So here it is, May 23, 2009. I'm a year older than the last time I did this post. I'm a year closer to getting my bachelor's degree and by the time I do another one of these next year, I should have earned the thing, although I may be waiting for the actual document to come in the mail. I won't actually finish until late April. I'm also (with any luck) about a month or so from finally qualifying for membership in Phi Alpha Theta, the history honor society. Wish me luck there.

Nicole has gotten another promotion at work and is taking a correspondence course in writing children's stories. She's doing pretty well health-wise too, considering. At least most of her health problems seem to be under control even if some of them will never go away.

Riley has gotten another year smarter as well. Last year at this time she could say the words for numbers and she could count, but this year she actually knows how many three is. She was just showing me that this morning. She can spell her name out loud too, even if she can't quite write it down yet. She finally hit the three feet tall mark and she weighs over thirty-five pounds now. Picking her up actually requires effort now. She just had her first dance recital a few weeks ago as well, and it went great. Nicole said that Riley acted up a lot in rehearsals, but she obviously knew the routine when she got on stage. It was cool.

I know you're all wondering where I'm going with this, and I have to say it's not to a happy place. These are the kinds of things I'd really like to share with my father, and I will be driving out to the lake in a few hours to have a conversation with him, but it's nowhere near the same. I'm not saying this because I'm depressed this year. I did that last year, and the crying did me a lot of good, even if I'm not really fond of the thought of expressing myself that way. No, this year I'm going to tell you all a secret. It's something that I've never told anyone. It's something that I'm not entirely comfortable with. It's something that in some ways I may be better off not talking about, especially in a forum that's this public. It's damn sure something that no one who knew and loved my father and is easily offended is going to want to read. But damn it, it's something that I need to get off my chest and somehow when I try to say it I can never get it out. So here goes:

My father is dead. I'm pissed about it. It's his fault that he's dead because he did something stupid that killed him.He knew damn well he shouldn't have done before he did it. I'm more pissed about that. And he damn near took my mother with him. And that's what really pushes me over the edge. In case you missed the point here people, I'm not mad at God or Fate or some other nebulous force. The person I'm pissed off at is one James Ricky McCoy. He's the dumbass that leaned out of the boat.

Granted, my father did not intend to flip the canoe over when his stupid ass leaned over the side of it to get something, not a single living person is sure what, out of the water. I do know that he knew better. I know that I had gotten an ass chewing for leaning out of the row boat at my aunt's cottage up north as a kid and that it was a lot more stable.  That ass chewing came from the same guy who thought it was so important to grab whatever it was out of the water that day.

Pops, if you can read this somehow, I still love you. When I get to Heaven, you're gonna get a big hug. But, So Help Me God, you're gonna take a right cross to the jaw too. And I'm not gonna pull the punch either. You've earned the hug. You were always a great father. You made more time for your kids than any other father I know. But you earned the punch to the jaw too. You deprived your entire family of only God knows how many more great memories when you flipped that boat over. This is your fault.

I think about this every now and again, and honestly it sucks. I know way too many people my own age who have lost their father's for a guy who's only thirty-two. When I look at it though, with one exception they don't really have a reason to blame their father for being gone. I do. Whether the cause was carbon-monoxide or some disease those other guys did nothing to cause their own demise. I don't envy the fact that those other people lost their fathers. Sometimes though, I do envy the fact that at least they can't blame those same guys for what happened to them.

When things get bad for me, and I really get pissed off I try to remember the good times. Lord knows there were a lot of them. My father coached my baseball and football teams, he was a den-leader in cubscouts and the Scoutmaster for my boy scout troop. I did work with him when he was trying to start a home improvement business and for the first time actually earned my own money. When I first started dating, he was the guy who drove the car so I could go pick my dates up. Lord knows I didn't have a driver's license.

It's times like this that I like to think about things like our trips to Cedar Point. I had a great time there, and I remember the summer when the Magnum first came out. We waited in line for what seemed like forever, only to get to the front and my dad damn near chickened out. I had to make fun of him to get him on that roller coaster. He thanked me afterward though.

So that's how I'm going to end this. With good memories from Cedar Point and a sincere hope that somewhere in Heaven there's a roller coaster. I'm not planning on going anytime in the next few decades, but it sure would be great once I get there. If there's any justice this is what it'll look like.

See, it's not all bad. Like I said, I still love my father and I'll never forget the good times. Later today, I'll be going to the lake where it all happened and then Civil War Remembrance Day at Greenfield Village. Tonight I'm going to the Tiger's game. That's all stuff I loved to do with my father. It'll be good to remember him positively.

Yes, everyone, I'm fine. In some ways, I feel better than I have in the last eleven years. I never thought I'd live long enough to get all of that off of my chest, and I feel much better now. It'll never go away, but I think it should be easier to cope with now.

My Aunt Jan better appreciate that picture. I walked for two hours carrying that thing to get it, and if my fellow walkers found out that I'd kept it for that long, they'd be pretty bitter.

Anyways...

The three day this year was freaking fantabulous. There's just something about being out on the route with people driving past you honking and waving back at them while you talk to people you've never met before just to find out how amazing they are and watching high school football players wait on these women in ways that would make their mothers jealous and then sleeping on the cold, hard ground to get up and do it all over again. And trust me, on the three day you don't talk to people to find out if they're amazing, it really is about how amazing they are and why.

I did the entire walk on foot again this year despite a slight flare up of my gout on the last day that still hasn't completely gone away a week later. The good news is that by that time my feet hurt so badly that I really didn't notice that much difference with the gout anyway. It's weird how I can walk the sixty miles and my muscles aren't sore but the soles of my feet feel like they want to fall off.

I'm kind of sad because I've already decided that I can't do the 3 Day next year because it's just too hard with my being back in school and trying to do the training and raise the funds. I'm going to find some way to stay involved, probably by volunteering on the first or last day to help move stuff around. I don't even think I can do crew next year because it's too much time off of work.

Once again this year I took a notepad and made a journal on the 3 Day. I thought I'd share it again, and just like last year anything in italics will be taken word for word from what I wrote in my journal and pictures from each day will follow the corresponding journal entry. It should be noted that the first two days of my journal were done in camp while on the event, and the third day was done in my living room after it was over. In my overabundance of intelligence I decided to take a full sized notebook with me and not the dinky little thing I bought last year to fit in my fanny pack. Unfortunately, that meant that while I was in the holding area on Day Three, my notebook was in my suitcase and I couldn't get to it. Events were still fresh in my mind, though. So, without further ado...

Day 1

Good lord, what a day. I'm pretty happy though. I was a little worried because I hadn't trained as hard this year, but I rocked it out and feel about the same as I did last year. I wasn't as excited to finish Day 1 as I was lost year, but believe me, when you get into camp and find a flat spot wide enough to hold your butt you're in heaven. If it's got a back to lean on, that's even better.

Opening ceremonies this year was awesome. I'm not really the weepy type, but I got a little teary eyed at some points. These 3 Day people sure do know how to tug on your heart strings. The walk out was much better planned and quicker this year. It wasn't quite as much of an assault on the senses, but it went much more smoothly and quickly.

The pit stops were great again this year, and as always, CREW ROCKS! These people not only work for free, they raise funds to be here and they wait on us hand and foot. It's like having an army of servers at a restaurant and they would be offended if you offered to tip them. These people work their asses off for four days since they have to show up a day early to set things up and may God strike me dead if I've ever heard one complaining. You guys rule.

Pit stop themes were the 80's, the 50's, military (awesome banner, if someone out there got a pic please send it to me) wild west and a bee hive. All of the bees at the beehive had homemade costumes too. It was cool. They had these really good peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as well and I ate way too many of them. Oh well, I'll just have to hope that I don't jack up my weight too much.

I change my focus this year as regards the 3 Day. Last year, I was all about walking the 60 miles without getting into a sweep van. I honestly didn't care if it killed me as long as I finished, but this year I've decided to spend more time talking to people and just enjoying the experience. So far it's paid off big because I've talked to several awesome people and heard their stories. I talked to one guy, his name was Mike, that was doing his forty fourth walk. He had stories about all of the people that he has met and some of the very cool people that he's walked with. He also had stories about people that he was walking for that he'd lost. I talked to him for about 20 minutes before lunch and I really enjoyed it. Then I got back to camp and he's my tentmate! That's pretty cool, I think.

Some of the stories that are passed around at the 3 Day are good ones. They're the ones that start off with a diagnosis of cancer, the horrors of chemo and surgeries and end with, "But she's cancer free now and is a ___ year survivor." All's well that ends well, right? I mean, at best you're talking about a person that was terrified, then went through a torturous process, but hey, they're alive. It's the horror stories that really bug me though.

I've heard so many stories of women in their 20s and 30s who didn't make it. The ones who don't make it and end up leaving their husbands with little kids and no one to these guys raise their kids. It's the woman who stopped me last year to tell me about her 34 year old sister that left two boys behind that really motivate me to come out and do this. It makes me want do to whatever I can to make it stop.

People ask me how I cold walk sixty miles in three days and why I would raise money for the privilege of doing so., and IT IS A PRIVILEGE believe me, but when you hear these stories how can you NOT do this? I've already decided that I won't be walking next year, but I need to find a way to do something with the 3 Day. It's that important to me.

Anyway, I smell bad and there is a shower truck around here somewhere. Those are my thoughts on Day One. There will be more from Days 2 and 3 once they happen. I can't wait to get out there again tomorrow.

Ok, so it got a little emotional there at the end, but I've never been a guy to hide what I feel. The whole need for a shower thing may have been TMI, but that's not something that's ever stopped me before either. How about some pics?

The pink dumpsters were around all weekend, but this picture was taken at Opening Ceremonies. One look at these made me think about all of the people who say, "I'd love to do the 3 Day, but..." It's well past time for those people to deposit their excuses here and bring their asses out to do this next year.

This is me before Opening Ceremonies. It's still dark out and I'm awake. It MUST be the 3 Day.

Opening Ceremonies, alternate angle

Me at the Opening Ceremonies Sign. The plan was to get a pic at all of these, but I forgot to charge the camera and had to send it home with Nicole to get charged, so I missed the end of Day 1 and I think I skipped Day 2 because I didn't have Day 1.

Look, it's still Opening Ceremonies, only now the sun is up!

Day 2

Once again, Day 2 was rougher than Day 1. Once again, I freaking owned it, getting in at 3:15 in front of about 31-3200 hundred or so of 3300 hundred walkers. I know it's not a race, but whatever, I still enjoyed not having to wait for everything.

The Romeo Bulldog football team is here and they rock. They've been waiting on people hand and foot, looking for ways to help and displaying a level of professionalism that I wouldn't really expect out of people twice their ages.  I don't know what your record is guys, but you're state champs as far as I'm concerned.

I stopped at one of the pit stops yesterday and told the girls that worked there about all the weight that I've lost. They were so impressed that they asked me to stop back and say hi. They were all happy to see me and that feels good, but not as good as seeing Wifey at the second cheering station.

Guys, if you know anyone doing the 3 day go see them while they're out there if you can. It means a lot, especially if they're walking alone the way I am. Seeing Nicole out there was the shot in the arm that I needed to get through the end of the day's walk. It's always nice when someone takes enough time to drive across town and make a couple of signs to show off when they get there. I missed seeing Riley-lou. She was sick though, so she stayed home to get better.

I got a cool picture today of myself holding one of the 3 Day flags. It said, "I'm Walking for My Aunt." I carried that flag for about two hours so I could get to the cheering station to get my camera to get that picture. (Author's Note: This is the picture I started the blog with.) I plan on sending it to my Aunt Jan and she damn well better appreciate it! I don't train for carrying flags and my freaking arms are tired. There. Now I broke the official 3 Day "No Whining" policy. Oh well, so does everyone else. I guess I'll get over it.

I'm gonna run. It's starting to get cold and I'm in short and a t-shirt. I'll do an entry tomorrow though for sure. After all, based on last years pattern, tomorrow should be the easy day!

It was the easy day, too. I'm not exaggerating when I talk about how far I carried that flag either. I went through two pits stops, a grab and go and two cheering stations to get to Nicole. Two bystanders offered to take it off my hands and pass it on for me too, but I kept going. Last year, I went out to dinner with the crew on Day 2. This year, I read about 100 pages of Brisingr. You punks should have come out and got me and took me for dinner. Life goes on though. I got a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt on, fought off a female walker who had apparently taken a liking to me and got to bed on time. That's a good thing too, because Day 3 is a big day. But for now,. how about some pics?

These are some Girl Scouts that came out to cheer us on. I got the pic because it brought back memories of when my sister used to be a Girl Scout. I know someone out there has a smart mouthed comment to make, but who married a woman that is older than them? Huh?

Nicole made this poster for me. I think it's great. The fact that Riley drew on it just makes it that much cuter.

This is the picture that Riley made. Nicole brought it out even though Stinky was at home with a fever. She's feeling much better now though.

This is me at the cheering station where Nicole was. Yup, I know I'm cute.

Yes, I know it looks crazy, but it's a pink ribbon, and I was on the 3 Day.

This is Team "Nip" it in the Bud from the Karaoke competition. Make your own inferences about why the word nip is in quotes when it comes to something that happened on the Breast Cancer 3 Day.

I hope you enjoyed the Day 2 pictures, because now it's time for...

Day 3

You know what amazes me? It's the way things turn on their head when you're walking the 3 day. All year, you can't wait for it to get here, and then it finally does, but once you get through the first half of the thing, you can't wait for it to be over. So then you finally make it through, you go to closing ceremonies, scream a lot and maybe cry a little and you can't wait to get back the next year and do it all over again.

I don't think that I've mentioned him before, so I've got to mention my tentmate Mike (Author's note; Yup, same guy. I probably should have read the rest of my journal first to make sure.) He's done 44 walks and is just freaking amazing. He sings songs, tells stories and keeps everyone smiling even when they can't figure out which hurts worse, their feet or their legs. He can outwalk me too, and he's retired so odds are he may have a couple of years on me as well.

Closing ceremonies was the most amazing thing, but the lead up to it was awesome as well. When you get to the end of the walk there is a holding area. All of the walkers and crew gather and they cheer each other in. After all the walkers are in they line up the crew and walk them through so that we can thank them. They deserve it and it gets pretty emotional for a lot of them. They cheer us all weekend, the wait on us hand and foot, and they freak out because we show some love for them. Go figure.

Riley has been sick all weekend and I feel bad that I haven't been there to help take care of her, but she's better not. We're at home after closing ceremonies and Riley is in the bath right now. I missed her and Nicole both, but it's a really good cause, right?

I'm gonna run now because Riley's getting out of the tub and I'm about to get in, but God has this been a fun weekend. I'll find a way to stay involved next year for sure. The cause is too important and the even too awesome to miss.

And it was a fun weekend. There is nothing like this event anywhere on Earth. I've said more than once already that although the 3 Day can't compare to my wedding day or the day Riley was born, that these six days were among the ten or twenty best days of my life. I will not be walking this event next year because of school, but mark my words. The 3 Day has not seen the last of Mr. James Ricky McCoy Jr. I will be back, and when I am I will be a force to be reckoned with. Now, who wants to see some pictures?

"I pink I can" is sort of a motto for a 3 Day Walker. I loved the sign, even if I'm not a Pink Panther.

Do what the Ta Ta Man tells you to!

This is the sign that I was talking about from Day 1, but I didn't get a pic until Day 3, so I put it here.

I knew that the whole world thought I was crazy when I talked about how beautiful Dearborn can be last year, so I thought I'd post some corroborating evidence.

The Day 3 sign. I FREAKING MADE IT!!!!!

The Bee ladies from the Pit Stop at Holding before Closing Ceremonies

Riley at Closing Cereonies. Nice Shirt

Same pic, different angle

The stage at Closing Ceremonies

The walkers coming in

The walkers salute with their shoes.

My favorite flag. I'm glad Nicole got this pic because without the Strength to get though the day, you accomplish nothing.

The procession of the flags into Closing Ceremonies. Smaller versions  of the flags are carried throughout the weekend by the walkers, and at closing ceremonies we see them for the last time.

This sign says it all.

For those of you who haven't looked at your calendar lately, today is May 23, 2008. For those of you who don't recognize the reference that's ten years to the day from May 23, 1998, which was the day my father passed away. Needless to say, today is not the happiest day of my life but I'm making the most of it where I can. So what do you do on the tenth anniversary of the death of one person who did the most to shape and mold you as a kid?

You COULD sit and mope. This is not very productive, but it doesn't require much effort. It doesn't get a lot accomplished either, and it's not the type of thing my father would have approved of because it just wasn't his thing. Sitting around talking about life being unfair didn't work around my pops. Just ask Amy how many times he hit her with his favorite quote:

"Life ain't fair!!"

Which was usually followed up with

"Mine hurts too!"

No, my father was never known as a fount of sympathy. He'd help you with your problems anyway he could, but if you needed someone to feel sorry for you, you were much better off asking Mom. It seems that compassion just wasn't his thing.

You could get pissed at the world and be an asshole all day. This has been known to be counterproductive because it pisses other people off and makes them just as pissed as you are. Being an asshole to the wrong person can also cause massive problems and it's not something that some like my two year old daughter would understand. After all, her Grandpa is my mom's husband Mike, and she loves him. Trying to explain all of this to her could really confuse her and make her think something happened to him. Not that it wouldn't have been easy to go this way today, but this is out.

Then there was the choice that I made. You can do something that the dearly departed would be proud of. Something that makes you feel closer to them even though they're gone. So I went to school today and applied for my degree. It has to be audited and whatever, but I have the credits to get it, or at least I will once I get done with this semester. It's seriously disappointing that he won't be there but life's not fair is it? So I stopped at the enrollment office on the way to work and got this done. The party's in August. He'll be there. Now if we could just find a way to get him to buy the first round...

I did wuss out at work and only do half a day. I feel like crap for that, but it's probably better that way. I was in a bad mood, and my job is not conducive to trying to cheer yourself up. Going to work in a bad mood and losing it at someone would be a very good way to end up unemployed as well. So I left when I couldn't take it anymore and went out to the lake where he drowned. I sat on some wood they had there and had a conversation with Dad. Hopefully no one heard me, because I was talking to the air, but it really felt good, like my dad could hear me. Maybe I was imagining it, but I can always feel his presence there, and it feels good to be with him even if it's for only a little while. Besides, someone had to tell him how smart his granddaughter is, just to make sure even though I know he's watching. I cried a bit too, but not as badly as I thought I would, so scoreboard Jimbo.

All in all today was a therapeutic day, and something I'll be over by tomorrow. But still for those of you out there who still have your parents, give them a call. They'd probably appreciate it. And for those of you who have kids, give them a hug too. It's what their grandparents would want you to do.

Kwame, Kwame, Kwame. What are the residents of Detroit going to do with this guy?

There hasn’t ever been a time when a single representative of the City of Detroit has embarrassed it this badly. Not. One. Ever. The man fires two policemen because they are too close to an affair he was having with his chief of staff, and it costs the city nine million dollars in settlements and legal fees. He never even bothers to inform the city council about the real reason for the firings, and it looks like the police were actually investigating some improprieties regarding bids for city service contracts when they stumbled across the text messages that the mayor and his chief of staff made to each other. Nice.

The worst part about this whole thing is that Mr Kilpatrick seems to think that the whole scandal is someone else’s fault. He blames the media, he blames the city council, and he blames white people in general without having the guts to flat out state that it’s white people making the comments. Hey Kwame, who were you accusing of making the racist comments and dropping the N-bomb on you? Who were you accusing of making the death threats? C’mon Kwame be a man and stop with the hinting. Then again, a courageous man would have faced the music for the scandal by now.

I heard the interview Kwame did on WJLB. It was very smart of him to find a friend reporter to let him tell his story. It was also amazing to listen to him ramble on about newspaper sales and TV ratings, while never once getting into the main story, which was these text messages and the possible charges of perjury. Oops.

The thing people seem to forget here is that one Kwame Kilpatrick is the Chief Executive of the City of Detroit. The city council passes legislation, and the mayor executes it. Think about that for a minute. The man who is in charge of making sure that the law is carried out is the one who allegedly broke it. The man is constantly trying to make this a race thing, but the person he most reminds me of is white. Anybody remember Boss Hog?

Why were the police investigating Kwame in the first place? The Free Press has recently put out some information regarding some text messages that indicate that there were contractors who were receieving favors from Hizzoner. This is a serious problem. The law the officers sued under was the Whistleblowers Act, which is designed to protect people who turn in their boss for things they do that are illegal.

Let’s face it, Kwame’s a crook. I’m not saying that I condone death threats or racial comments, but this guy needs to take a hike. I applaud the Detroit City Council for their vote yesterday calling for the resignation of Kwame Kilpatrick. The sad part is that the man has done some great things for the city. It’s just too bad that his credibility is now shot, and that staying will only hurt the city he supposedly serves. Step down, Mr. Mayor. Help your residents the only way you can.

What does it mean to make a difference? Does it mean helping yourself? Your friend? Your family? Your neighborhood? The country? The world?

Making a difference can mean any of these, or all of these. It means putting in energy to achieve something positive. It means hard work. It means quite often means less free time and a desire to just chuck the whole project that you're working on out the freaking window because you don't feel like dealing with the damn thing today. Making a difference can seem pointless at times, and it can be the biggest challenge you'll ever face.

Making a difference can also be a huge reward in and of itself. It can mean finishing a sixty mile walk and feeling like a million bucks. It can mean getting a letter from your school saying that you're on the dean's list. It can mean putting a marriage that's not going so well back together. It can mean huge amounts of pride based on knowing that you've done something that matters, even if the only person it really matters to is yourself. It can also mean going from being the guy on the right in this picture:

To being the guy in this picture:

There are few greater feelings in life than making a difference.

There are endless oppurtunities to make a difference. Whether it's walking the Breast Cancer 3Day like I do, or volunteering at your kid's school like Nancy does, or teaching private music lessons like Tuck, or being the guy I call when I need to do some whining like Monk, or being the guy I call when I need to bitch like Zogie, it's possible to make a difference, and it's not always the most difficult thing in the world. Even making a little difference is a positive thing, and small differences can be a result of small amounts of work.

Big differences are harder, and require more work but they'll give you a bigger reward. My wife and I work with our daughter constantly. We never see each other because we work opposite shifts so that she doesn't have to go to daycare, and it causes some strain between us sometimes, but you know what? We took Riley to the doctor last week, and she told us that our two year old has the verbal skills of a four year old. That felt pretty damn good. Spending time with our daughter made a difference, and spending time with your kid is it's own reward as well.

Some people make huge differences. The members of the military come to mind. They keep us all safe and fight battles so that we don't have to. Doctors and teachers come to mind, as do policemen, firemen and EMTs. Our way of life wouldn't work without any of them. The sacrifices they make enable the rest of us to live life the way we want to.

Sacrifice can come in other ways as well. In order to make a difference in my own life I've had to change my eating habits and start doing a lot of walking. The amount of television I watch has shrunk to almost nothing, and the only time I get to spend reading is when I'm either in the bathroom or eating a meal by myself. It hasn't been easy, but I'm almost a hundred pounds lighter. It means not blogging as much because I've got a paper due. It means giving up one of only two nights I'd have had over the weekend with my wife so that I can go raise money to spend an entire weekend away from my family walking to help cure breast cancer. But I always end up feeling good about myself in the end. Making a difference means being able to look at the man in the mirror every morning and smile, because you're proud of what you see.

So my question to anyone who takes the time out of their day to read this is simple: What have you done to make a difference? Have you helped yourself or anyone else today? If you did, how good did it make you feel. If you haven't why not?  And if you haven't when will you? Since when was life about accepting what is and not trying to make it better? If you're looking for a time to start making a difference, why not start now?

For those of you keeping score at home, in the last month...

...my aunt/ Godmother has passed away 

...my mother in law has broken her leg in four places, and had surgery to fix it

...one of my wife's closest friend's killed herself through an intentional overdose

...my wife has been diagnosed with diabetes

....my best friend's dog, who I've always referred to as "my puppy" even though he's ten years old, has been diagnosed with cancer and given six months to live.

...my wife has also had an allergic reaction to her freaking ALLERGY SHOT and has been covered in hives all weekend

...some of my closest friends are having a fight that I absolutely refuse to have anything to do with

and I haven't shit in three days and feel like my ass (literally my ass in this case) is going to explode. Constipation sucks.

I'm perfectly aware that I'm just whining, but hey, I think I'm entitled just this once. I probably should shut up given the fact that the holiday went pretty well, and I got the running stoller that I wanted, I've lost over ninety pounds, and I'm only about fifteen pounds heavier than I was when I graduated from high school. but hey, I'm in a pissy mood, so why look on the bright side?

So like, when does this all this stop, or at least slow down? If every dark cloud has a silver lining, shouldn't this shit storm at least contain a roll of toilet paper? Where in the blue hell is the thing? It's got to be here somewhere, I know it.

Dorothy got to go over the rainbow and follow a yellow brick road to a wizard who gave her and all of her friends their dearest wishes. And while I do look around me and think to myself, "We're not in Kansas anymore Toto," it's because my own personal Kansas has been hit with a ten trillion megaton feces grenade, and I've been forced into the toilet.

For those that are wondering, no, there is no point to this blog, and yes, I am just venting. Some of the blogs that I have written have been very touching and poignant, some have been rants that at least had a moral, but right now, I just want to break something, but since I don't happen to own anything I want to smash, I'll just sit here and complain like a five year old with a busted knee who's forced to drink purple Kool-Aid. Oh, in case you've never had it, PURPLE KOOL-AID SUCKS!!!! That's why the five year old would be whining. The busted knee would probably hurt, too.

I'm going to keep rambling here, but I do promise to stop with all of the scatological references. What kind of shithead needs to make a bunch of poop jokes to make a bunch of people smile like a pig eating dung to get his point across anyway?

I'll try to cheer myself up by remembering this: Barack Obama won the first primary. Now, I'm not a Democrat by any stretch of the imagination, but they're probably going to win this time around, and if it can be anyone but Hillary we'll all be better off. It's best to eliminate her now. I hear things are picking up for Obama in New Hampshire, too. Here's hoping.

Nope, it didn't work. Obama is still a Democrat, and although he's at least smart enough to realize that there is a War on Terror after nearly five thousand Americans have died in two separate countries, he'll never have the balls to leave enough of the intelligence apparatus in place to keep another 9/11 from happening. The way things are going, the next plane that fights off the terrorists is probably going to crash into my house while I'm eating breakfast.

The state economy is still in a recession too. God damn it, why did people vote for Granholm? Ok, she never did anything all that incredibly stupid, but she never did anything smart either. Her first four years in office she did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!! Now Rock Financial announces that it's moving it's offices downtown and Governor Jen Jen claims that this is a great victory for Michigan. ALL OF THESE JOBS WERE ALREADY HERE DUMBASS! Rock Financial is just consolidating some of it's stuff out of the suburbs and taking it into the city. If you're Kwame Kilpatrick, take a bow. If you're the governor of the State of Michigan, just shut up and be glad that you didn't lose this one.

There's already talk of another budget crisis next year. Translation: more money out of my pocket in taxes and higher freaking tuition prices. Looks like it's a big shit sandwich, and we're all gonna have to take a bite.

Anybody else love Full Metal Jacket? That's a quote. It's also scatological humor, and I promised no more of that, but at least it was in good taste. Sort of.

Anyways, I'm gonna take my whiny ass to bed now. I still haven't shit and my colon hurts, but I'll probably just have to get up in the middle of the night and ruin my night's sleep to pinch a freaking loaf. C'est la vie, I guess.