Wednesday, June 25, 2003

Spike TV!

It would seem that the number of disgruntled men who have been forced to sit through reruns of "The Golden Girl's" with their Lifetime-Identifying wives is over. Now, men are getting their own channel. TNN formerly the Tennesse Nashville Network has changed to The National Network and is poised to change once again into Spike TV. A channel where men can watch wrestling, monster truck pulls, action cartoons called Striperella. The channel will also run reruns of shows such as CSI, and Star Trek. But, there is a monkeywrench in the works at Spike TV.



It seems that Spike Lee feels like the channel is trying to capitalize off of his celebrity. He claims that the show is trying to benefit off of an assumed allusion to something that has to do with him. He is presently suing. If you look at the picture above I think we should sue him for that blazer-shirt ensemble he has on. Additionally, I think his suit is baseless. When I think of Spike Lee, I am not thinking of anything that exudes extreme "manliness". No disrespect to Spike Lee, I think he is a talented director, but when I hear the word spike I think in this order.

1. Spiking a football.
2. The cartoon where the small dog says, "Hey Spike wanna beat up some cats?!"
3. What could happen if I don't watch my drink at the club.
4. The only thing exciting that happens during a vollebyall game.
5. The film director that shouldn't try to act.

So you see, Spike is way down on the list of relevance in regard to this case. He says that he finds the network to be "demeaning, vapid and quasi-pornographic content". An understandable argument if a person truly is pious in regard to temptations of the flesh. However, if you not only directed, but starred in a film called, "She's gotta have it".... incidentally Spike, filming a T&A movie in black and white doesn't make it art.... I really don't see your argument about boxing matches and a cartoon called "Striperella". But oh well, litigation is on the way. Let' s see what happens next on Spike TV.

Tuesday, June 24, 2003

If I could just get my hands around his neck.....



Now everyone has heard of "deadbeat dads", but this guy takes the cake. Apparently he went to visit the mother of his child, (baby mama), to implore her to date him again and she refused. So genius kidnaps her, drives her around, and then takes her back to the apartment. A huge argument ensues and he dangles his own daughter out of the window. She calls 911, and he tosses his own flesh-and-blood, out of the 7th story window. Miracle of miracles some tree branches slow her fall and she lands in a small square of mulched earth beneath the tree. The mother gets a kitchen knife and stabs him, and he runs from the apartment, scoops up the baby, and takes her to the hospital. Police find him there and arrest him. By God's grace the baby only had cuts and bruises.

I really don't know how to express what I am feeling when I think about a 10 month old baby being thrown from a 7th story window. My daughter is exactly the same age, and I catch my breath when she takes a tumble as she is pulling up on the coffee table. The idea that someone would do that to any child, let alone their own, completely baffles me. I hope they don't let him plead out, or offer him leniency for this act. I think the attempted murder charge should stand, and I hope they lock him up. The strange thing about this is the fact that I can see him claiming to want to see his child again someday.

Ahhh....enough. Typing about his sorry ass butt makes me sick.

Monday, June 23, 2003

Fiery Protest...

I believe in the people's right to protest, if the protest is constructive. I have never understood riot politics in which some group tears up their own community in outrage over a ruling or an event. I understand that frustration may lead to violent behavior, but I don't condone it. But in the case of the Iranian self-immolating I am at a loss.



Iranian Protestors are setting fire to themselves. I am not sure what this is accomplishing besides making bystanders say, "Jesus Christ, that guy just set himself on fire."

Thursday, June 19, 2003

Damn...and that was rated PG-13?

I just got finished watching "The Ring" a few moments ago. I really didn't feel as if I needed to turn on any lights, but it was definitely suspenseful. That is the first movie in a loooooooooong time that has made my heart race. Kinda cool...heh.

Thursday, June 12, 2003

I'm too big for my safe place...

When I was a little boy, sometimes I would become very afraid. Sometimes for a reason, and sometimes for no reason at all. I would sit very still and curl up and wait for the danger to pass. More often than not, my father would come. I knew safety was on its way when I heard the sound of combat boots and smelled Kiwi shoepolish and aftershave. He would swoop me into his arms with no effort at all and begin to walk with me. I suppose with all of the years that have passed since he has done that, the content of his words surely would have escaped me. But, truth be told, it was never his words that comforted me. I rarely listened at all in fact. It was the prickly feeling on my cheek, the broadness of the shoulder that I rested my chin on, and the amazing feeling of comfort as I sat in the crook of his arm, that soothed me. I would rest my head on his shoulder and savor the vibrations of the baritone that I knew so very well. I would look down as the ground slid past his feet. I would wrap my arms around his thick neck and close my eyes, wishing that he could hold me forever. I would think, "This is my daddy." Nothing in the world ever felt more right to me at that time. I would continue to absorb his vibrations, not his words. Then at some point he would tip me backward off of his shoulder so he could see me. I remember looking at him, memorizing every line and every fold of his kind face, and seeing his eyes light up because he had made me smile. He would wipe the tears from my cheek with his thumb and say, "Love ya, Man". "Man". How I loved to hear that word, for Dad, that word was synonymous with son...because I was the only one that he called that. I am his only son. I sometimes wonder how old I was when he last picked me up into his arms. How old was I when I last snuggled into his cheek and felt his prickly shaving line? When was the last time that I was soothed by the vibrations of his baritone voice? What did he say to me? Lord, had I known it was going to be the last time I would have recalled it. I swear I would have. But I suppose growing up is so gradual that you never know what changes are going to happen, and you never appreciate a moment until it has passed. Now I am "big", a husband and a father just like him...in some ways. I am still aspiring to be like him in other ways. I still get so frightened sometimes. Sometimes for a reason, and sometimes for no reason at all. But I am much too big now. Too big to let someone know that I am afraid. I wait for the danger to pass, but the smell of Kiwi and aftershave never comfort me. He lives far away, and I am much too big to pick up now. The years have painted him gray, though that face is still familiar and comforting. More often than not, that deep baritone offers advice that I am eager to hear. I listen to the words now, because I need them so very much. But sometimes as he talks to me, I wish I could be held in the safety of his arms. I think back to those days when I was so small, and he was oh so big. I long to be able to rest my head and be carried away from my problems. But I am so glad to still be able to close my eyes and say, "This is my Daddy."

Wednesday, June 11, 2003

OCS Graduation...

In the next 73 days I have a PT test and a 10 day war to complete, after that I will be a Lieutenant.

Thursday, June 05, 2003

Ho Hum......

Man, I tell you I feel like I am on a treadmill that just won't stop. My days and weeks are going by like a blur and I feel as if I am getting nothing accomplished. I suppose if finances were in a better way things would be different. My focus is gone as well. I can't seem to get some of my priorities straight either. At this moment it is a quarter til eleven and I should be packing the rest of my gear for National Guard this weekend, but instead I am on the damned internet. Nothing seems to be going right as of late. I suppose my father had to go through a time or two like this as a young father/husband, but there appears to be no end in sight. My emoticon at the bottom of this webpage boasts a troubled mindset, and it has remained that way for the last few weeks. No matter how happy I may appear to be, I remain troubled all of the time. There are just sooooo many things on my mind at any given moment that I feel like I can't give due attention to all of them.

Well, this weekend touring a civil war battlefield will keep me occupied I am sure. Well, wish me luck this weekend, and I promise I will post on a more regular basis.