H.H. Gregg and ended up buying a Samsung, I think. It was more money, but the sound is wonderful and the picture... oi! You can see the extra money in the quality of the TV. The old adage of "you get what you pay for" did, in fact, come into play today. Now, I'll just have to learn how the TV works so I can explain it to my parents, particularly my mom. And yes, Paul Deen sounds like she's supposed to: brassy southern belle.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Rifts on Being an Optimist

Its tough to be an optimist. I have to work at it. If I'm not careful the hum-drum, doom-n-gloom around me can, and sometimes does, bring me down. I have never really been a pessimist. I have wallowed in pessimism before, but never really made a home there, I discovered that being a pessimist takes too much energy. I have to work at it. Being a optimist is so much easier, takes less energy, and is more fun.

Sometimes, I think people look at my optimism as being lazy, or they think that, in reality, I don't care. Those are both fallacies. I do in fact care and I'm not lazy. The last few weeks on the job front were tough for me, but I kept telling myself that there was a reason for all the things that didn't go my way. I believe that wholeheartedly. I'm sure that I'll look back on the last months in the future and say "yep, that's why such and such didn't happen. Thank God for that..."

It is easier to be an optimist.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discovers Subersive Haiku on the Computer While Working the Circ Desk in the Law Library

** these are not mine. i don't know who wrote them, but they're pretty funny. enjoy**

The Web site you seek
Cannot be located, but
Countless more exist.
--------------------------------------------
Chaos reigns within.
Reflect, repent, and reboot.
Order shall return.
--------------------------------------------
Program aborting
Close all that you have worked on.
You ask far too much.
--------------------------------------------
Windows NT crashed.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.
No one hears your screams.
--------------------------------------------
Yesterday it worked.
Today it is not working.
Windows is like that.
--------------------------------------------
Your file was so big.
It might be very useful.
But now it is gone.
--------------------------------------------
Stay the patient course.
Of little worth is your ire.
The network is down.
--------------------------------------------
A crash reduces
Your expensive computer
To a simple stone.
--------------------------------------------
Three things are certain
Death, taxes and lost data.
Guess which has occurred.
--------------------------------------------
You step in the stream,
But the water has moved on.
This page is not here.
--------------------------------------------
Out of memory.
We wish to hold the whole sky,
But we never will.
--------------------------------------------
Having been erased,
The document you're seeking
Must now be retyped.
--------------------------------------------
Serious error.
All shortcuts have disappeared.
Screen. Mind. Both are blank.
--------------------------------------------

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Muses About Nothing in Particular Except Existential Curve Balls

Reformation Day came, and went; in retail we are officially gearing up for the Christmas season. Product has been rolling in since September, we have started stacking books under tables (the acronym for such activity, at least at my employ is COUTS, though, I don't quite remember what it stands for other than the UT means "under tables," we booksellers may be witty, sometimes, but not all that original).

The annual statewide scratching of collective heads has begun, again. Daylight savings time does the "fall back" routine this weekend, Saturday to be exact. So, the newspaper had its yearly "tutorial" as to what counties do what. All I know is that my county Johnson County falls back and is on Eastern Time. That's all I need to know. The northwestern counties go Central and southwestern counties do something else. Ah, Hoosiers, gotta love ya.

I was distinctly depressed the other day. Like down in the dumps depressed, corner of the dark bar with a shot in hand depressed. Life has thrown me some curve balls the last couple weeks and the other day I just couldn't keep myself positive, so became negative and started beating myself up. I'm pretty good at that, I can give myself a pretty good emotional black eye from time to time. That night I just went to bed and slept for about nine hours. That worked really well.

I wish there was more to report, but there really isn't much going on in my neck of the blogosphere and maybe, just maybe, that's a very good thing.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses Art and his Crush

Art, is just a man's name.
-- A. Warhol

Last Friday my father and I went to the Indianapolis Museum of Art, aka The IMA. There is an exhibit of Roman art on loan from the Louve, that dinky little are museum in old Paris, France. It was quite an interesting exhibit. If for no other reason than the statuary from such ancient times. Looking at a statue, or wall relief from 2000 years ago does something to a person. Well, at least me, it made me feel somewhat small and a lot inconsequential. I am just a spec on the great time continuum.

I had a strange feeling of vertigo for a bit. I imagined that some of the Biblical characters: Paul, for example, might very well have seen these very statues. The history these statues have seen.

I like the IMA. Its a beautiful facility, and its free (aside from special exhibits like the afore mentioned Roman Exhibit). Its situated just north of Indianapolis in one of the more ritzy parts of town. Right near Crown Hill Cemetery final resting place of many a famous Hoosier, a couple Vice Presidents, President, and a bunch of other ordinary folks. But I'm not talking about the cemetery, I'm talking about the art musuem.

I go to the IMA a couple times a year, I walk through and look at all the paintings and sculptures and ooh and ahh at the talent on display and then, well I have to go see my painting. Last year the IMA's "tag line," or slogan was "the IMA, its my art." Cute. But I took them to their word and I do, in fact, have a painting. Its Edward Hopper's "Hotel Lobby." I'm not sure why that painting resonates with me, though I'm sure the blond in the lower right hand corner reading has something to do with it.

Is it possible to have a crush on a painting? Or at least one of the images in the painting? I don't know, but I think I might. I often find myself just wondering what the story of the painting is. Who are is the older couple in the upper left of the painting, and what about the deskman on the upper right, he's barely visible, he is partially obscured by the desk lamp. What is the story? Hopper is known for his stark renderings of images. You might call it pessimistic art, but this painting does seem to reach out and grab me. Maybe its because I have experienced that scene, I'm sure we all have: being a motel alone with only a book for comfort. That might sound like a good time to many, but that can be disconcerting. There is a difference between being "alone" and "lonely." And the older couple, they are standing slightly apart from each other, their faces are not happy, they're almost dour. The colors of the painting are not warm, either. Even the light from the lamps is discouraging.

Then there is the blond woman, sitting there reading. Her dress just above the knee, I believe its a blue dress. She's what draws me to the painting. I want to know about her: what's she reading, what's her name, what does she do, why is she in the motel... can I buy her a drink? I tried to give her a name once, but it didn't work. No name really fit. The painting to me, I guess, is the embodiment of that moment in time that everyone shares with strangers. It usually happens when I'm in traffic, or in a line. There is a connection with someone. I get to know them through their actions, never a word passes between us. But the actions and the reactions speak the volumes. I guess I will continue to be a voyeur and watch the the scene hoping for a connection...

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Asks the Deep Questions

Its raining outside, or at least it was when I came in; it was that hard drizzle that soaks you faster than a hard driving rain. As a result, the day is rather grey. Or is it gray? I think that "grey," is the British spelling and "gray" is the American. "Gray" must be American because I don't get that little squiggly line that tells me I'm snook of a speller like I do when I type "grey."

That begs a question, I think. Does "grey" mean something different than "gray," I mean if you write "prey" that means food for the tiger, but if you type "pray" then you're talking the Higher Power. These are the kind conundrums I deal with on a regular basis. Words... oh well.

I had a much more erudite entry planned in my nogginal pan, but I think it sprung a leak, the nogginal pan, that is.

In Which Your Narrator Says "You Love Me, You Really Love Me," or How I'm Found, or Keywords

pedal pumping

paul goeke lutheran-- That's the Rev. Most High Paul Goeke to you. And yes, he is the Lutheran's Lutheran! You don't mess with Goeke.

putting salt in your gas tank
i was there to hear your borning cry music
worst thing to put in gas tank
emptying gas tank
18 wheeler fuel tanks
is it better to have a full tank of gas than an empty one
i was there to hear your borning cry
metal gas natural tank
what does sugar in your car's gas tank do?
how do fuel tank cells work -hydrogen automotive
gas tank metal construction photos
things you need to know about gas tanks

if sugar gets in a gas tank what to do
what problems will i have if sugar is put in my gas tank -- who puts sugar in someone's gastank? I mean, come on that's just rude.

pedal to the metal costume
hitting the fuel tank
boat gas pedal pumping
hard track pedal of meta
flip flops gas pedal
gas tank t shirts
kristen laine college bands
empty tank auto problems
how much does a full throttle
putting salt water in gas tank
gas pedal pumping fun
emptying fuel tanks
male pedal pumping
pedal pumping youtube
what to do if there is something in your fuel tank

karl loofrin -- this one just kind of freaked me out, why is someone looking for me specifically...?

gas tank fell off going down the road
full throttle lifts
what do you put in a gas tank to mess it up
putting rocks in gas tanks
gas tank is empty but car will not take gas
what happens when there's water in gas tank?
fuel tank job
how do car fuel tanks work
four throtle

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses an Installation in Today's Service

There was an installation in my church today. Rev. Raji Udhayanesan, was installed as an associate pastor today. He will be minsitering to the Indian population that has sprung up here in Indiana in the last few years. The installation was done during the regularly scheduled Sunday service, some Rev. Raji's congregation sang two songs in the Tamil language, which by the way has over 200 vowels. Yeah, I have troule with the five (or six if you count "Y") let alone 200. It is always exciting to see new ministries start. It is my sincere hope and prayer that Rev. Raji is succesful in this new ministry.

There were about six or seven pastors there to lay hands on Rev. Raji's head, my father was one of them. It was so good to see my dad in his "uniform." He admitted that it felt good to "do something pastorly, again," doctors have counseled him that it is unwise to preach. When he asked why, they told him that there is a certain amount of stress that comes with preaching that would not be good for his general heart health, as a result he hasn't done much church stuff in the last few years.

Like I said there were five or six pastors there, as they gathered around to bless Rev. Raji one of them walked away. He literaly walked out of the church. The whole congregation watched him leave. They didn't hear or pay attention to the blessings. As a group we all had one question on our minds: "where's he going." I thought he might of been sick, or something, but it turned out he was offended by something. I'm not sure what, but he decided that he couldn't do handle what was goig on and left. My father said something about him saying that he was bothered about something that didn't mesh with the LCMS. I really don't know what it was, though. My dad, in his tyical, sarcastic way said: "there's a special place in Heaven for him." In other words, he's next in line for the right side of God. My dad has no time for that kind of thing.

The whole affair just seemed awfully petulent and immature. His actions took away from the whole service. In my opinion if he had a problem with something he should of maybe stepped back, but not left and then gone to the pastor of the church to discuss his concerns. Come on, man, be a professional and remember congregations see what you do. Okay, I'm done with that episode.

In Which Your Narrator Gets Caught in the Great Exepience Conundrum

There is a saying, I think, that goes something like this: "I wasn't hired because I didn't have enough experience. How does one get experience if they won't hire me?" That's my conundrum today. I did not get the library job I applied for the other day, it went to someone who had more public library experience than me. That's a problem for people like me in Central Indiana. This place is lousy with librarians. When realize that there are at least two, maybe three schools that are putting librarians: the two that come to mind right now are IU-Bloomington and IUPUI, my alma mater. Of course they have MLS programs in the other satalite campuses of the IU system. So, the place is lousy with librarians.

I've had a hard time figuring out which direction I want to go with my librarianship. For a long time I thought I wanted to be an academic librarian, but that's an awful lot of work. I still do, to a degree, but I think my talents, such that they are, would be better used in the public library realm.

I know I should probably look outside of Indiana for a job, but I'm not comfortable leaving my parents. I'm not afraid of living on my own, I can do that. I just don't want to be far away in case something happens and I need to get back quickly.

I can tell you one thing: obviously that job I applied for was not "from God" as I wrote in a past entry. If it was I would of gotten it, right? That might of blasphemy...

Well, back to the employment pages...

In Which Your Narrator Discusses the Lone Dollar in His Wallet

I have broken the law. Well, I think I have, but I'm not a hundred percent sure. Let's say I did because its more romantic that way. I just wrote the following on the lone dollar bill in my wallet: You Are Not Broke. I have had that dollar in my wallet for the week or so. I haven't spent it, I've been tempted, but I haven't. I did some great damage to my bank account recently. So, if you look at my bankbook you will see that I am practicing deficit spending, but not doing a very good job of it. But I have this lone dollar in my wallet and for some reason having the legend You Are Not Broke written across the top makes me feel better. That dollar has become my talisman. Its tough to look into my wallet and see nothing where the money should be except for my written upon dollar. Its my fault that I am in financial straights. I have too much outflow and not enough inflow when it comes to money. I have put the brakes on the outflow. I have been watching my bills carefully and made calls. I have gotten interest rates lowered and discovered charges that were not authorized and had them stopped. I have bought anything for fun in weeks. My only "fun" expenditure lately has been my monthly fee for netflix.

In May I had a little sitdown talk with myself and said "self, your spending too much money on things." I replied "self, you're right. we must stop!" I have stopped buying food in the cafe at work. At a dollar or two it doesn't seem like much, but add that up and it quickly becomes very much indeed. I have coffee can that I keep change in. I used to use it as a snack fund when at work or school, but now its used as a rudimentary savings plan.

I keep eyeing my credit cards while holding a scissor. I'm going to get to that soon enough, but there is a certain amount of fear over that and I know that's part of what the credit card companies want. They want me to beceome addicted to their cards. I have them in an envelope on a shelf somewhere. If I need them I can get to them, but I doubt I'll need them. Yes, you read that right "them." The fact that I have to discuss credit cards in plural makes me sick. I just realized that I have three Mastercards, a Discover Card, and my checkcard is a Visa. Oh, I have a JCPenny Card, too. Who needs that many credit cards?

I work in retail, so I see a lot of open wallets. I can tell you this: I got nothing in cards compared to some of the people I see. I wince when a card is declined and they dig through their wallets to get another one... and that one is declined... and they write me a check. I feel like saying "don't. you don't need it," but I can't. But its not about them, its about me.

I got myself into this mess and I'll be damned if I let it get any worse. The only debt I feel okay about is my car payement and student loan. Everything else... makes me feel like a schnook.

It does pay to call the credit card companies and ask to get your interest rate lowered. I did that today and it worked. The interest rates were lowered, considerably. The best rate I have now is ten percent, the worst is about 16. Thank God for internet paying. That has helped, but not a hundred percent.

What this boils down to is this: I have not been a good steward of the blessings God has given me.

So, I will keep that dollar in my wallet. The one that says You Are Not Broke. It shall be my talismans. I'll keep it there to remember. To remind myself.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses a Job Interview

I had an interview yesterday. It went very well. At least I felt very confident that I did well. I don't like interviewing for jobs. I dislike being interviewed. I dislike the whole job searching process. I always feel so selfconscious when I'm getting asked questions like "so tell us about one of great successes," or "tell us about one of your problem customers you might have had..." I'd rather get the questions like "do you want to work here?" "yes" "Okay, you're hired." That'd be nice, wouldn't it?

The position I applied for is a position that I think was sent by God. I'm only half kidding about that. It is a full-time reference position at the library near my home (two miles away, to be exact, I clocked it on my way home from the interview). I could walk there, if I wasn't afraid of getting run-over by an SUV driven by a someone balancing a Starbuck's coffee and talking on the cellphone while driving with their knee. I'm not so worried about the side streets, its Rte 31 I'm afriad of, but I'm trying not think that I "got the job." I'd hate to get myself all worked up and then not get it. I feel confident I did well, but that's as far as I'm going with it.

It was kind of by accident that I discovered the position available. I was poking around the website of my local library, something I hadn't done in a while. I clicked on the link dealing with "career opportunites" and there was the notice for a full time adult services reference librarian. I read the notice and just sent my resume. I got an email setting up an interview. My head was spinning a bit yesterday, as I tried with all my nogginal fortitude to keep the expectation and hope to an even keeled level. Yeah, I was and am excited about the possibility.

The hours are great, the money's good, too. Its better money than I'm making at my present place of employ. Almost three dollars more an hour. Since I am an hourly employee at my current employ I look at pay rates hourly. It helps me gauge what I might be getting myself into. If nothing else the savings in gas will be amazing and the my friends is key and I wouldn't be putting 250 miles a week on my car going to and from my current employ.

I have been doing alot of praying about the job yesterday and today. Okay, maybe not prayer, mabye begging would be better... *chuckles* but I really do feel confident and excited about the opportunity that has presented itself. So, here's to fingers crossed and hands folded.

I'll keep you informed.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses His Future

You know that picture I have on the upper right corner of my blog. The picture of the shadow figure at the Y? I took that last winter of myself in Miliatary Park. When I took it, I didn't think that it would become such a symbol to me. Right now, that is my life. I am, and have been, at a cross-roads in life for a few months now. I think I've been sitting on a metaphysical log though, trying to figure it out. Which road to take. T.S. Eliot tells us to take the road less traveled, I think, but sometimes that's the wrong option. Sometimes the smooth road is the one to take.

Recently, I prayed that God's will, not mine, be done. I've been praying that a lot lately. I've been praying that a couple times a day, every day for the last three weeks. Decisions are going to be made. They have to be. I have an interview tomorrow at my local library for a full time adult reference position. It is, in short, exactly what I want to do. It's painful how much I want to do it. A few weeks ago, I came to the conclusion that retail just wasn't going to cut it for me any more for a variety of reasons. One, its hard on my body. My knees, hips, shoulders, and feet are in a general state of aches. Two, the money, though decent, is not great. Three, I want to make my degree work for me since I worked for it for two years its time to see what that baby can do for me.

Those are the things I want. I have to stop and remind myself that what I want is not necessarily what God wants for me. I pray that His will be made clear to me. I like how a DCE I used to know would pray for that kind of thing: he would pray "Lord, make it PAINFULLY obvious what you want me to do." I'm not so sure I'm down with the "painful" part, but I like it when its a bit flashy, perhaps. I'm not the brightest guy in the bar, I need some flashing and blinking and some shiney. I need to notice it. Subtle doesn't always work for me.

I sent my resume out to a couple other libraries. I haven't heard from either of them.

So, tomorrow I'll be interviewing with my local library. I'm excited about the fact. I interviewed a few months back for a parttime position, I was offered the position, but I ultimately turned it down because I just couldn't do it, school, and my full time job. And at the time, my fulltime job (retail) was very important. I needed that in order to survive. I'm not looking for another job because I don't like my current one, as a matter of fact, I quite enjoy my current job. I like what I do.

So my prayer this night and the next few nights will be for guidance and knowledge. I need some handholding right now a little tug here and there in the right direction.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator is Found

pedal pumping
pedalpumping job
signed copy of blue like jazz
something gas tanks shouldn't do
driving a car on empty gas
spider two white dots underneath
http://da-ipz.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html
when someone put sugar down your gas tank
i never ever had a wood put the pedal to the metal
how to empty a fuel tank
why not to race with half a tank of gas
what happens when there is sugar in your gas tank?
krass and bernie
minister appreciation month poems
2005 night train gas tank
full throttle books
gastank
pastor paul goeke
truck stuttering when pushing gas
book of concord reader's edition
male pedal pumping on television
full throttle fan game
male pedal pumping
calhoon don't want the ball
throtle watch
spider brown black patch wh
kid rock gas tank
empty gas can
constantly running gas tank near empty
what does theology and geometry mean to ignatius
borning cry
ihop coffee

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Watches the World Go By

Sitting at the circ desk. Watching the baby lawyers walk by. So determined. So anxious. They walk with their heads down, not making eye contact. Its better that way, I suppose. No eye contact no social interaction. That's better, too sad. I watch them, with their heads down and their eyes to the floor and wonder if they are happy. Do they really want to do what their studying for? Is there a point where they can cut their losses? Probably not. I work with a guy who used to be a lawyer. He did it four three years. Hated it. I asked him about two weeks ago if there was a point in law school when he realized he didn't want to be a lawyer. He said yes. I asked him why he didn't quit. His answer: he was too far in and owed to much money. So he did something he hated for three years and quit. Makes me wonder about myself.

I've been trying to write poems again. That's a lie. I've thought about trying to write again, but the idea brings nothing. I can't even find a voice to try and write-- this doesn't count. It does, I suppose, but maybe writing here and other places in this form has taken the need for other writing away. I don't know.

Sitting here listening to DJ Shadow via my iPod. I have one earbud in my left ear. Its so quiet here in the library, that's a good thing, I know, but it can be a bit disconcerting sometimes. Its that whole "its quiet, too quiet" thing that gets to me. And yet, I strive for some silence in my life. Working retail makes me crave silence and fuels my misanthrope attitude. I don't hate people, really. We just wear me out.

I have had the need to paint lately, I haven't actually gone and done it, but I kind of feel the need for it. I painted for a little while in college. It was fun, but messy and a bit expensive. William Carlos Williams once said the he became a writer because he didn't feel like lugging canvas, paints and easel around. There's a lot to that, isn't there?

The music has changed to The Mystery Sonatas. It'll change to something different in a minute, thank goodness for iPod shuffle, it makes life's soundtrack so... different.

See... its now playing something from Lucky Number Sleven soundtrack. I think my iPod knows my mood: quiet contemplation. You know my favorite album I have on my iPod is the soundtrack to Rick Burns' documentary about New York City. I listen to it often. Almost too much, actually.

I wonder what kind of life will be made from my movie I'm starring in. Yeah, you read that right. That's a bit of a misquote from Kinky Friedman, a smart man. He should be president, lord knows not a candidate right now even gets me a little excited. I'm hoping for a "none of the above" option come next election day.

Any candidate that tries to cozy up to the "religious Right" makes me automatically nervous. Just like any candidate that gets too comfortable with moveon.org or something like that. I hate politics by soundbite. How did I get involve with politics?

I'm tired and contemplative. That's never a good combination. I can get depressed and go into a funk. That's not good, either. I just need a good night's sleep. A good uninterrupted night's sleep. A complete day off. I need a vacation.

I need a good, cold beer.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discovers Chicanery and Does Something About It*

it pays to watch your bills. in the last two weeks i have noticed some strange charges on my credit card bill, my checking account, and on my t-mobile phone bill. each charge was ten dollars. not something one really notice. the first one was on my checking account, it was for 10 dollars. i had noticed a month before, but i didn't do anything about it, i wasn't sure what i had purchased, but i let it go. then it happened again. so, i did a little research. the company's name on the charge wli*reservations. i didn't have the foggiest as to what that was. luckily, there was what appeared to be a phone number next to the charge, so i called the number and low and behold it was a company. after going through an electronic operator i was able to get the charge taken off. the problem was i hadn't the foggiest how it got started. i bought something online, a cd i think, and i have a feeling that there was an "offer" that i didn't say no to.

yesterday, i was checking an account of a card i don't use any more and had cut up and thrown away. i've been trying to pay it down. i noticed a 9.99 charge for something i know i hadn't authorized. i called the credit card company and they told me who it was. i told them that i hadn't authorized said charge, they gave me a number and i called. i was pretty livid, actually. i talked to this girl on the phone and told her that i hadn't authorized, nor even knew what the company was. i had gone back and checked old credit card statements and they'd been charging me 9.99 for almost six months. SIX MONTHS! for what? i haven't a clue. i got that charge taken off. however, i didn't feel very good about it, so i called back the credit card company and had them cancel the credit card number and issue me another. i'll be watching that statement very closely for the time being.

today, i was looking at my cell phone bill and i noticed a 9.99 charge. it had been there last month, too. it was from a company called "thumbplay." i called t-mobile and asked what it was for. i had downloaded one, just one ringtone from thumbplay to my cellphone (rl burnside tune, sounds very cool when it goes off). it turns out that tumbplay had been charging me 9.99 a month for essentially nothing. if i had seen the charge of 9.99 for anything from thumbplay i would of said "hell nah" when i downloaded the song. i got a guy at t-mobile who was either over caffinated or just really high on life, but he was able to stop the charges AND he credited me 9.99 on my next bill. i will be watching that bill closely, too.

these three experiences have left me a little shaken. and made me a bit angry, a lot angry, truth be told, but it just goes to show that you have to watch your bills very closely. check those statements and be oh so careful when buying anything on line. one of those charges got attached to my credit card after purchasing a dvd from either dvdplanet.com or deepdiscountdvd.com. either way, just be aware.

* originally posted at opendiary.com

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Goes Down the Rabbit Hole of Memory Lost

Yesterday at work I had a conversation with a guy who was looking for a book about Ed Roth, of Rat Fink fame. Ed Roth was an artist that made hotrods, or more importantly completely recreated the art of the hotraod, he was also a legitmate graphic artist who created automotive inspired art, hence Rat Fink. You've probably all seen the Rat Fink character on t-shirts and posters-- he's usually a overgrown rat in a souped up hotrod, slobbering over a gearshift topped with a skull and there are flames blowing from the exhaust pipes and dust and gravel spewing from behind the rear tires.

As we talked the guy said something about CARtoons magazine. I almost fell over. I used to subscribe to that magazine when I was in middle school. I was never a car-guy per se, that is I was never a grease monkey, nor did I know anything about cars, but I liked the magazine, I thought it was funny. CARtoons magazine was kind of like a Mad Magazine for the gearheads. The thing is that I have never talked to anyone who remembers the magazine. I get blank stares when I mention it. I had gotten to the point in my life that I thought it was a made up memory. I wasn't sure that the magazine had existed. Turns out it did. When the guy mentioned it I about freaked out. I think he was a bit surprised at my excitement over it. We talked for about ten minutes about the magazine and I rattled off some of the things I remembered about it. I particularly remember
Krass & Bernie. They were definitely two gearheads. They were drawn by a guy named George Trosley, a well known artist in car circles. I remember Krass & Bernie because they were always designing these crazy cool hotrods that usually ended up in some way or another not going anywhere. The Krass & Bernie strip was usually at the beginning of the magazine.

I guess in weird way it feels good to have a memory validated. I seriously thought it was a memory I had made up, though, I knew it wasn't. Its too bad the magazine has stopped publishing. It really was a lot of fun.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses Traffic

Yesterday, as I was driving home from work contemplating life and my place in it (all the while listening to Pink Floyd's The Final Cut) I got tied up in a bit of a traffic jam. Traffic was moving, but slowly. Whenever I get into those situations, my first thought is the opening credits to Office Space and I look for a guy pushing a walker I can race. Alas, there was no one pushing a walker, so that fantasy was dashed upon the rocks of reality rather quickly.

As the traffic slowed to a turtle crawl I became a bit impatient. I'm not a road-ragie kind of driver. I don't flip people off if they cut me off, I might curse a little, but I'm not a guy that acts out, its just not worth it, but I wanted to get home. I had had one of those days at work that makes work a bit unbearable, I was tired, and a bit irascible, in short, I had rather have been anywhere but in my car in a slow traffic pattern.

I found myself tucked in between 18-wheelers: one on my right, one in front and one behind. And since I drive a little Cobalt, that can be a rather uncomfortable position to be in, I feel like I'm a small bug amongst very large feet.

I had an opportunity to look at the back end of the semi in front of me and I realized something: the back end of the semi has a fairly large metal bar that hangs down about a foot or so. It is obviously a step to help said trucker get into the backend of his truck, but I realized that that strip of metal is also low enough to keep the frontend of my car from going under the truck. That just stuck me as very utilitarian and made me feel very grateful, I'm not entirely sure why, though.

Then there was the rubbernecker part of me. When I get into slow downs on the highway like that, I secretly hope to find mangled cars and drama on the side of the road, but then I quickly feel guilty (as well I should) and hope that its just road construction, but still... in the dark part of my mind that I don't like to think about I hope...

After about fifteen-minutes of slow going I finally came upon the cause of the slow down. It was in fact an accident and it might of been a bad one, but I couldn't really see (which was alright). I just hit the gas and drove on home.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Looks at the World Somewhat Stunned

"The Mets meltdown is complete." I read that in the sports section of the paper today. "The Mets Meltdown is complete," indeed, how true. Losing something like 15 of their last 17 games, going one and six in a seven game home stand... does nothing, not when the team in second place is winning games when your team is losing. So, the Mets who lead the National League East for most of the summer, I think something like 85 or 90 days, fell apart, and that's putting it nicely. Self-destructed says it better.

Looking at the boxscores this morning I had to do a couple double takes. The last few years, I've automatically, in my mind, given two spots to the Yankees and the Red Sox. They are usually givens for postseason play, actually, I'm almost bored with those two teams. But the rest of the boxscores are something different.

You've got Cleveland atop the AL Central division and the Angeles atop the AL West. Those two teams in and of themselves aren't that surprising. In recent years both have had access to the Big Dance calle postseason, and the Angeles, with their little rally monkeys actualy took home the trophy a few years back, if my memory serves correctly.

Them over on the National League side of things we have Philidelphia (cursed Philidelphia), Chicago, and Arizona atop their respective divisions (East, Central, and West). The NL wildcard will be decided via one game playoff tonight: Colorado Rockie and the San Diego Padres.

Who to root for. I can't in good conscience root for the Phillies. They unseated my team (okay, okay, my team unseated themselves, but that is neither here nor there) I refuse to root for the Cubs, I have a long standing dislike for the Cubs and the only time I'll watch the Cubs on tv is when they are playing the Mets. I may root for Arizona, but I don't know much about them, though, they did beat the Yankees for the World Series Championship in 2001.

I can't root for the Yankees. No selfrespecting Mets fan lets themselves do that. It's just not done. Now, I feel alright about rooting for Cleveland, but I generally don't root for AL teams because of my dislike of the Designated Hitter rule.

So, the Mets are done. Gone. Out. They played the worst baseball in history, period. Their Meltdown is one for the books. But you know something, their my team... and I'm wearing their colors right now.

Go Mets! 2008 awaits.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Scratches His Head and Asks "What Just Happened?"

Okay, the New York Mets completed the most spectacular end-of-season meltdown last night. How is that two weeks ago they were seven and half games in first place and after last night, they are down a game, with two games left, behind the Phillies? My little noodle of a brain doesn't compute that; to make matters worse... the Chicago Cubs clinched their division. Pretty soon pigs may fly, watch the skies.

There is still a chance that the Mets will be able to pull something off, but now it is imcombent on the Philies tripping up. If the Phillies lose and the Mets win tonight they will be tied up. Then, tomorrow, if the Mets win and the Phillies lose the Mets will win the division. I was reading an article on ESPN.com about the various scenerios that might emerge in the National League. Let's just say it sounded an awful lot like a football playoff schedule... if so and so wins, then they'll have to play such and such here, but if whoie-what-is wins, they'll play such and such at home... it was quite confusing, but also the excitement of a crazy playoff season did increase.

But the question remains: how did the Mets meltdown? That shouldn't of happened. They have been in first place, comfortably, for most of the season, something like 135 games... and yet, here at the end they are fighting for ever loving lives... I don't know, all I can say is:

LETS GO METS!

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Talks About the Emergency Room at 0530

The Emergecy Room at 0530 is quiet. Its not like the frantic, kinectic place one got used to seeing on NBC's shock-drama ER. It is, to quote a Hemingway title "A Clean, Well-lit Place." Yesterday morning when we took my father to the ER because of chest pains it was very quiet, almost lonely.

The waiting room was empty save for a tv blaring the early morning news and a nurse sitting at the reception desk. They took my father quickly, chest pains equal immediate reaction. They took him, we followed, to room 9, I think. And suddenly four or five nurses just kind appeared, I haven't the foggiest where they came from. I looked for a stage-trap door in the floor, but I saw none. They start asking questions like: how are you feeling? on a scale from one to ten, how is your pain? How old are you? When were you born? What happened? You took how many nitro pills tonight? When? Did they make you feel better? If I had put a bassbeat to it, those questions might sounded like a fast rap. My father and we answered the questions the best we could, it was verbal tennis match.

As they ask the questions, they hook him up to monitors, and IV's. I've done this whole ER thing enough times to know when the numbers on his heart monitor are good. They looked good yesterday morning. And I know that the nice peak and valley of the heart monitor is a good thing. The more the steady and same it is the better it is. Once the uber-activity subsides we sit there. He in bed, my mom and I on chairs that were not designed for long term sitting. The minutes tick by and I wrap my arms around myself for warmth (the ER tends to be chilly) and the silence continues. About 0630, or 0700 it starts to get a bit louder: night shift leaves, morning shift/day shift starts to arrive. A new nurse comes in, this time his name is Greg. He checks my father's blood pressure and checks his heart monitor and all that, takes some readings, prints them out, attaches them to his chart and leaves.

When we got there last night there was or two other people in the ER. There was a woman in the room to the left. She was asleep in a darkened room. Eventually another patient came in. He was probably in early-20's. I was able to learn about him and the woman next door through simple act of inadvertent eavesdroopping. The woman to the left had a migraine, a real bad one, I could and can relate, I've had migraines since I was a kid and I had one so bad that it sent me to the doctor. I felt sorry for her. The guy to the right was something else. He may or may not have tried to commit suicide. He certainly had too much of something. I wasn't sure if it was drugs or alcohol or both. I did hear the word Xanax at one point. The conversations were one-sided in that I could only hear what the doctor and the nurses were asking. I couldn't hear that patient. I felt a bit guilty about listening, I'm pretty sure I was breaching the whole doctor/patient priviledge thing.

Eventually, my mom and I left. There's only so much we can do in the ER, sit and wait. My dad was comfortable and sleeping off and on. He was going to be admitted so we left to take care of somethings, i.e. feed cats and other mundane daily activities, I went and got a haircut, you stuff.

We got a call from dad that he had been moved up a room on third floor, the "progressive care unit." The rooms are very nice, nicer in fact than many hotel rooms I've been in: single occupancy room, big window looks outside (in this case to trees and a parking lot), flatscreen tv attached to the wall, subtle brown hues throughout the room and floor. In fact, it the color scheme does wonders to relax the patient, but also the family. Its not that cold, hard, institutional hospital color of blue and white. If I was into Feng Shui I'd say that the Feng Shui was acheived, but I'm not, so I really can't.

The tests they ran were nothing special. Its not like the tests are going to reveal anything new: bad heart. But to be on the safe side and maybe for shits and giggles, the doctors shoved a camera down my father's throat to check to see if his stomach was okay and that his chest pains were in fact chest pains and not some really bad indigestion. It wasn't indegestion. On happy note we won't have to get to know a stomach doctor on a personal basis-- my father has enough doctors: eye doctor, kidney doctor, heart doctor, general practiction doctor, foot doctor, diabetes doctor...

Right now, they want to do a catherization. They've been wanting to do that for a while, but my father won't let them and its driving the doctors nuts. He had one three or four years ago. That time he passed out in church (actually during Sunday School) was taken to the hospital and was found to have a heart rate of less than 20 beats a minute. That was scary for me. That was also when he got his defribulator in his chest.

The doctors did a cath and then came out, a bit white faced and apologized for doing it. It didn't go well and they almost lost him on the table, so they said, or maybe that's the way I remember it. Either way, it was a scary time. Last night, a nurse came with some forms and asked my father to sign them for the "procedure" and he asked what procedure that might be and she said "a catherization" he said "I'm not going to have that done" and sent her on her way. This morning they didn't give him breakfast because they thought he was going to have it, but he again reiterated the fact that he wasn't going to do it. So they gave him breakfast. It would be almost funny, if it wasn't so serious.

I saved this entry in the "draft" stage for a while. I went and visited my dad in the interim. He was sitting in a chair by the window reading a book in his hospital johnny. His heart monitor (wireless) was stuffed into the big pocket on front of his johnny, his hair was a bit mussed and he watned his razor so he could shave, but other than that he looked like he was feeling better.

I'm not sure when the man is going to come home. Hopefully this evening, but probably tomorrow. Who knows. So long as I don't have to go to the ER at 0530 for a long time, I'll be happy.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Gives a Prayer of Thanksgiving

I took my father to the emergency room this morning. He was complaining of chest pains and general discomfort. Those two things are not played with lightly in our household. I took him this morning about 5:30. He was admitted to the hospital, but he is doing well and the tests they took have come back okay.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Feels "Chuff" Because a Term He Coined is Being Used Elsewhere

I would just like give a shout out to my newest Loofrin-cyberfriend David Yow. It seems that he's "snagged" the term "loofrin" and made it his own with "Looferin," so okay, I ain't mad. Makes me happy to see my basic disgruntled world view is making inroads to the cyber-consciousness. So, a throaty HUZZAH!

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Becomes a Lutheran Carnival Barker, aka Luther's Punkin Hat Carnival

Before commencing with
Lutheran Carnival 59 I feel it important to give a shout out to Concordia Wisconsin's football team. Congratulations on the drubbing you gave to Eureka College yesterday on the gridiron... 70-0... I'd've loved to see that game. I certainly hope you treated the defeated to beer and brauts afterwards. Lord knows, they probably could of used the cheering up. But either way here's a Disgruntled World Citizen HAZZAH! in your honor.

Speaking of the Con-Yous, and being a graduate of Con-You Austin (hence forth to be known as Con-You Texas and also being a "Behnken Boy" (I lived in Behnken Hall) I thought it might be fun to highlight John Behnken, former president of the LCMS.

Born: 19 March 1884, Cypress, Texas
Died: 23 February 1968, Hollywood, Florida

After graduating from Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, John Behnken was ordained by Rev. Gotthilf Birkmann at Trinity Lutheran Church in Fedor, Texas, on 12 August 1906. He was awarded an honory Doctor of Divinity degree from Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, in 1934, and in 1953 he received an LL.D. from Valparaiso University.

He first served as a missionary-at-large in Houston. Two years later, he accepted a call to Trinity Lutheran Church in Houston.

In 1909, he married Gertrude Geisler (1890-1910). He married Hilda Grassmuck (1890-1954) in 1914.

Behnken served the Texas District first as the chair of the Church Extension Board, then as second vice-president (1920-1926), and finally as president (1926-1929). He served the Synod as second vice-president (1929-1932), as first vice-president (1929-1932), and as president (1935-1962). At the end of his presidency, he was named honorary president.

Behnken is the author of God Is Our Refuge and Strength (1942), Know Your Synod's Work (1961), Mercies Manifold: Radio Messages Broadcast During the Summer of 1949 (1950), Noonday Sermons (1925), and This I Recall (1964).

He was the President of the LCMS when my father was ordained in 1962. And, I lived in the dorm named after him on Concordia Austin's campus. So, I just wanted to give the "Original Behnken Boy" his proper due. (source)

Oh, before I forget: Luther's Punkin Hat! was taken on October 31, 1999 on Concordia St. Louis', aka The Big House, Campus. It seems that some of students from the Catholic school nearby decided to dress up ol Marty Luther. I thought it was a hoot, but when the Dean o' Students, aka Fourth Use of The Law found out, he was none-to-pleased (party pooper). Sorry I wasn't able to get a better picture. I scanned the picture I took. If you want a better look at it, go here.

Its been awhile since I did was a Carnival host. So, I may be a bit rusty, but lets give it a shot and see what happens. Our first submission for your purusal comes from ye olde blog of
House, M.Div (cool title for the blog btw). This entry discusses Lawsuit against God. He, House, has a nice little rebuttal for Mr. Chambers at the end. I've heard of Chambers before; he played an important role in this documentary I saw a few months back. Then there's this submission in which House discusses praying for Muslims during their holy days.

James Wilson, co-author of the House, M.Div blog, sent along two of his posts as well. The first takes on the New York Times book review (which is always fun to do) and the review for the recently published book How to Read the Bible. Mssr. Wilson does a fine job of deconstructing and arguing against the New York Times, HUZZAH! James Wilson's second submission discusses an interesting side note to the debate over illegal aliens, but also puts a little smack down on the role of the church.

From the Rebellious Pastor's Wife sent this post; being a PK, I can relate to it quite well. I think her tagline sums it up nicely: "Some basic, hurtful assumptions that are directed at pastors...how they hurt, and how we really should treat our pastors," if only your parishoners did see how hard you guys worked every week... but that's neither here nor there...

Next we have everyone's favorite cyber anteater, Aardvark. He was kind enough to send along two posts, which, of course taught me something... darnit! The first one discuses Holy Cross Day and the second discusses St. Matthew, but also shows the etymology of the word Gospel. An aside, how does the 'Vark has so much time to devote to blogging? There must be more than one of him, either that, or he is the most caffinated Lutheran ever... anyway, moving on...

Rev. Snyder comes at us with two posts this week. The first could probably dovetail from House M.Div's post regarding Ernie Chambers' suite against God. But Rev. Snyder discusses in detail the ins and outs of Christians and lawsuits, not from a lawyler point of view, but from the position of a faithful Lutheran pastor. Thought provoking as per usual. Then Rev. Snyder hits us with a post based on 1 Thes. 5:16-18 and discusses the "pray without ceasing..." what does that look like? How does it feel? Answers here.

From the Lutheran Library we get this post; in which Noah's Ark is discussed. After reading this review, I may have to give this book a looksee for myself.

Dan the Man from Necessary Roughness sent this post about a television show I've never seen: Survivor and its "token" Christian. It will be interesting to see how well she does on the show.

I add this to the mix: review of the book American Band, a book that I'm pretty excited about right now.

And last but not least: This post from livingsermons, over at wordpress.com: "Chaplain Boarts shares a story about four valiant chaplains in World War II and how their sacrifice is remembered today by young Airmen, Soldiers and Sailors." This one has video to go with it.

Well, I guess that's it. Thanks for stopping by. Peace and blessings to all.

DWC

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Writes Disparaging Remarks About Baby Lawyers

Sometimes the Baby Lawyers drive me to drink. Really. They can be so needy and are so entitled, I find myself wanting to line them up against the wall and walk down said line smacking each one of them. Oh, they aren't all bad, but you know the phrase about bad apples ruining the batch, right? I just had to go up the stairs and tell one Baby Lawyer to either stop talking on his cellphone in the stairwell or take said conversation outside. He waved his hand at me like I was a gnat. Good thing I'm a righteous fellow, luckily he did stop talking so he's not echoing throughout the library. Yesterday I was in the restroom. There was roll of toilet paper on the floor. While I was in there, three or four other guys either came in or left (not all washed their hands, by the by) not a one of them leaned over and picked up the paper. I did when I left, but come on folks, is it that hard to lean over and pick something up?

Oh, then there's the *scorn in voice* Law Review Baby Lawyers. I think they think they walk on water, piss rosewater, and their sweat don't stink. In other words their entitlement quotient goes through the roof. Can't take food into the library... oh, I'm law review... can't take a bottle of Coke into the library... oh, I'm Law Review... so what? But I have to let them go because their law review... gah! Drives me batty.

I'm sitting at the circ desk tonight. I'm closing the library down tonight. Yeah, so exciting. So, I'm I just chilling and surfing the internet and clicking on "the next blog" link atop the screen. That can be dangerous, one never knows when one will land upon a risque blog, most have been in a foreign language so I can't read them any way.

IU lost to Illinois today. Ball State almost beat Nebraska (lost by one point, that would of been an upset) and West Virginia manhandled East Carolina. And the Baby Lawyers are really starting to bug the hell outta me.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Describes Lunch With an Author and Reviews Her Book, Again

I had the opportunity to have lunch with Kristen Laine, the author of the bookAmerican Band: Music, Dreams and Coming of Age in the Heartland this afternoon. I had emailed her a couple weeks ago after reading her book and told her how much I had enjoyed it. She emailed me back thanking me and from there we kind of had this ongoing email exchange.

She told me that she was going to be in the area and BN was going to be helping with a book signing, so last week I was able to meet her at the signing and visit for a few hours as we sold her books. It was good fun, cold, but good fun. We decided that we would meet up again today seeing how she was going to be at the Greenwood Band Invitational in good old Greenwood, Indiana. So we set up a time to meet at the local Panera Bread and we chatted about the book and writing in general and she grilled (okay, maybe not grilled, but talked to me) about my interest in editing. I even gave her may resume. She said she would get me in contact with her agent and her editor and I could talk to them about what they do and such. I guess we'll see what happens with that.

I've written about the book American Band before. I did a quick Google search on the title and discovered a few interesting reviews about the book, all positive. My favorite one came from popmatters, though I'm not sure I like the fact that they wrote that "...American Band is Friday Night Lights for the geek set..." that's a bit disparaging and kind of backhanded insult. Though, I do agree with them that it does have the feeling of a Friday Night Lights, or another great Hoosier classic Rudy. In short, it is a feel good book, but it does take you on a journey and at times it is not necessarily a journey you might want to go on. I found myself rooting for these kids and could easily identify with them even though I was never in the band. And you know, there was never a once-in-band-camp moment which was nice. Its good see American teens portrayed in a positive light, dealing with real problems and not running away from them, and stepping up to take on challenges.

Is it just band kids and their families? No. As I can testify. As I said, I was never a bandkid, but I found myself identifying with the kids Laine wrote about. Granted, bandkids and their families might identify more strongly with aspects of the book than I did, but the feelings and emotions and even the challenges these kids face, particularly Grant, are universal. It really is worth a trip to your local bookstore to pick this book up.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Gives a Sneak Peek of the Photo He is Going to Use for Lutheran Carnival aka Luther's Punkin Hat

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses Pulp Fiction

I just finished watching Pulp Fiction. It has probably been three or four years since I actually sat down and watched the whole thing through. When I saw it in the movie theatres it totally turned my head around. I was amazed and awed by the film. I remember going back to the theatre to see it again, this time with a notebook so I could scrall notes to myself. I don't think I took any notes, but it was the thought that counted. Pulp Fiction really did affect me in many ways, for one, I discovered film. I discovered that movies can more than entertainment, they can make one think.

I have always been intriqued by the debate surrounding various aspects of the film. Particularly, in relation to the briefcase. What is in the briefcase? Some postulate that it is nothing more than gold, others say that it is the diamonds that were stolen from the jewlery store in Reservoir Dogs (the character name Marsallis does appear in that movie, so one can give that theory a little credence). Then there is the spiritual thoughts of the film. The briefcase contains Marsallis' soul. That is an interesting thought because I have heard that there are faiths that think the sould is taken through the back of the neck, Marsallis has a large bandaid on the back of his neck throughout the movie. There is no explaination for that, it just is. So, if you wanted to you could postulate that yes, that glowing briefcase does in fact contain Marsallis' soul. I kind of like that idea. Another "clue," if you will, that the briefcase holds a soul is when Jules and Vincent shoot the guys in the apartment there is a yellow glow that fills in the screen. Okay, I'm thinking too hard on this, I'm sure.

As I said, its been awhile since I've seen the film and I am happy to report that I am able to quote whole portions of it as I watch it. Matter of fact, sections of dialogue have found their way into my everyday speech (some of the pithy phrases, not the curse words so much).

What did I think of the film as I watched it again? First of all, topping off at over two and half hours it is a long movie. I never realized how long Pulp Fiction really is; it seems to go on and on at times. Tarantino has a tendency to use too much dialogue. He doesn't let the action help the movie, he often over powers the view with his dialogue. At times, it works, at others, it doesn't (he is particularly guilty of that in Reservoir Dogs). I think Tarantino's scenes are too long and his camera work, thought good, is a bit too static some times, though the scene outside the apartment as Jules and Verne discuss the pros and cons of foot massage is still one of my favorite scenes in any movie because the camera work and the dialogue really do work together. The Jack Rabbit Slim section of the film really doesn't seem to do too much for film. I found myself wishing it had been shortened and edited a bit tighter.

This is an important film. It certainly did move modern cinema into new directions. Looking at the film again for the first time in a long time I am able to say that it is a good film (though, I'll admit calling it a film and not a movie is actually kind of difficult), it doesn't spin my head like it did the first time, but that's probably because I watched once a week when I was in college so its like wearing a well worn pair of jeans, there is a certain amount of familiarity that I brought to the viewing. Pulp Fiction certainly is a film worth studying.

If I had to grade it, I'd give it a good solid B+

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses Battle for Algiers

I watched the movie Battle for Algiers last night. It is a French film, so I had to read it, but that's actually alright. Sometimes reading a film makes me pay attention to it even closer, because I don't understand French (aside from the occasional "oui," "messeur") I am forced to really watch the images on the screen, I can't flip through a magazine or close my eyes and get the movie through my ears.

The Battle for Algiers is about the Algerian revolution in the late 50's against French colonial rule. It is actually a brutal movie. The situation quickly degenerates into guerrilla warfare on both sides. The French blow up an apartment building, the Algerian fighters blow up two cafes and a discotheque. The French torture captives for information, the Algerians shoot the French policemen patrolling the streets. It becomes a tit-for-tat kind of movie very quickly.

One cannot help but link our present situation in Iraq to the past situation in Algeria. I found myself asking the question "why" a lot. And I wasn't able to get any good answers from the film.

It is a dark film. It has to be, there is very little to celebrate in the film. Music is very important and certainly helps to move the story, but also set the tone. To the film. This is a film that requires more than one viewing in order to detach from the film, but on the other hand, it is important to work with the film.

I'm glad I bought the movie. It is an important addition to my collection.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Proves There is Neither Rhyme Nor Reason How His Blog is Found

gas story pedal pumping
gas tank games
empty gas tank
eat words colts football mouth
full throttle problems
harman family accident maryland
gastank
full throttle ministry
night train gas tank
seems to be in full throttle
science the thing which shucks the gas up
how long will my car last on empty
empty car fuel tank
people pushing a car empty on gas
a man said to the universe crane biblical reference
pedal pumping in sandals
meaning of 'puttin the pedal to the metal'
car troubleshoot empty gas
picture of a gas tank empty
watch kelly faith and cougar at the saints game
car tank empty
gas tank has been empty for 3 years

I am fascinated by the keywords people use to find this blog. Now, I'm sure the majority of those that fall on this blog don't stop and read it, there's good reason for that, *chuckles*.

Wherein Your Faithful Narrator Discusses His Addicition to DVDs

Today I added to my dvd collection. I am a fan of Criterion dvd movies. Its something I never planned to happen, but happen it has. I have slowed down my purchasing mainly because I was buying them faster than I could watch them. Today, though, I broke down and bought Battle for Algiers. It is a movie that I have had my eye on for a long time. I watched part of it a few months ago and was quite intriqued, but I didn't finish it, but I decided that it should be one in my collection. But the price was a bit prohibitive. I just didn't have the scratch I needed, so I waited. The reason I have a Barnes & Noble Membership Card is that I can get a better deal with it than with my employee discount, I just have to be patient and wait for a coupon. The other day I got a 15 percent off coupon. I used that in conjunction with my member card and that helped bring the price down considerably. After thinking about it and doing some research on the film (thank goodness for the internet movie database! After reading about it I decided that it would fit nicely into my collection.

Here's to good cinema... *thumbs up*

The other day, I picked up the Indianapolis Colts' Road to Super Bowl XLI. I've been having a good time watching the last year's playoffs all over again.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses Briefly "Faith is as Faith Does"

I'm not really sure why the biblical book James speaks to me so forcefully. I've tried to figure it out and I can't. From what I understand, Luther was not a huge fan of the book. I believe he said it was made of straw. That might be, but it is probably the most read book in my Bible, it certainly is the most marked up and has the most margin notes. Matter of fact, I've written and highlighted it so much its almost too hard to read, and yet I keep going back to it.

I think what it is about James that turns me on is how he talks about Faith. It is not a passive, or in physics-speak, potential energy. It is something that is alive and kinetic. Faith is a verb in James, not a noun or a platitude. It is doing something. I call James the "faith is, as faith does" book. That's it though, isn't it? That's the thing that gets it a bit poo-poo'ed by folks. I guess many folks see James as saying you have to do good works to be saved. I, of course, read it totally different.

I've always read James to say that because I have faith, I'll want to do good works. In other words, Faith through doing. I don't have to, but I want to; because Christ is in my heart and mind and his glory is given me, I want to share it. Does that mean I have to go out build houses, or change the world in huge ways? No. For some people the answer might well be "yes," one has to be careful though when one starts to think that way. It can become a game of faithful one upmanship. And that can be dangerous. That can turn into a Faith Competition and that's no good for anyone.

A couple weeks ago the guy who started Habitat for Humanity was at our church, for the life of me I have forgotten his name, but I was impressed by his sincerity of faith and his action on it. I got the impression that he did do what he did because he felt he had to, but he did it because he wanted to and that is the key. I can see some of you saying "oops, you're going against your own interpretation and you're line of thought..." and pointing and accusitory finger in my general direction, but I don't think I am. I think one of the key verses in James is in chapter 2 verses 18: "But someone will say 'You have faith; I have deeds.' Show me your faith without deeds and I will show you my faith by what I do." Faith Is as Faith Does.

Of course there is much more to James another reason I like it. I've always thought it would be interesting to do a Bible study with high school kids concerning James. Just them and word reading it together and discussing what they read. There is a lot in there that speaks to the world today.

Can you tell that I've been rereading James... he always cooks my noodle.

In Which Your Narrator Forgets What Today Is

Today, as I was driving home from work I noticed that flags were at half-staff. I was mildly curious, so I turned on the radio to listen to the news. I figured someone had died, someone important, someone from the government, or something like that; but I didn't hear anything, so I didn't think much of it until I noticed more flags at half-staff. I was starting to really wonder now, who died? I hadn't heard or read anything about anyone dying, I was actually quite perplexed, but then I realized what it was: today is September 11th. Six years ago we were all in shock at least I was, but six years has passed and that day has kind of shifted to the back of my memory, but subconsciously I think I have been avoiding television news and newspapers. That backbrain memory still festers there. I avoid images of that day as best I can. The edges have dulled a bit and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Dons the Blue and Joins the Blue Clad Masses Loses Some Hearing, Flees, and Watches a Football Game at Home

Yesterday was the big day. The first day of the 88th NFL football season. It got a rousing kickstart here in little Ol Indianapolis with a free concert in the center of town, in front of the Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument. I forgot my camera so I was unable to take pictures, however it was a sea of blue clad masses. I got downtown after work (about 3, or so) used my IUPUI parking permit, parked my car in the IUPUI lot, changed from work clothes to Colts Cammouflage (blue jeans, blue colts 29 jersey-- Joseph Addai runing back-- and blue Colts baseball cap) and followed the crowd. It was a surreal experience, truthfully because everyone was walking around wearing the same thing-- blue (or white) Colts jerseys. The place was, to be honest, awash in blue. Any one wearing a Saints jersey stuck out like a sore thumb.

I followed the crowd to the monument after getting turned around I found my way to the stage area. I had to get frisked, women to the left, men to the right. Now here's the thing. It was a free concert, but the musical talent that performed didn't fit my idea of "football." The first group who I'd never heard of called Hinder. Came out rocked the cashba, they reminded me alot of Aerosmith. I've never really like Aerosmith. They were the band that made me lose hearing. An outside concert and my ear drums begged for mercy. After they screeched through their 45 minute set, we got Kelly Clarkson. This is the first time I'd ever really heard Kelly Clarkson. Let me put it to you this way: I left after ten minutes, so, aww shucks, I missed Faith Hill. Here's the rub, though, Hinder, Kelly Clarkson, and Faith Hill don't really scream football to me. NASCAR, maybe, but not football and certainly not NFL. Hank Williams, Kid Rock, and Terri Clark: they scream football to me. I think that's why I left. I just wasn't feeling it, that my feet were starting to hurt from standing for so long.

Leaving was, in and of itself, an experience. It is difficult, to say the least, to work your way through a sardine packed group mob of people. I'd say there were probably 15-20,000 people in front of me and probably 100,000 behind me. I found a stream of people moving through the crowd and got onto that train. I got to the back of the crowd where it was quite thinned out and felt a bit more trapped because everywhere I looked were fence-barriers. I finally sat down on the sidewalk to watch the crowd for a few minutes and try and figure out how to get out of the madness. Actually, it wasn't madness at all, it was quite calm, it was just very crowded. I used my powers of observation and discovered another single file stream of people meandering through the sea of people behind me. I got on that train, again and pushed my way through the crowd.

I finally popped out on a side street and that was when the surrealism got a bit overwhelming. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was dressed in Colts blue. They were sitting in restaraunts eating and drinking, they were steaming to the stadium, they were chatting on cell phones (I think that was the weirdest part of it, I don't know why, but it was) there were street performers playing guitars, they were panhandlers shaking their cups, there were ticket scalpers buying tickets, selling tickets, they cops trying to keep some kind of order, I found myself wondering how I would shoot something like this on film.

I was goig against the flow, I was heading to my car, but everyone else was heading towards the stadium. I got back to my car, and headed out of the city. The strangness didn't stop there. I had to drive by the stadium to get out of town. There guys standing in the street with bright orange flags beseeching me to park my car in their lot. The prices ranged anywhere from 10-20 dollars. I wasn't having any of it, I wanted to go home. I finally got myself on Meridian Street and headed south. The final surrealism was this: the further I got away from the stadium and madness behind me the more "normal" life became. Some guy was weedeating his yard, another looked like he was pulling some weeds, you know just ordinary stuff.

I got home, ate some dinner, and watched the madness on tv. I was quite amazed when I saw how many people were there... I was in that? So much for my agoraphobia kicking in.

I tried to watch the football game, I really did. I made it up to halftime and then I started to fall asleep. I know the Colts won, but I didn't see much of the second half through my lidded eyes. I was just tuckered and my knees hurt from standing all day.

In Which Your Faithful Narrotor Steals From Another Blog, But Gives Due Props

Sometimes, they just get it right. I chuckled over this one.

I got the quote here.

In Which Your Faithful Narrator Discusses the Difficulty of Trying to Read Hamlet at the Circulatoin Desk on a Busy Wednesday Night

Recently, I purchased the Branaugh version of Hamlet on DVD. It is a spectacular film, full of color and action, shot of 70 mm film. The picture is amazing. The only problem: the actors talk much too quickly for my modern day English ears and their Elizabethian English is lost somewhat. I know the story, the basics if you will, but I'm not familiar with the nuances. In short, I am no Harold Bloom. Not that I really want to be anyway. Since the the actors speak so quickly or maybe its my ears hear too slowly (probably more the latter as opposed to the former) I have decided to give ye olde Bard a try via libro. Stop. I've decided to muddle my way through the printed text of Hamlet. Its been slow going because I keep getting interupted and distracted as student walk by. Surpringly, I am actually getting it. Meaning I'm able to get the language. I, like most people, have a bit of a fear of Shakespeare because I don't think I can hang with the language. That I'm too stupid to get the gist of it and get the deeper meaning. Of course, I guess one could make the case that even Harold Bloom, liver lipped high priest of Bardology himself freely admits that he, too, is still peeling back layers of the Shakespeare onion.

In Which Your Faithfaul Narrator Recounts His Strangely Boring Yet Uncomfortably Weird Day and In Which He Uses the Word "Tizzy"

Last night after leaving the law library I drove home, I was trying not to be mad, but I couldn't help it. I am having some issues with my other job, not the law library, and they are starting to really cause me angst and make me rethink the whole "lets stay with this company for a long, long time" thing (I should of put dashes between those words, since in fact it was not a quotation, but more of a compound word kind of thing, but that would take more work than it is worth and I'm just not in the mood). So, by the time I got home I had worked myself into quite a tizzy. I was just put off and angry and I was fired up because I had worked in the law library and that's what I really want to do. But that's neither here nor there.

In an effort to calm myself down I got bowl of chocolate chip ice cream and turned on the boob-tube and, believe it or not, there wasn't a single thing on. Though, I did fall upon an infomercial that touted the benefits of a wonder drug that supposedly added inches to "that particular male organ" and I quite enjoyed the man-on-the-street interviews with couples whose male half just happened to be using the product, whew, thank god for that. It was interesting for about ten minutes, but even the pretty chick doing the interviews couldn't keep my interest. I eventually went to bed, filled with ice cream and a bit more relaxed than I started.

Today was an interesting day, though boring, to a point. My cousin, Chris, lives in a part of town that I generally don't go to. It is, I wouldn't call it a ghetto, but a more PC term might be "economically challenged," or "depressed." It looks like maybe fifty years ago it might of been a happening place, but time and money seem to have passed it by. My cousin lives in this area because he can afford it and its close to work for him. His parents, my aunt and uncle, decided to buy him Direct TV or the DishNetwork, there's a story behind it, but its not that important. Since my aunt and uncle are out of town (Florida) we were asked if we could go to his apartment and meet the installer. We did. It wasn't creepy, per se, but I certainly felt that I didn't belong there. There was a guy in a second floor apartment that was watching us through his window, he tried to be inconspicuous, but he didn't do a very good job. I kept catching him watching us and then he decided to use a mirror, he sat just on the side of the window and held out a small mirror watching us, I was able to see it out of the corner of my eye and I look up, he'd pull the mirror back quickly, usually bumping the window sill in the process. It would of been funny if it didn't add to the discomfort level I had.

When the installer guy finally got there, I had to into Chris' apartment, that was creepy, too. I had to unlock a couple doors and I again had spectral shadow-people watching me. One guy named, so he said, Chris, walked up to me to see if I was moving in. I said I was just there to help my cousin. For some reason, I felt really uncomfortable in the whole situation. My cousins apartment is nice, rundown, but nice. Its a one bedroom affair with the living room and kitchen kind off attached into a big room. His small bathroom is off from his bedroom. The longer I stayed in the apartment, though, I just wanted to get out. I started pacing back and forth, sweating (no AC).

When I was finally able to leave I drove through Indy and I had to make sure I avoided the Circle (Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument) because its closed down and on lockdown because of the big show they are going to have tomorrow night for the NFL, from what I understand you'll be able to see it on national TV. I may go and check it out, I'll see how I feel after work tomorrow.

Now, I'm sitting in the computer lab of the law library. Its cool here. The AC is going and there are only two people in here with me: a girl in a red hoodie shirt looking at some kind of anatomy program and some guy two rows down on the left looking something on the internet, I'm not sure what. Either way, I'm a bit more comfortable.