"You have the right to remain SPRAYED IN THE FACE"

Good day, interwebs.

I fired up my computer with all intentions to promptly begin writing. Those intentions evaporated as soon as I noticed Pandora's new format. As I toured the updated site, nostalgic ol' Sum 41, Blink, Zebrahead, and Goldfinger helped keep my feet happily tip-tapping as I began to confuse people sitting nearby. Then Bowling for Soup popped up and quickly shattered my mental vacation. They're the closest thing to having someone hold your head steady as they vomit directly into your ear. Blech.

There have been a few things in the news that have made me shake my head of late.

News broke out about a handful of protesters in New York City that were doused with pepper spray by a rogue officer with an itchy trigger finger. I certainly don't know all the details surrounding this event, so I'll attempt to restrain myself from assuming too much about what happened.

Essentially, there has been a group of protestors - apparently comprised mainly of young, twenty-somethings that have declared war on the bourgeoisie for being rich, fascist pigs, or something along those lines - who have occupied a stretch of territory near Wall Street to hold a week-long gathering. As it so happens, the NYPD were inevitably asked to reinforce what could and could not be done while the protest partied onwards. At some point, the police were setting up a makeshift fence and bumped boundaries with a small section of the protestors. As showed in a video, an officer seems to randomly - and without provocation - douse four or five young ladies as they mill about inside the fence. This scene has prompted an explosion of responses worldwide debating things from the Constitutional rights of the crowd to the demanding of the officer's resignation.

                "Would somebody PLEASE stop whoever is playing 
                            that damnable Bowling for Soup?"


Here's my take:
A) It's one officer. I realize that the NYPD has some notoriety for being brash, violent, and thuggish, but one should keep in mind that this is a single officer's action, not the department as a whole. The sheer volume of responses that directly accuse all police in all locations of being brutes that abuse their power is sickening. I don't feel as though someone could claim widespread police brutality from this lone incident. If the police were authorized to use such force to ensure the general tranquility for the rest of the public, then the officer's actions are excusable to a certain degree. Again, I'm not privy to that kind of information, so I can't make that assumption.
I am going to assume that at some point in his career, the officer has been subjected to a battery of verbal assaults from the general public. Frustrated by having the police interrupt their day, John C. Public seems to think that it is fine to lob his frustration at the officer that has confronted them.

It's similar with telemarketers, I guess. People love to tell stories about how they challenged a telemarketer and beat them in a trolling game of logic. Congratulations. That solves nothing. It only makes you look like an ass.
The police also have the lovely task of directly dealing with the portions of society that are usually avoided by others at all possible costs. Officers get it from both sides: sneered at by the public, insulted by frequent offenders, and now accused of being tyrannical agents of the faceless government. Being chastised daily by people is certainly no excuse to randomly start spraying people, but it wouldn't kill us to be civil and respectful to the people charged with upholding our statutes and laws. Is it any wonder that there is enmity between the police and the general public at times?
Again, I don't know the officer. Maybe he is a grade-A d-bag.

B) Someone hacked into the NYPD's records to release the information of the officer that did the spraying. That's concerning. Where's the public outcry for this officer that had this happen to him? "Oh, F that guy and his rights. He's a jerk. We're worried about our Constitutional rights, not his. Who cares if we broke some laws to distribute this man's information. Breakin' laws is a great way to get the support of the police." Double-standards. Sheesh.

C) After cruising their website - the group is called "Occupy Wall Street" - I had a general skepticism towards them. I also realize that I am biased towards the law enforcement in this situation (biased enough to write this, I guess). The group comes off as your average, run-of-the-mill squad in many regards. They do make use of the word 'revolution' a tad much for my taste. They also make it a focus to videotape everyone saying reinforcing phrases such as, "We are the 99th percent," and, "Join us. Join our conversation." There is also a large portion of their website dedicated to show abuses the NYPD has shown some of their members.

(Yes, I had some Conspiracy Juice this morning and a tiny voice in my head is claiming that the pepper spraying is being used a publicity stunt. If that's the case, next time simply hire a bunch of skateboarding cats wearing cute party hats. That's always a crowd-pleaser.)

                                  ...go on. You have my attention.
As a twenty-something, I certainly emphasize with some of their points; but not their tactics. The military-esque feel of the march and protest - it all feels like a great way to spend a week with your friends, but not really a stellar way to get your message across. Sure, you can heckle the wealthy or make fresh, exciting promotional videos to gain support, but I feel as though it somewhat reinforces some of animosity between the groups. If I was a wealthy, monocled-and-top-hat-wearing fat-cat and I was getting ribbed by a group of good-for-nothin whippersnappers, I wouldn't stop to hear their points. I would simply rue the fact that I hadn't purchased a warehouse full of 1980's sunglasses to sell to them.

Overall, it's not the most jaw-dropping bit of news out there by a long shot. I'm sorry to report that I was sucked in to a non-story by sensationalist media. Shucks.

In all reality, it's a topic that's incredibly important to some, and I apologize if my light-hearted take failed to address certain points. I realize that there are many sides to this story and I'm sure that I could write plenty more on this. However, this seems to be quite long already. I also hoping to address the new laws dictating drug testing for unemployment or welfare candidates, but that can wait for another day, my friends.

Cheers,
Jacob

Pages:
Xenocide - Orson Scott Card
I'm on a big Card kick again. Empire series was OK, but I'm back to finish book three of Ender's series. Hiphip!

Your Republic Is Calling You - Young-Ha Kim
Korean spies! Eep!

Tunes:
Major/Minor - Thrice
It seriously may be the last music you'll ever need. It's glorious.

Heavy Metal Painting

Greetings!

Two posts in the short span of 24 hours?
Holy crap.

I spent the day demolishing a basement and attempting to rebuild and frame new rooms. It was a blast. After we ate supper and wrapped up shop for the evening, I used my newly-found love for crafting things and I returned to the garage to continue the mayhem well into the evening.

On impulse, I selected Dragonforce to accompany me on my mission. I'm fairly certain that I caused the neighbors and random passerbyers quite some confusion as I screamed, sawed, and painted to Dragonforce's sweet, melodic tones. As you cruise through the rest of this note, please feel free to turn up the following link to eleven and pleasantly begin headbanging at your leisure.
COMMENCE INSANITY
I used some leftover materials to fashion a gift for Paul, a roommate that has to put up with the wreckage and construction noise right outside his door. Since he enjoys inviting friends over to play beer pong, I plan on making a neat soccer-themed pong table for him. I sanded down an old section of a shelf and primed it for tomorrow's painting. I hope it ends up looking decent. Regardless, I (roundhouse)kicked open a Rolling Rock, threw my fist up in the air, and majorly rocked out to some intense priming.

Phase one: Primed.

I thought it necessary to wave the brushes in front of the camera for this shot. I'm an idiot.
With the creative juices still flowing, I ventured onto my next project. I've been yakking about carving a chess board since, oh, May, and decided that tonight was as excellent a night as ever to begin practicing on how to go about making a homemade chess board. A few weeks ago, Phill and Seth helped craft a model Lego chess board which turned out fairly well.

It was also kind of fun to spend a Saturday evening playing with Legos. Perhaps I should go out more...The chances of me meeting my dream girl would be substantially higher if I was out and about as opposed to playing with Legos in my kitchen. Hmph.

What's also cool - my dad found a little tin soldier tucked away behind a furnace hot-air return duct. The soldier's in the photo with the Legos. It was a sweet little treasure find, I'll admit.

Anyways, here's a shot of my first ever wood carving. It looks like total ass. If Pinocchio ever had a illegitimate, alcohol-fueled love child with Sorry™ piece, this is what it might look like.

Horrific, right?
It's a start. Try not to pay attention to the crack on his right hip. I kinda sorta chiseled him in half. Perhaps I'll hold off on the Rolling Rocks until after the sawing/chiseling.

                    Me bottle caps. Me precious, precious bottle caps.

Right. Well then. I'm off to either sleep, p90X (hahahah yeah, right), or watch some Premier League. If you have any artistic suggestions or recommendations, feel free to comment. I could certainly use a hand!

Cheers,
Jacob

Pages:
The Templar Knight - Jan Guillou
Meh. Still...meh.

Tunes:
DRAGONmutha'effinFORCE!!1!

Stairway to Failuredom

Greetings!



A conversation about things from the 80's sparked my interest this afternoon. While speaking with a friend as she cut my hair, we discussed different ideas for an 80's party that is coming up in a few weeks.


Let it be known that I'm watching "The Song Remains the Same" while I write. It's a movie chock-full of Led Zeppelin doing what they do best: blowing peoples' minds. Page is strutting around in huge lifted shoes as Plant jiggles by himself off to the side. It's awe-inspiring. Between just the two of them, there's enough chest and head hair to choke a horse.
 

                              "Do you feel a draft, James?"




While the Zep isn't permissible for an 80's gig, plenty of other things are still open for use. But this is not what is consuming my brainpower for the afternoon. Instead, I was trying to remember some of my earliest memories from the (gasp) 80's. As strange as it might sound, some of the easiest memories that I could dust off involved regrettable actions on my part. I'm not overwhelmed by the fact that I can't let these things go. I mean, there's little I can do now to change them at this point in time. For some reason or another, I'll share with you all some of my saddest, most embarrassing moments. Bon appetit!

*Side note*
The camera just panned to the audience during Page's solo in "Since I've Been Loving You." Every person had a blank stare and a jaw scraping the floor. It might be the drugs.

1) Psychological Warfare
Growing up with two other brothers, people always ask me if we fought often. The answer: No, not really. However, when my older brother would, inevitably, beat me in a game of knock-out or let's-kick-a-ball-real-far, instead of shaking his hand and commending his brilliant efforts, I'd slink off towards his room. Once there, all blurry-eyed and full of 5-year-old Hulkrage, I'd mess up his bed, drop clothes on the floor, and kick stuff over. Rage subsided, I'd nonchalantly stroll off with a winning grin on my face.
When I spoke to Ben about this, he calmly replied that he never once noticed that I had ever done that. Hmph. I'm just going to have to step it up a notch next time...

2) Dearest Friend, Under the Bus You Go
Each summer, I would get to spend one bliss-filled week at church camp. The week would be filled with chewy, mass-produced meals, awkward "Oh, look a girl! Let's get her to like us by pretending she doesn't exist" tactics, and card games. Lots and lots of card games. One afternoon during recreational time, I was learning how to play Euchre with my friends in our cabin when I noticed some strange kids about to enter the adjacent hallway. From what I recall, these kids were slightly older than us, and being so, were subject to our scorn. While they passed by our open doorway, I spoke a little too loudly to my friend that those kids were "gay (or whatever classy 90's word kids were using back then)." The kids stopped, backed up, and came into the room while asking who had said that. There sat brave little me on the floor, straight-faced and sober, as I slowly raised my finger to point at my friend, Brian. Nothing happened after that, but I still feel shameful for being such a coward. I brought this moment up to Brian a few years back who mentioned that he, too, didn't remember such an event. He is a greater man that I. God Bless you, Sir Brian.

*There was just a backstage moment where some policemen kindly let in a few teenagers through the back door so that they could enjoy the concert. Completely astonished, the kids thank the officers and skip towards the show. That's how legends are made.

3) Open Mouth, Insert Foot
This last one takes place a little more recently than the others. Fresh out of college, I was working nights as a security guard around Omaha. Oh, it was glamorous. I was armed to the teeth with a company Jeep, a shiv-proof vest, and a book of Sudoku puzzles. I was also dating a wonderfully perfect gal at the time. It was a summer filled with moonlit walks, conversations over coffee, outdoors plays, and Chinese food. It was heavenly. There was one downside, however, and that took form as a large and unavoidable crossroad towards mid-August: she went to school in New York. One evening, she carefully trekked into this as-yet-unmentioned territory. My response? Something to the effect of, "Oh, yeah. I'll still write you from time to time and you can be my go-to-gal whenever I'm failing to understand future girlfriends." Single-handedly the dumbest, most asinine thing someone could say in response to that question. A Romeo, I am not.

Geez. This is getting long. Apologies.

Have I learned from my past? I'd like to think so.
Are there more stories of stupid things I've done? But of course.
But that's for future posts.

Go out and do some good, peeps!

Cheers,
Jake




Tunes:
I rediscovered a Mp3 disc that I had made back in 2005 recently. It's packed with Blindside, Jimmy Eat World, Thrice (naturally), Hoobastank, Foo Fighters, Metallica, 311...and some other bands of which I'm not too proud of. Needless to say, I found myself driving the long way home so that I could listen to a few extra songs. Yay!


Pages:
Less Than Zero - Bret Easton Ellis
I tore through this in a matter of hours. It comes recommended, but it can be demoralizing. Picture Catcher in the Rye mixed with Californication.

The Templar Knight - Jan Guillou
Meh. It was a Border's-going-outta-business sale. It'll be a nice little break from anything too heavy.

Gee, I wish all my posts made cents...

Hello, all!

While cruising through my inbox this morning, I came across a forwarded message that had all the markings of "Psshaw! Not readin' this crap!" spam. I made a few emphatic raspberry noises, one while selecting the adjacent box and one while selecting delete, and then giggled to myself over the fact that I still derive pleasure from making those aforementioned noises. You should try it sometime, though. It's quite satisfying.

*Note: The first toot has to be of a higher pitch than the second, more drawn out noise.*

                                      ,,¡ɥʇqqqqqqqd `ɥʇqqqd,,
              

 Great.

I tracked down the email in the deleted column and, for no odd reason whatsoever, I began to read it. Immediately, I was transported back to when I encountered my first chain letter. I was an inquisitive youngster somewhere around the 2nd grade and I found myself the lucky owner of a note from someone who I had, at the time, considered a friend. Little did I know that if I failed to pass the note on to ten of my other friends, I would break this letter's ancient streak and some unknown tragedy would befall me. I was close to tears as my mother, after having glanced at the note, lightly tossed it towards the garbage can and politely told me not to worry about it. I cursed whoever had given me the note and began to prepare for the worst. Long story short, I guess mom was right (yet again) as everything turned out to be just fine. I haven't suffered any mystical maladies of recent memory, but I do have an odd looking butt-chin and horrible luck with women.

I don't think that those stem from a chain letter from the 90's, though. It's also strange that this is one of my earliest memories, too. Hmm. Moving onwards...

I cruised through the email which told a blahblahblah story about a woman who questioned her fantastically wealthy boss as to why he stopped one evening over a penny before picking it up and placing it in his pocket. Her boss replied that he always stopped to pick up loose change since the words "In God We Trust" inscribed on the coin reminded him to pray. Bam. My perspective on finding random pennies was forever, uh, changed. I love encountering things in my daily travels that remind me to pause and thank the Lord since I can be somewhat scatterbrained as days go on.

Less than an hour later, after having ordered a coffee at the 'Bucks, I walked out onto the patio to find two pennies sitting at an open table. I put my new Penny Philosophy into action and laughed a little to myself about how amazing the world can be. I took one penny with me and ever-so-benevolently left the second one for the next wayfarer.

It sure beat the old "Oh, hell! That penny is upside down! AVOID IT LIKE THE PLAGUE!" philosophy of years past.

I hope you're all well in your worlds! Keep a steady watch out for loose change!

Cheers,
Jake


Pages:
Lamb by Christopher Moore - It's a comical view on what Jesus' possible antics were between the ages of 6-30.

Tunes:
Trying to get into La Dispute. It's random...but there's hope for 'em yet.

Afternoon ramblings (Now with more calcium!)

Greetings!

Pleasantries aside, I'll get right into the thick of it.

Since the creation of this page, I have been restlessly awaiting for the time at which I'll actually write a few lines of stimulating content. Comical run-ins and fan-boy worshiping of bands - however incredible they might be - should not define the extent of which I write.

Rather, I would wish to write of times where I have devised, stumbled upon, unveiled, or witnessed ideas or events that simply begged themselves to be shared with others. At these times, I feel an energy and a passion that rarely hits me. It is the type of fury that causes me to latch onto an idea, expand upon it, excitably theorize "what-ifs," and ultimately sprint off on tangents before I can sufficiently resolve the originating idea. I will attempt to explain myself more clearly, but if I should come across as a wee bit deranged, well, at least this could prove to be an enlightening glimpse into the vanishing mind of a crazy person.

While reading at a local coffee shop (a familiar site to a high proportion of these 'epiphanies'), I had the wherewithal to quickly scribble down some of the concepts that I wished to lay out on the examination table for operation. I was reading through "Speaker for the Dead," a sci-fi novel associated with the more recognizable "Ender's Game," and found myself wandering from the pages to dream and philosophize about some of the concepts that were taking place in the book. Normally what would happen would be that I would think these heavy thoughts, tell myself, "Attention, Self! Important thoughts ahead!" and then return home to eat a sandwich and inadvertently allow the thoughts to fade into obscurity.

Oh, no! Not today! The sandwiches can wait!

I'll reveal my notes to see if there's any support or interest in what I spent my walk home contemplating. Secretly, I wish to write a novel someday that would centralize a few of my thoughts on the world, behavior, relationships, etc. into one orderly, tangible place. I'll also note that I have a tendency to think an idea or passage is pretty stellar, only to come back to it the next day and think to myself, "Wow. What a load of garbage." So, some of these 'epiphanies' may not be all that great once the dust has settled. I'll also split them up over a few separate posts. I don't want your mind to wander too far. FOCUS!

We'll see where this goes...

Note 1:
Humans "advanced?"
-food, sex, reactions

In Speaker for the Dead, there is a commentary on humans feeling pity for other things that aren't quite as great as they are. The book describes the collective observation of the Hundred Worlds (mankind) as a new alien race is found on a planet. In all of mankind's existence, there was only one other life form, the "buggers," that was encountered. Ultimately (**spoiler alert**), the buggers meet a grim fate as they are systematically destroyed out of fear and misunderstanding with the unwitting help of the protagonist, Andrew "Ender" Wiggin. With the discovery of another race, the "piggies," Ender leaps at the chance to make sure that things go differently this time around. There are many more sides to this story which undoubtedly provide more depth, but I simply cannot do the book justice with my limited review. It's great; read it.

The author, Orson Scott Card, uses the piggies to critique some of the inherent flaws in man. It felt similar to the style C.S. Lewis used in The Screwtape Letters in which he used a discourse between a few demons to illustrate similar flaws in human behavior. Card describes the debates at which people argue what's best for the piggies without even understanding some of the piggies' simplest of actions. Simply put, it aggravated me to read about the actions that were discussed, however plausible and valid they seemed to be.

I left the pages at this point to daydream about this concept of mankind's place in the hierarchy of things. With technology, careers, constructions, and statuses, who wouldn't want to be human? Nevermind if one should find themselves lacking in one of these areas. Nevermind the selfishness that runs just below the surface of our skin; the first reactions to secure one's self before others (that's MY parking spot, that's MY spot in line [MY time], the you shouldn't have that, I shoulds). Nevermind the deceit, corruption, war, hatred, discrimination, and intolerance of others.

Well...I might be stretching on that last line. I need to lay off the caffeine.

I simply want to convey that while being part of the homo sapien taxonomy is unarguably great, I don't want to lose sight of where we could be going. Where we can make advancements in the way we think and communicate. Where we set our eyes onwards and upwards to greater things. It's too easy to become complacent behind this feeling that mankind is at its peak. I can certainly feel like the most dignified and evolved chap in the room during any given day, but once you place a stack of BBQ short ribs in front of me or let me pass by a swimsuit calendar at the mall and it's bye-bye 'civilized' me. I rather wish that more people would recognize this urge-driven beast inside them so we could formulate plans and means to go about dealing with it.

I wonder about what we would hold as important once we began to solemnly and resolutely address our shortcomings and ignored a few of the distractions of the world.

Cheers,
Jacob

Pages:
Speaker for the Dead - Orson Scott Card
Lamb - Christopher Moore

Tunes:
Someone this summer renewed my interest in Sum 41. And yes, I can still sing along to 90% of the songs. It's miraculous how the brain works, no?

Random picture to illustrate my stance on the whole pirates vs. ninjas thing.

Ninjas win. Ninjas always win.

Major/Minor

Greetings!




It was, yet again, another wonderful week of adventure out at camp!
My weary soul could not wait to get home, brush my teeth (soul's have teeth?), and begin to make a list of next week's preparations. I added the list for one main purpose, however, and that was so that I could have something to put off for another time in order to nap. Procrasto-naps are the BEST. You should all try one sometime. But not now. Do it later.

I received a warm welcome from my brother and friends and quickly set about catching up on recent news.
Then I picked up a magazine, laid on the couch, and, well, I don't remember what happened next.
It was heavenly.

During a mid-nap stretch, I rolled over to a nearby computer and squintily began to see what was going on in the world. Being in a forest all summer has somewhat limited my exposure to world events. For the most part, I've been OK with that. The hipster in me wants to begin a rant about how much "Daily News" is actually news, but I have something much, much more substantial to jabber about.

Thrice.

Thrice released a free download of a new track listed on their Major/Minor album due in September. There were also tour dates, a kind message of support, and lots of chatter from fans about how "epic" Thrice is.

How did I react to this information, you ask?

Well, it's now 2:30am and sleep seems far away. "Yellow Belly" is on repeat and I am in absolute euphoria.

I am thankful for moments like this.

Here's the link to Thrice on PureVolume if you'd like to check it out. Lyrics are linked through Thrice.net. Lyrics make everything better.
No, Thrice makes everything better. 

http://www.purevolume.com/new/thrice

More to follow, I'm sure.

Cheers,
Jacob



Pages:
Speaker for the Dead - Orson Scott Card

Tunes:
I think you know.

Pffrt?

Hello, all!

Summer is fast approaching its midway point for me. Without any doubt, I can say that the past six weeks have been a true blessing. The counselor position came about so unexpectedly that I hardly had time to consider what I had gotten myself into before I found a dozen energetic hobbits all awaiting my leadership.
I attempted to jot down quick reminders of the moments where I had to step back to fully grasp what was occurring around me. There were brief periods of time where I was cognitively aware that in THAT exact moment something important was happening; however, I fear that as time marches onward, I am growing unable to accurately depict these almost euphoric surges of awareness.
Times such as when I found myself fully encompassed by night as friends dared a thunderstorm to safeguard a swimming tank from high winds. With only snapshots of light thundering over us, we navigated terrain in Frankenstein-esque motions towards our goal. It's a miracle that we all made it back safely to shelter without anyone from our adventure team getting fried.
Or the times where I found myself completely surrounded by the stillness and beauty of nature.
Or the jubilation of watching groups of once-strangers bond, grow, and take care of one another.
As I look back at some of my older posts, I feel slightly ridiculous. I originally started this page in attempts to explore whether or not I could seriously write something that others might be interested in reading. Yes, being at the mercy of a renegade train is comical, but I am not overly proud of what I have written to date. I hope that once things settle down, I will be able to write some posts of substance.


There will still be fart jokes, mind you, but they will be substantial fart jokes.

Cheers,
Jacob



Pages:
The Bible
Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis


Notes:
New FOO FIGHTERS!
New BAYSIDE!
Sum 41, Bob Dylan, Zebrahead...it has been a beautiful evening.