I Started A Joke...

...I think that song is by the BeeGees? Maybe not, but it was the number one song for the year of 1976, which is the year I was born. Appropriate? Methinks perchance...

I know I have been promising to write stories and whatnot, but seriously, this blogging thing can be a pain in the arse. Kudos to those who are able to post more often than I (which is just about everybody with a blog)...

Some news for those who care to know:

Sarah Jean just bought her first home. It is (purposefully) a piece of shit shaped like a box with soooooo much potential. We have been designing and redesigning how we're going to fix her up and it has come down to a temporary fix wherein we rip out the entire interior and rebuild it with quality materials to be a snazzy studio apartment with all the trimmings in which we will reside for a couple of years...long term we will refinance and use the scrilly to pull off the roof, add a couple of stories and another wing and make history with the finest completely sustainable urban home ever created. One of the best things about the house is its location (within 20 yards or so there are 4 kickass bars, 3 fine restaurants, 2 clubs, a tattoo parlor, a veterinarian, a palm reader, and, this being the Northwest, about 15 coffee shops). As always, I shall post photos as I take them and we will all keep track of our progress together...

I am a couple of short steps away from finally obtaining my contractor's license (commercial and residential). While this may sound like an accomplishment, it truly is not. The fine state of Washington requires no test and no proven experience for general contractors, only proof of insurance and a business license (we all know I would have blolwn the test apart anyway though...). What this means is that, although I will be a legitimate businessman and therefore able to charge more for my services, I also will be required to pay taxes...an even break so long as I stay busy enough to warrant the cost (which I will, at least for 5 months a year)...

I hate the San Antonio Spurs as much as anyone can hate a professional sports team. Not because they constantly dash the hopes of Suns fans (that is truly the Suns' own fault) but because they have the skills to win cleanly every time they hit the floor and yet rely so heavily on dirty defense and a petulant, self pitying rapport with the referees (who buy into it...what?). I personally blame it on soccer. Follow me now...the Spurs are the most international team in the NBA, and whereas in these United States soccer is all but irrelevant professionally, in the world at large it is the one true game...as anyone who has seen soccer played in Europe especially will testify, the floppingest prima donnas in all sports anywhere flourish there alongside some of the dirtiest players and for sure the most corrupt referees...the international players on the Spurs, having grown up in an atmosphere where petulance and unsportsmanlike conduct are winning strategies in sports, have applied these basic lessons to basketball and validated that approach by winning what, 4 championships in the last 6 years or something? Basically, I blame the French...

I recently entered 3 designs into an online political poster contest. The above piece is my favorite of my entries. To see my other 2 pieces and the rest of the competition and to vote for your favorites (don't feel obligated to vote for mine), visit artofpolitics2008.com...

My sister's cat just recently died, as did my brother's mom. Now, I know that it sounds strange to say, but I barely knew my brother's mother and was good friends with my sister's cat. Also, whereas my brother had nothing but disrespect and disgust for his old lady (fallout from ancient issues that I wish to god he'd been able to address before her death for the sake of his kids if not his own), my sister nothing but admiration for and a heartfelt partnership with her fallen feline companion. So I am left thinking that if the sum total of the human/non-love, animal/love equation determines that they will equally miss their lost loved ones, then that negates the third party requirements for me and I am free to mourn that entity who's passing most deeply affects me. I choose the cat. This, in turn, has sparked a philosophical debate in my own head where feelings of primordial motherguilt rage against an army of small, furry, loveable creatures...with claws.

That is all you need know for now...