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United States vs. Iraq
(round 2)

  Seconds: 84919004
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  Hours: 23588
  Days: 982
  Months: 32
  Years: 2

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New Year's Eve party. Brett was so kind as to host all of us at his house-sitting gig. What a good time. He recorded the event with this laptop and camera, taking time-lapse images every ten minutes. I think we got on there for the toast at midnight.
The candy configured in such a way as to optimize its consumption and availability. For a robot maybe. I mean, it's way too angular to be optimized for human consumption. It should have flowing lines, and something that activates your eye. The Toblerone is way to static for anything that is attractive to a human. Unless of course, you want to swordfight with the Toblerone.
Brett shows off his time lapse video setup. It impressed me, I have to admit. He's running it off his Mac laptop, which is also quite impressive, and ... OH MY GOD! Is that homemade guacamole? Let me at that shit, yo!
Brett holds a box that was laying around the house. Now I know that there's alot of hot air being blown around about cloning, and about how cool it is going to be when we have our evil twins running around. It's just the whole "spare body" part that I don't understand. And how does Brett know that the spare in that box is for him?
Dudley, the kindest dog that I met. He just likes to get attention, and I just like giving it, so we hit it off perfectly. If you notice, he is half sitting on the stairs, and half standing. I don't know if that is comfortable, but I guess so, because he was chilling there before I took the picture, and continued to chill there after.
Brett plays video games. I don't know how he did it, but he started playing games, and then all of a sudden, BAM, he was playing video games on THE SUN. I kid you not. I wouldn't believe it myself, if I didn't see it with my own digital camera.
Jeff plays F-Zero. This racing game is for the racing game fan who just cannot sniff enough coke. The game goes at a million miles an hour, and you can't help but bang into the walls the first time you play it. Okay, maybe I totally suck, but it is intense.
The host and one of his guests. I don't remember the conversation at this point in the night, so I'll just ad-lib what I remember. "Did you say 'Pickle?' That's an awesome name for a band!"
Jeff and Amanda, chillin'. Amanda tastes some of Brett's scrumptious treats. I think this was before the cheese got too stale from being out too long. But it was good cheese. Before the stale part, I mean.
Brett gets his booty smacked. I don't know what prompted this sudden outburst of violence, I just know that I got it on file. Just to be in an obscure and unrelated court case in the future, I'm sure of it.
Beating brett continued for a while. In this episode, Brett believes that the vengeful god represented by Amy wants to gouge out his eyes and use them as lubricant in his new cloning device. So he is trying to protect his eyes. But in reality, Amy is just punching him where she can reach. His shoulder.
Jeff shows Amanda just exactly how to work a corkscrew. The lesson material that Jeff drew from dates back to the 1920s, as more and more people had to figure out how to tap into bootleg liquor. Except I don't think this liquor is bootleg. In which case, forget all that.
Brett doges the powerful photon torpedo that comes out of the digital camera. I have to admire his efforts, and he seems to enjoy it, but I don't have the heart to tell him that he's just not fast enough. I mean, it's not my fault if I have superior technology, is it?
Jeff and Matt are keeping the food company, and Jeff takes his best shot at being a blogger. Well, Jeff, it takes many many years of passionate study and nearly monk-like lifestyle in order to be a great blogger. What do you mean, "How would you know?"
Jon and Karl arrive at the party at last. Some of us at the party were found to be saying to ourselve or out loud, "Where are Jon and Karl?" at various times during the evening. Strangely enough, after they arrived, those of us asking the previously-mentioned question were no longer asking that question. Strange, indeed.
Brett wanted to take a picture of some people at the party, but then this wierd white ball of lightning came up to him while he was holding the camera. I reacted like a Roya Python, and took a picture of it. He still denies that it ever happened.
Well, I can't say that I always like pictures of myself, since I'm so used to being on the other side of the camera. But this one. It speaks to me. It says, "dude." To which I reply, "duude." Ad infinitum. Courtesy of Jeff.
This time, I shot a little low, and got the lower half of Brett's face. I wonder if this would line up with this picture? I haven't tried, I'd be interested to know if that works. If anyone figures it out, please email me.
Jeff delights in the camera kidnapping and use. What was he taking a picture of? I couldn't tell you. And anyway, do you ever REALLY know what someone is taking a picture of? I mean, what if their perception is unique, and the recording and playback of that same image to someone else does not elicit the same reaction? Does that mean that you two are not looking at the same image? Because if it was the same, wouldn't it ellicit the same response? Anyway...
Jeff is either holding a weapon of some sort, offering a drink to someone, or preparing to perform hara-kiri. For the sake of the party, if nothing else, I was personally glad that it was number two in that list.
Jon gets booted in the head. At some point, he got into a conversation and issued the challenge, "I bet you can't kick me in the head." I believe that's how the conversation went. So, in order to win that bet, Jon takes a foot to the head. Jeff wants some action, too, so he jumps on in there, too.
Jeff, after being assualted and harrassed by Amanda, is set free again. Responding to the question as to why Jeff was assaulted, Amanda replies, "Well, if I don't know where sunlight comes from, who does?" Enough said on the topic.
At this point in the night, the O'Connor clan, hoping to aspire to their Irish roots, pin down one of the guests and beat the snickers out of him. Okay, that's no what happened, but it looks like it's about to happen, doesn't it?
Amanda is delighted. At what, we don't know. Could it be laminated spark plugs? Perhaps. An electrified howler monkey blanket? Maybe? The flawless performance of the orgasmatron? Absolutely.
Brett has eyeballs. This was news to me, I thought that as a robot, he didn't need eyeballs. But it turns out he does! And he's also not a robot! I almost didn't get it, but then I realized that robots don't drink beer! Wait, what if they do? Also, does this image fit on top of this one?
The Sharpe started going around, and the Sharpe tattoo fest began. This specimen is a limited edition and limited distribution tattoo. It has the words "high" and "tech" abbreviated to "hi" and "tek," in addition to a hyphen. This makes the value of this Sharpe tattoo a MILLION dollars.
Brett tries to weasel his way through the doggie door in the garage. We didn't believe it could happen, so he decided he would prove us wrong. Well, that didn't work out well, so he changed his mind, and showed us just what it looked like when he got stuck.
The party goes on, and someone pulls out the Sharpe permanent marker. Then the tattoos start appearing. I totally dug this tattoo. Talk about tough, too. I mean, damn. Summit what?
Jeff gets his knuckles tattooed. What a badass, I mean, if you ask me, I would have to say that Jeff is a badass. In the true sense of the word, too. No dinkin' around.
This picture makes me think that the ghost of Brett came to visit us at the party. He's got this really eerie ghoulish type look in his eyes. It might just be the Near-IR on the camera, but then again. It might just be the ghost of Brett.
Amanda and Karl exchange pleasantries in an odd moment during the party. They took a break from the caged death-match for an instant to catch their breath. Nobody would believe me, either. I mean, how often do you get to have a caged death-match at a New Year's party?
Brett flexes his WERD muscles. Well, I guess he's flexing his knuckles here. Not his muscles. So just forget about what I said earlier. Those are definitely his knuckles. And I think that's Brett, but now I'm not sure of that, either...
Cory executes some massive swing dancing moves at the party with Amy. It's all the swinging that I don't understand. I mean, I was all about the swing set when I was a kid, but now I'm just in the dark. No idea what the excitement is all about. Regardless, Cory's damn good at this stuff.
I do think that Jon or Brett took this picture. I can't recall at this point, not due to massive brain hemmoraging or memory loss, just plain old...memory loss. Anyway, Jeff and I are obviously thrilled to have our pictures taken, so we demonstrate it in this manner. Hope you like it.
The device named the orgasmotron went around from head to head, and the orgasmotronating occurred on more than one instance. This thing had copper wires that could be formed to just about any shape, and when arranged in such a way that one's head could just barely fit inside of it, then it felt really durn good. Thus, the name.
Cory begins to breakdance. I think he's just showing off, because I mean, ANYBODY can do that. My pinky can breakdance as well as Cory can. What? You want me to show you? Well, I would... it's just... my pinky's tired from winning the WORLD BREAKDANCING CHAMPIONSHIPS OF DOOM. Yeah, it was yesterday. I hope you understand.
Jon performs the slap dance. I was informed that this was just "something that Jon does" every once and a while. I figured, "cool." So I watched, and took some of these photographs. I hope they mean as much to you as they do to me.
Jon is one of the few people who can get their picture taken and actually not be doing what it is I photograph them doing. Okay, that didn't make too much sense, so I'll put it this way: Jon is not tripping in the near to immediate future in this picture. He's actually dancing. Alhtough it looks like he's tripping. He's not. Get over it.
At one point, Jon decided to show us what it would be like if we all got really drunk, and flew to the sun. So we did, and even though it was really really really really hot, Jon still insisted on wearing his hat. He said it was because 30% of his body lost it's heat through his head. I was skeptical of that.
Cory begins scratching the imaginary turntables. I say, more power to ya, buddy. But then Cory thought I was an inflatable llama, and tried to hitch me to the nearest post. I wasn't feeling it, so I decided to tell him that there WERE NO TURNTABLES. I regret that to this day.
Brett and Paul stand on the landing, surveying the party. Brett decided at some point, that it would be a good idea to photograph all these drunken, dancing fools in all their glory. Good idea Brett. Blackmail, it's the profession of the future.
Some of the dancin' fools bustin' up their favorite songs. Hopping, skipping and jumping. All the way to grandmother's house. Wait a minute, that's not the way the song goes! Oh well, keep jumping around...
Paul and Amy chillin'. Just hanging out, doing nothing in particular. At least, THAT'S WHAT THEY WANT YOU TO THINK. Just don't let them out of your sight, then they start stealing and eating your children. Well, maybe just talking to them, BUT STILL. If I had children, that might freak me out just a little bit too much. Maybe that's why I don't yet have children. Hm. I don't think I took these pictures, maybe Jeff?
Okay, Amy looks completely wicked in this picture. I think she was directing the evil at the photographer at the time. I think the photographer at the time was Jeff. So that means that Amy wants to eat Jeff's children. I think. Not positive about that one.
I think Jeff took this picture, too. I'm not too sure what he was going for, but I'm guessing it's some kind of angle on world hunger.
I think at this point, I should have taken the camera away from Jeff. He took this picture, too. Amy looks definitely mischevious, and I can't tell if she just broke something, or what.
Jeff scratches the remainder of the song on his fly zipper. This is called talent. I don't care where you are from, this is crazy stuff to watch. I almost jumped in there myself. I just didn't have a fly at the time.
I walked around the island of food and wine, and took pictures of everyone at the party. I think this is after New Year's, and we're all just basking in our post-toast glory. Which is quite glorious. I mean, just look at the photographs, yo.
Kirsten and Amanda hang out. A bonding moment, fragile and delicate like a catepillar's old cocoon, still gently swaying in the spring breeze. Promptly crushed by the brute force of the camera flash, I'm sure.
Brett battles it out with his arch-nemesis in Madden 2004. It started out civil enough, with the polite gestures, and the condescending "good play," complements. But soon, the insults were flying, and the folding chairs were brought into the brawl. Okay, maybe that was another party...
Jon has since mellowed out since the knee-slapping incident, and now he is just like a big puppy dog. With no fur. And a knit cap. And standing on two legs. Whoah. You're right, that is a freaky lookin' dog.
Some might hypothesis as to why anyone would create such a thing, living in the desert. But then again, in the tropical rainforest, such a thing as an "umbrella" might actually come in handy. To this, I got no sympathetic listeners.
Madden 2004 over Brett's shoulder. I bet he went blind when I took this photograph, with the glare off of the television and all. I think maybe that is why he lost the game. Because of the recurring flashing lights. Oh, who am I kidding? It's all the bad drugs...
Jeff gets really sleepy, and keels over on the recliner next to Amanda. At this point in the evening, people were fading, all the mad dancing and crazy drinking and eating were taxing their tired heads. Silly sleepyheads.
Everybody packed into the television room to watch Brett battle for his life in Madden 2004. We had planned to take the loser upstairs and do something quite evil, but we changed our minds when we saw that Brett was losing so badly. We didn't want to hurt him, just scare him. So we didn't hurt him at all. Although he may still be scared just the same.
Although one might think that Brett is not very good at video games because he lost one game of Madden 2004, that is not necessarily the case. I'll have you know that Brett schooled Jeff at SSX3. Then me. Then Kirsten. Then Jeff. Then me again. It was a viscious cycle.
Amanda dozes off in the comfy leather chairs that surround the video game wall and audience. Oblivious to the world, she didn't seem to notice our excitement at playing video games. Not noticing at all. Maybe if we draw something on her forhead, then she'll notice...
The last game of the evening, Brett versus Kirsten in a head-to-head SSX3 challenge. Of course, we know who won. I mean, it was silly for any of us to think that we could hold a candle to the MASTER, Brett. I will forever hold my head in shame for ever thinking I could do so. That is, until I buy the game and BEAT IT MYSELF! MUhahaha....

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On Broadway, looking up toward Denver. A straight shot all the way up north to downtown. This is the view from my neck of the woods. At least the neck of the woods that I grew up in. That car is not driving, it is stopped at a stoplight. And so am I. I don't want to cause a panic, you know, people thinking that I'm taking pictures while driving.

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My parents, at dinner. This restaurant was also a really dark place. I thought that I would not use the flash, but then they got really grainy. It's not their fault. The color balance was also extrememly hot. Even though I white balanced on the check at the table before taking the picture.

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The sunrise slowly creeping up behind the trees in my neighbor's yard. At 6:45, the sun had tinged the clouds a dark violet, so dark that this picture taken with the digital camera was quite grainy at full size. If that means nothing, this scene was barely lighter than pitch black.

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A visit to the aquarium in Denver called Ocean Journey results in these closeups of aquatic life. I liked the seahorses the most. They scoot along the bottom, and wrap their little tails around the grass, and hang out upside down. Groovy. Although, the title of this place is kind of a misnomer. I mean, the exhibits are "Denver River Journey" or something of that nature, and is redeemed only slightly by "Indonesian ..." something. I don't remember off the top of my head. But there's a FRICKIN' Sumatran Tiger in the exhibit. Yeah. That's really aquatic, jerks. What the hell? I wasn't going to let that spoil my visit, though. Petting the rays made up for it.

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An evening of ps2 and gamecube and beer. Of course. Good games, and an expressive performance or two by a melodramatic loser or two.

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The family's office, and the racks of equipment stuck in the corner. It is kind of meditative, listening to it hum...

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Looking into a repeating tunnel of doom. This effect is created by aiming the video camera into the screen of the computer. Image the image and create a tunnel. Of DOOM.

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This was the spread at the beginning of the party. Unfortunately, I didn't stick around long enough for the end of the party.

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Dad gets creative with his extra christmas ribbons. We don't let him out often enough.

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This is what happens when you whip cream without the manufacturer's suggested equipment. It's okay, though. She's only messy once a year.

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The horizon, and the mountains as you come down the hill, under Sante Fe on C-470. And the dashboard, where my camera was resting.

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Columbine, the state flower of Colorado, and the phrase "Respect Life." I wonder if it has anything to do with the school?

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On the way to breakfast, the clear blue sky above the Rocky Mountains and the foothills. Don't worry, I wasn't driving at the time.

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I can't believe that someone actually put this up. What an arrogant sign. I can't image this helps foreign relations at all. I pulled out and expanded the two sections of the billboard which I found most offensive. First, there are bars superimposed over his face (representing imprisonment), and the "Courtesy of..." is just plain obnoxious. Look for it heading south on Sante Fe Blvd, south of Evans.

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Brett points to the glass that contains poison. I though it was popularly called scotch. I guess the vernacular is different here in Denver.
Brett is looking at something, probably in converstaion, but the 'nightshot' feature on this digital camera has little IR illuminators, and it makes everything look like they are in headlights up close. Like now.
Loving the invisible sandwich, popular in such depraved cultural settings as this bar, Brett displays his affection publicly for his Invisi-Hoagie.
Brett's back is to me, but that doesn't keep me from taking a picture of him. No way! I'm all about the back shots. You can't ignore me forever!
Amanda hanging out, and enjoying the conversation, ranging from SCIENCE to SCIENCE of DOOM. She handled it pretty well. I thought so at least. Now, I don't recall taking this picture, so I am going to pin this one on Jon.
This is where the aliens took over Brett's eyeballs, and drove them around town for a while. He missed them while they were gone, but the aliens were nice enough to return them (undamaged) at the end of the evening. Courtesy of Jon.
The pub crowd, as taken by Jon.
The pub crowd, as taken by Jon, 2 seconds after the crowd shot above. If you'll notice, people moved. Very quickly. Away from him.
A conversation on the side of the main table. Little side conversations and catchings up. Very pleasant. I do agree. Courtesy of Jon.
This woman at the pub named Aspen had this awesome hair. I told Brett that I wanted to take a picture of him touching it. She was gracious enough to oblige us.
Aspen allowed me to photograph the full length of her braids. These must have taken decades to grow. Someone correct me here...
Two of the ladies at the pub, demonstrating their height difference. Can you believe the one on the left actually thought she was shorter? That's ridiculous!
The check, at the end of the evening. I think this is the largest pub tab that I've ever seen at the end of the evening.

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Good rendevous with friends over dinner. And what a dinner, too.

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And I was awed again by the striking clouds.

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My friends, and their fabulous house.

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Okay, no terror. Just destruction. It used to be a Burger King. I don't think that drive through works anymore, but that's just me.

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In the areas where Metro Denver is still wild, the evidence abounds, like these footprints of giant raccoons.

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Way in the distance, you can see Long's Peak, poking out of the snow clouds.

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A dirty stripe, down the middle of the car. What a wild carwash that must have been.

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These buildings, due to close and intimate knowedge, house a data center for Visa Card. The building on the far left is a data warehouse, and the windows on the exterior are fake. No large vehicles are allowed near these buildings, and the people who work there, in the middle building, are expendible, because any possible terrorist explosion would destroy the middle building before it destroyed the left building. All of this is slightly disturbing. All for my credit card?

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These were discovered on our table after lively conversation. I will give you a hint as to what they describe. They outline a video game. But what title? Highlight answer here: Dance Dance Revolution.

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This little boy was sitting at his table, playing his little video game. So was his sister. They weren't talking to each other at all. :(

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With the spilling of the ice tray, someone got the idea of putting ice cubes down shirts. I don't know who the wiseguy was, but look at the chaos which ensued.

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The chandelier in the dining room, way under-exposed, so that you can see the lights and the reflections. I'm into reflections lately, can't you tell?

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A drained teacup on the table after dinner. Just chillin.

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The reflections from the house and the room in the wine glasses on the table looked really spiffy. So I took a picture of it.

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I don't know what they were talking about, but it sure looks conspiratorial, for sure. Like, ever.

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I can't remember what this was about, but Dad did something really funny or really dumb. No way to tell which.

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The family watching the slideshow and describing their relations to people as they flashed up on the screen. Kelsea could be heard saying, "you already said that!" After the same person appeared more than once.

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As we watch the slide show of the reception over the Thanksgiving holiday, we all drifted into a semi-coma state. The comfy chairs only accellerated that process.

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Tricky, tricky! He switched hats on me, and wanted to see if I noticed! I've got the responses of a drugged bovine, man! Therefore, I didn't notice until after I looked at the pictures a few times. Even then, I had to be told. Responses of a drugged bovine aren't cool, man.

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Food coma after a great meal, and we piled back into the comfy chairs in order to watch the pictures of the East Coast get-together.

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Wearing festive bows and ribbons has always been a hobby of Jay's, he's just been really shy about it. Until now.

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This one looks all tickled out. I think we had to shunt them out the front door in the end. And even then, they were still wired.

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I remember when my brother and I used to have the responsiblity of tickling and distracting the young girls. Now that they're growing up, it appears that they fulfill that role on their own. So now I take pictures of them, instead.

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The west side of the dinner table, volleying conversation off of the east side.

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The east side of the dinner table, basking in the warm glow of food coma.

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The wedding still going in full swing, even though we're getting ready at this point. Slowly making the transition from "wedding-watching" mode to "gorge-your-face" mode.

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Getting ready to dig in for dinner, dad sharpens the knife. Mmm, yeah.

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Still glued to the television, Kelsea finds her Sephora box more interesting.

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Watching the DVD of the most recent wedding, the party is glued to the television, and oohing and aahing over the wedding. Okay, more like teasing me over my dancing skills, but that's okay, because I'm not bitter.

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I think that's how the saying goes. I'm not too sure. You bet these girls can belt out some shrieks and laughter like no other. A regular laughing machine, I'm tellin' ya.

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It seems as though my father was able to find a piece of shrimp in the platter. I think he unearthed it from the carpet, though.

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It appears as though all the shrimp cocktail ( the seasonal favorite for these regular get-togethers ) has been emptied. I think Kelsea is nibbling the last fleshy bit of yumminess.

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Snack time! Crash in front of the coffee table, and mow down on some shrimp cocktail. And with the spicy sauce, too!

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Like clockwork, Eric was the first guest to arrive. With bundles of joy under each arm, just the way we like it.

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Doesn't work in our house. We're trying to get in touch with my brother, whom we are not celebrating Christmas with this year. First year apart, :( Well, it's all for the best, but not before we pull out all our hair over this malfunctioning video conferencing device.

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I was elected to create this dish for Christmas dinner. I volunteered because I thought it would be easier than the alternative recipe. You can track the progress of the recipe through these images:

1. 
   

   Removal of orange contents and cleaning out of shells.

2. 
   

   Combining the sweet potatoes, sugar, salt, and orange contents into a mashed mixture.

3. 
   

   Ready to nuke. The mixture has been poured into the oranges, and marshmallows are topped on each shell.

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The leather chair luxury and reading lamp that is now my parent's living room. Exquisite, and I hope that I get much sitting done in that chair. I think I'm more motivated by the fact that it's not mine than the fact that it is comfortable. Hm.

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I guess you can't tell, but there's apple juice in that glass. It looks cool with all the reflections. Okay, maybe only I think it looks cool.

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One thing I miss for sure, is the high clouds that just poke across the sky, and let you look to one direction and dependably say, "looks like it's clearing up this afternoon." The low clouds that cruise and break up and come and go leave you no room for error. Unforgiving fog. This is the sky I miss.

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Okay, shitty picture, but it's the mountains on the horizon! What a great sight to see! They're so pretty! And if you don't like it... move to Kansas.

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This robotic cart-pusher was herding the carts in the Sam's Club parking lot. What a riot. I think the world is getting lazier and lazier. I remember working across the parking lot, fetching renegade shopping carts and lumber carts. Ahh... those were the days.

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I think that I'm all for elven empowerment and emancipation. It sucks that they have to lower themselves to do this kind of work.

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The menu at Sam's Club. Yum, I want pretzels.

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Just rows and rows of pop. All shrink wrapped and six packed and paletted.

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At least, that's what I think this sign means.

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Maybe not brand name, but if you wanted to feed an army, you could lead them here.

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The piles of Coca-Cola to be consumed.

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The lamps hanging from the cieling at Sams. Big honkin' lights. I can't make out this kind of detail with my eyes.

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Especially when it's made of steel, like this one. The warehouse roof over Sam's is quite high. High enough so that you can stack lots and lots of pop cans on top of one another.

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America's been increasing it's consumption. Do you think this is the one mad cow?

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Driving to Sam's Club, purveyer of fine bulk foods.

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It's all white. Should it be padded, too?

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Cleaning the dishes. Thanks, Dad. It's nice to be home.

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Hello. I am blogging my Christmas and New Year vacation with a gusto. This is my first shot. I woke in the morning, had some oatmeal (yum), and was looking at this plant. We've got about 4 or five of these chifleras sitting on the counter, my parents like to behead them, and spawn them all over the place. I think they look cool.

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Harsh words and comparisons come from The Daily Star, a Lebonese online publication. The United State's occupation in Iraq seems to cause more trouble than the ousted leader. This, I can believe. At least it's not that far fetched.

All the big wigs in Washington might say that the 'resistance' will decrease, because there is no figurehead for them. No, there probably isn't, but fighting for their freedom from the US probably is.

It's like a tar pit. You sell some weapons and such to the tar pit, then when you try to go back and get them, you get all sticky, and covered in shit. If Bush and company had only listened, or had a bit more compassion, I hope this quagmire would have been avoided.

Then again, I guess I could continue to gripe, or do something positive about the situation. I wonder if there's some way to expedite the end of the occupation? Hm... homework for me.

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Ad Hominem - Defined by Merriam-Webster to be "appealing to feelings or prejudices rather than intellect." Sounds quite familiar. It doesn't sound that far off from the foreign policy of our country. Hard not to have feelings toward "evildoers," since, well, we all think that evil is a bad thing.

Interregnum - Defined by dictionary.com to be "the interval between two reigns." Hm. Do they target their words of the day as political events unfold? Just to create saavy politicking and smart sounding people? Boost vocabulary during times of vibrant public discourse? How awesome would that be?

Has it always been this way? I hasten to assume that it has, I have just been naive enough to think that democracy has always been true.

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My first earthquake today. Talking on the phone with my father. Just sitting in my cubicle (yes, my life is that dry), minding my own business, trying to talk in a soft enough voice to gain some kind of privacy.

Then the building jerks. Like a sneeze, cough, or twitch. The cube I sit in has got these little cheap plastic windows, about one foot high, and about three feet long. They are like the packaging you can't tear open from a desperately wanted toy. The only noise was the fifty or so faux-windows rattling back and forth in the little cube windows.

I could feel the building move, however. I was sitting in my chair, and the building felt like it went over a tiny speedbump. My chair transfered the energy up into my butt, and it felt like I dropped something on the leg of the chair.

We looked at each other, my dad was on the phone, and I asked, "was that one?" As if everyone knew what I mean by "one." And they did. It showed up on the internet a few minutes later, and is available on the usgs.gov website as of this writing.

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While this is frightening, it does not include Iraq, anywhere. In looking for the declaration of war against Iraq, I found the declaration of war against terror. What a bunch of bullshit, to declare war on 'any entity'. This is verging on the obscene abuse of power.

Public Law 107-243, as far as I can tell, is what the US is running on, in order to justify their military occupation. But now it's bogus. The document refers to the Iraqi regime, which no longer exists. There is no control structure in Iraq that resembles what the US wanted to destroy. Job well done.

Now go HOME.

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Flags are flying, and Bush has got a new campaign slogan. "We got him." I'm sick of it already. I will admit, it is good news to know that a fugitive has been caught, and is going to be brought to justice.

I suppose that's only half the story. So are we still at war with Iraq? Or was war only against Saddam Hussein? In which case, this thing should be over, right? What's the point of being in the country now? "Stabilization?" Give me a break, man. Shit is messy because you've put your nasty paw on it.

I am looking forward to the end of this war, and I only hope that this is going to make it happen sooner.

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I believe that the new court that will try Saddam Hussein on war crimes and crimes against humanity is a good thing. I can't see how any person would believe that it wasn't. You have to wonder, however, at the timing of it all. I mean, after Milosevic was desposed, how long did ittake before The Hague tried him? Obviously not while the NATO was was going on. So I question whether the court is set up for goodwill toward men, or if this is more the "hearts and minds" variety.

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I get it every time I hear of this happening!

• on news.bbc.co.uk
• on www.reuters.co.uk
• on edition.cnn.com
• on un.org

I wonder why there isn't more attention paid to this kind of thing. Justice is being made, evil is being made accountable. This is a reason to not fear everything in our feeble little lives. Why not rejoice?

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Lately, I've been reading this book called "Domination and the Arts of Resistance," by James C. Scott. Recommended and praised, I figured I should give this material a shot. I'm diggin' it. I discovered his postulation that those in a position of power use euphemisms to "obscure the use of coersion." No doubt, yo!

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A quote by Willaim C. Howell, PhD, adjunct professor of psychology at Arizona State and Rice universities, in this article titled "Psychology and the Soldier."

It doesn't address what I was looking for, but it's a good quote. I was thinking, today during my quiet commute, what kind of hell it must be like to be attempting to anticipate terror attacks, suicide bombers, roadside bombs, ambushes, assasinations, and the like. Insanely traumatic, I'm assuming.

Add to that trauma and (assumedly) typical masculine disclosure, that results in a hell of a lot of pent up rage. To ask young men, 18 to 25, to deal with these conditions over and over again, for months, you start to wonder (at least I do) how come atrocities aren't committed more often. I am not excusing them from occurring, it just seems remarkable that they can hold it together for that long.

One comparison can be the way that massacres occurred during the Vietnam conflict (not War, oh no...not officially, at least). You know, I have no idea what it's like, and I don't know what my cracking point would be, I am just hoping to God, Allah, Buddah, anyone, that our situation today doesn't lead us there.

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If this world gets broiled in another world war, you know where I'm going? No? Good. Because it's a long fucking way away from this cesspool of governmental bullshit.

I saw a book the other day, which documents most of the United States' atmospheric nuclear tests. All the nuke clouds pluming into the air is frightening. Imagining the devastation caused by each of those 'tests' is boggling. And this is what we're afraid of. A 'rouge state' acquiring this 'technology' (oh, I got words for that...later) and using it against us. As if the alternative is any better.

It's not enough that it feels like this affliction that is United States Imperialism is offensively oppressive, it feels hopeless to find the good side of it all. I mean, if there are people in the world who are so convinced that they are right that you can't communicate with them, what's to stop them from doing something destructive?

Also, recently it's come to my attention that people don't always talk about their feelings. Which is perhaps a reason we're all in this together today. If that happened, would we be so desperate for peace?

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