At Home With Ernie and Bert

On Turning to the Dark Side: My First Glock

2007-08-26T06:28:00.000-07:00

I tried.
I really did.

As a Buddhist, and an outspoken enemy of the policy that has led us to the current war our great nation finds itself in, as the father of many small children, as a proponent of nonviolence, and as an American, I tried to change. I did. But I just cant.

I am a gun enthusiast.
I hate what guns are used for.
Damn it, I love using them. I like shooting. I’m good at it, and with my new job, eventually I will be training others to use them too.

I have always been particular of the 1911 pistols. For those of you who dont know, those are the old-school automatics--the quintessential handgun for custom fans and historians alike. The old GI .45 automatic. I have owned several different handguns over the years. A Beretta M92 was my first. Then, a Ruger GP 100 .357 magnum. I quickly traded for a Vietnam era M1911 with modified rear sights. When I again chose to own a pistol it was another 1911- a Chuck Daly. Not my favorite pistol. It was nice to look at but I suffered several feed jams which was unacceptable considering I was in security at the time which included executive protection.

All the LEO’s seem to be moving towards Glocks. Now I have said that I have always hated Glock. They are ugly. Clunky looking and made out of plastic, the Glock just seemed a horrible investment to me.

Last week I broke down and bought a well-used Glock 22. It was in my price range, and after seeing the incredible amount of aftermarket parts and the inexpensive maintenance and upkeep, and how simple they are to care for and operate... I was sold.

Here is a picture of my Glock.
I am planning on having the slide refinished in the near future, and possibly replace the barrel. I have heard good things about aftermarket barrels with their standard rifling, but I have also heard that I should stick with a Glock barrel. Any enthusiasts out there please feel free to give me suggestions. I will keep you all updated as this evolution continues.

I plan on a Ruger .22 in the future as well as another 1911, but with the cost of a quality 1911 vs, the cost of a Glock... it may just be a Glock 21 in .45 ACP

On Enough Said

2007-08-20T21:17:00.000-07:00

Harrison Ford.
Karen Allen.
Steven Speilberg.
George Lucas.

Nuff' Said.

On Thoughtlessness: My Children's Sadness

2007-08-20T05:54:00.000-07:00

When Marissa died, sunflowers that we had planted were blooming. There were a few neat stories about those sunflowers. This is, unfortunately not one of them.

We saved the seeds from last years batch of sunflowers, and on Mother's day this year, we planted those we harvested. The sunflowers did not all grow. We had about a third of what we planted come up, but one of them--the largest one--was dubbed the "Marissa Sunflower" and we have watched them grow. A few weeks ago, they finally grew heads. Due to the drought this summer, their growth was stunted, and we were concerned that they would not flower before Marissa's birthday this year.

Last night we discovered that someone had come and either broken off the plants at the stalk, or snapped the newly formed buds off of the plants.

Someone thought it was funny. My children were crushed.
It was an ongoing memorial to their sister. Its like sitting on or knocking over gravestones. There were many tears.

My six year old son wanted the persons responsible to have their heads cut off. My seven year old kept asking "How would they feel if it happened to them?"

To process this, I had the kids draw pictures of how the event made them feel. This is the result.

The first image is from my six year old son.

On Perseverence: Still Standing

2007-08-17T09:55:00.000-07:00

My apologies for this lengthy absence.

"I wish you here tonight with me to see the northern lights,
I wish you were here tonight with me.
I wish I could have you by my side tonight when the sky is burning.
I wish I could have you by my side...
...Conscience clear, I'm still standing here."
--Still Standing, The Rasmus

"And did you think this fool could never win?
Well look at me, Im coming back again."
--Still Standing, Elton John

You know what it feels like when you just step out of the pool on a hot summer day? The air around you is scorching but you can still feel the chill of the breeze on your wet skin? Imagine for me, if you can, that same chill right through the middle of you. Like someone has taken an enormous paper punch, and removed a perfectly round section of your torso, and the wind is now gently blowing against the wetness that rims what is left.

Now think of the last good case of the flu that you had; the tired bones and the aching joints? Remember how each breath seemed an effort? Every single movement is like running a marathon isn’t it? A week-long spell of continuous exhaustion and dull aching.

And how about that last trip you had to the dentist to get that cavity filled? Yeah! That’s a good one. I’m talking about after the annoying pinch of the needle in the roof of your mouth or under your tongue. I mean when that Novocain has really settled in and is working hard. Complete and total numbness. The only way you can tell anyone is doing anything inside your mouth is by the earthquake vibrating your skull every time that drill touches your tooth. Now, take all these experiences and lets put them into context.

For a father, the death of a child is an exquisite pain, unlike any other. It is a physical pain. The hole is not an imaginary one. Even now a year later, I can feel the breeze pass through my chest when I step outside. My legs feel like they are made from lead, and my joints still ache perpetually. The numbness has subsided some, but I still have yet to regain the feeling I once had. It isn’t imaginary. It isn’t “all in my head.” My first-born child, my beautiful daughter died in my arms, leaving wounds in me that should have been fatal. Yet somehow were not.

But the physical pain is just the beginning. There is much more that comes in the wake of loss. The nightmare can only be experienced, not explained. My efforts to bring my personal tragedy to you do not do justice to what I have lived. I simply hope to prove that the pain is normal, the insanity typical, and the trauma standard. My pain is no worse than that of any other father who has lived through this experience. The difference lies in my perception, and my willingness to share.
Today is August 17th, in the Year of Our Lord 2007. For those just joining us, that means ten years. In just fifteen days, it will have been ten years since the miraculous event that transformed me from a self-centered, drunken, occasionally violent, irresponsible man-whore, to the man who now regularly willingly subjugates his own desires for those of his children, the man who without regret or complaint sacrifices personal treasures to pay the bills, and the man who would without question lay down his life for his wife and children. Ten years have passed since one man died, and another was born.

But it has also been a year since another version of that man died. As I write these words, four hundred and thirty-two days have passed since I was initiated into this terrible club of loss, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate my dear daughter’s upcoming birthday then by getting this ball rolling in earnest.

Time to finish what I started.
I havebeen working hard on my illustration skills. Muscles that have long been sedentary are now awakening, stretching and flexing again. I have a story to tell, and though my skills with the written word are not minor ones, my real strength lies in communicating through pictures. It is now my plan to tell the story of 2006-2007 in a multi-medium format. Much of my work will still simply be written, but the majority I hope to have in a graphic novel format. I hope to better describe feelings, thoughts, and emotions in this manner. Additionally, I hope to expose for the first time some of my poetry, which I have long kept to myself. It does me no good to sit on this stuff. It doesnt do anyone else any good either. Once I have confirmed my employment situation, I will be able to schedule regular time for writing and illustrating. I will present pieces of this work here as they come.

If this experience I hope share with you has taught me anything at all, it is that we survive. The wounds that should have killed me outright, did not. I live with the cold, ache for the rest of my life. I heal, and move on. I, like those who share this experience and survive, take with me the best parts of my loved one, and those parts somehow make me, and all of us that much stronger. We absorb their strength of character, their determination, their love of life. We see things differently than we did before. Our priorities are different, as well as our look at life. We learn who our friends really are, and very much what we ourselves are capable of.

Even with this hole through the middle of me, I’m still standing.

Peace

On Art: My first time...

2007-07-21T12:00:00.000-07:00

Here is my first computer colored picture.
I finaly figured I had betterget with the program if I am to fulfill my life's dream of the revisiting of the 1980's post-apocalyptic superheroes inspired by Mad Max movies. Thats right I want to do a comic book before I die.
I have been recently working on getting the tools and skills together to make this happen, and have been exploring online communities for support. One of these is the Online Manga University... some pretty cool folks there. This is a contest entry based on some Warrior Android named Roxxanne. I apologize to all those at OMU whom I may offend with my ignorance.

This is the first time I have used computers to so anything. I did a sketch, inked and scanned it onto the iBook. Then I used Photoshop 4 to color, though I found it to be a time-consuming and irritating process. The results when you look closely at the maginified image are rough to say the least. I will be adding the hand colored version in the near future for a comparison.

I hope to post a few pages within the next month or so with an excerpt. Lots of excerpts huh people? When the hell am I going to get you a finished product?

On God's Influence: A True Story from my Life

2007-07-12T09:03:00.000-07:00

Hello again friends. It seems that life has interrupted my writing again.
I would like to share a true story from my life. This is an exerpt from a rough draft from my memoir. It is the introduction to my work on keeping promises. I hope you like it.

Years ago I was commissioned by a man to paint a portrait of Christ. It is an interesting story really, I was approached after having done some mural work for a local club, and after handing me a check for several hundred dollars, he informed me of his wishes.
“God has moved me to commission this work,” he told me. “I’ve seen what you can do, and I’m confident that it is you that God has in mind.”
I thanked him for his confidence, and proceeded to ask him the usual questions:
How big?
What medium?
What timeline was I looking at?
His answer was very strange at the time.
“Its gotta be big,” he told me. “Its gotta be big and in color. I know you like to do those black and white dot things, but this is in color.”
I nodded.
“When do you want it by?” I asked.
“Well, God has told me that I am going to die in eleven years.”
Inwardly I raised an eyebrow and let out an “Oooooooh-kay.” I heard the sounds of cuckoo birds somewhere off in the distance, but I shrugged it off and let him continue.
“I have eleven years,” He repeated. “I’m not going to bother you about it. God has told me to trust you. As long as I get it before then, I have no time requirements for you.”
I snickered to myself as I shook his hand... this guy is some piece of work.

My daughter was born shortly thereafter. Soon after that I had moved to a town about an hour away to go to college. Following that I was married. Somewhere in that time, my daughter had developed her neurological difficulties, and we moved again to be closer to the medical health professionals of the metropolitan area of Grand Rapids. I graduated college; I got my first professional job. My wife and I had five more children. In short. Life happened.
In the back of my mind I always had that promise. From time to time I toyed with the idea of starting the painting whose commission I had long since spent. I never got around to it, plain and simple. It wasn’t a big priority. There had been no rush. I have to admit that from time to time, I was sure he had written it off. I was just some asshole that screwed him. Again, I have to admit that at times, the thought crossed my mind.
One day, about six or eight weeks ago I was driving down a busy urban street when an old red pickup truck drove by. There was an old man and woman seated in the cab, and I could distinctly make their features out as they passed me by, going in the direction from whence I had just come. There was a moment of eye contact between the driver, and myself and to my surprise I saw the man whose picture I had yet to paint. Finally, with what I was certain to be a sign from on high, I began work on the face of Jesus Christ.

Once the piece was completed to my satisfaction, I put the canvas up—high out of the reach of my small children, and debated on how I was going to get this picture to its rightful owner. We are not a wealthy family by any means, and any extra cash usually goes into the bellies of our children, so the idea of having to drive two hours to deliver this picture was out of the budget, and out of the picture for the foreseeable future.

It became a bit of a joke with me. “Hello, Jesus!” I would say upon passing the portrait. “How's’ it hangin?” What more appropriate thing to say to a painting? In truth, I began to enjoy having his smiling face around. But as time went on, it became a problem of procrastination again. The image was done, but it needed to get to whom it belonged.
One of my wife’s clients had paid her in cash. So there was sixty dollars that the family had planned on using to go north to visit my parents. The Saturday prior to our visit, my youngest son Max, became ill. I called my mother and told her we wouldn’t be coming after all, and that we would have to wait a week. The tank had already been filled.
My mom said that she and my dad would come and visit us, and thus, the next conversation I had with Jesus was a little different.

“Hey, Jesus! How’s it hangin?” I began.
“When are you going to take me to where I belong?’
“Come on, man. You know I don’t have the money to take you there, or else I would have done it already.”
“My son, that’s a bunch of garbage and you know it. I provided you with money to go and visit your parents. Instead, they came to see you. You still have all that gas. Use it to take me home.”
Damn. Jesus was right.
Today was that day. For weeks now, I had been wondering what the reaction would be when I showed up after all this time, Christ in hand. I pulled up to the building I had painted so many years ago, and walked inside. There was the smell of cigarette smoke and coffee that had always been there. There had been some painting and other decorating, but otherwise it was still the same. I waited until the men that were in the lobby had noticed me, and I asked if the gentleman I was looking for still hung out around there. And I received odd looks and silence for my query.
“He passed away this past fall.” A young man with a full head of hair and intellectual looking glasses told me. I felt my heart sink.

It occurred to me at that moment that it had been nearly eleven years since I was first commissioned to do this portrait.

It also occurred to me that I have gone through life with this “it can wait” or “I’ll do it tomorrow” attitude. Now I am reminded of all the fact that there are just some things you cant take back. Most things in life I would say, you are able to get “do-overs.” You don’t like your career you can go back to school and start again. If you don’t like your Dodge Charger, you can trade it in on a Ford Mustang. Even in the more important areas of our lives, we choose who we will marry—and sometimes when things don’t work out, we can do that over as well. We change our majors, we relocate, we make plans and then cancel them If we get into an argument, we can always apologize. If we hurt a loved one, we can always try to make it up to them. . It all becomes part of our fickle culture, our disposable nation. Until one day we make plans to do something with someone, and they are gone.

I never got that picture to its rightful owner before he passed away. In my mind the only right thing to do was to find his closest surviving relative and give the picture to them. A few questions and a dozen gestures towards the east later, I found myself at a small auto repair business a few miles away. I spied a man coming out of the small building nearby and introduced myself. There was no mistaking this as the son of the man who had commissioned me. For a moment, I had the feeling that I was staring at the man I had come to see—only twenty years younger. I told him I had known his father, and that I had something for him but that I had heard he had passed away. We talked for a little while, and I presented the picture to his son. In the end, I guess it was a gift from a father to his son. I was merely the vessel. It had been bought and paid for.

It still didn’t settle within me the realization that I had left a promise unfulfilled. It wasn’t this portrait of Christ that it was about however. It was about another promise, one I made to a little girl on a warm summer day.

On Art: A Work in Progress Part II

2007-07-07T11:16:00.001-07:00

Here is the basic outline of the painting I will be working on. I have will show it in several stages, the first few will be in this post with commentary.

The image is a "self-portrait" of sorts. Well, I guess not of sorts. Its me. I just had a photograph taken, and then I worked it onto the canvas. I however, am not the subject of the painting... the emotion is.

I began with the colors immediately. I have a vision of some Simon Bisley work in this, but it doesnt come out with the blue. It is flat and cartoonish.

I switched to browns...one idea being that I could use only two colors of paint for the entire piece. I put that idea aside, and added black and grays. The head distortion did not turn out as planned however, and the face is beginning to look like a tengu.

More coming.

On Greatness

2007-07-03T22:13:00.000-07:00

Happy 4th of July.
Happy Independence Day. The birth of The United States of America.

I sit here early in the morning hours contemplating what it means to be American. I was made an American by birth. I was born in the city of Kent, Washington. Yeah, right up in the Pacific Northwest, that’s the place. I was blessed to be a part of this mighty giant by virtue of nothing other than chance. I could have found myself incarnated into any family anywhere in the world. I could have been born in Australia, or Denmark. Maybe China, or Argentina? Who knows? Doesn’t matter. I am an American Citizen because I was born here.

Americans are great aren’t they? We do great things. We create incredible products. We develop amazing new technologies. Our military is the strongest on earth. We really have it going on, don’t we?

So, as an American Citizen, what have I done that is great?
I dropped out of Art school.
No, wait... I graduated college with a B average and went on to... no, sorry. My mistake. That was someone else.
I came up with a cure for that one disease... oh what was it called? Shoot. That wasn’t me either.
I did spend eight years in the Marine Corps Reserve... does that count?

Let me see... what is really great? Who shaped cultures? Who defined nations?
Jesus Christ did... He was friend to the downtrodden and the poor. He healed the sick and fed the hungry wherever he went. Yeah, but Jesus was a Jew from Galilee, not from New Jersey.
Mohammed. His teachings have become the basis for the fastest growing religion in the world! Oh, wait. He was Middle Eastern too.
Buddha... Crap. He was Indian.
Confucius! Yeah I like... Jeez. He was Chinese.

Maybe I should avoid religion. I know I will look at world peace!
Gandhi! Gandhi brought nonviolence to the worlds eye, and Gandhi was... what? Indian too?
Well Mother Theresa would certainly rank number one in that... You’re kidding! Born in Macedonia?

Well Conquest! Who was the greatest military leader in history?
Alexander the Great? Greek.
Adolph Hitler? Like it or not he made taking over Europe look easy—even if he was a psycho genocidal megalomaniac. Yeah, but he was German. Err, well Austrian.

Let me try writing. Whose work influenced the world?
William Shakespeare—English.
J.R.R. Tolkien—English.
Hmmm.
Does anyone see where I am going here?

Please don’t misunderstand. Americans have done great things. Hell, I have done great things. With the children I work with, I mean, my own kids seem to think I am pretty great. I know I did a great job when I chose my wife. And I don’t want anyone to think that I don’t love my country. I do. Eight years of carrying that damned machine gun says so (It was heavy you know.)

What I am saying is this:
We are not great simply by being born great. Greatness is made by determination, strength of character, charisma, and a little luck. The entire world has made contributions that have shaped American Culture—for good or bad. But we as Americans do not hold the monopoly on greatness, pride, or richness of culture. We are leaders in the world community that many in said community have a hard time following these days. Today, on the birthday of this magnificent nation, I encourage you all to take a moment to reflect on true greatness. Those who earned it, and not born into it. I know when I think about it, it makes me that much more appreciative of the Greatness in inherited being born American.
Take a moment to appreciate what you have!
Take a moment to be thankful!
And Take a moment to appreciate all those from around the world whose efforts have made the world a better place. American or otherwise.
Finally, also remember those whose blood was spilled to give us the right to be great.
Semper Fidelis.

Peace.

On Art: A Work in Progress

2007-07-03T11:48:00.000-07:00

Greetings again, true believers! It is I, your humble host.

I thought that I would share for you a work in progress. Part of my asperations as an artist is to fuse my art, poetry, and prose into a volume that will share the process of grief that I have worked through the past year, and continue to work through each day. Much of the conversational prose has yet to be written, but my essays are all complete, and I am in the process of formatting the work.

As an artist, I struggled to come up with a means of describing the pain of losing a child to someone who has not had the experience. Finally after much work, I designed a "self-portrait" in ink, and I will be moving on to a colored format that I hope to use in this manuscript. This blog will be the format for me to share that work from start to finish.

Eventually I will post the photograph I will be basing the project on.

See you soon with an update :)

E&B

On Greif: Yalaina Symone

2007-07-01T06:42:00.000-07:00

I was doing my usual thing.
Randomly searching the web for those really odd and unusual things to inspire my creativity. I came across a distinguished looking fellow named Maurice Broaddus, the self proclaimed "Sinister Minister." I was intrigued by the Gothic atmosphere and his announcement of being a "Christian Horror Writer." http://www.mauricebroaddus.com/blog.htm,

Once I arrived on the site I read the story of his sister Ro's dear little daughter. I encourage you all to read it.
href="http://">mauricebroaddus.proboards24.com/index.cgi?board=mochat&action=display&thread=1179006247

You all know me, I cant believe it was an accident or coincidence that I found this blog. My heart goes out to this family, and I hope in time we will become friends, this Sinister Minister and I.

If I speak in the tongues of men and angels,
but have not love,
I have become sounding brass or a tinkling symbol.

And if I have prophecy and know all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains,
but have not love, I am nothing.

And if I dole out all my goods, and
if I deliver my body that I may boast
but have not love, nothing I am profited.

Love is long suffering,
love is kind,
it is not jealous,
love does not boast,
it is not inflated.

It is not discourteous,
it is not selfish,
it is not irritable,
it does not enumerate the evil.
It does not rejoice over the wrong, but rejoices in the truth

It covers all things,
it has faith for all things,
it hopes in all things,
it endures in all things.

Love never falls in ruins;
but whether prophecies, they will be abolished; or
tongues, they will cease; or
knowledge, it will be superseded.

For we know in part and we prophecy in part.

But when the perfect comes, the imperfect will be superseded.

When I was an infant,
I spoke as an infant,
I reckoned as an infant;

when I became [an adult],
I abolished the things of the infant.

For now we see through a mirror in an enigma, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know as also I was fully known.

But now remains
faith, hope, love,

these three;

but the greatest of these is love.

I Corinthians 1-13

On Painting: Successful and Unsuccessful

2007-06-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

As I have mentioned painting is not my strongest suit.
Here is a painting I did for my wife for the Christmas following Marissa's passing.

Possibly the most successful part of this picture is the area around her mouth. The light has been reflected accurately I think, and makes for a "real" look.

I am not satisfied so much with the eyes.

Marissa's eyes were in fact impossibly blue, but something around this seems terribly artificial. Perhaps it is the black of the eyelashes?

Overall I am very happy with this piece. More coming.

On Art: More Stuff

2007-06-26T09:54:00.001-07:00

Heres some more stuff. The first is a picture of the Lion Dancer from several years ago.

Next come two images from when I was trying to teach myself comic book penciling and inking. The first image is of the Tang Dynasty charachter Sun Wukong... the Monkey King from Journey to the West. It is a pencil line drawing.

The next is my version of a Dark Horse series starring Boba Fett, I believe it was called "Boba Fett: Enemy of the Empire" I thought my art was better... what do I know? anyway the shot is an inked page of Boba Fett's ship the "Slave I" on approach to an Imperiel Star Destroyer orbiting a planet. I had it laid out for some digital >urk< coloring... I know what the heck was I thinking?

As always feedback or inquiries are appreciated :)

Peace out beloved readers.

On Art: Time to Show My Stuff

2007-06-24T11:12:00.000-07:00

Hello again friends.
I have been sitting here with Mighty Max napping on my lap and working on some writing. Intermittently, I did some browsing online, and after seeing s few sites on writing and illustrating, decided that if I want to get anywhere as an artist, illustrator, or writer, I need to start getting some opinions on my stuff, right?

I know that I am certainly better at some things mediums than others. The fact is that I cant stand digital art and coloring. For some reason, I adamantly remain "old school" when it comes to the art of creating. I am just guessing, but it seems to me that there is a lot more painstaking skill involved in adding shadow one .005 sized dot at a time, than there is with a sweeping command of pixels on a computer screen. I hope not to ruffle too many feathers with that kind of attitude, because I certainly can admire CG art. It just not my thing. Yet. Maybe someday.

In the meantime here are a few samples of my artwork. Some I am more pleased with than others.

First up is this portrait of Jesus I painted for a guy. It was ten years before I actually got around to doing it, which I am not all that proud of. However, painting is not really my bag, I prefer pencil and/or ink which you will see below.
I took the Jesus image from the a now lost internet source of a guy dressed up like the Lord and Savior. I was looking for inspiration... I mean the whole corpse on a stick thing is not only greusome, but old and overdone. I remember Jesus as a guy who hung out with the working class joe's as well as the scum of society--the theives, the whores, the criminals, and tried to bring them up. He was not, in my opinion the solumn, all business guy portraye in the movies and local Church sermons. He was a kind, generous, and happy Son of God. Thats how I wanted to portray him.
I did want him to have a darker complexion and to appear more "middle eastern" than he does here. After all he did come from Bethlehem, and ended up in the area of Jerusalem much of his life. He was a Middle Eastern man. This is how it turned out. For better or worse. while not satisfied with the painting, I do get a "feel good" sensation with it around.

As a stark contrast to Christ, I hav ethe succubus Lilith here, as she appeared in a H.P. Lovecraft inspired story I wrote several years ago that never went anywhere. The mythological "Mother of all Monsters." She's hot fellas, but she's evil.

My "Little Geisha" came from the inspiration of an old Kodak ad from the mid 1970's. This is an enlargement of the surviving piece.

Finally this is an eastern ribbon snake I have whipped up for a childrens book project I am working on. Hiss... its not quite done yet...

On Remarkable Stories: The Prodigal T-Bird

2007-06-24T07:57:00.000-07:00

Came across this and was delighted for this guy!

PALO ALTO, Calif. - Ronald Leung thought he would never see his beloved 1956 Ford Thunderbird again after it was stolen from his auto-repair shop in downtown Palo Alto in 1976. But the 59-year-old car aficionado will soon be reunited with the classic car he treasured as a young man after police called Thursday and told him the T-bird had been found in Southern California.

"I was very shocked," said Leung, a retired sheriff's deputy who runs a car-rental business in Milpitas. "After 31 years, I thought that car was long-gone history, like the Roman Empire."

The California Highway Patrol recovered the collectible — still in excellent condition — after a Ventura County woman tried to register it after buying the car on eBay from an Ohio seller. She contacted the CHP because the vehicle identification number listed on the car's title didn't exist in the California Department of Motor Vehicles registry.

CHP Officer Christopher Throgmorton located the true VIN and ran it through a CHP database that identified it as a stolen car from Palo Alto. Leung plans to fly to Southern California to pick it up next week.

"It's in really good condition," Throgmorton said. "It looks like somebody had it refurbished. It's been restored."

Since the Thunderbird disappeared, Leung fathered two kids and retired from a two-decade career in law enforcement. He had bought the collectible in 1974 for about $1,500 and carefully restored it.

"I belong to a car club, and every time I look at a Thunderbird, I go, 'Oh, I had one of those!'" he said. "I have one son who's 30 and a daughter who's 26. It's unbelievable, that car is older in theft than they are in age."

On My Kids: "Mad" Max

2007-06-23T17:00:00.001-07:00

This past week my youngest son Max, decided it was time to walk.
This is the little guy who ws born just five weeks after my oldest left. Now, just under a year later, at over thirty pounds, he takes his walking seriously at last. Just wanted to share a little of my joy with everyone again.

On Useless Government

2007-06-22T22:37:00.000-07:00

Click above on the link to see why I am no longer affiliated with either of the major political parties of this great nation.
Honestly its enough to make one want to seek citizenship elsewhere... maybe Mexico?

2007-06-19T19:40:00.000-07:00

On Writing: A Sample...

2007-06-19T11:57:00.000-07:00

"And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45,
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way
things have changed."
--Shinedown

Here is where I could use some comments my friends. This is a small sample from the current piece I am trying so desperately to turn into a book. Let me know what you think.

My extremely sensory imagination saved my life that day. It’s difficult to put into words the description of what a big solid block of metal clicking against your incisors is like, so if you can, imagine tapping your two front teeth with a ball peen hammer. The sharp click, of metal on bone. The vibration traveling straight through your skull to the audio sensory organs in your ears. The click magnified to the point of being deafening due to its close proximity to your eardrum. The sensation of that unrelenting, unmoving pressure. The head of that hammer feels huge, doesn’t it? The metallic taste left on the enamel of your teeth that spreads its bitter flavor to the tip of your tongue...
Are you with me?
Well then, it wasn’t the thought of a hammer clicking against my teeth that sent a shiver down me. The tool in my hand had the same unyielding weight, and the same bitter metallic taste, but it was designed for something different altogether.
At 2.49 lbs, and eight and a half inches respectively, the Colt semiautomatic pistol is capable of sending a metal projectile just under a half-inch in diameter at a rate of eight hundred thirty feet per second through anything dumb enough to get in its way. It’s both a formidable chunk of steel, and a formidable means of accomplishing what I had in mind. At eight hundred thirty feet per second, neither the roof of my mouth nor my brain housing group was likely to offer much resistance, and after that? Sweet, blessed oblivion. Free from this pain. Free from this vast emptiness and cold that burned its way through the middle of me. Free.
Then came the thought of that two pounds of metal clicking against my teeth. I felt the cold blue steel against my lips, and heard the hard metal click against my right front incisor. I realized that an impact any harder than that, and my teeth would break like glass. Let me assure you that all the fluoride treatments in the world wont amount to a pile of shit if someone was to swing one of these bad boys into your pie hole.
The truth of it is, that in a few seconds the inconvenience of having broken teeth wouldn’t matter much anyway, yet the thought caused me to pause just long enough for the unpleasantness of that idea to sink in. Here I was about to paint the wall behind me with a brush of two hundred thirty grains of instant dispatch, and I was worried about my dental health.

On the Proposed "Gay Bomb"

2007-06-15T06:23:00.000-07:00

Just in case no one believed me... click on the above link to see the actual news broadcast sent to me by Military.com
7.5 million dollars to develop this thing...

On Star Wars: The Ugly Truth

2007-06-13T08:37:00.000-07:00

Star Wars, the quintessential Science Fiction Fantasy story of two generations has been all roses to fans for over thirty years. Now, as the second trilogy has brought us conclusion to the story, and we eagerly await the arrival of the upcoming live television series, many of the dark little secrets have crept to the surface. "Exposed about the characters are the secrets now." said Jedi Master Yoda from the other side. "A great ho that Leia has become."
It is up to Ernie and Bert to expose these secrets to the fans out there.

There were many reasons to feel sorry for Darth Vader. Having been mutilated in his legendary lightsaber duel with Obi-Wan Kenobi, being forced to wear that ridiculous suit, being the “Chosen one” yet still getting kicked around by imperial governors like Tarkin. Oh the humanity! Perhaps the worst of it came when his bid for the Presidency fell short when it was revealed that he was romantically pursuing Leia Organna.

Who could blame him?

So ,when known chick magnet and starship Captain James T. Kirk attempted to put the moves on “Vader’s girl,” he didn’t stand a chance.

Vader’s jealousy was limitless. “If I cant have her, no one can.” He was overheard saying to Evil Galactic Emperor Palpatine in a holo-transmission.

Unfortunately word didn’t reach Vader that Organna was his daughter until moments before his death on the second Death Star. It Vaders “eyes for Leia alone,” that squashed the Galactic Empires hot new “Femtrooper” program. If Vader couldn’t have Leia, he wanted nothing at all.

This certainly explains Vader’s sadistic treatment of Han Solo on Bespin’s Cloud City. Vader could only see Solo’s love for Leia, and he wanted Solo to pay dearly. We can only wonder if things would have been any different if Vader had known the truth...
Leia had been involved in a cheap affair with Solo’s best friend and co-pilot, Chewbacca.
The 200 year-old wookie had a long standing resentment towards Solo for the years of bossing him around and making him swab the deck of the Milennium Falcon. So one day while Solo was on patrol on the ice planet of Hoth, he slipped a little Barry White on the ships audio system and made his move. A little wookie nookie.

Lets not forget the whole Lando affair either, but in Leia's defense, who could resist Billy Dee?

Perhaps it simply falls on the sexually repressive society of Alderaan. Perhaps Leia’s adoptive parents were just too strict? Perhaps there was some underlying abuse issues in her past, or maybe it was just low self-esteem? The underlying cause may never be known, but Princess Leia Organna wreaked more havoc on the Galaxy far, far away than the Sith ever could have. That, coupled with a poor body image (due to his disability) is likely the cause of Vader's over eating towards the end.

Next up, "Booze, drugs, and droids: Where are they now?"

On Remembering: Marissa Giovanna August 31, 1997-June 11, 2006

2007-06-11T08:21:00.000-07:00

On the first anniversary of Marissa's death, I wanted to share some of my memoies.
I miss you.

Best smile ever!

Little stinker... the Halloween skunk!

Swinging...she loved to swing! She never got very big so she always fit in that infant swing.

Happy little showoff...

A nap with me.

How cute is this?

Firefighter for Halloween

Marissa the Party Girl, age 2

The mystert "halo." Cant figure out what the little white reflection is... proof of an angel?

My beautiful girl...

Chillin' in her wheelchair at the playground.

"Are we done yet?" A walk in the woods in the Fall

My favorite picture of her smile...

Marissa outside at her grandparent's house.

Mommy and a brand new Rissa-roo!

Marissa at her playgroup for special needs kids with her mommy.

The last picture I have of Roo

Marissa Giovanna just a few hours old.

On Colossal Wastes of Tax Payer Dollars

2007-06-10T19:07:00.000-07:00

All I can ask is "Who in their right f*cking mind thought this was a good idea?" Are there really buffoons of this caliber in government office?
Wait...
Don't answer that.

http://cbs5.com/topstories/local_story_159222541.html

[b]Save | E-mail | Print
Jun 8, 2007 9:03 pm US/Pacific
Pentagon Confirms It Sought To Build A 'Gay Bomb'

Hank Plante Reporting[/b]
(CBS 5) BERKELEY A Berkeley watchdog organization that tracks military spending said it uncovered a strange U.S. military proposal to create a hormone bomb that could purportedly turn enemy soldiers into homosexuals and make them more interested in sex than fighting.  Pentagon officials on Friday confirmed to CBS 5 that military leaders had considered, and then subsquently rejected, building the so-called "Gay Bomb."  Edward Hammond, of Berkeley's Sunshine Project, had used the Freedom of Information Act to obtain a copy of the proposal from the Air Force's Wright Laboratory in Dayton, Ohio.  As part of a military effort to develop non-lethal weapons, the proposal suggested, "One distasteful but completely non-lethal example would be strong aphrodisiacs, especially if the chemical also caused homosexual behavior."  The documents show the Air Force lab asked for $7.5 million to develop such a chemical weapon.  "The Ohio Air Force lab proposed that a bomb be developed that contained a chemical that would cause enemy soliders to become gay, and to have their units break down because all their soldiers became irresistably attractive to one another," Hammond said after reviwing the documents.  "The notion was that a chemical that would probably be pleasant in the human body in low quantities could be identified, and by virtue of either breathing or having their skin exposed to this chemical, the notion was that soliders would become gay," explained Hammond.  The Pentagon told CBS 5 that the proposal was made by the Air Force in 1994.  "The Department of Defense is committed to identifying, researching and developing non-lethal weapons that will support our men and women in uniform," said a DOD spokesperson, who indicated that the "gay bomb" idea was quickly dismissed.  However, Hammond said the government records he obtained suggest the military gave the plan much stronger consideration than it has acknowledged.  "The truth of the matter is it would have never come to my attention if it was dismissed at the time it was proposed," he said. "In fact, the Pentagon has used it repeatedly and subsequently in an effort to promote non-lethal weapons, and in fact they submitted it to the highest scientific review body in the country for them to consider."  Military officials insisted Friday to CBS 5 that they are not currently working on any such idea and that the past plan was abandoned.  Gay community leaders in California said Friday that they found the notion of a "gay bomb" both offensive and almost laughable at the same time.  "Throughout history we have had so many brave men and women who are gay and lesbian serving the military with distinction," said Geoff Kors of Equality California. "So, it's just offensive that they think by turning people gay that the other military would be incapable of doing their job. And its absurd because there's so much medical data that shows that sexual orientation is immutable and cannot be changed."
(© MMVII, CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved.)

On Brutality: My Sense of a Senseless Act.

2007-06-09T00:52:00.000-07:00

please click on the title to see what it is I am talking about. I have to warn you it isnt easy to watch. If you are sensitive--especially about suffering children, dont watch.

There is a reason someone posted this. Even if it isn’t the reason they intended.
There is a reason I stopped and read the post and watched the video on this, the 9th day of June—almost a year to the day I lost my baby.
The reason?
There is something to be learned from this.
We can be angry.
We should be angry.

We feel sad.
And we should.
I cried.
I am writing with tears in my eyes now.
I cried to the point I felt sick when I saw this.
I wept like I did the day I lost my own daughter.
Some people believe that everything happens for a reason. I know that this thought does not comfort the parents of baby Kaleb now. But there is more that I believe...

I believe that we choose our lives. Like when we are going away to school, we choose the courses we want to take because of those things we wish to learn. Before we are born, we know full well what our experiences and our suffering will be, and we choose to enter this incarnation with the understanding that we will learn certain lessons for ourselves, and teach certain lessons to others.

For eight years I watched my baby suffer. I watched her exquisite mind trapped inside a body that did not work, wracked with seizures and subjected to countless tests, surgeries, and treatments. I used to jokingly refer to her as my little “pincushion.” I know what this family is going through. I cannot offer them any comfort, only my sympathy. Nothing is as painful as having to watch your child suffer and die.

I believe that Kaleb knew his destiny before he was born. I have to believe this or my own life would not make sense. I have to believe that he is one of the remarkable beings who choose suffering to better the lives of others. Perhaps he is here to teach us all justice? Perhaps forgiveness. Whatever the case, I love him for it. I deeply love this child who loved his parents and all of us so much that he chose this for himself.

I will pray for the conclusion that Kaleb must have. Be it one that brings him back to his family, or takes him to be with the other angels we feel were called before their time, but were not. They choose to go like they choose to come. Thank you baby Kaleb for your compassion and your courage.
Tell ‘Rissa I love her when you see her next.

On Aging Pop Culture Icons

2007-05-31T04:58:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine turned me on to this the Rambo 4 trailer the other day. Its pretty brutal. Click above to check it out.
Yes, ladies and gents, Rambo is back.

After Rocky Balboa, I wondered if the rumors were true that Sylvester Stallone was going to revive David Morrell's character in his successful franchise. Though truth be told, in the original book that inspired four slaughter happy films, John Rambo dies...

So now we have seen the return of both Rocky and Rambo.
What's next?

Indiana Jones 4 began filming this month.
Harrison Ford will be back. And as if he isnt too old for the hat and the whip, rumor has it that Sean Connery is joining him.
Yeah. I'll be there.

Doesnt look to be as brutal or ultra violent as the Rambo 4 flick, but Im sure I will subject myself to both.

One aging star that wont be returning to his roots any time soon is Mel Gibson.No, I am not talking about his floundering "Lethal Weapon" series that started with a bang, and slowly fizzled out over four films. I am referring to one of the greatest and often overlooked sci-fi action series of all time. The story of "Mad" Max Rockatansky... known to American audiences as The Road Warrior. Max will be returning for a fourth run in "Fury Road," but with another actor behind the wheel...
See article:

http://www.cinematical.com/2007/03/14/mad-max-4-announced-mel-gibson-will-not-star/

All thats left is the Governator... can it be?
“I think it’s in his contract [to make an appearance],” MGM CEO Harry Sloan told The Boston Herald when talking about "Terminator IV."
Gee. What will that look like?

Yeah...
as sad as it sounds, I'll probably see that one too.

On Spider Man 3

2007-05-24T22:44:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don’t know I am a HUGE comic book nut. I grew up on Spider Man. I remember when the Black Suit was a gift from a God-Like being known as “The Beyonder,” in the Marvel Super-Heroes Secret Wars limited series of the mid 1980’s. I owned “Web of Spider-Man” #1 where Peter uses the Bell tower to fight off the alien Symbiote. I had it all. When Venom was “bad” and then, when he became...”good.” sort of.

As a fan that loved the first two films, all I can say is...
Spider Man 3 was one of the worst movies ever made for this audience.

Fans wanted to see Venom, but I would rather have had a good solid story then a bunch of CGI effects. I mean we have seen Dr. Curt Connors in all three movies, but we never saw the Lizard. Eddie Brock could have been present without having to force Venom into the picture.

The ending was predictable—teaming up with the Goblin to defeat the Sandman and Venom, and the film cheesy (the Scenes of Peter Parker strutting down the streets of New York with bad hair and swagger to the 70’s disco sound). The only real redeeming part was Thomas Hayden Church as the Sandman. His look was fantastic, the part could not have been cast better, and given the angle of his sick child... it made him touching, and well rounded.
That being said, we ended the movie with him still at large free to do as he would (at least I assume so, I left before the movie was over). The scenes of Church’s Sandman were generally rehashed sequences from “The Mummy” and “The Mummy Returns.” And what is it about becoming a megalith of angry humanoid sand makes villains lose their ability to speak? As soon as Church turns into the Sandman, his intelligent speech is reduced to unintelligible moans, groans, and roars. How cliché.

If you are a Spider Fan, you will not be pleased. No matter how cool Venom looks, there just wasn’t enough story to keep this franchise alive. I am glad to hear neither McGuire nor Raimi have any intentions of doing more.

Thank God. I don’t know if I could stand another scene of Kristen Dunst singing.