moving

My fantastic wit can now be found at

http://www.compostgases.com

sleep on the couch

Our family has been blessed by another family who has just given us a new couch. New to us, at least. It is in great condition. It sat for years in a formal living room in a very nice home. It's the kind of room where you sit only when company comes to visit. It may as well have been covered with plastic and stored for years just waiting to be presented to us.

It is the type of couch with the cascading pillows coming down the back. When you sit down, it invites you deeper into its pillowy softness. And it's long. After marriage and children have worn me down from the handsom 6' to the present nub of a man at 5'5", I can lay down and not touch the other arm rest. I can only say that if I had my perfect Thanksgiving, where I would eat my own weight in food and pie and then have a place to recline to nap and watch football games, this is IT. Open mouth, drooling napage.

So now, we fight over who gets it. It used to be the Lazy Boy recliner. With the pull of a lever, you were transformed from siting upright to an almost prone position of blissfull cottony support. Now, it is just a vantage point, a perch from which one scans the couch for the slightest movement, indicating that the present occupent is leaving; or at least rithing in pain from a full bladder not wanting to leave.

Even at night, while lying next to my wife, I think about the couch; almost a siren song wispering in the night for me to enjoy all it's pleasures. Getting sent to the couch is now pure joy.

she "do you love me?"
me "mmm"
she "well that sounds convincing."
me "no, no, no, yeah, yeah love, extreem love."
she "no you don't"
me "I love you, damn it! now go to sleep."
she "yeah, right"
me "that's it, I'm sleeping on the couch."
she "what do you mean?"
me "I can't sleep like this, the 20 questions."
she "calm down an . . .hey you want to go to the couch! You get back here now"
me "I can't hear you. And don't come out here expecting great, incredible, screaming, sweaty sex either."
she "Oh, like that will ever happen again."


me " well . . . what if I don't scream?"

For now . . .

there is a difference

There is a difference between coming here to work and coming here to become a citizen.

The former come out of despiration and a desire to better themselves but leave their heart where they came from and send their money back there.

The latter spend time and money to come here to live. This becomes home and their heart is here. This is the difference between immigration that helped build this country and what passes for it now.

I know people who have told me of parents refusing to let their children speak the language of their homeland, making them assimilate to "here".

This is not something that is going to get better any time soon. I think it will get worse and we will have riots in the streets of this issue.

For now . . .

knucklehead

My little one, Mikaela, got mad at her sister the other night at dinner. Kaitlyn, you're a knucklehead!
My wife told her that it was not nice to call someone a knucklehead. She said that next time, she would be punished.

Two days later. Kaitlyn was teasing her while in the car and Mikaela asks me "daddy, will you call her a knucklehead for me so I don't get in trouble?"

For now . . .

yeah, but what about . . .

I have been following the account of the afghani man who converted to christianity. His fellow countrymen want to have him killed and if there is influence from the west, they will take matters into their own hands. I believe their words were "pull himn apart". The wonderful religion of peace.
Christ told his followers not to fear those who can destroy the body but fear rather Him who hold your soul.

"Matthew 10:28
Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell." (NIV)

I hope those words bring this man peace. I fear that he will be released by the governing authorities and then killed in the streets by his "neighbor".

Christ told those of us who believe, that we are to love our neighbors as ourselves. On a personal level, I have to be obedient and reach out to any believer in Islam. On a national level though, I think that the only thing that the islamic world will understand is something like that used in WWII with the Japanese. Hiroshima. I think that one day soon we will be attacked again and this next time we will have no other alternative than to nuke hundreds of thousands to get the peace, as temporary as it will be.

"Abdul Rahman embodies the question at the heart of this struggle: If Islam is a religion one can only convert to, not from, then in the long run it is a threat to every free person on the planet." Mark Steyn

For now . . .

What about a perm?

My Kaitlyn has taken up the job of doing a nightly make over for me. She takes great pride in playing beauty salon. I have to call her "cell phone" and set the appointment. Then she will gather some books and magazines together; I have to have some reading material. We then chat about my day and her day and call each other girlfriend. She has not even had one hair on her head cut! She only has been to a barber with David and I.

She has to make me look, in her words, "fablious". She wants me to look good for my friends at work. As a matter of fact, just the other day someone asked if I had lost weight. I said no, but my daughter is making me look "fablious".

Her idea of "fablious" is to put enough hairspray in my hair to wet it and then comb it out in all kinds of of directions. I end up looking like I have a small dark brown helmet on my head sans the face mask cage. Actually, it's looking more like a hardend yahmika. . . or maybe a shinny hard cow poop. Yeah, definitly a cow poop. and shinny.

She thinks she does a great job. I don't wash it out until she is asleep so she thinks I go to work that way and each day she asks what my "work friends" thought. I assure her that they indeed think I look "fablious". Washing it out is fun, too. I first have to crack it to get a space for water to enter.

It is nice to have someone comb my hair. I almost fall asleep while she combs. It is very relaxing to have all this attention. I highly recommend Kaitlyn's salon.

For now . . .

Magic words

The liberals are trying to make us believe that they did not know that the president was monitoring phone conversations from overseas in the aftermath of 9-11.

Paul at Powerline.com is very eloquent in his view.

http://powerlineblog.com/archives/012591.php

Thank you President Bush for doing what you know was right in the timeframe of the attack.

For now . . .

Two traitors walk into a bar . . .

There was big talk a few weeks back here in God forsaken New Jersey. It seems that the Democrats were feeling all high and mighty about winning the governorship. Like a democrat win in NJ is a big deal. Close your eyes and spit in Nj and you'll hit at least three dems; not too dificult nor that unusual.

But the talk was about how this was a defeat for Bush.

I think the real vote that mattered took place a few nights ago when the Republicans forced the dems to "put-up-or-shut-up" on the issue of immediate withdrawel from Iraq. Well only three members of the House voted for the measure despite all the bloviating that preceded. All the talk about bringing them home is the best support crap went out the window. Talk is cheap.

I think Ann Coulter said it best in her last column; "These people are not only traitors, they are gutless traitors."

For now . . .