bring the noyz

Ah, a dog! What a wonderful role model for today's youth. How frackin' cute is that?

PISD police force brings a new member to the team

"While he's excellent at sniffing out narcotics, and basic obedience, there's just one more thing his partner wishes he could do."

Hmm. . . .

"excellent at sniffing out narcotics"

Good, very good, it knows how to sniff out and take down other dogs.

A kid's gotta know how to do that.

That, and they gotta learn how to pick out the easy meat with their eyes closed.

"excellent at. . . basic obedience"

Just as our children will be train- er, um, taught, will learn to be.

Wait. What?

What was that last thing again?

"If I could get him to clean his kennel one time, he'd be a perfect dog," Soliz said.

Right, and if you could get him to dress up in a skimpy little Nazi costume and beat you with a warm squash he'd be a perfect woman.

This is sick.

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Dem Senators Open To Allow Innocent Chinese Detainees To Live In U.S.

Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-Nev.) had taken a hard line on detainees earlier last week, saying that none could be transferred to the United States, not even to prisons. He dialed that back a bit in a recent interview with the Las Vegas Sun.

But the best he would do is say the Uighurs "probably" don't belong in maximum security prison.

"There's no question that a number of these people who are there are not guilty of anything. The Uighurs, these are a group of Muslim Chinese who are guilty of nothing. They were arrested, put in there. They are there. They are doing nothing. We're going to have to find someplace to put them. We can't send them back to China. Should they go into a maximum-security prison? Probably not," he said.

There's no question that a number of these people who are there are not guilty of anything. The Uighurs, these are a group of Muslim Chinese who are guilty of nothing.

What the frack?

Guilty of nothing?

Well again, what the friggin' frack are they doing there in the first place?

Scary.

You think it's a:

"Oh I'm terribly sorry. Yes, yes, I know you've done absolutely nothing wrong. Yes, yes, innocent and all that. Hmm? Yes totally. But you see, now we rather have sort of a problem. We have reason to believe that despite of, or most probably because of, your innocence. . . um. . . You seem to be really, really pissed off. No, no, wait just one moment, sir. Those scatalogical references are completely inappropriate. But angry, um. . . yes, righteously so. And as such, so sorry to tell you this, but we can not now possibly ever let you go because we fear how you may someday vent your anger."

Sort of thing.

Or something like that.
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It was with much shock, sorrow and sadness that we learned this morning about the sudden and unexpected death of another student. He passed away sometime during the night, while he slept. Why? What happened? At present we do not know. We learned of this from his bus driver, who was told this by the staff at the group home when they stopped to pick him up this morning.

While Terrance was not currently in my class, he is a kid I have known for sixteen years. He was one of the first children with significant disabilities I met way back when I was still only considering a career in special education. He was one of the kids that drew me in, stole my heart and inspired me to become a teacher.


I've said it before and Lord knows I will say it again: this just plain fucking sucks.
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"I don't see (dancing and rock music) as immoral acts."

That being said. . .

Haven't we seen this movie? Wasn't Kevin Bacon in it?

Ohio Christian school tells student to skip prom
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If the swine flu doesn't kill me, all the endless inane discussion over it surely will.
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Swine flu is new flu virus combining strains of human, bird and swine flu.

- Swine Flu Fears Close Numerous Schools in Several States

The move indicates the world body has determined the virus is capable of significant human-to-human transmission. . .

. . . The outbreak is a particular concern because of who it is hitting hard, United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon said Monday. "We are concerned that in Mexico, most of those who died were young and healthy adults," he said.

- WHO raises pandemic alert level; more swine flu cases feared


But Lezana said the presence of Eurasian swine flu genes in the H1N1 virus makes it unlikely that the disease originated in a Mexican pig farm.

- First Mexico fatal flu victim sought help for day


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Another one of the annual Rites of Spring has come and gone. As long as my fair city continues to hold this hedonistic holiday some hope remains for the future. All is not yet lost.

It was the usual scene of hipsters and hippies of all generations, in various stages of dress and undress. Some truly marvelous sights to behold. Others, not so much. Everyone dancing, drumming, drinking beer after beer after beer, surrounded in a fog of patchouli, sweat, and plenty of Mother Nature's finest.

Good times just like the old times.

But what struck me most, and has lingered the longest of the events of yesterday happened after the party.

Following the festivities, I donned my iPod, cranked up a U2 playlist ("Haven't seen you in quite a while / I was down the hold, just passing time") and trekked back to the bus stop on the edge of The University. Ain't nothing like riding the city bus on a Saturday night. I'm generally not the only passenger avoiding a DWI.

I checked the schedule and sat down on a low wall to wait. . . only about 15 - 20 minutes.

There was a homeless fella sittin' there, I mean I presumed from his dissheveled and dirty appearance that it was a homeless fella, but hey, I'm not judgemental or nuthin'.

Hey man, are you waitin' for the bus?
What?
Are you waitin' for the bus?
Oh, yeah. It should be along pretty soon.
Not me. I'm just hangin' out.
You're just hangin' out.
Yep. Saturday night and I'm just hangin' out. I'm not waitin' on a bus or nothin'.
Well, that's cool man.
Just hangin out. . .

He proceeded to tell me his version of the hard luck story that brought him here. His speech was animated although his demeanor calm, relaxed, sleepy. His fractured and incongruous thinking told me he'd been out there for quite a while. He was punch drunk from life if not literally so from liquor. We talked music and shared tales of our favorite bands. He saw the Stones play at the Detroit Lions old domed stadium in 1977. Cool. He was hopeful that he would get up early enough in the morning so that he could catch a bus to go to where he could use a phone. He was going to call his friend so that his friend could pick him up and take him to church. That is, if he could just get up early enough. He had a problem with getting up early enough.

For all the world he reminded me of a dog that's been beat.

My bus pulled up. I wished him well as I handed him my last three dollars and a handful of cigarettes.

To my new friend, fifty-one year old homeless Greg from Ann Arbor, Michigan. . .

I hope you made it to church on time.
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were an angry animated Texas man. . .


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. . . is what I've got for you. . .

or something like that.

Perhaps the reconnections via The Facebook have given cause for reminiscing, and dallying into the nostalgic arts.

Whatever the reason, I find myself enjoying this immensely. . .


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The sorry-flat-bummed globalistic tool bastard is out making a ruckus.

Freakin' hirsute hillbilly.

Texas could secede from the union, governor says

Great, he's out there stirring the pot to a boil. Don't be fooled. He's doing the bidding of his fascist masters. Setting you up for a fall.

People are going to get hurt, for some it will be worse.

Pointless.
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(from the "Nobody with the slightest semblance of a soul could possibly have written this with a straight face." sub-department. . . )

1984 (1984)
George Orwell envisioned a future dominated by a government organization called the Ministry of Love that intrusively monitors the actions of its citizens, political nonsense that spews forth from massive TVs, and songs that are written by computers. Instead we have the Department of Homeland Security, 24-hour cable news in high definition, and T-Pain. Thank God we dodged that bullet.

- from Yahoo! Movies Top 10 Inaccurate Movies About the Future
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goes to. . .



Betty Brown (R- Terrell) of the Texas State Legislature for her comments during a House Committee hearing on a voter ID bill:

Brown suggested that Asian-Americans should find a way to make their names more accessible.

"Rather than everyone here having to learn Chinese - I understand it’s a rather difficult language - do you think that it would behoove you and your citizens to adopt a name that we could deal with more readily here?" Brown said.

Brown later told Ko: "Can’t you see that this is something that would make it a lot easier for you and the people who are poll workers if you could adopt a name just for identification purposes that’s easier for Americans to deal with?"

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Okay, so I was headed straight to bed, right?

And then I found this:

Japan child robot mimicks infant learning

Uh, huh.

Wait.

There's a Japanese Society of Baby Science?

Cool. I think.

In coming decades, Asada expects science will come up with a "robo species" that has learning abilities somewhere between those of a human and other primate species such as the chimpanzee.

And he hopes that this little CB2 may lead the way into this brave new world, with the goal to have the robo-kid speaking in basic sentences within about two years, matching the intelligence of a two-year-old child.

By 2050, Asada wants a robotic team of football players to be able take on the human World Cup champions -- and win.

Scary.

Now good night. And sweet dreams.
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The tub runneth over

Justice Dept under microscope after Stevens trial

Time to duck and cover

UK cop arrested for arms dealing

The doors are coming off the hinges

Texas judge indicted on charges of fraud, bribery

Disorder in the house?

You're damn right.


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And all the preaching voices -
Empty vessels ring so loud
As they move among the crowd
Fools and thieves are well disguised
In the temple and market place
- Neil Peart

Cripes man, sometimes it is embarrassing to live in this Great State:

Bill in Texas would allow creationists to grant Masters of Science degrees

Texas School Board Set to Vote on Challenge to Evolution

Idiots.

What next, will the Legislature dictate that medical schools resume teaching that the cure for most ailments is a bloodletting to resume the proper balance of bodily humors?

Not just idiots. Fucking idiots.

God is a concept by which we measure our pain
- John Lennon

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Okay, so I've finished my labors for the day on the "not so master" bathroom, that tiny converted closet sized room that I am shaping with my labor and my very blood into a functional space.

So happy Spring Break. How was your St. Pat's?

I still have lots of details to go before it's tile ready, a fair amount of standing in awkward positions fastening hardibacker to the wall.

But for the day I am done. I didn't quite meet my goal. I never do. I am always overambitious in my intentions. But it is only Wednesday, and my ultimate goal is to be tile ready by the weekend; two days to go, plenty of time. Right?

I am in my element, my office, on the back patio, comfortably seated in a dusty old office chair listening to the sound of old T. Rex. Despite my underachievement I am proud of the day's effort, and I have a plan for tomorrow. Overambitious again, I'm sure.

I just washed down three Advil and a Pepcid with the Champagne of Beers.

Yeah baby, that's right. I'm still living the high life.

It just hurts a lot more than it used to.
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Sgt. Pepper brought the band to play. . .

And five years ago today. . .

I became a dad with like an hour's notice.

Most folks have eight, nine months to plan and prepare. Hell, even if you didn't mean for it to happen, you still know when the damned thing, er, sweet child is coming.

We had an hour, maybe an hour and a half.

"How so?" you may properly ask, my dear reader. Well, here's the short version. . .

To be honest, The Wife and I were in the process of adopting The Boy, then two years of age. We had known, loved and cared for him since he was a baby. He was a ward of the state, his biological mother voluntarily terminated her parental rights as soon as he was born. His biological father is listed in court documents as "Chris LAST NAME UNKNOWN". When he was 10 days old, the state placed him in the group/foster home where The Wife (then still girlfriend) worked.

This group/foster home for children with complex chronic medical needs was run by a woman with Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. I only wish I was joking or exaggerating. She ran this home like something out of a Dickens novel, predominately for the benefit of her public accolades and a twisted Catholic desire to demonstrate her martyrdom more so than for the good of the children. She put on a good show when she needed to do so.

We had completed the state mandated foster/adoption parent training and orientation class. At times it was entertaining, mostly just really annoying. But we made it through. We were waiting to move the paperwork process slowly forward through the bureaucracy. Realistically, we were told it would be several more months if all the papers were pushed appropriately.

Then something happened.

Ms von Munchausen learned we were out to take The Boy away from her. The evil crazy bitch. We caught a clue, played a hunch, and made our move. We shared our concerns for the health and safety of The Boy with our newly appointed and previously unmet CPS caseworker. There was a clear pattern. Whenever kids were about to leave the group/foster home to be adopted out they suddenly got very sick, and the adoption was delayed for weeks if not months.

The caseworker thought we were crazy but we were credible.

As if on cue, three days later, She almost killed him.

Again, the evil crazy bitch.

Time stopped for the restless, anxious and edgy eternity of a day or two, maybe three. . . until the phone rang, our adoption caseworker was on the other end of the line:

"Hello."
"Go get him."
"What?"
"Go get him right now."
"Really?"
"Yes! Go! Now!"

and I woke up the next morning to this.

As I sit now five years down the line, on the couch with The ever-growing Boy nestled snugly in my lap, I marvel at what a long strange trip it's been. He is an amazing creature, truly an angel.

And yes, I am still quite blessed.
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Well, my dear reader, I must confess. . .

And yes, to some degree I do feel like I have been cheating on you.

I have spent my online time away from the familiar comforts of this forum and in the virtual arms of another.

Facebook.

Forgive me.

Okay? Forgiven? Okay.

Good. Now let's move on.

"I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone, I ask the telephone operators to connect me with this friend or that one, from whom I have not heard in years."

- Kirk Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-five

Facebook has removed the telephone operator. The connection is only a click away.

The immediacy is frightening, the potential and the temptation for drunk dialing is ever the greater.

'Cuz really now, don't you just wanna send her a message and ask her why she really dumped ya when you were 16?
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This sucks.
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I am typing these words partially as simply a way to pass the time waiting for someone that I love dearly to pass away.

Lest you be alarmed dear reader, let me reassure you now. It is not The Boy.

Yes, my last significant posting was about The Boy, and his tonsil/adenoid-ectomy. And while it contained the usual and expected amount of the every year and a half or so "The Boy in The Hospital" drama and anxiety, there was never a major level of alarm or fear for his safety and eventual well-being.

I am quite pleased to report that three weeks after his surgery The Boy is better than new.

Really, he is. (I said with a grin.)

And it is with somewhat of a sad sense of irony that the current drama I find myself embroiled in began the week The Boy had his tonsils out.

Yep, that very week. I learned of it that Tuesday, that very afternoon.

All just further evidence in my mind that God is either non-existent or one really sorry-assed sick twisted fucker.

That was the week the inevitable downward spiral we all face accelerated to warp fucking speed for someone that I hold quite dear.

It is another for whom my heart is currently breaking.

Caleb.

He's sixteen. I know this because I was at that party. He sat in his mother's lap and drove her Miata with the top down around the block, while Journey or Kansas or some such classic rock shit blasted through the stereo as they hit the gas and careened away.

He's a student. He has been a student of mine for about the past two and a half years. He has been a friend and a part of my life for about the past eight or so years.

And now he's dying.

Literally and truly he is. He is down to about twenty pounds. No significant amount of food or water for around a week now. And no amount will save him. Lest you become too alarmed at the news that he is sixteen and weighs a scant twenty pounds, I must tell you, that at his largest most healthiest and fittest he weighed a whopping forty-six pounds.

Never been a big guy.

His descent into the downward spiral started gaining steam last summer. He had a typical teenage growth spurt. Because of his scoliosis and kyphosis his growth spurt caused him to grow pretty much like a corkscrew.

Really.

And that can't be good.

Sure enough, it is not, and it has been, I feel, the main reason as to why we find ourselves where we do today, my dear reader.

Basically, his little body has collapsed in upon itself to the point where his internal organs are cramped and compromised. His bowels have shut down, twisted and compressed. His little lungs cannot properly expand to breathe. This has left him vulnerable to the antibiotic resistant pneumonia that is currently drowning him slowly.

And those are just a few of his problems.

He is also quite cognitive, and aware of his situation as you and I are right now. He is ready and accepting of his eminent and impending fate. He is tired of the pain of being trapped in an always profoundly broken and now rapidly failing Judas body.

He is beyond all hope of salvation at the hands of man.

Poor kid.

I know, heckuva way to go, eh?

But he's going at home, hospice is what they call it. You know, from the Greek for "sucks giant ass". He is surrounded by his family. All his friends are coming by in some sort of grand parade down the flowered streets of memory lane. He is loopy from love and morphine as he's gasping his last breaths.

He is Absolute King of a Finite World.

We can only hope to be so lucky someday.

Right?

It is no longer a matter of if, but when?

And that question torments me, leaving me in a daytime drunken stupor and sleepless through the darkness of the night.

Why?

When?

What lessons do you still have left to teach?

I saw you earlier today. That spark has left your eyes. We both know what that means. You have my blessing and I have told you so. See you on the other side, my brother.

What are you waiting for? For the sake and sanity of your withering mother who has lived in this twilight for three fucking weeks, I beg of you to say good-bye and let it slide.

life you had

. . . for Caleb (and Melissa)

I would bear your burden
I would help to ease your load
But I don’t fit inside your shoes
And I can’t find the road
Yes I would take your torment
Like your morphine eases pain
But I’m not behind your baby blues
So I guess I can’t complain
You know you need not worry
‘cuz I’m telling ya it’s really not that bad
Don’t mourn the life your leavin’
Celebrate the life you had

I would ease your burden
I would help you bear your cross
But I can’t feel the way you do
I can only feel the loss
Yes, I would take your torment
Like your morphine grants relief
But I’m not behind your baby blues
So you can’t know my grief
You know I will not worry
Tho’ I’m tellin’ ya, that feeling’s really sad
I celebrate the life your leavin’
As I mourn the life you had

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